[System]
Appearance:

Personality: A solemn and honorable samurai, somewhat aloof and mocking to those he greatly dislikes, who enjoys nothing more than life or death battle with worthy opponents. Having a fair fight is so important to him that he would rather aide in the escape of his opponent if they are affected by some outside interference during the battle than allow them to succumb. While under normal circumstances he would consider his own life to be a worthy price to pay for facing a worthy opponent, his desire to return to the side of his master causes him to place more value on his own life. He can come off as cold hearted, as he retains a certain serenity even when surrounded by the death and suffering of others, but this is the result of living in a time when such things were common. Left to his own devices he enjoys viewing the splendors of nature with a bowl of sake.

Bio: Assassin is not the true Sasaki Kojiro. He is a Servant, a type of high level familiar summoned for a special magic ritual known as the Holy Grail War, a mere copy of the hero Sasaki Kojiro. Yet it is not even correct to call him a copy of Kojiro, as Kojiro never existed at all. The hero Sasaki Kojiro is a fiction, a combination of the tales of several different swordsmen, created to be the ultimate rival to the legendary Miyomoto Musashi.

Assassin was a simple peasant farmer, a man without even a name, who happened to meet a retired sword master living deep in the mountains and was enthralled by his swordsmanship. The retired master taught him the refined behavior of a swordsman but did not, and likely never intended, to teach the youth actual technique and died a month after Assassin began studying under him. Undeterred, Assassin threw himself into the study of the martial arts. He spent much of his time attempting to discover a method of cutting a flying swallow out of the air. He observed that no matter how he attacked the swallow would simply feel the distortion in the air and avoid the sword. Eventually he determined that to cut down a flying swallow you would have to completely entrap it in blade, which would require three separate swings at the exact same instant. The impossibility of this did not deter him in the slightest and having nothing better to do he continued practicing at this every day until the universe essential gave in and allowed it to occur. The ability to use this technique, along with his demeanor, sophistication, and the joy he found in dueling, make him the closest thing to Sasaki Kojiro and so he was summoned into the role.

He was summoned by an organization called Chaldea, fighting to prevent the extinction of the human race due to horrific time travel shenanigans, and proved himself in medieval France where he cut down enough wyverns to qualify as a legendary dragon slayer. When, however, the problems of France were solved and history began to correct itself instead of simply disappearing the entirety of that distorted France ended up dumped into the Shattered Universe right next to the burned and ruined remains of the modern Japanese city of Fuyuki. Taking emergency charge of all matters of state, Gille de Rais was shocked and delighted to find that something had gone wrong with Assassins rey shift back to the future and that the savior of France had been dumped here as well considering this new crisis. France is now under the authority of the UCC, with Assassin given over to their charge as a show of good faith. Assassin, for his part, saw it as a way to be allowed to fight battles to devour the souls he needs to exist while having the resources to find a way to shift back to Chaldea or discover whether any of his Chaldea allies have ended up in this strange world as well.

Age:???

Skills:

Basic Servant Physiology: As a Servant, Assassin's body is made entirely of magic. This has its advantages and disadvantages. In addition to being far stronger and faster than any ordinary human, only magic or magic like abilities can harm him. Anything that is created by normal human hand or has the conceit of being totally technological in nature just does not affect him unless it is specifically designed to deal with wraiths like him. He can shift himself into spiritual form, a non solid spectral mass of magic that can not be sensed except by powerful magic and specifically designed technology and is not impeded by any physical obstacle. This form, however, can sense nothing beyond vague spiritual sensations and can be impeded with magical barriers. Any weapon or armor he was summoned with can be kept in spiritual form when not in use. This all comes at the cost of needing an anchor and upkeep.

Normally a Servant needs a Master to anchor them to the modern world and something to supply mana to keep their existence going. While anchoring does not seem to be a problem, as the Shattered Universe does not seem to be a place that rejects anything or anyone, Upkeep is a far more significant problem. Every action that Assassin takes uses up the magic his body is made of, with strenuous tasks such a combat taking up much more than normal. This also makes any techniques that absorb or banish magic extremely dangerous to him. As he has been cut off from what was supplying him mana, Assassin is forced to search elsewhere. The common option for a Servant in this predicament is to find and adsorb large sources of mana, such as human souls. Even this is too meager for him to fight at anywhere close to his full strength.

It would also be possible for one or more mages to supply part of his upkeep, or a superlatively powerful mage to supply all of it. On the other hand, as he is essentially nothing more than the highest level of familiar, it is not inconceivable that he could be bound to the will of a powerful mage. Especially if that mage had knowledge of the world he was from and was capable of replicating the effects of Command Seals.

Swordsmanship: Assassin is a peerless swordsman. He has no stances and yet is able to freely swing his longsword from even an idle position, ensuring that no seeming opening on his part can be trusted. While it can easily cut through steel his sword is not meant for clashes of power and can easily break when locked with an equal or superior weapon. The pinnacle of his swordsmanship, the Swallow Reversal, can only be used if both he and his opponent are on level ground. When used Assassin slashes, and then space and time distort and two more simultaneous slashes are unleashed from different directions forming a seemingly inescapable cage around the target. It is possible for those skilled enough to avoid the attack if his sword is damaged before he uses it, the imperfection creating a slight hole in the cage through which escape is possible.

Class Skill - Presence Concealment: A low ranking skill reflecting ones ability to hide ones presence. Capable of fooling ordinary people, a skilled warrior will be able to sense his presence immediately. Do not expect him to use this much.

Personal Skill - Eye's of the Mind (False): "A natural talent to foresee/sense and avoid danger on the basis of an innate 6th sense, intuition, or prescience. The accuracy of this instinct can be augmented by experience. The ability also grants an effect of offering resistance against penalties caused by visual obstructions." Assassin's high level of this skill allows him to quickly and accurately judge the style of his opponents.

