[System]
Age: 21

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:
A man hammered into the shape of violence. Gerard stands at roughly average height for a warrior, somewhere in the nebulous range between 5'10 and 5'11, and upon his well-trained frame he wears the battlefields his amber-colored eyes have seen. His skin is rather fair, but pockmarked with a network of light, faded scars, each its own lesson learned on the job. As one might expect, repeated brushes with death have similarly weathered his gaze, going alight at the prospect of battle and burning like small suns in its midst— only to fade into reservation outside of it. He's not necessarily guarded or unapproachable in his posture— but rather, seems almost content with quietly fading into the throng, as though the pressures of having a face to his name are unexpected, and unfamiliar. His hair is a coarse, happily untamed mat that falls near his eyes, and black like coal. Probably cleans up rather handsomely, in theory, but is better used as a gauge for how tense a room is— if things are brewing, he'll feel it, he'll be ready. His casual wear is all simple, dark colors, but never far from either some weapon or armoring.

Personality: Gerard is seemingly caught in the interstice between his erstwhile profession and the chivlarous future of which he'd dared not dream. At his core, he's still the reserved, idealistic farm boy that grew up on the many tales of Thaln's heroes of ages past, still believing in the ideals of knighthood— Justice, Order, Compassion, Charity, Piety. That the stark realities and cruel injustices of the world exist to be overcome by the chase of heroism. That he's doing the right thing. but mercenary life has checked those ideals with bloodshed, fury, and the many cruelties mankind has endured by its own hand.

The result is a man that seems to be at odds with himself, ever so subtly. He is wholly unfamiliar with courtly manner, brusque and bordering on impertinent with his words, but simultaneously self-effacing, earnestly humble among his peers within the Order, at times even bordering on reverence for knighthood as a concept. While he can join tavern brawls heartily and nestles in right at home in rowdy, bawdy atmospheres like those he shared with his mercenary band, on his own he seems more than a little quiet compared to the stereotypes suggested by his background, indulging in his own contemplation during solitary moments such as training in the yards in the early morning. He would give his life for his fellows— and the cause they undertake.

His conviction, however, is unquestionable. Gerard is devoted to the new life he leads, having leapt at the chance to join the knightly order and become an outright force for good. There are many cruelties in this world that he, as a man and knight, cannot abide. He's seen them all, time and time again, as his chosen trade ground each test of his faith into his body and mind.

Enough for him to, without a second thought, take up the sword once more to put them to an end, to drag evil into Reon's burning light.

One way, or the other.

Brief Backstory: Born to a small family in a small village in Thaln's northwestern fiefs that borders a large stretch of woodland, Gerard (Gellért in the village dialect) grew up like many other rural boys— hunting, fishing, and making merry within the woods whenever not set to work with his father in the fields. With such a proximity to the border with Velt, he was raised quite obviously adherent to the Church's teachings, in his case as a Reonite, and was instilled with a strong sense of justice and wonder for the tales of knightly virtue and valor championing Her Paladins. He grew into a strong, hardworking lad, more than fit for any path he chose in life— And when a mercenary corps espousing the virtues of fighting the good fight for the Goddesses and making a living through your sword, perhaps even proving yourself worthy of knighthood? He was sold.

And just like that, the sixteen year old boy walked into Hell. A country bumpkin with a strong back and a steady hand was, at the end of the day, still a country bumpkin. He fell for the pitch hook, line, and sinker. Spending years fighting pointlessly, seeing lives waste away, and people trod upon as lower than dirt, it wore heavily on Gerard. At times, his faith in justice was tested, at others, it was all that kept him pushing forward. Year after year, battle after battle, the weathering took so many things from the boy, now just behind the tip of the spear in each engagement— his illusions of war's glory. His naiveite regarding his purpose, and his future.

Hell, they even got his face. They'd been called "Franz's Faceless" by anyone who knew of them for a reason, despite officially being the much vaguer "Black Regiment".

Regardless, the band of mercenaries was by no means incompetent— their captain lead with a firm, measured hand, the quartermaster had a frank outlook on weaponry and training recruits, and in the end they did indeed follow the tenants of Reon by capturing a particularly well-defended encampment of slavers holed up in one of the ruins dotting Velt. For their efforts, the group was disbanded shortly after, the take large enough and pardons convincing enough for the leadership to call it a wrap— and folded into the Church of Reon's militant arm if they so wished. Fearing disillusionment but chasing a lifelong dream as closely as he could, young Gellért accepted, and soon after was recruited into the Order of the Iron Rose. He continues to pursue his idealized image of a knight with a desperate fervor, and it permeates his every moment.

Equipment: A fairly standard longsword of just over a meter's length from pommel to tip, a well-kept kit of half-plate as he cannot yet afford a full, custom-fitted suit. A sturdy, large knife for general survival purposes (both clearing brush and sliding through gaps in armor, should need arise). Should his favored weapon be unusable for whatever reason, he has a penchant for making due with whatever he can find. A beggar is never a chooser on the field.

Skills: While not an exemplary swordsman like the order's founder, he is schooled well for a mercenary and trains vigorously to improve his mastery, day in and day out. His style is rooted in simplicity and pragmatism, at times even leaning near brutality compared to the romanticized and beautiful swordplay of the ideal knight he wishes to evoke, a carryover of life as a soldier-for-hire. A trained, keen eye can spot many similarities to properly denoted longsword fencing technique within various Fechtbücher beneath the roughness of it— the kid's fundamentals are there, simply learned secondhand as opposed to the traditional knight's manuals, and applied with a dash of that distinct recklessness of the expendable. Vicious, pragmatic, and fully committed, thoughts fall away as the body is taken by a wartime trance. It's no pretty thing, but it's gotten him this far.

In addition, he is quite comfortable with a wide variety of other tools and weapons, such as spears or handaxes. He had to make do with what was on hand for much of his life— both as a man-at-arms and as a simple boy from the woodlands. He is a natural at speaking to common folk on their level, and holds a host of skills found in a boy whose childhood was spent within Thaln's countryside. Has a mild moderate problem, however, with prioritizing his own safety— it's an act that he is still learning to no longer refrain from.

[User]
Fionn MacKerracher

---

@VahkiDane@ERode

---

Fionn took the offered hand gently, bowing his head down respectfully.

"There are, aren't there?" he agreed. "Royal balls must be quite the occasion." He shifted his grip slightly, closing the younger princess's fingers around some of the candied fruits he'd been hiding in his grasp, before drawing his hand back with a sly wink. "But I dare say, between us and your crown knights in attendance, you've little to fret over and much to enjoy."

Even if he couldn't take Tyaethe's advice to try and enjoy himself quite so easily, he could at least do his best to pass it on. In truth, even in his mercenary days, he'd rarely been comfortable carousing with the rest of his company, though they, at least, were of the same social standing he'd been born into. He much preferred to have something to do rather than just to socialize, and helping alleviate someone else's nerves seemed as good a task to assign himself as any.

"Fionn MacKerracher, at your service, your highness—at least for the length of the ball."

[Assistant]
"No, he really shouldn't have died," Velbrance concurred, a note of sympathy injected into the young man's voice, "My good captain, you must take better care of your senior staff. Dame Tyaethe may be impervious to harm, but the other knights are quite mortal. Yet, to lose one to anything below war or treachery is very much a scandal to avoid."

With a charming smile pasted on, he offered an arm towards Fanilly, "I Believe the princess would like to be introduced to you. If you might give me the honour of being an escort?"

---

Tyaethe

"I'm in both your orders," Tyaethe said drily, looking Renar in the eye, "Of course I'm going to watch. At least one of you is going to be a disappointment before the end of the night, even if we overlook using a royal ball to stage a duel in the first place."

Of course, her involvement with the Crown Knights was essentially nil, but as a hereditary position, it hadn't gone anywhere.

"I'll go fetch Lils, make sure we have a healer on hand," the vampire announced, swigging from one of the glasses and then strolling away across the ball to accost the aforementioned elf and badger her into helping. From the resigned expression Lilette was developing, that wouldn't take long at all.

[User]
Two shrieked, one sighed, and the last subtly suppressed a wince as the excitement reached his ears, and shredded his moment of commoner's wonder at the upper crust. As grating as the noise could have been, he did in part have reason to thank the pair— would have been rude to gawk. His mother had taught him that much, at least.

Given that her summons was all but forthright beneath the subtle veneer of welcoming, Gerard found himself unable to begrudge Sergio's swift departure as much as he otherwise might've— if anything, not answering the call may have been the greater faux pas. Fionn was already floating up to greet them, though, and Gerard caught his acknowledging nod. Any more than three would be crowding.

As the Veltic man knelt low and extended his palm to greet the younger of the Royal pair, the rapid burst of questions pulled Gerard's gaze free from the arrivals, and back to the three that were already crowding him. His reply came quick, too quick, caught in the deluge of occurrences and information that washed over his careful attempt at a formal mask.

"Whoever did it probably earned enough to buy my hometown on the commission."