Personal Skill - Knowledge of Respect and Harmony: A skill that makes it impossible to become used to Assassin's attacks. Even if all Assassin did over the course of a battle was use a single slash, over and over again, aimed at his opponents neck his opponent would never get used to it. Every time fighting him is like the first time fighting him.

Personal Skill - Vitrification: Assassin is always in a calm and composed state of mind. Not even facing certain death will shake him of his composure. No mind altering spells or substances have any effect on him.

Faction (UUC/UoD/Custom): UUC/Organization for the Preservation of Human Order, Finis Chaldea
Working with the UUC is ultimately a means to an end. He is truly searching for a way back to Chaldea or, failing that, anyone that worked for the organization that has also fallen into this universal gutter.

[User]
Union Station, Service Corridor

Screams of both the living and the dead echoed throughout the entire station. Evacuation ships came ant went as if a marching hoard of ants. Both UUC and UoD forces trying their best to slow the progression of the rising tide of Flood. – Their only success was in slowing them down. An automated voice called over the loudspeakers, announcing evac-routes and sectors of the station that were now sealed in hopes of stopping the Flood from spreading out further.

"We have to overload the station's sol-drive." The Ethereal said, blasting two pure forms into molten biomatter with his raised arm and the other casting a protective barrier over Senator Simms who looked up in disbelieve at the suggestion.

"If we do that, our symbol of hope will be destroyed." She protested, standing back to her feet and looking at the wake of destruction left by the Ethereal behind them.

"If we do not, our symbol will become one of carnage and plague. We can rebuild it." Raz' Zek said, his helmet scanning for any other hostiles down the narrow corridor. Without word, he began to move forward cautiously, Simms followed.

---

Mortal fools…. Why resist the Song of the Grave? Join us in everlasting melody. Rejoice in the rebirth of the Flood.

[Assistant]
Abigail watched the entirety of the mobilization of the storm tooper, and Koopa army forced without much interests. It was all a joke in her eyes. The massive forces that the Union Station had in its disposal weren't a match for whatever it was that was causing all the problems so she didn't see how the people before her would do much better. If anything, it just meant more casualties of war. Though, as much as she hated to admit it there was a use for big numbers, and it had nothing to do with any kind of forceful supremacy. The way she saw it, if everything went to hell like she was assuming it was, then at the very least whatever was causing all the problems would have to go crawl over the dead soldiers to get to her.

A voice came on the intercom, talking about overloading the sol-drive, which was a big deal, and immediately made Abigail second guess being there at all, but it wasn't like she had a ride of her own handy. So, for the time being she'd need to make sure everyone got a move on before the whole ship went down with her, and them, on it.

Abigail sighed before putting her fingers to her mouth and letting out a loud whistle. "Great. Great! So you're all very impressive with what you do, but it looks like whatever is going on is getting really serious. So I say we got a move on and find that diplomat before we're all unceremoniously made captains and have to go down with a ship." Before anyone could say anything she turned towards the bay door and slammed her fist on the open button.

[User]
???| Elsewhere in the Union Station. |

The service airlock was placed conveniently for the wandering and those vying to enter amidst chaos when they could. This included jaundiced, parasitic, creatures who crossed the earth on tentacles tapering into feathery red feelers. This included, too, the vagrant, who had no apparent reason to interrupt other than being at their receiving end.

Currently, there was a struggle, or had been-- in an instant: the vagrant disgorged the remains of one foe with such projection, it eviscerated two others. Then he turned to another which had crept up behind him and took to smashing it with his foot, its soft body giving a delicious squelch-- then, yet another fell on top of him. As if a cover had been pulled over the vagrant's eyes; and then he was engulfed again, and again; he was under a mound of soft, squelching bodies fallen from above. They enveloped him with their smothering tendrils as if to not augment the muffled cacophony outside with his cries for help.

[Assistant]
The door had only just begun opening when the assault began. Almost as though they had been waiting for this small, fleshy polyps skittering around on tendrils pressed themselves into the crack, their bodies deforming as they squeezed their way into the ship. Behind this vanguard a flood of others waited their turn, ready to push inside as soon as the door opened enough to fit them.

Time slowed down for him as he stepped back even as the first of the little abominations leaped at him. Not out of fear or worry about what these creatures could do for him, but because he needed the space. His eyes rapidly flicked around the all to cramped confines of the spacecraft, searching for paths he could use, tracing lines in the air where he could swing his sword while avoiding cutting Mami Tomeo or the ship they'd flown in on to ribbons that also bisected the monster. It was difficult. This ship was meant to ferry passengers for short distances. It was built for people to get on and get off. Built for efficiency instead of comfort. The sheer length of his blade meant there were only a few paths it could take in his enclosed space without damaging the ship. He mentally readjusted, looking only for the things the ship needed to fly. That opened things up considerably. He could destroy everything else provided he didn't bisect the hull. He traced lines through each of the attacking monsters that hand made it into the ship and swung.

Sasaki counter attack was like a hurricane, his blade falling like pouring rain too fast for a normal person to even comprehend, but each one was a deliberate and precise strike. The monsters leaped in and were bisected, leaped in and were bisected, leaping, leaping, leaping toward only doom. The only time any of them were given the courtesy of a second blow was when its corpse shared the path his blade must take with one of its still living comrades. Around them the seats and handhold were were torn to ribbons, useless chunks of metal and plastic being splattered in mid-air with the sickly excuse for what the abominations had for blood. Mami felt that merciless blade streak past her on its flowing arcs through the air, sometimes only millimeters away, but never felt its bite.