What peeked through beneath the cracks in that facade was a blunt, unassuming candor— his fellow knights would have found it familiar, provided they'd taken the time to speak at length. His fellow mercenaries, though they'd doubtless have been every bit as out of place here as he, wouldn't have spared a second thought.

"And, no, not yet. It's only been four months for me, knighthood. Even the griffin was on the other side of the field from where I'd ended up—"

For all he wanted to maintain appearances, to look like someone ready for the occasion, he wasn't ever going to tell them a lie.

He blinked, gaze dancing between the pair of eager questioners. He would have been wise to stop there, offer them an apology for his inexperience, and maybe send them on their way to Paladin Tyaethe, who had an undoubtably endless well of fantasy to have lived through, a legend in pale flesh.

But, just as he did when cloaked in steel, the linen clad knight kept going, come what may.

"All I've seen are the cruelties people inflict on eachother. Those are far worse. Slavery, conquest... A dragon would be a... nice change, thinking about it."

Amber furnaces burned, but he kept his timbre in check, and held his face somewhere neutral, if not a little serious.

The sword, leaned against the table since he'd first plucked a glass of wine, found a hand rest, consciously and gently, upon the pommel after it returned the empty crystal.


[System]
Age: 32
Role & Kingdom: Ambassador of Lutaires

Skill and/or Weapon:
Diplomacy- He can talk himself out of (or into) most dilemmas.
Cards- He is surprisingly skilled at most card games.
Eating Pudding- It's doubtful whether this is an actual skill, but if it is, he has it.
Dirk- His only real weapon is mostly ornamental, but he has been properly trained in its use.

Personality: Virka is vivacious and outspoken. He rubs shoulders with many oddities, from usurping despots to second-rate mercenaries, and usually has a story to tell. Unfortunately, he's disinclined to think before speaking, and his tongue often runs away with him.

Biography: The Munnis weren't even a noble family. Four generations ago, they were peasants. Then Gullna Munni had a stroke of fortune and was able to invest it in a small peach orchard, while his brother Rangar traveled around Lutaires spreading word of the magical properties of peaches, which could be used to cure everything from warts to the plague, and was even useful in love potions. Business boomed, and by the time young Ríkur acquired his inheritance, he had enough to invest in a small entourage as a traveling merchant, bringing exotic goods from one country to another.

This merchant business was lucrative, and could have gone on for generations, but young Pabbi was not interested in the nomadic life. He married Tala Stúlka, an innkeeper's daughter, and settled down. After Ríkur's death, Pabbi built a city with his inheritance and resided over it as Lord Mayor. Virka was his second son.

Virka rose the rest of the way himself. His generous personality made him the life of the party in the eyes of many, and he was first invited to serve under a minor lord who passed through the city. Then a noble-lady visiting that noble took interest in Virka and invited him to serve her. On one occasion, he accompanied her to the palace, and the aging king took such a liking to Virka that he was appointed ambassador, nearly on the spot.

The new queen of Lutaires is less fond of Virka, thinking his appointment to ambassador was the foolish whim of weakened mind. But his missions have been mostly successful, so she keeps him in that position, partially out of respect for her predecessor, and partially because he's made friends with so many around the palace that he'd probably end up hanging around there if she didn't have the excuse to send him away.

Appearance: Virka is a clear mix of fae and human, in a way peculiar to the Lutairites. There is some disagreement on whether this makes him a better or worse representative for them. He has the face and stature of a human and the coloring and springy step of the fae. He's on the short side, but immediately calls attention to himself upon entering a room, simply by the lilt of his gait and the glint in his eye.

[User]
Regent King Adrian de Hiertania

---

The sound of metal striking metal was music to Adrian's ears as he parried another one of his assailant's heavily telegraphed slashes.

It had always been easy for the noble to lose himself in the flow of battle. After all, there were no sensitive egos to worry about stepping on here, no insufferable advisors constantly nagging him, and perhaps most importantly, his next move was always obvious to him. He turned aside another intense blow, but this time he pushed forward immediately and in one smooth motion he brought his opponent tumbling to the ground. The man landed with a rather ignoble crash behind him, joining his two fellow guardsmen. Deep down, Adrian knew that the self-satisfied smirk that was creeping into his expression must have been an insufferable sight for his sparring companions, but it had been far too long since he had this kind of exhilaration coursing through him.

"Come now, I thought you whelps promised I was going to break a sweat this time," he boasted, despite his breathing being much more ragged than he would ever admit. He lifted his practice sword so that it rested on his shoulder and turned his eyes to the three guards struggling to their feet, one eyebrow raised.

"I wouldn't look so high and mighty captain, your age is going to catch up to you one of these days," Malcolm, the first of the guardsmen to get back on his feet, retorted good naturedly.

 Adrian's smirk widened into a full on smile. It had been a long time since he had been a captain of anything, what with this whole regent king business that had been thrust upon him. "Please, when I'm old, gray, and sitting in my rocking chair, you sad lot still won't be able to score a hit on my beautiful face."

The comment earned him scoffs and more grumbling, but it only brightened Adrian's already good mood. A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds and graced the modest courtyard with its presence. The castle had plenty of more impressive ones, but Adrian had always been drawn to this one with its lonely willow tree. And it was against that sorry piece of wood that he propped himself up against on this rather unremarkable morning, enjoying the last few minutes he had before he had to get back to being the regent king. These sparring sessions were becoming more and more infrequent, but the escalating tensions between Hiertania's oh-so-lovely neighbors had been eating up most of the man's free time.

The sound of footsteps cut through the prince's thoughts and echoed throughout the small courtyard. "Your expression speaks volumes about the good news you bring me," he said all too dryly to the rather grim faced messenger. "Gentleman," he addressed his men with a brief nod, "I do look forward to the next chance I get to thoroughly trounce you."

---

Adrian ran his hand up the side of his exasperated face and then combed it through his hair as he climbed the stairs to his brother's chambers. The messenger's news did not surprise him much, as pillaging on the border had unfortunately become rather commonplace, but as it was the latest in an ever growing string of hostilities, it was only a matter of time before large scale violence broke out. It was unclear where exactly the bandits hailed from, but the details in the message led Adrian to suspect they were in fact Hiertanean. Nothing could be proven quite yet, so for now he would see what his brother wanted.

And there he was, in front of the doors to his brother's chambers. Of all the times he had entered the room, Adrian could not recall a single time he had opened the doors "properly." Most notably, there had been the time that he had actually kicked the doors open when he first heard about his niece, Ihana, and demanded that she be brought home. Adhemar hadn't let him anywhere near his tower for a solid month after that one. "No sense in changing now," he muttered to himself, throwing the doors open overdramatically and then proceeded to waltz into his brother's room like he owned the place.

"Good morning brother, I was told you wanted to see me," he stated matter-of-factly.

[Assistant]
Multicolored hair flew through the air as a teenage girl finished reaching for the final apple in one of the local trees. Her hand reached up, and no matter how much she waved the appendage and tried to grasp it by reaching further and further, the branch simply swayed back and forth as if defying her capabilities, the apple dangling at the end of it.

Fine. This is going to have to go by the hard way.

The girl started shimmying along the branch, which was now bending just slightly due to her bodyweight. Closer and closer and - there! The apple entered her hand as she yanked it from one of the capitol's orchards, a smile of brief victory crossing her face as she looked down at the person assisting her.

SNAP

With a yelp, the princess was sent plummeting towards the earth, crashing into the ground with a solid Thunk. The assistant ran over, but breathed a sigh of relief as laughter filled the air rather than a wail of pain, the unharmed apple lifted upwards defiantly as the princess let off a smile despite the scrapes on her arm. "I got it, fear not!"

The person assisting her for the day simply facepalmed, and the world continued as it was with apples being picked throughout the morning.

---

As she returned to the Palace, the princess was placed in a slightly more formal - and clean - dress, the green fabric flowing comfortably in the slight breeze running through the air. Soon enough she was wondering the halls, whistling in happiness as she headed into the palaces Yadi, where most people went to spend some time in the fresh air. A flute was in her hand, which she was ready to play hopefully to the delight of everyone within. Out of all the roles of the nobility, maintaining a high morale was the most important of them all.

As she entered into the courtyard though, her smile quickly turned into a frown. Groups that normally interacted openly were instead talking in hushed tones, as if reacting to bad news ...

Oh please ... not again ... This was usually the reaction of her people after a raid of some sort - depressing, sad, and most of all divided in their resolve. Some were angered, seeking revenge. Others sought to appease. The princess herself was unsure of exactly what was going on though, and violet eyes darted around the courtyard in search of someone well informed.

Her gaze fell onto one of the ambassadors for the crown - a young, cheerful, and gregarious man by the name of Virka who was always the life of the party. He was well liked by most, including the second princess herself. The noblewoman approached with a slight sense of nervousness, preparing herself for the worst. "Hey ... Virka. What happened? Everyone's ... you know ..." Her eyes darted around the courtyard, making it obvious what she was referencing about.