The poor pilot slammed the door to the cockpit and cried.


[System]
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Appearance:

Rank: Corporal
Class: Scout

Weapons and Equipment:
-Rifle: Gallian-3R
-Sidearm: Viper-E-9
-Grenades: B-Type M3x3
-Melee: Combat Knifex2

Personality: James very reliable person, who will, despite his smart assness, always have your back. He's also an optimist, preferring to see the best before he sees the worst.
Bio: Born to a butcher and waitress, James grew up learning how to chop up and find the best picks in meat when he wasn't at school or military training. His father was proud of his son, who excelled as a marksman in his training, was passing all his classes with at least a B+, and was taking to being a butcher so well. He also somehow managed to stay out of trouble despite his quips at teachers.

However, as it grew closer to his 18th birthday, James put some serious thought into joining the military instead of just becoming another militia bumpkin. He spoke for hours on end with his mom and dad on the matter, his mother in strong support and already envisioning her son in a uniform and his dad, while disappointed his son wouldn't immediately take over the family business at the Strongarm Butcher Shop, suggested he try to reach a rank of a Non-Commisioned Officer, such as Sergeant. The day of his 18th birthday, James enlisted and passed his advanced training with flying style, if not spotlessly. His record had at least four different times when he'd smarted off to his Drill Sergeant.

Having served for six years, he's never quite made it past Lance Corporal because of his mouth. Most recently, his smart mouth got him attached to the Gallian Militia. He made a joke about his unit's captain with the captain right behind him.

RP Sample: Lance Corporal James Hunt stood at his post guard the central communications area and, despite his best efforts, let loose a yawn, prompting PFC Hendricks, James's companion for the day to elbow him in the gut. "Come on, Corporal, I'm the one supposed to yawn after being at this all day. Wake up." Corporal James looked over at the PFC and yawned again, just to get on the PFC's nerves. Hendricks's response was to elbow the Corporal even harder. With a chuckle, James looks at the PFC again and slams his own elbow into Hendrick's gut, making the PFC double over.

"And miss all the uneventful stuff that goes on during communications guard detail? What ever would I do without you Hendricks?" Shaking his head scornfully, James leans back against the wall again and watches people come and go. Lieutenants, Majors, Colonel Majors, all these important people going in and out of the building and not one cared that the Lance Corporal and the PFC were bickering. "Besides, Captain Riserre only put us here because he's got a massive stick up his ass. Even Major Derald has issues with him." At this point, PFC Hendricks was giving the universal sign of stop as the Captain was right behind James. "Look at me, I'm Captain Riserre and I think I can rule my unit with an iron fist. Lance Corporal Hunt, you get all the boring assignments because I don't want you taking my job. And while you're at it, take Hendricks with you, he's too dull to make good company." James laughed and Hendricks facepalmed as Riserre cleared his throat, which had James standing at attention quickly.

"So you think I'm worried about you taking my job do you?" James quickly shook his head in the universal sign for negatory and the Captain laughed and walked away. James turned and slugged Hendricks in the arm.

"Thanks for the warning, jack ass." Hendricks shrugged and went back to watching people going in the communications center.

"I tried to tell you Captain Smart Ass." James grunted in a disapproving matter.

"No, you kept making a bunch of weird hand gestures, which isn't telling me anything."

[User]
Emmaline Muller

After returning the terse, but curt nod, Emmaline walked to the window and took a peek at the smoldering battleground outside.

"...got any orders for us right now, sir? I could help with the mines...or the wounded, if there are any."

She wasn't sure what to quite make of it, considering she had just stumbled upon what might've been an extremely terrifying battle. Sure, they won, but she forgot to keep her eyes open for any injured or dead troops.

That, and there were still piles of rubble in the plenty. Undoubtedly, there would be a corpse or an unconscious soldier underneath. With the current effort and quietness, though, she wasn't sure if they could spare the time before...perhaps another Imp attack would drive in?

Could they have even relayed the battle results that quickly? Sure, they had radios, but in the thick of things...

[Assistant]
PFC James Hunt|Le Haye Sainte

James spoke up quickly when the racist gearhead ran in and waved vaguely for introductions. "PFC James Hunt, attache from the Gallian Army." One of the new people went to speak and Jame shook his head. "Don't ask, it's not much of a story." He wasn't about to confirm the suspicions of the other squad mates that he'd pissed off someone with pull, he actually enjoyed the thought that they wondered why he was actually there. Still, best he neither confirmed nor denied. So with that settled, he dug into his stew, only eating about half of what the Sarge had given him before standing and offering the Sarge the rest of his. "Not too hungry, Sarge, but it was a good stew. I'll go walk the perimeter." Turning, he limped over to his rifle and the damaged sniper rifle, putting his pack against the latter to mark it as his, then headed for the door with his scout rifle in hand when another new arrival asked what they could do.

"How about you join me on the perimeter? Some of the Imps got away last night, so there's a chance we got Imps marching this way now." He didn't openly say it, but he did look at Glaive from the corner of his eye. Bull shit she didn't have a shot, she just didn't take it. And now we're compromised. Wonder if she thought of that... It wasn't worth overthinking on, chasing them would have been a waste of time and probably would have cost them the lives of two squad mates, especially since every one seemed OK with leaving Lilly pinned to the wall like she was. "Well, ya comin'?"

[User]
Celeste
Celeste still wasn't fully awake when Carn spoke up, causing her to visibly jump in her seat. Luckily though, she hadn't dropped her food or drink. Though now she looked more awake now, and she looked over the new members. A albino female, a tall female darcsen, a walking shield, and a male who seemed a bit nervous. Guess the militia is just a dice roll, never know who you're going to get. Celeste observed the newbies, occasionally eating the breakfast that the Sergeant had prepared.

She looked over at Harald. "Sergeant, did you check Jatmoore and Sykora yet?" asking before she put a spoonful of food in her mouth. Curious to their conditions, as she didn't see or hear them moving around. She knew ragnaid could even heal up Lilly's wound with relative ease, but it would be comforting to know their conditions.

Skye
Skye seemed to go along with the remark the albino girl made. "Ha! Yeah, it's a damn shame the Imps couldn't aim for shit. One got close though, if that makes you happy." She said, making direct eye contact with the girl. Skye felt quite happy she'd be able to have some fun with the unit, even if her definition of fun wasn't the same as theirs.

But she turned her attention to the shy boy. His remark about his shooting was a bit hilarious, and it got her to smile faintly. Though the execution of it's innuendo was very crude.

-+-+-

Once they arrived, Skye took a look around. Not much about this place, but it seemed like it had seen better days. Especially that destroyed tank in the road. But the large man guided them to the only building that was still standing. Inside was, presumably, the rest of squad 4. A good amount of the interior was saved as well. Owners must have been in a hurry to leave, and doesn't look like the Imps took much when they were here either. Once in the kitchen, they were introduced to the Sergeant. Though it even took her by surprise that a Darcsen had such a rank. "Well. Pleased to meet ya Sergeant! Names Skye." She stuck her hand out for a handshake.

[Assistant]
Private Elise Louque

"Border guarding…?" The man who'd asked them if they'd seen any action clearly didn't understand what Elise had meant. "Uh no, more like invasion of other's territory, and liberation of captive women." She laughed, doubting he would understand what she meant with that.

Elise got the feeling that the Lancer was the most experienced of the four of them that were new. The man repulsed her with his macho bragging and crude innuendo, but it wasn't much of a surprise. She almost made another comment about what a shame it was some people were still alive, but in his direction instead of the darcsen's. Doing so might get her a reputation for wishing her comrades dead though, so instead she made a disgusted face. If anyone asked she'd blame it on the APC, not that motion sickness bothered her. Elise didn't back down when the Darcsen stared into her eyes. What a cocky darcsen, she thought as a scornful grin appeared across her lips, someone needs to humble you. Her response felt like a direct challenge to Elise, but for now she'd do nothing.

Elise wasn't sure what to think of the speech the man that had recruited her did. It was inspirational and did make her want to kill the imperials, but at the same time she feared he might accidentally hit or land on her if the APC moved too much. She didn't have any question at that time, not any she wanted to voice anyway.

The day got worse when she was introduced to her new sergeant, another damn darcsen. Was this some kind of family meeting for their kind? How many more darcsens would there be in this squad? She really regretted not sneaking away back at the base now, even if she would have ended up in trouble for disobeying orders. The worst part was when her new sergeant said that the man who had recruited her was just a PFC. That wasn't high enough to order her around, was it!? Unfortunately, Sergeant probably was.

Elise didn't know what to do. She stood motionless for a moment, trying to gather her thoughts. It would be quite a walk to get back to base. "Is there any other snipers around?" She finally asked, not bothering with pleasantries on darcsens. "Would you mind if I scouted the nearby area for any good vantage points?" It would give her time alone, hopefully, so she could make up her mind and no one would wonder about her whereabouts for a while.

[User]
PFC James Hunt|Le Haye Sainte

James wouldn't have said anything even though it was pretty obvious she held the typical strong racist opinion against Darcsens. Hell, he was glad to see they finally had some proper support until he himself could get his training as a Sniper done. But she had to go and ask if she could go off alone. And if there was one thing he'd learned in the regular army, it was you never went anywhere alone. "OK, miss high and mighty, let's get two things straight. First, you don't just pretend you weren't introduced to your squad and not give your name. That's just disrespectful. Second, you don't go anywhere alone, especially in the valk damned field. You're just begging to get killed then and none of us would be the wiser. I swear, did you even pay attention when the militia was training you? Cause if not, you and I aren't going to get along very well."


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Class: Sanctioned Psyker

Psyker Power
Divination & Telekinesis are her main fields of psychic talent, but she also possesses two other abilities such as Smite and Storm of Lightning, as well as a rudimentary form of mental communication. Does not possess any noteworthy healing abilities, and she is just as likely to send someone to the warp as she is to heal a minor scratch.

Appearance:
5.8ft tall, pale skin and snow white hair. Sturdy and heavy frame, but still retains her feminine figure despite adhering to a strict physical training regime.

The base of her outfit consist of a simple yet elastic skin tight jumpsuit in dark brown color that is capable of withstanding the vacuum of space as well as provide a decent protection against the elements, though offers little protection versus physical threats. Overlayed on top is a series of armaplas plates that form a chestguard, cuisses, knee-high boots, shoulderpads and gloves stretching back and up to her elbows where they form into a sharp point. They offer good locational protection, especially from the front, but leave her jumpsuit exposed in other places, particularly from her lower back and down to the back of her knees where her boots cover both sides of her ankles. The plates are polished to a light gray color, and almost look like silver. The surface is covered with a series of intricate design and artwork in typical imperial fashion, featuring numerous flutes and ridges across the plates, as well as a couple skull imprints. Above her armor she wears a satin blue silk cloak that hangs down from the back of her left shoulder, as well as a silk loincloth hanging from the front of her belt of similar color. Thrown sideways around her torso is a series of books and scrolls attached by chain.

Running up along the spine of her chestguard is a refractor field generator built into the plate itself, taking form of a small generator emitting a series of horizontal, blue lights up along the back of the chestplate, and shaped much like a human skeletal spine. When activated, a faint, blue and almost invisible barrier appears around her figure.