The sixty-odd year old man would have kicked himself for not having been there for the impromptu morning practice that had occurred, but with age comes rest, and he had personally led the guard on a five mile training run around the countryside the previous day, in full armor, while wearing backpacks full of bricks. Such intense training is what made the country strong, and what made boys into men.

He had led them of course, the younger guards seeming to be unable to keep up. However, he was getting prouder of them by the year, as they always seemed to be catching up to him, each generation of trainees getting nearer and nearer.

The old man stretched, old bones making various strange sounds as they almost seemed to snap into place. A morning routine went by, practiced over the years. The beard groomed, long green tunic thrown over, longsword at his hip - looking at his personal display case though, he debated bringing Sterklinge to breakfast. It'd give him something to clean while he was there.

Soon enough, the champion entered the dining hall adjacent to the kitchen, sitting himself down at one of the highest ranked tables casually and cleaning his greatsword that seemed like obsidian as it remained still. Based on the sounds from the kitchen, and the general negative demeanor of the cooks, food would be good this day. And most importantly, on time. That hellish servant of the second prince was likely ensuring that everything was cooked to perfection yelling various orders at the ladies working beneath her.

[User]
Virka flashed a smile to the girl who greeted him. "Hey, Fay," he replied amiably, "There was a border raid, but I haven't heard the whole to-do." He glanced up in thought. "I may get sent on an errand soon -" he looked back down and winked at the girl, "-then I'll know better than anyone what's going on. But what say we go ask your mother? She oughtta have all the details."

Virka led the way toward one of the fancier doors out of the yadi. He had noticed the scratches on Faylinn's arm and thought, "Good for you, kiddo." Jumping into things and getting messy was the most thorough way to learn.

"Ah, Vörn," Virka cheerfully greeted the guard at the next door.
"Sorry, Virka," Vörn said, "The queen is busy and said not to let you in."
"Not to let ME in?" Virka grinned at that, then pushed Faylinn forward slightly.
"Well, how about this sweet girl? Surely she wouldn't mind her own daughter stopping in."

Vörn glanced at Faylinn and bit the edge of his lip. What the queen had actually said was, "I must attend to this matter. Don't let anyone bother me while I do, especially not that lout Virka." But that usually didn't apply to the royal family. But did the princess actually want in, or was she just spying for Virka? "Um,-" Vörn began, but Virka had begun talking again.

"Of course, you could just tell us all the news yourself. Being a foreign diplomat, I of course must know all the details. And surely the queen's private guard would have heard more than a common street guard."

Now this was something Vörn could do. "Oh," he said, "I know that Her Majesty has General Viska and Lady Ský Tunglið with her, and that she sent Fela and Leita out almost as soon as she heard the news."

Virka was familiar with Fela and Leita, the brother-and-sister scout duo. They wouldn't dilly-dally. But what were they sent to learn? Motivation was clear, and if they were trying to catch someone who hadn't been apprehended with the others, Grípa would have gone too. They must be tracking the bandits' trail...backwards?

"Why, they're tracking the trail backwards!" announced Virka, not one to let his genius go unknown.
"Uh, yeah," replied Vörn in a tone that said he'd thought it obvious, "We can't take any definitive action without being sure of where they came from."


[System]
Appearance:
Alchemist Name: The Heavy Metal Alchemist

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Alchemy Type: Metal

Personality: "Serious" is one of the last adjectives used to describe Erik. He tends to joke around a lot and accidently messes up some of his mssions. Though, despite his personality, he is more skilled as an alchemist than he appears.

Bio (Required): Erik never knew his parents. He grew up in an orphanage. He first saw alchemy when he witnessed the caretaker use it to fix things around the orphanage. Instantly, he was enamored by it and wanted to learn more. Metal being his favorite thing to manipulate, he started to focus on that. He even develpoed a trick to cover himself in armor, though there are some very noticable weak spots that are there to all for manuverabilty. This special tactic is what earnedd him the nickname Heavy Metal when the State came calling for new recruits.

Coalition or State?: State

Level in State: (Commander, Soldier, etc.): Recruit

Outfit (Optional): In photo

Theme Song (Optional): Indestructible by Disturbed

Other: He doesn't like talking about his parents.

[User] Tash stood in a alley of Central. She had a piece of chalk grasped in her hand as she watched people walk down the streets. Her heels bothered her feet but she wasn't going to complain. She was waiting to meet up with any of her fellow coalition members.

[Assistant]
"Burn." The word was spoken calmly and stoically, the black-haired, suit-wearing man casually ducking underneath the thug's fist and clenching his own gloved hand around the man's face. Before anything could even be uttered, the mugger screamed in fear, beady eyes widening once he saw the runes on the gloves shining brightly. He just had to try to mug the Blue Devil-

Birds flapped into the sky as the inhuman scream skyrocketed in loudness, an inferno of beautiful, fiery blue fire exploding into the sky. The suit-wearing man merely walked out of that same alley-way, hands in his pockets as he headed in no particular direction. Citizens stared at the man, and then the alley. Only, there were no ashes there; just scorch marks.

[User]
Dan walked down the street casually. Her normal dress on but a black leather jacket over it covering her alchemy tattoos on her back so no one knew who she was. Since she was a special ops alchemist for the state most people only knew her name not her face. The people that did know her face and her name were either dead, in jail, or a fellow state alchemist ranked higher than her.

Dan was enjoying peace from her walk when from a distance she heard an inhuman scream then saw a pillar of blue fire explode into the sky. 'Alchemy.' she thought before she took off running through streets and side alleys towards where it came from. When she came to the scene she pushed through the crowd until she saw the scorch marks in the alley. A lower ranked soldier of the state tried to push her away but she simply pulled out her pocket watch. They immediately stepped bow and apologized before letting her through and into the alleyway. She kneeled beside the scorch marks and looked around. "No other clues were left behind, just the blue flames and these scorch marks from the burning of a victim." Dan said to no one I'm particular as she stood up and began to ask people of what they saw.

[Assistant]
Harry was walking down the street with his hands in his pocket. He had his symbols hidden when he can so no one could copy them. Plus with how they worked he didnt want to blow himself up by accident. While he walk a blood-curdling scream sounded out through the city. He just smirked because to him it sounded wonderful.

As he walked he saw he was getting close to the meeting point of his fellow coalitionists. So he started making sure he wasnt being followed. No point getting caught now. Once he was sure it was all safe he walked up to the meeting point.

[User]
The young commander had a moment off from strenuous work, however that didn't necessarily mean her vigilance wasn't necessary. She had sauntered about the city, her body hidden under more casual appearing clothing with her precious guns hidden underneath her leather jacket.

Lanette ran her fingers through her hair, a small sigh escaping her lips as she walked down the street. Her mind had wandered elsewhere and because of that, she managed to bump shoulders with a passerby. "Terribly sorry, sir." She murmured in a calm tone. Her violet gaze rested on him; The man's appearance was rather... Unsettling to her. Lanette kept a relaxed disposition and continued on, only to stop and turn on her heels once she was a good distance away to begin a pursuit.

[Assistant] Erik was forced into office duty yet again. Though, a nearby sound startled him from the paperwork he was being forced to fill out. He instantly ran outside to try and investigate the source and thought the smoke rising up was probably a good place to start. He ran out in front of the alleyway and attempted to stop but instead tripped and fell on is face. "Ow... maybe this is why I never get a promotion." He mumbled to himself instead of picking himself up.


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Cyrdic crossed his arms and listened to the exchange, actually a bit amused at the rumor surrounding the Ostland Baron. He'd heard a few tales of the two of them the past few days, but that certainly was a new one. He tilted his head, his ears twitching a bit as the two conversed. If Cyrdic didn't already know Camilla, he wouldn't have doubted the Duchess claim. She certainly carried herself like he'd imagine the ruler of a city would. And that wasn't a bad thing, honestly. It was pretty attractive, truth be told. It was then he wondered, had he ever heard of Pavona? Miragiliano yes, but...no he was certain he had. Oh well, it mattered little.

This little man had impressed Cyrdic as well, and he gripped his Ulrican sword hilt for emphasis when he next spoke. "Stay on the Wagon with Camilla. I'll be right next to both of you." He told herr Olden. The learned man gave an accepting nod, pleased that he could continue to speak to Camilla, as well as Cyrdic to learn more of their exploits. "Did you ever go to a university, herr Becker?" Olden asked.

Cyrdic snorted. "No. Why?"

"You speak less like a country man. Gruffly, certainly. But you've less slang, I suppose." Olden said. "I've an ear for these things." He explained, almost guiltily.

"I was forced to read in my younger years of serving the military. I got into trouble, and worked for the Quartermaster," Cyrdic said, smiling when recalling the memory.

"Ah, I see. Anywho, how long until we reach Altdorf?"

"It should be a week until Carroburg, and then another day before we reach the Capital proper." Cyrdic explained. "That is, unless we run into trouble."

"What would attack such a heavily armed retinue?"

---

Hours later...