Her helmet is made out of the same material as that of her armor, and it takes the form of a gothic plated helmet, with a narrow but wide blue glass visor and a longer neck guard extending out behind her helmet. Two plastic tubes are attached to a rebreather device at the bottom mouth piece of her helmet, that stretch out on each side of her neck and down into a small, highly pressurized air tank built into the back of her chestguard.

Her boots are magnetic, and her entire suit when worn enables her to survive in space, and also provides immunity to most chemical and biological attacks. She carries enough oxygen to last for almost an hour.

Equipment:

Main Weapon: Her primary weapon is a two handed power-weapon in the form of an oversized saber with a sleek blade and an extended handle which doubles as a psyker staff, and adorned with sigils, trinkets, technological gadgets and inscriptions. She often uses her weapon in conjunction with her telekinetic powers to amplify its destructive potential.

"Scylla" [Custom-Built Handgun], .50 caliber, 7 round clip size x 3 carried.

Ceremonial Dagger. In essence, just a normal albeit flashy dagger with an adorned handle. Typically only carried for show, but is sharp enough to slice through unprotected skin with ease, and small enough to be concealed without much problem.

Refractor Field. Description under Appearance.

Servo-Skull: Mostly used to store events, data, recordings and scrolls.

Savior – Saved an influential nobleman by foreseeing his assassination, tossing him out of the way of the sniper's bullet with her telekinetic powers and into a big wedding cake instead.

Guide – Saved a band of arbiters from the underworld of a hive world during an uprising by using her powers of divination to avoid the roaming mobs and gangs and reached safety without incident. Not a single shot was fired during their escape.

Hates Surprises – Accidentally electrocuted and sent three of the arbiters she had saved above to the infirmary when they tried to surprise her with a party later. Being so used to foresee danger before it happens, she is prone to freaking out over minor surprises that eludes her farsight.

Fireteam – During an Ork incursion, she helped a fireteam of six guardsmen hold off a much larger band of orks after their sergeant was injured through using her powers of divination to guide their fire, turning what had been originally green recruits into seemingly crack shots. Any Ork that left its cover was immediately put down from long range, and when they mounted a frenzied charge together, they didn't make it more than halfway across the field to the trenches before they were wiped out by precision fire.

Warpstorm over Mordran V - Adrianne was assigned to aid the planetary imperial garrison with culling a lesser greenskin uprising, assisting local Imperial Guard and Sisters of Battle forces with the purging when a warpstorm suddenly appeared over the otherwise peaceful colony world of Mordran V. Trapped on the planet, Adrianne found herself fighting for survival alongside her imperial guard as Chaos Ships appeared in orbit, and unleashed a ferocious invasion of the planet! Though the warpstorm only lasted for two weeks, by the time it had lifted, Mordran V had been transformed from a lush, promising garden world into a lifeless, daemon-infested hellscape, with most of its original population killed except for a few imperial strongholds that managed to weather the storm. Her experience from Mordran V would change Adrianne for ever. What had been a cautious girl that had stepped onto the planet would instead emerge a seemingly reckless with little to no restraint on her powers!

[User]
"Psyker Valenthin will be the rearguard."

"But,-" Adrianne was about to object, until she cast a look out across the long hallway with the strange statues. From where she stood, they looked not much different from any other ornamental set of statues. Yet she noticed that whatever they were, they really seemed to startle the inquisitor a lot.

The statues radiated the same foul if ever so slightly arousing aura of corruption as that of the rest of the building, but it was hard to say if there was something magical about the statues themselves, or if they were just inanimate objects tainted by the general corruption of the place.

"Very well." Adrianne answered, seemingly having changed her mind as she nodded to Zhevon, agreeing to stand behind.

As Zhevon began walking through the hallway, ever so carefully, Adrianne would stand back at the entrance and simply watch as her Inquisitor ventured down the hallway as though it was a minefield!

But it was going slow, and Adrianne dreaded how long the whole thing might take if every single party member would have to repeat the same process. Zhevon hadn't even gotten a third of the way. Her servo-skull, M4R1-A was hovering high in the hallway, getting multiple video shots of a rather startled Inquisitor as he carefully walked down the hall.

"This is going to take forever... "

Adrianne could feel herself becoming impatient, and would eventually turn to look over at Ben and Stukov standing with her at the doorway. Moving a finger up to her helmet, she would turn off her own comm before looking at the two men.

"Wouldn't it be fun to NOT have to repeat the Inquisitor's 'walk of doom' through the hall?" Adrianne would ask the two men in a suggestive manner, taking a quick look over to Zhevon to make sure that the Inquisitor was not listening, before turning her head back to look at Stukov and Ben expectantly. If it had not been for her skeletal helmet, they could have seen the biggest smirk ever that was currently plastered all over her face!

[Assistant]
Stukov looked at the hallway of statues, his gut telling him that they were trouble, and not in a easily handled manner. He had a feeling from the very serious warning and plan that the Inquisitor was giving them that this hallway was tainted beyond mere appearances as of this moment. Smiles wasn't pleased with being rearguard, her attempt to interject was clearly that. The glowing pink eyes from the hostile statues were something strange, intentionally alluring as well from what he could tell. Emperor protect them indeed. As the Inquisitor finished his brief on the matter, but before he began his journey, Stukov began whispering under his breath, barely audible as a prayer that he had learned from a priest aboard his first ship before it was nearly lost to the warp. It wasn't anything fancy or elegant like some favored, but it fit well enough. Especially considering what he was about to march through, but it was all history for him in the grand scheme of things. One of a handful of remnants of a near damned ship many years ago.