The scream was faint, as if it was made just within the cusp of the horrible mist. It echoed off the trees, causing it to seem unreal, like from within some nightmare one had difficulty recalling. Cyrdic's eyes steeled, and men muttered in confusion as the young Sergeant stood vigil, trying to garner the source of the cry. He needn't have worried, for a very real crash was heard from behind, which caused the rough and ready soldier to spin. Men scrambled and one cried out in dismay, for something very heavy had hit one of the caravan's wagons.

"Out of the way!" Cyrdic ordered, shoving men to the side as he pushed through the throng to stand face to face with the mangled corpse of a swordsman, his unseeing eyes staring straight into Cyrdic's. He knew the man, what's more. Richter had been a fair soldier by all accounts. "What..." Cyrdic breathed, unable to comprehend the loss for what it was. His instincts kicked in as a defense mechanism almost instantly, and as he turned back towards the mist, he saw something he expected, but wasn't quite prepared for.

An enormous towering creature stood like a nightmarish statue at the edge of the treeline, a great Minotaur-like beastman with hate filled eyes. It's jaws were open, revealing serpent-like fangs and buckets of drool drizzling upon the ground. In its left hand it easily held a double headed axe that not even two men could haul effectively. A horrible lizard-like tongue slithered out of its maw and licked its muzzle, still crimson from the bite it took out of poor Richter.

Behind the bullheaded creature, silhouettes began to materialize within the mist, growing more solidified as they approached with a terrifying slowness. Some were not quite as large as the Minotaur, but were a head taller than the other men, clad in blackiron armor and hefting aloft ornate swords of hellmetal. Chosen warriors of Chaos. To look upon them was a daunting sight, much less the possibility of fighting them.

Between the plate armored warriors, other beastmen began to stream out of the forest's depths and ran hooting and howling towards the empire's caravan. Monsters with the heads of Elks, bears, wolves and goats. They each had various grotesque mutations that showed the stigma of chaos, and they held their crude but brutal weapons high as they charged.

"Form up!" the Captain yelled. One arrow sliced out of the mist and hit Captain Holmmann beneath the armpit, staggering him and causing him to cry out. "By the Hammer's mercy..." Cyrdic whispered, before he broke out of his reverie with all of the rage in his heart for such abominations to dare attack an Imperial caravan. "Shield up! Halberds Down!" He roared, unsheathing his sword. Men hustled to obey his orders. "Make ready! Arquebusers!" The riflemen got to their knees and hastened their loaded weapons. "On my mark!"

As the men formed up and began to make a plausible defense, a booming voice was heard from the very front of the line. "Sons of Sigmar!" the Warrior Priest called out, his huge hammer lifted high in one, powerful hand. "For. the. Empire!"

[Assistant]
Camilla dreamed. It seemed there were few nights of late when she did not. In her mind she was walking the streets of some ancient city under a hot Tilean sun. She wasn't sure why but she knew the city didn't have long to live. Why this would be should could not say for its people were happy, calm and at peace. She wandered for a time and perceived she was moving in a spiral towards the center of the city where a vast statue stood. As she neared though she felt a hand fall on her shoulder and was afraid to turn to see who it might be. Of its own volition and with the terrible logic of dreams her head began to turn. And then the scream in the camp jolted her awake as effectively as if she had been doused in water.

Camilla tried to jump to her feet but knocked her head on top of the wagon she had been sleeping under. Cursing in Tilean she crawled forward. Olden was there, awake but cowering in indecision. She didn't blame him for that, the screams that rent the night were enough to freeze anyone's blood. She could hear Cydric shouting orders and her one impulse was to go to him at once. Hard thumping sounds rattled the wagon and a man dropped into view eyes wide with pain and terror an ugly black fletched arrow in his chest. The clash of steel on steel sounded shockingly loud nearby and she heard men grunting and struggling in the darkness. The fallen soldier was still screaming when a black rune covered blade descended into his chest and twisted viciously, silencing him forever. Camilla couldn't see the wielder but every instinct screamed at her to stay down. Metal clad legs took a few steps forward and she was about to let out a sigh of relief when they paused. There was an odd snuffling sound, like a hound except many sizes to large and the legs turned and began to lean down. A baroque metal helmet appeared beneath the edge of the wagon, it was fashioned out of some black metal and ornate rune work was intricately carved into it. The man's, if man was the right term, eyes glowed with a pinkish red fire and he, it?, had an odd smell about it. It was something like perfume that had sat to long in the vat, or had used too much ambergris.

"Woman," the voice purred somehow sensual and threatening at the same time. He reached an armored hand down and extended it towards Camilla fingers spread.

"Such wonders we have to show you..." Camilla shot the strange warrior in the hand with her pistol, the booming discharge impossibley loud in the space beneath the wagon. The figure reeled back, howling and roaring in pain as it clutched the stump of its ruined hand, metal fingers falling to the ground, their ends smoking as if lit from inside by some baleful fire. Camilla turned and scrambled away, crawling as fast as her hands and knees would carry her. Olden apparently had the same notion and was already out the other end of wagon. Behind her there came the crash of splintering would and a roar of rage as the warrior smashed the front of the wagon with his sword. Camilla had a heart stopping instant to imagine the powder on the wagon blowing her into an unrecognizable mist and then she was out from under the wagon, its gunpowder having declined to detonate for the moment.

The clearing in which they camped was in Chaos. She could hear men shouting but only in a confusing jumble. Tendrils of mist still snaked through the darkness and dying men lay around her. Here and there a beast man lay, spitted by sword or scythed down by bullets. One of the larger ones was tearing at its own entrails in a frenzy of berserk hunger. Camilla could have done without that image. Behind her she heard the Chaos warrior closing and took off after Olden, hoping the scholar knew where he was going. A beastman with the face of a fanged goat loomed out of the mist, stone axe raised and she whipped her rapier free and thrust into the things stomach twisting the blade and yanking it free in a smooth motion. Then it was lost in the mist and she and Olden emerged into a haze of powder smoke.

Ahead of them soldiers formed, halberds thrust out in a tight defensive ring, the men kneeling to allow the handgunners to fire over them. Camilla grabbed Olden and yanked him to the ground with a squawk of protest a moment before a rolling volley rang out and led shot hissed overhead like hail. The impacts could be heard even over the screams they raised. Camilla hauled Olden to his feet and ran at the spearmen, hoping that they would recognize her in time not to impale her on the glittering points of their weapons. A few strides before she reached the line something seized her by the back of her tunic an jerked her into the air. She screamed in terror and hate, thrashing uselessly with her rapier.

[User]
"Camilla! Herr Olden!" Cyrdic cried, waving them toward the line he had formed. His voice strong but hoarse from the smoke of the surrounding weapons. Unnatural abominations were impaled upon the halberds that were laid down to halt their mass advance. Those that slipped by like snakes were engaged by the swordsmen. The melee was thick with screams and blood. Cyrdic hacked down a beastman, kicking its limp body to the ground. An axe spun out of the fray and embedded itself into the head of a rifleman, the impact and area of the hit caused the newly made corpse to spasm and send its weapon flying upwards.

It was at that moment Cyrdic saw the tendril of the Slaaneshi Chaos Warrior slither with unnatural speed, looping around Camilla's waist and yanking her backwards with the force of a cannon shot. Cyrdic's heart stopped, but in that split instant, he moved on sheer instinct.

Cyrdic struck his blade into the ground and caught the falling gunpowder weapon. He readied it and placed the butt of the weapon on its shoulder and fired into the helmet of the Chaos Warrior. It didn't kill it, as impossible as it sounded. But the shot through its eye weakened its hold on Camilla. Its grip loosened, and Camilla wiggled out of its grasp and met Cyrdic. He had run after her, and caught her in an embrace.

"We have to get the hell out of here," Cyrdic breathed in her ear. Behind him, the baying of the mules was desperate and loud. They were supremely trained to not have run off yet. He checked to see if she was wounded, and in his peripheral vision, he saw something huge looming, growing closer as it closed distance. "Get down!" He roared, pushing Camilla to the ground as he hit the dirt as well. A boulder slammed into the mud and earth just passed them, bouncing into the line of men and breaking its formation.

The beasts and Chaos champions howled, and in the distance Cyrdic heard the Warrior Priest of Sigmar challenge the leader of the Warband in single combat. A great, ever shifting eye was emblazoned on the Chosen's runic chest piece, and within his helmet glowed a purple fire of forever changing hues.

"Get to the wagon," Cyrdic ordered her, and behind them they heard a pitiful cry. Cyrdic blinked. He recognized the voice, and the Ostland soldier turned to see Herr Olden with his leg's crushed, having been hit by the bouncing rock. He blinked weakly, calling for Camilla to come to him.

When they came close, he would feebly reach into his coat pocket to produce a vial of what looked to be a rich silver substance. "M-My dear...See this makes it to...to Altdorf, or Nuln. T-he Countess shall receive it..."