"Though I travel into the eternal darkness of the Void, I shall fear not, for my Emperor is my Light.
Though I tread amongst the Heathen and the Xenos, I shall concern myself not, for the Emperor is my Guide.
Though I march into the fields of battle, I shall worry not, for the Emperor is my Protector.
Though I journey from this world to the next I shall falter not, for the Emperor is my God."

By the time Stukov had finished his prayer and performed the sign of the Aquila, it was almost time for the next person to head into the statue tunnel. If it wasn't for Smiles speaking up, he was about to enter the tunnel itself and brace himself for the passageway he was about to subject himself to. When she questioned if anyone else did not want to go through the Tunnel of Doom, the Armsman recognized her suggestive tone and immediately responded, not sure whether to seriously think that she intended to use warp trickery in such a tainted place or not. He glanced at Watchman as well, who he seriously doubted would even consider such things which meant it was down to him to keep an eye on Smiles, just in case. So that meant at least trying to talk reason into the woman before she dragged him off onto another gallivanting, sickening adventure through the warp again. He wanted to minimize his exposure to such things, especially in a nexus of corruption like this. "Smiles, I don't think this place is the best time to be stepping through the Warp like we did to get here. That might get some rather unpleasant attention or set off those statues. Or worse, to be frank."

[User]
"Or worse, to be frank."

At that moment, a clear and audible sigh could be heard coming out from behind Adrianne's mask. Although her face didn't show it, hidden as it was, it was clear that the psyker felt disappointed at the lack of enthusiasm from her comrades as she hung her head forward.

Looking down the hallway, as Zhevon was almost literally tiptoeing down the path as he walked between the statues, she would shake her head. She disliked the idea of going anywhere near the statues, which she was becoming increasingly convinced were most likely corrupt at the foulest level!

"Emperor curse these blunts for wanting to go traipsing and hanging out around objects of warp taint!"

A frown, that was now Adrianne's expression as she looked at the rest of the team through her mask. Whatever whispers and presence the ungifted members of the party may have sensed in this place paled in comparison to what Adrianne would have to endure! What she felt was similar to what Ben and Stukov would feel, except if one turned up the volume 500%!

"Well, if we're going to walk, I suppose you guys are up next." Adrianne would speak as she nodded towards Ben and Stukov standing in front of her, before using her staff to motion towards the hallway which Zhevon was ever so slowly venturing through!
"But don't come complaining to me for not teleporting you should those statues come alive and try to eat you. I'm letting you know now that this is your - and not my - idea!"

Adrianne would explain, while moving her left hand through the hair as to emote that she was washing her hands of any and all guilt in whatever disasters may come of this!

Fortunately, she was in the rearguard, which meant that Ben and Stukov had to go first. Unfortunately, being in the rearguard meant that there would come a time when she'd inevitably have to get off her butt and also move through the hallway of eternal doom, peril & bad plans! At least if there were some hidden traps or so, Zhevon, Ben and Stukov would be sure to active or clear them as the ventured through the hallway first, making the way safe for Adrianne!
But, what if there were some unique traps that only reacted to people who weren't complete rocks but had a genuine gift or affinity for the warp, like her own amazing talent? What if the statues would ignore the blunts in the party, like Zhevon, Ben and Stukov, but finally come alive when a psyker like herself stepped down the hallway? That would completely ruin the whole point of sending in the rest of the party as cannonfodder for whatever traps or dangers that lay in wait!

Adrianne had already begun looking around the hallway, even gently nudging a curtain aside to see if there weren't any hidden maintenance doors or secret pathways that she couldn't use to sneak past the entire hallway.


[System]
Appearance: He is often seen equipped in grubby metal armor with leather and chain mail underneath, paired with his signature helmet that envelops his head entirely in protective metal. However, due to the excellent sense of smell most beasts possess, Garrett has a habit of neglecting the cleanliness of his armor as clean equipment would reek of metal, immediately alerting the creatures he hunts.

As such, Garrett's seemingly poor appearance is often mocked and ridiculed by most whom fail to see the practicality and effective functionality behind it. Moreover, the grimy appearance combined with his down-grade equipment has, on more than one occasion, caused people to mistake him for a Zombie.

Garrett usually carries a cheap and disposable sword of a strange length hanging on his left hip in a makeshift scabbard, allowing him to place swords of any shape he salvages. Affixed to his left arm is a small round shield, its rim well maintained to be used as a weapon.

Contradictory to most adventurer's bets and rumors, Garrett's appearance beneath his helmet is remarked to be surprisingly handsome and dignified, if somewhat pale with brown hair. His horns extend from the frontal scalp of his skull, outstretching to far above his head to form a threatening pair of horns that may gore one who strays too close to the tips.

---
Age: 23
Bloodline: 66% Oro / 33% Nayu
Group: Knights of The Sun
Physique: Mesomorphic, very toned and hardened due to constant work and training.
Height: 231.14 cm / 7'7"
Weight: 128.367 Kg / 283 lb.

---

Abilities:
* Trained Combatant: Garrett is relatively skilled in most weapons that he can get his hands on
* Swordsman: Garrett is a extremely skillful in wielding any bladed weaponry from short swords, daggers to knives.
* Marksman: Garrett is an incredibly proficient archer; he can accurately shoot down large bodied game from vast distances. With a thrown javelin, he could fatally injure a creature.
* Strategist: Garrett is an excellent strategist, specializing in ambush and guerrilla warfare.
* Physical Conditioning: Garrett has rigorously trained his body to utmost perfection, granting him top notch physical abilities.

	+ Strength: Garrett has a extremely high level of physical strength. He could overpower even the largest of bears.
	+ Speed: He could strike down multiple creatures at once with superior speed and reflexes.
	+ Endurance: He also possesses an incredible amount of endurance and pain tolerance, capable of fighting after having broken multiple bones.
	+ Senses: Garrett is extremely alert of his surrounding, having extensively trained to utilize all his senses including sight and hearing. He could even detect a deer hiding in pitch black darkness.