[System]
Age: 17

Gender: Male

Race: Faunus (White-Tiger based)

Weapon: Kladenets & Perun

A Charge-Blade and Axe-Shield combination weapon. The two weapons have the unique ability of fusing into a single, larger weapon. Taking the form of a giant axe for a more powerful, albeit slower, combat style. The sword becomes the shaft of the axe with the shield becoming the axe's head. Internally, his weapons house a hidden firing mechanism that allow him to load Dust Ammunition. With loaded ammunition he can unleash destructive, close-ranged, explosive blasts.

Speciality: Though he doesn't necessarily fall into a single, defined role he primarily engages close-ranged combat, but can act as a defensive off-hand tank with his shield and utilizing his Semblance, provide a supportive role. With his shield, he can skillfully defend and attack at the same time with his sword at extremely close ranges. Sheathing his sword into his shield, he can then switch to a defensive position to guard himself or his teammates. As part of his versatile and adaptive nature, his shield has a bladed edge and short punch-spike at its base that allows his shield to double as a weapon. Hidden within his shield is a speed-loader that can quickly reload his sword with a full magazine of Dust Ammunition in the event of an emergency.

Combining his sword and shield together to from his Great Axe, he trades speed and defense for a purely offensive style of combat. With his giant Axe he can use his impressive strength to cleave, crush, and smash through large groups of enemies at once. Though his attacks with his Axe are much slower and in wide arcs, the sheer brute power of the weight of the axe and its slightly increased melee range makes it a fearsome weapon in Kuhaku's hands.

In either its sword or axe form, Kuhaku can load special Dust Ammunition to either 'Burn' or 'Fire'. 'Burning' a round, he can propel himself short distances for a powerful and quick strike. 'Firing' a round unleashes an explosive blast in a small area in front of himself. His explosive dust attacks all require ammunition and as such, he wears a belt with Dust Shotshells on them.

Semblance: The King's Voice - With the sound of his roar, he can temporarily remove mental limiters on he and his teammates' minds. Allowing them to fight with enhanced senses and bolstered physical capability for a few minutes at a time. For his enemies, the sound of his roar has the opposite effect. Muddling their senses to reduce their effectiveness and confusing them.

However, his Semblance comes to him at a cost. The more often he utilizes his Semblance, side effects start to appear though only in himself. The side effects can range anywhere from headaches, impaired senses, seizures, temporary memory loss or permanent memory loss. Not only coming with side effects, there are certain conditions to his Semblance in order for it to be completely effective, if at all. Whenever he prepares to utilize his Semblance, his golden eyes turn a burning, glowing blue. With black 'stripes' appearing on his 'fur', face, and arms. His stripes and eyes can also act as a timer, fading as the effects of his Semblance wears off.

Personality: Having been orphaned at a very young age, Kuhaku never had a home to call his own. As such, he primarily lived in orphanages, moving to a new one every so often. Growing up having never known his own family, he was constantly abused and subjected to prejudice due to his race. Though due to his strong will and good heart, he never held the abuse he went through against Humankind and overcame his rough upbringing. He endured humankind's irrational hatred and treatment of his own kin.

Desiring to prove to others that the Faunus were not the 'beasts' and 'animals' most humans labeled his kind as, he enrolled in Signal as soon as he was able to. He believes that his enrollment to become a future Hunter as a way of demonstrating that Faunus and Humans can coexist and work together peacefully. He one day wishes to become a legendary Hunter to end the Grimm threat and prevent any future generations from ever having to go through what he did, having lost his family. As part of his good-hearted nature, you'll always see him in a generally bright and happy mood. Kind and polite to all who meet him, he treats most everyone with the same level of warmth and respect akin to that of a close, long-time friend. Outgoing, loud, energetic and enthusiastic are just a few characteristics to describe him. As a result of his tough childhood he has a deep understanding of other people's hardships and pain, granting him a strong sense of empathy. Quick to trust others and make friends, Kuhaku doesn't have a hateful bone in his body, despite what other ignorant humans might think.

Color: Sky-Blue

Emblem:

Appearance:

[All rights reserved to Nitroplus for the character image. Credit goes to Lugubrious for the Emblem!]

[User]
After he sternly issued an order to the newly acquainted team, Ozpin scanned over each of their faces to assure his words found their way into their skulls before taking his leave. The three were left in dead silence, with only the ambience of rustling trees and straggling students returning to their classes to compensate for the lack of conversation. Judging from how the other two uneasily moved in place, Delta was the only one who knew that the team leader they were tasked to seek was standing right beside them. Now the only challenge was breaking the ice.

The only leverage Grane had on Robert was merely a greeting and a few curses before a faculty member came to collect the two at the docks. It was a chance meeting, having arrived at the same time, they ended up bumping into each other. Literally. Delta, being the smaller of the two, obviously fell onto his rear, and was chastised for endangering the wellbeing of a certain beverage he later pledged to keep quiet about. After all, Grane did seem to be a bit on the older side, he had probably already built up a tolerance to alcohol. The same case applied to Delta, albeit he never consumed drinks designed to wash away the worries of adults, he had been around soldiers who inhaled more beer bottles than bullets they ever shot.

They could probably hold their liquor just as well as Grane, if not, even better.

The boy's nose scrunched up at the memory of the smell of the stuff, which resulted in him letting out a tired sigh, the first noise emitted out of the trio. He made eye contact with the two and spent more time than necessary choosing his words. After all, this would technically be the first words to transpire between the recently founded, yet still incomplete team. It was to be considered a milestone event. "Well… Er-"

"GET DOWN! IT'S A SEAGULL!" Whimpered Eve as it burrowed deeper into the makeshift leather pouch. Delta stared down at the embodiment of his semblance with only contempt in his eyes. He then looked up to the sky and confirmed that there was indeed the faint outline of a bird high above. For some odd reason, birds of flight always had a craving for the familiar, even though it held no nutritional value whatsoever. They were right under a ginormous tower, what else would they expect? Delta calmly zipped the pouch shut, which instantly incited muffled cries for sunlight.

The boy tugged on one of his hat's straps and cleared his throat, "As I was saying, we should proceed to our classroom, and drop our belongings off during lunch. Team leader, we're still new to the campus. Would you mind leading the way?" His putting a little emphasis on his designation for Robert was his roundabout way of telling Grane that they had already completed their initial task. "Oh, and um… Is there by chance a vending machine with canned coffee on the way?"
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Delta sighed out of relief after he gulped down a sip of the bitter beverage. Better yet, the machine sold them already heated. Technology had surely come a long way. Nowadays, androids and abruptly surfaced dust applications took presidence in the news, but nobody spared any time for the little things which made everyday life just that much better. If Delta was an adolescent of faith, he would thank the deity or deities in power for giving the raw materials necessary to make such a convenient way to distribute coffee.

"Oi. Delta. Are you zoning out again? Wait, didn't you have a cup of that stuff before we boarded the airship?" The student peered down at the tiny familiar sitting primly on his hat. He shook his head in response while running a hand through grey locks of hair. It felt odd with that piece of apparel absent, but his father advised to not wear his hat in class, as it was considered disrespectful by most teachers. Almost entirely circular eyes narrowed at his nonchalant composure, still not satisfied with the silent answer. "Is it alright if I talk to Grane and Robert? I want to get to know our cohorts." Following his normal fashion, Delta mutely nodded to give the little being of energy the go ahead.

Eve giddily jumped on the hat before pacing its way over to the edge of Delta's desk, "How's it going you two? Oh, do any of you two have some spare notebook paper? Delta forgot to pack some this morning, and I'd like him to have a tangible version of his notes. History's next, right? I hope Delta and Grane can get up to speed fast! Also, what's for lunch today? Mind telling me a little bit about yourselves?" Eve machine-gunned multiple topics, after all, the semblance hadn't gotten too many chances to speak with teenagers over the past years.

Delta's gaze strayed off towards the doorway, where his and Grane's luggage resided. A lethargic flow of students trickled into the classroom. Had all of them abandoned their seats for the spectacle which was a boy with a sewn mouth shrouded in mystery? There was only a few minutes left in the class. "I wonder if the professor will introduce us. If I remember correctly, all of these students are in my next class, I think." Delta thought to himself as he took another sip of the coffee. He could have fared just fine without the milk already mixed into the drink.

[Assistant]
Skyra blinked. Once. Twice. Thrice.
"Uhm, Moku? Are you alright?"
Of course she wouldn't have any idea that this probably might even have been Mokuren's first hug ever. Maybe she just destroyed a precious moment in her life without even noticing.
"Uh... I'm sorry!", Skyra uttered and let go of the shut-down girl.
"I didn't know you were uncomfortable with hugging. Was this your first ever hug? I hug people all the time. Well, the people I like anyways.", Skyra sputtered in quick succession.
"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

[User]
Kuhaku Shiro - Beacon Academy Rooftops...

Shiro turned his head when Abel made his sudden and rather convenient appearance. "Well, that was fast." Listening for a moment, he then turned away when his friend was finished speaking. His ears drooped and his tail lazily swept the shingles behind him when Abel mentioned returning to the hellacious class period that was Mathematics.