Spells:
* Hardening: The magical ability to negate some force from any incoming, harmful blow, enhances endurance. -5 Soul
* Gale: The magical ability to make oneself, or objects lighter. -7 Soul
* Shadowstep: The magical ability to muffle one's footstep or bodily noises to avoid detection. -3 Soul
* Absorb: Absorb the life force, power and strength of another being into one's own body through the magical consumption of blood to extract essence of the host being. +? Soul +? Stamina -10 Soul if failed
* Blood-Forge:The creation of protective or offensive material utilizing the absorbed or contacted blood essence of any selected source. -9 Soul
* Sunbeam: Received from absorbing the essence within the Corrupted Teju Jagua, allows the ability to conjure thin beams of pure light and scorching heat. -10 Soul -3 Stamina

---

Pet: A red tailed hawk by the name of Sera, best utilized to track or hunt down creatures or entities obscured by foliage or distance. A great Hunter's pet.

The antithesis of a Unicorn, a Bicorn birthed from chaos incarnate, young but extremely sturdy; blood flowing within it's veins strengthened from those unlucky enough to be gored by it's sharpened horn. A monument to the sin of magics delving into blood and darkness, can utilize the blood of one being to recuperate another.

---

Experience: Born as a son of the hunt, in his early childhood, Garrett had to learn the tools of the trade of his ancestry or be ridiculed by the family lineage of the Everard Hunters. For most of his time as a child he spent with his father in the forests and the mountains of Gaia hunting game and large beasts. At times he would accompany his father in making trips to Pearl and Onyx to do business in trading meats and pelts as a living from their boons of the hunt. His father would soon be gored by a large elk-like beast, leaving Garrett to his lonesome.

However, Garrett was soon squired to the Knights of The Sun, he would gain knowledge of Fealty and Knighthood, and of armored and unarmored combat as a way of life, he was drilled for most of his teenage years to in the ways of the group until he himself had joined the group as a Knight. Soon he was bound with the duty to travel, and aid those in need, slaying various beasts and abominations alike.

Soon after he began his travels he would be encountered with the situation of finding a beast stronger than himself, or the group he was accompanying. The beast, identified as otherworldly or demonic at best tore through Garrett's group as if it were a hot knife to butter. Realizing the strength of this monster, Garrett knew he had to become stronger; he would start with this obstacle set before him. He would weaken the beast and take it's own strength and life force as his own before it died. He could feel himself change, mentally and physically from stealing some of the remaining essence of the beast, but he felt more powerful; he wanted more.

Motivation: Power - Nothing says power more than defeating incorporeal and demonic beasts and consuming their essence. That is Garrett's motivation to continue on in his escapades; To hunt down the horrors of the world and take their strengths as his own.

Birthplace: Onyx, Gaia

---

Extras: * Loves cats
* Loves humid forests
* Loves fur pelts
* Keeps a ring belonging to his father tied to a necklace.
* Knows how to make jerky
* Insomniac
* Hates deep water

Stamina: 47
Soul: 35

Wallet Value - 610 Bronze Coins
Bronze - 0
Silver - 20
Gold - 37
Ruby - 0
Sapphire - 1
Emerald - 1
Diamond - 1

Bank Value - 200 Bronze Coins
Rhodochrosite - 10

Net Value - 710 Bronze Coins

[User]
Mason Drake

---

@Rai@geurls@Brithwyr

As the party approached the stage, a knot began to form in Mason's stomach. He didn't expect to go up on stage... Looking into the crowd he saw many Neroan nobles, flashbacks began to rush through Mason's head, the beatings, the fear, the pain... no, no, no, No, NO. He was a knight of the Aion now, life as e slave was behind him, and nothing could take that away from him.

---

A feeling of nervousness flooded Mason as he watched Dremmick approach King Vrondi. What was he going to say? Would it sound stupid? His mind quickly became overwhelmed with worry as sweat began to gather above his brow.

"You may approach."

With a heavy exhale, Mason approached the king. "King Vrondi," he began, a sad look in his eyes, "my entire life, I've struggled with a terrible power inside me. Power that destroys my body every time I use it..." Mason explained with a sigh as he watched a black flame slowly creep around his hand before dissipating, leaving his hand badly charred. "I know I'm meant for greater things, I've felt it my entire life...." he continued; the young Seraphim's expression filling with conviction and determination. "My king, I seek a place where I can hone my power; learn to control it... A place where I can discover who I really am, where I come from, and most important of all, why this power was given to me, and how I can use it as a force for good in this horribly chaotic world."

[Assistant]
Vrondi listened to Mason while observing the ball floor. The royals began to continue their conversations as the King dismissed his speech. His eyes then turned its gaze on Mason's observable aura. His honesty exuded through his aura. But something else did as well. When Mason displayed his terrible power the King winced in his shared pain. "Despite your appearance you share a chaotic curse. Your soul is more chaos than divine. Meaning you need to work with the masters of chaos to better know the true nature of your soul." He looked around at the people at the crowd again.

"The Dragon Temple in Gaia. They will be able to work with your chaotic nature. We also happen to have a few from there and one known as Sophia. I would say she would be any upstarts ideal master." He motioned for Mason to step down gently. "I will set arrangements for you to be further noticed on what this may mean for you and what you'll need to do. In the mean time stay within one of our guest rooms. You will be seen after you refresh yourself." He allowed Mason to step down before turning to the others.@Guy0fV4lor

"Sir Blighted Knight. Please do these folks a favor once we are done here and escort them to the guest rooms. Now. Next please."