"Awe, but I don't wanna go back.."
A little contradictory as he dreaded being late to class..
But didn't quite care that he was essentially skipping class.
Did it count against your attendance record if you appeared for roll call then dipped out? He didn't know.

Looking back to Gren, he removed his hood when the jolly green giant blotted out the light to protect his eyes from the glaring sun's rays. He smiled and was about to voice his thanks, until the next words that came from Gren's mouth questioned Shiro and his Semblance. His body grew rigid as he froze in place solid, his voice getting caught in his throat for the second time that he could remember for the day.

Blinking, Shiro watched as Gren displayed a hologram of...someone who looked to be himself. But frowning, he tilted his head. He didn't recall that event. In fact, he didn't recall telling Abel or Gren anything about the details of his powers. Had he ever done that? He didn't know. Eyes raising to meet Gren's as he spoke, he again sat in silence. Paying close attention, like a good little boy should. Golden eyes looking at the hologram and then to Gren at alternating intervals. Shiro appreciated Gren's concern for him, he truly did. But it wasn't as if he could help his memory loss. When Gren questioned his memory of who Shiro was and what he could remember he looked away. Lowered eyes scanning the shingles in front of him.

"Remember...about myself?"
Shiro scratched at a shingle as he bit his lips.
"Geez, this feels more like an interrogation than anything.."
He felt extremely nervous. Uneasy. Uncomfortable. It wasn't hard to tell as his ears frantically twitched around, his tail sweeping to and fro restlessly.
He could feel a potential attack coming, but he cleared his throat and fought it back.
"Come on, Shiro. You can do this. Just one thing at a time..."
Shiro sighed and looked up at Gren, repositioning himself so that he addressed Abel as well.
"I don't have a family. My childhood was nothing special, and the past is just that. The past. Behind me. Nothing unique to talk about. There's nothing wrong with me." Shiro crossed his arms and puffed his cheeks out a little, as if he pouted. Straight and to the point. "If this is going to be some sort of 'interrogate Shiro' pow wow. Then I won't have any of it." Shiro stood and dusted his rear off. Normally, Shiro would be blabbing away as he suffered from another unofficial disease. Word vomit. Diarrhea of the mouth. Thankfully, something helped him from spilling his heart and guts out. "All I do know is that I'm Kuhaku Shiro. I'm 17 years old and I'm a White Tiger Faunus. Most importantly, I'm a student here at the prestigious Beacon Academy training to become a Hunter. Not just any Hunter too, but a great one. A legendary one." Pointing to Abel and Gren, he continued. "Who you and Abel were in the past doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is that you're by my side and that you're my friends. You two have my back and I have yours." Adjusting his clothing and his belongings that were slung on his back, Shiro casually turned away from Gren to walk off. "You can't stop me from using my powers and I won't. If your lives were ever in danger and depended on me giving us a bit of an edge, then I won't hesitate to do whatever is necessary. No matter the cost, no matter what happens to me."

His tone then changed. His expression brightened as he grinned at Abel, approaching him. It was painfully obvious what he was trying to do. "So! Enough of that! Abel, spill the deets. What's the sitch? Got any info on what's going on down there with that funky music?" Clearly, he was trying to weasel his way out of another uncomfortable situation. Trying to change the topic of discussion. Trying to run away from the conversation.


[System]
Sex: Female
Age: 29
Appearance:

Basic Appearance: As the picture suggests, she is one of the few in the Lunar Coven to fully devote herself to the more animalistic side of their magic, having developed a purplish fur and skin across her body, a tail, and oversized wolf ears. However, unlike most within her specialized group, she has studied the other magics in conjunction, producing an artifact that may cast the illusion of her former appearance.

This appearance is that of an averaged-sized, if beautiful, woman in her late 20's. Though her clothes may change to suit the occasion, she is most commonly in street clothes; tee-shirts and jeans. However, she does consistently wear a small gold necklace with a wolf charm, in both forms, into which the illusion magic is imbedded. Her eyes are silver, and her hair does come out purple now, though it used to be brown. The most common excuse she uses is that she dyes it.
Zoey uses a her clawed feet and and pouch of throwing stars as her primary weapons.

Abilities
Passive:
 Wulvmorph: She is able to smell and hear better than normal humans, and has the ability to see clearly at night. She is also more agile and resistant to injury
 Lunar communication: She is able to understand and communicate simple messages with and through creatures of the night. These include things such as bats, wolves, and similarly disposed creatures.
 Alchemical experience: She has a proficient knowledge in night time flora and their uses, typically applied to wounds and antitoxins.
 Illusory-form: She can pass off easily as a normal human with good senses because of her pendant, which is easily charged.
Active:
 Shapeshift: She is able to shapeshift at will into a wolf, which dramatically increases her ground speed and agility. She is still able to cast magic out of this wolf form, meaning that if she were ever trapped as a wolf she would still be able to communicate and uphold her duties.
 Illusion magic: She is able to cast a quick spell for minimal affect: Speech out of wolf form, a brief vision, a flash of light, etc. with no preparation. Otherwise, depending on the complexity of the spell, and the distance of the illusory site from her casting zone, there can be a substantial set-up time for the spell.
 Teleport: She is able to teleport up to a distance of about 20 yards without preparation. Other distance may require anywhere from a 40 minutes to an entire week to prepare for.
Noctalance: A lance of silver life that causes a freezing puncture wound, called from above. It is most effective at night with a full moon, but can be used to affect even in the day. (Though at such times they are little more than needles the size of a toothpick.)
Shadow dance: A highly complex maneuver of shadow magic, it uses two steps. Manipulation of shadows and darkness, and a unique, highly specialized teleport that requires those shadows. The effect is a blindingly fast teleport that can be used to apply rapid strikes to a target, typically one per teleport. It looks like passing through liquid shadows to pop out of another liquid shadow.
Moon's Bounty: A small-scale healing and stabilization magic, it involves drawing a crescent rune on the target and charging it with magic, which will ensure the target won't die of something physical and slowly heal them over time, for as long as the rune persists. The mark is low-energy, but also generally doesn't heal much more than a scraped knee in it's duration unless it is charged beyond. The direct-spell version of this would feel like getting dunked in ice water, and coming out with fresh, but the feeling is described as, "Undesirable, to be used only if the person would otherwise die. Because they would otherwise wish that they had."

Backstory
Zoey is from a town called Billings, a relatively large town in Montana. Her story of joining the Lunar Coven is actually one of the less eventful ones: she was approached one night while she was in college and accepted. A talent, she quickly acquired her skills within the Coven and acquired the title of Acolyte. As an acolyte, she established herself as one of the best, able to easily practice in the large, open ground of her home state, and train in the rougher, mountainous regions also found in the unremarkable stretch. Eventually, she reached a status of elitism. Having chosen to pursue transformation magic, this culminated in a visit from "the Aspect of the Wolf," a spirit entity of the highest rank within their order, though also not human. She received it's blessing, becoming infused with it's power to become the creature she is today. She still faithfully serves the Coven, believing in their work to make the night a little less bumpy for the more ignorant humans of her region.

Personality
Cheerful, though both independent and private, she is used to going long times with only brief social contact. While she isn't overly rude, she does speak her mind and may occasionally misspeak, missing a social clue or such. That said, she is concerned with helping people, and will act in the way she believes will help humans. She believes herself to be a good person, and still human. While she is used to such comments now, it still will sting her pride if she is referred to anything else.

She does not get angry often, but if she is made to become angry, she tends to act quickly and explosively. Such outbursts do not usually involve violence, but it is still not recommended.

The Lunar Coven:
docs.google.com/document/d/1KxiyMJLvF1..

[User]
Raiya clinked her glass with Nemo's glass and knocked back the soft amber liquid. The sweet taste of the liquid was quickly replaced with the familiar burn of alcohol. Certainly it was sweet, but it still definitely was alcohol.

"I'm not frightened. I am quite confident in my own abilities, even with what I have seen you display so far, I believe that if I wanted to I could fight you and live, perhaps even win. You're more of a minor annoyance than the nightmare monster many of the underworld would have me believe." Raiya replied, "Although, you did surprise me with the power you have displayed. You are powerful, there is no doubt about that. Unstoppable? Immortal? Death incarnate? I find those claims hard to believe."

Raiya refilled her glass, filling it to the brim this time, and kicked her feet up on the table, leaning her chair back to a balance point. She placed her left hand behind her head, scratching an itch she had, while sipping on her drink with her right hand. She kept her left arm stretched up behind her head while talking.

"I told them expressly not to. You may call it a matter of pride or honor or what have you but I want to be a part of every process involved in finding the killer. This is my work and I will see it completed if it is the last thing I do in this life." Raiya explained

---

Felix leaned back on the lab table once more. He waved his hand, a book appeared in his hands in a flurry of blue flames. He dropped the same book a second later, it vanished into another flurry of blue flames.

"That is the mana inventory." Felix commented, "It is a pocket dimension within your aura where physical items can be stored and recalled at a moments notice. Think if it like an invisible backpack, or closet. The size of your mana inventory depends on the size of your two mana wells which incidentally effects the overall size of your aura. I am constantly suppressing my aura otherwise the resulting mana waves would create a physical vibration everywhere I go that would shake everything around me, and you could see why that would be a problem. But because of the size of my mana wells I can store much more inside my mana inventory than most people." Felix explained.

He took off his glasses and wiped them down with a cloth he materialized from his mana inventory. Then he dropped both his glasses and the cloth, both of them disappearing in a puff of blue flame.

"Because of the fact that I am so accustomed to using this simple recall and dismiss spell, I never have to say the incantations. It's one of the first spells most Talents learn to use second nature, without incantations. Once a person uses a spell enough, they start to get a feel for how the spell is shaped and operates, and can therefore use it without incantations. Although, there are spells that are more powerful when used with an incantation, so it is something you have to learn for yourself. In order to cast the spell to place an item into your mana inventory, you have to feel your aura, bring forth the aura and shape it around the item you are holding and then say this word, 'serere.' In order to bring it back from your mana inventory, you think of the item you placed in the inventory, the feel of the item in your aura, force that feeling to the area you want to make it appear, so in this case your hands, and say 'vocāre.'" Felix explained.

"Does that make any sense?" Felix finished.

[Assistant]
Nemo took a drink from his glass as Raiya replied. While he wasn't exactly excited at being called an annoyance, the thought of knowing someone who didn't fear him and considered him an equal was an attractive notion. Attractive enough to douse out his competitive spirit for the time being.

Raiya's response about instructing her gang not to investigate any further intrigued Nemo. "I understand, in fact I can respect that. If someone were to challenge me, I wouldn't want any unnecessary help to defeat them either. But sometimes it is necessary, sometimes bringing the full force of your resources down upon somebody is the only way." Nemo replied. "If your parents were talents, it's likely that the killer is as well. And there's no telling how powerful that person could be now. By choosing to do it alone, you'd be making the same choice I've made countless times. That's why I can tell you how reckless it really is. By putting myself at the greatest disadvantage, it only makes my performance all the more sweeter. Every dance could be my last, without those stakes it wouldn't be a real show. That's all I have to make me feel real." Nemo explained, finishing his drink and placing the glass down on the table.

"That's why I worry for you. If something were to happen to you, well, what would that say about my merit as a partner?" Nemo joked. "While bringing retribution upon this person might make things even-steven, it's not going to make you happy. The end will never be worth the means used to obtain it, especially if the end also marks your own. I'm not saying you should give up on your task altogether, but don't be foolish in the way you do it, don't lose sight of what you can do afterwards. This thing you've set out to do shouldn't be your last act." Nemo finished.

[User] "Interesting advice from the bogeyman of magic," Zoey remarks, coming downstairs behind them. She had finished her mental preparations, but something was bugging her. It had to do with her tool kit: it was very ritualistic, and a bit archaic. However, she thought she happened to be in contact with a man who had access to simple tools, especially the kind of simple tools she wanted. She cleared her throat, "Sorry for the interruption, but I'd like a word with Nemo about the upcoming mission. Specifically, I'd like to talk about obtaining something deadly." She leans against a nearby wall. "I have a bit of a hunch that when it comes to obtaining a weapon, you'd be the man to talk to. I'm not looking for something fancy, but I am looking for something quiet, small, and effective. My throwing stars have limitations I'd like to compensate for."

[Assistant]
Raiya kept her chair tilted back, her glass empty, she used magic to lazily levitate her glass and refill it and bring it back to her.

"Oh, I'm fully prepared to fight the talent that killed my parents. The magic waves I detected from their belongings? It was powerful, they were in a fight for their lives, no disciples could kill a few talents while also leaving a magic residue like that." Raiya commented. As Raiya listened she grew a bit irritated, "This fight is mine and mine alone, I will not rely on others to see this task through. I will be the winner in this battle, and I won't be relying others to win it. Relying on others is a weakness that I won't be falling prey to."

Raiya downed the full glass before refilling it again. It felt like to her that Nemo was patronizing her, and she wasn't amused. She was about to say something about it before Zoey interrupted.

"Don't worry about the interruption, the conversation was beginning to make me irritated."  Raiya replied.

[User]
Nemo looked down to the table, rhythmically rolling his right hand's fingers on the side of his head, not replying to Raiya or Zoey. After letting out a small sigh he leaned back in his chair, now looking up to the ceiling. "Yeah, that would be me." Nemo finally replied after a couple seconds of silence.

He then turned to face Zoey. "I am a smith, but the things I create are custom, akin to a bespoke suit. And not unlike a bespoke suit, the weapons I make take time. Perfection can't just be spawned willy-nilly at the last moment, it has to be crafted over time. But it's as you said, you don't need something fancy. And luckily I think I have something that fits the bill with your requirements." Nemo explained, then spawned a pistol in his right hand.

The pistol he summoned was a chrome plated 380. ACP Walther PPK/S with a ivory grip. Attached to the barrel was a matching chrome plated small pistol suppressor. "I haven't done much work on this one since I acquired it after a encounter with a British intelligence agent. But it should shoot-" Nemo paused, ejecting the magazine from the pistol and bringing the gun up to his ear. He pulled back the slide a few times, carefully listening to the sound it made. "-just fine." He concluded. Putting the mag back in and tossing the gun up into the air. He caught it by the suppressor and extended the gun out to Zoey with the handle facing her. "Don't forget the spare." Nemo added, conjuring a extra magazine with a sleight of hand trick in his other hand. Judging by sight and weight, both of them were already loaded with ammunition.

[Assistant] Zoey took it and checked the magazines, counting the rounds. Six each, eyy? "Sure isn't a lot of bullets. But we don't have a lot of time." She turns it over in her hands, before sliding it through the purple aether of her inventory. "Maybe afterwards, we can talk about a more... custom fit. Since you like pretty things that match and all." She nods to Raiya and heads off down stairs to play more arcade games, mostly to kill off some of the apprehension of waiting around. She had a feeling she wouldn't have to wait long, but her high score could use a good bumping.


[System]
Nicknames: She prefers to just be called Viraa

Operational/Code Name: Viraa Lye

Age: 23

Gender: Female

Biology Type: Innovade

Appearance:

Biography/History: As an Innovade, she was pretty much created by Celestial Being. She feels like her entire existence is to 'serve the plan' so to speak. As such, no matter what, the mission comes first, and her place in it all. She never really experienced a normal life, having friends, or anything that comes with such things. Because of this she can be rather, difficult.

From the moment she woke up she acted as an assistant to Veda, as most of her kind did. She was the one who approached many people who Veda had chosen to become part of Celestial Being. If a Scientist, or Engineer, or even a Doctor was chosen to join Celestial Being, it was likely Viraa who approached them, and made them the offer and convinced them to accept it. She was also ultimately the one who approached the Gundam Meisters to inform them of their place within Celestial Being, and if necessary, convince them to join as she had done with others.

It was for this reason that Viraa was given a female body. While many Innovades are at least somewhat male or female, it wasn't often that they were fully given a gender by Veda. The exception, was Innovades such as Viraa who needed to fit in with Humanity, and not be too off putting when she approached the people she was intended to recruit.

When recruitment died down, she typically would act as a personal escort to any VIPs within Celestial Being should it be needed. It was rarely needed, but still, just to be safe she was often put into the company of any VIPs who were going to largely public places. To her, it felt odd as they had not yet made their presence known so it wouldn't be as if they had enemies who were looking to shut them down. Yet. She was a combat Innovade, but she didn't expect that meant protecting VIPs from threats that didn't exist... was she supposed to keep them from tripping over their own shoelaces or something? It baffled her to no end.

Imagine her surprise however, when Veda informed her that she would be a Meister herself, one of the forefront tools of the whole plan. She felt honored, and special, and it honestly did little to help her 'mightier than thou' complex when it came to others who she felt were less important to the plan, or didn't understand it as well as she did.

At least she finally understood why she was a Combat Innovade.

Skill Set: As an Innovade she can use Quantum Brainwaves to connect to Veda, and view any data she has access to. This means reviewing mission plans without needing to see them, information on the enemy. Beyond this she is considered a 'combat Innovade', so she specializes in piloting Mobile Suits.

===

Mobile Suit: GN-005 Virtue

Description/Picture:

Weapons and Operational Systems of Mobile Suit:

GN Field

Optical Camoflauge

2x GN Beam Sabers

2x GN Cannons

GN Bazooka

[User]
Sometime later that night - Africa

"Alright everyone we're going to make it clear we're not just going after the big boys but also their lackeys. There is a paramilitary organization known as The Diamond Angels who operate in this area. Veda tells us that they're responsible for the Union's resource monopoly in this particular area. The AEU however has also been profiting from them as well by having them fight local governments preventing HRL officials from gaining any traction. They themselves are known war profiteers. They have seen action in the assault of the former Krugis Republic, and many other smaller nations." the voice of Captain Goren repeated over the communications link to all the gundams from his place in the ship. "They have numerous mobile suits ranging from Hellions, and heavy tanks to outdated mobile suits. They also have planes, and other assault craft. They're a veritable army on their own. However the gundams should still have the advantage." Nea stated as she kept track of each individual position on the gundams. "They've got their main forces currently held up at a refurbished military base. Roughly eight hangers in total, an air field, and numerous other small builds. It's basically a fortress. Though the information is not particularly relevant they have mines, and a wall surrounding the perimeter. Armed intervention is being declared based on their promoting war by violently strangle holding resources, and war crimes in the local area." Hans stated calmly and quickly as he made note of the current locations of active suits. The majority weren't scrambled there was a five man hellion patrol in the air, two MSER-04 Anf near the front gate, and various small tanks, and a flag squad drilling nearby but not at the base. Other small squads ran about doing their businesses. "Plan is simple. Kyrios kills them from above, Exia assists Virtue in destroying the hangers. Dynames kills anything that tries to leave."

"I'm taking position now manage to get into a snug spot near the mountains have a good spot on the whole base." Chad responded quickly as he looked down at the base. It was square in shape, and very large. Numerous large concrete walls, and steel gates. Barbed wire, and spot lights with some watch towers. Normally a frightening sight...not anymore these gundams dwarfted anything these cowards had. Besides that the forested area nearby hid the base from view of anyone who didn't know the area. "Think this is a bit overkill. I get this is a large base but is it necessary for all four gundams to work in tandem?" questioned Chad as Nea shrugged, and answered hesitantly, "Veda says we can use this as way to show how overwhelming our power is by crushing a skilled military company right at their biggest base in the middle of the operation zone. Attacking anything bigger would require us to go after the actual armies inside the nations. And they're technically not promoting war just yet." Nea's responsible didn't change much for Chad it was time to kill some mercs...not that he had an issue with this it was just run of the mill. "Roger that."

[Assistant]
Atalei laughed in the comms. "Well you're not wrong about that, Arden. With the firepower I have on me right now, I could probably decimate the whole base by myself" Though he jested, it wasn't by much. With his flight unit attached, he had way more than enough to get the job done, hell, he had enough to instill terror in anyone who witnessed the attack. He wasn't too sure if he was okay with that inwardly but he knew that it needed to be done.

"Kyrios on standby. Just give the order when ready."

The sunburnt Gundam hid in a wooded area overlooking the base, ready to pounce at any moment. While he waited, his conversation with Viraa seemed to loop in his mind. What exactly had she meant? It seemed so serious now that he really focused on her words. On how she said every syllable, on how she revealed her face to him. Those things meant something, he was sure. But what?

@Shandria@vancexentan

[User]
It wasn't long after they arrived that Viraa dropped straight down from the sky above the base. She assumed that any of the Mobile Suits that attempted to pursue her would be taken care of by the other Meisters. She, after all, was the only Mobile Suit specifically designed for this type of mission. At least, in some ways. It was true, any one of them could likely take on the whole base. It might be a challenge, but they could do it. Her Bazooka was meant for larger targets than simple hangars, but it would still show just what she could do.

As she landed, she spoke simply as usual, however this time she added on a more, prophetical statement. "GN-005 engaging the enemy. All who revel in war shall burn in the avenging light of Celestial Being."

With that, she raised her Bazooka and locked it in place on Virtue's chest. Within second the weapon charged, and the large beam fired out, punching through one hangar, the next, and then another. Three Hangars in total, as they were all in a row, were decimated in an instant, with all Mobile Suits inside falling prey to the following explosions of anything from fuel to weapons being detonated from the sheer heat of the weapon they were being hit with. Three down, five to go. They weren't difficult targets, but she had to display the power of Virtue... without necessarily ACTUALLY displaying its power. Blasting their base to pieces was a good start at least.

[Assistant]
EXIA: Micheal D. Cicero

A squadron of mobile suits assembled to deliver a counterattack the Virtue, quickly getting into a spread out formation, preparing their guns to fire upon the heavily armored Gundam. While it was doubtful that the inferior suits could even put a scratch on the Gundam, they couldn't let them delay the plan and possibly escape with enough resources to rebuild. While it was cold the only way to deal with weeds is to pull them out by the roots.

"Cicero, Gundam Exia, engaging the enemy."

From the skies the Exia descended, flipping it's large GN sword out and slashed through a Hellion on the way down. The Exia's eyes flashed as it dashed forwards, spinning around and cleaving through two Hellion ground types, before using the momentum to bring the GN blade upwards and then drop the blade through the left side of a third Hellion, cleaving everything from the shoulder to the waist joint, sending fragments of E-carbon flying in all directions. While the Exia wasn't made for wide scale destruction like the Virtue, it was more than enough to keep mobile suits away from the Virtue.

[User]
The alarm blaring it sirens, and the scrambling of soldiers was enough to set off anyone who was either too deaf to hear Exia's landing, or Virtue's massive blast. Men where barking out orders other captains were shouting about radio interference. "Where's the fucking technicians get the coms running!" was loud enough among the officers on the ground whom had just put up their sudden coms black out higher up the list. Unsure about what was happening and ignorant of the GN particle dispersal in the air was stopping their electronics from actually helping anything. A few anti air guns, flak cannons made for anti-hellion/flag duty, fired at Virtue, and Exia from their spots on the walls, and ground. Some small arms from from rifles bounced harmlessly off the legs of the machine. Hellion patrols in the air circled around to head back to base, while the ones still at the base tried to fire at Exia.

"We're not gods, we're justice dealers...whatever this is Arden Wesker in Dynames wiping out the flak units." Dynames prepared it shots from the left wall's cannons shooting them with pin point accuracy. The purple beams of energy blasted through the turret placements, and destroyed some barracks, and other builds around them leaving dark holes in the ground.

[Assistant]
Atalei didn't have much time to think. Virtue, Exia, and Dynames were already initiating the mission. Damn... Must've let my thoughts get to me. Anti-air Hellions were patrolling. "Easy targets," he told himself. Kyrios burst off from its hiding spot, shooting a series of beams at the Hellions. Two went down before they took noticed of the sunburnt gundam. They circled around, ready to attack.

Atalei strafed to the right, spinning out of range at they unleashed beams his way. Inside his cockpit, Atalei quietly prayed for them. "Rest easy soldiers. You didn't deserve this." As he flew by them at speeds unparalleled, one more was shot down. The rest behind him would have to live with knowing they failed to stop him. Several missiles were launched overhead and dropped from his flight-unit, setting off explosions and decimating a good chunk of the base below.

Kyrios shifted to his Gundam mode, turning to the doomed avengers behind him. "Just run away, flee for backup."

@Shandria@vancexentan

[User]
"Aaaand gotcha." The 000 had been waiting in ambush on the return path of the Flag squadron that was out training, these relatively new machines being the most likely thing to complicate the mission should they reinforce the base and get the drop on the assault team. Julia had taken a shot going clean through the cockpit of the lead machine, the one she had observed was the most likely to contain a trained pilot, the 4 remaining machines probably containing newbie pilots. She went to test that hypothesis by lifting her shield and engaging her gundam in a light run. After several long seconds the Flags finally turned toward the Triple 0 to unload but all shots missed, landing right in front of Julia as she calculated a slow down. Typical, these rookies relied too much on their automated systems and thus were easily misdirected by this trick. "Scatter AND fire, you idiots, not the reverse!" She said as she aimed at a Flag firing as it stood still like a moron and again, aiming straight for the cockpit, causing the others to begin moving as to get overlapping fields of fire and make themselves harder targets all while firing.

This time Julia proceeded with an Armstrong maneuver (So named after the first person to walk on the moon, because a 'moonwalk' was too associated to a certain dance move) and leaped with her thrusters, her acceleration causing the reverse of them problem the rookie pilots had before and make their shots miss behind her as she shot a third pilot, first in the arm and then in the chest. "Cakewalk." She said with a smile.

"This is Triple 0, making good progress. Remember kids, from now on mercy is prohibited! Any survivors you are foolish enough to leave alive will train more people against your fighting style and will be the first to come back with new and enhanced mobile suits and tricks to counter you!"

[Assistant]
Viraa turned Virtue's Bazooka on a couple of the last remaining hangars on the base. It took a short while for it to recharge, but when it did she once more let off a blast that destroyed both of them almost instantly. Before long the base was in flames, and while there were still some combatants fighting back, as well as a few buildings left standing, none of them were much of a threat to her she didn't feel like. The other more mobile Gundams were taking care of the major threats, while she was doing most of the damage to the base even as bombs and missiles rained down across the land. Most of the stray shots fired at her impacted her shield, and even when she dropped it the superior armor of Virtue protected it from most everything.

"The message of Celestial Being has not been heeded. They wish to wage war, and destroy lives and ignore us. We will show them that we cannot be ignored. All who wage war must be eradicated from the Earth. They are a plague, a sickness... and we are the cure. Celestial Being is the cure. If they wish to fight us, then we will cure the sickness with fire."