---

The young Sol's eyes widened. The royals clothes met the floor in front of her. Her bare back exposed her scarring. A cosmetic injury that she couldn't fix. But seeing such wounds made her wince. Not even slaves in these parts had such scars. Perhaps in Fotia or Nero, but in Vrondi it was strange to see wounded folk. Warrior or not. Most were clean and unmarked, just as their King.

But this woman of Fotia. This child of fire and brimstone who stood proudly before her was a different kind of being. She smiled when spoken to. Hanging onto every last word as she was trained to. Her cheeks were a soft hue of red. The difference in complexion intrigued her. She remained near the bed across from the entrance to the bath. "Oh.. Haha well it is a pleasure to have you visit." She expressed, assuming by her not seeing her around, and her overall persona, that she was a foreigner in this land.

When she began on her gash Solari held back a gasp. As said scarring was rare in these parts. Wounds were not new to her, but one that never healed? Well she couldn't imagine it. She placed her hands over her mouth to hide her shock. But when she met her gaze she smiled and waved it off. To make her feel self conscious about her wound was the last thing she wanted. "Alright!" She resolved. "Just relax and let me take care of every bit of pain you have..." She watched her remove her boots and sigh from the discomfort. "If you wish to have anything truly restored we have better healers than me that could do that. I'm sure one of your status can afford it."

---

"Oh you jest... A hummingbird? It does remind me of you. Delicate, majestic. Mysterious even." He swished his drink lightly in his cup as he met eyes with her. Each sentence he drew closer. His emerald and sapphire orbs not leaving her. He took a whiff of his drink and sipped it slowly. Then brought her own drink up to her nose. "It's a delicate smell and a refined taste. Even for those who have tasted the finest. I assure you. It will be aid in quenching your fire. Others are.. well." He turned his upper body to sway his drink across with an index finger extended. Washing over the crowd a few eyes were on Ami as if she were a spectacle.

Some more ignorant guests cheered for a show from Ami. "Is this a new dancer?" Questioned an  who was visibly of dragon blood. He stood with other Oro royals who were just noticing the flames escaping Ami's back. It slowly began that others were noticing. Lucius beckoned for Ami to realize this. "If you would rather go somewhere more private. I would understand. But if you wish to stay you need to calm your aura. Just for today."

[User]
An honorary bellhop for some well received guests by the king. The most honorable job in the world. He didn't doubt for a second that this was some cruel joke by some greater power. In order to garner favor among all parties, he would have no other choice but to do just what was asked of him; show this rag-tag party to their rooms once they were done with their business. Garrett let out a soft sigh, one that was barely audible, but audible nonetheless.

As much action as an arena put under maintenance due to infectious mold.

The Blighted Knight sure did love this treatment. He loved it so much he thought he would elope just to get it all the time; in a way he already did. Nodding to the king as respectfully as possible one could do with just a nod, Garrett would make his way to a doorway that seemed sturdy enough to make his appearance known to the Well respected guests before him. When they were done talking their pieces to the king, he had hoped they would line up with him in order for him to guide them exactly where they need to go. He looked around for a dumbwaiter hatch, preferably one that lead to a disposal chute. But that was rude. Garrett held himself off from those thoughts, why would he hate a group he didn't even know. He didn't know why, so he stood vigilant for the team to do what they needed to.


[System]
Age: 22
Pronouns: She/Her
Profession: Personal Fitness Trainer, aspiring boxer
Personality: Overall she's a very friendly person and cares deeply for others, whether they've been in her life for over a decade or over a month. Many times this has led her to getting betrayed by those people, but she tends to never learn her lesson. Most people she meets have no idea she has faced any hardship in her life, as she isn't one to use that as a crutch. She is an extremely motivated and determined person, but when she fails in anything, big or small, she can become incredibly hard on herself. She tends to bottle her emotions to keep those around her happy and at ease, even if it hurts her in the end.
How long have you lived in Ashton?: 18 years
What would most people know about you?: She's clearly athletic upon first glance and tends to always have a smile. If she has an opinion she will most likely share it.
Additional info you want to share: She has asthma, which is a big hurdle in her attempts at becoming a successful boxer.
Bio: Helena lived with both of her parents in the first few years of her life. At around the age of four, her parents split. Her mother abandoned her and her father was so heartbroken he went to the bottle. They moved to Ashton, hundreds of miles away from her family and friends. He became physically and mentally abusive to her (never sexually). Eventually at the age of 15 she was able to move in with her friend, Brittany's, family, also located in Ashton. She doesn't talk much about her past as she doesn't want others to feel bad for her but again, she does bottle those feelings and they have the potential to explode one day.

[User]
Winter in Ashton can be truly and absolutely beautiful. With just the right amount of snowfall it can look and feel like a winter wonderland you would normally only find in a cheesy lifetime movie. In some ways it's as pleasant and pure as that, but sometimes looks can be deceiving. Beyond every wholesome citizen and act of kindness there is a conman waiting for their chance to strike. For a place as beautiful as Ashton still has its shadows...and those shadows can sometimes bring out the worst in people.

Like I said, winter in Ashton can be truly beautiful. However, it can be equally as lonely. Some thrive here. Others simply struggle to make ends meet. For every person lucky or dedicated enough to make their place the right way...there are those that go around the system and break the rules to get what they want. Regardless of what side of the law you are on, or the kind of life you lead...this is your home. Who are you going to be? How will your actions impact Asthon and its people? What's your story? There's only one way to find out.

Be who you want to be. Live your life the way you want to live it. Make your mark on the history of Ashton.

[Assistant] The story begins at 4:00pm on the first day of December. Holiday decorations are all around, and Christmas songs dominate the local radio stations. All seemed well this morning. However, reports are coming out that the body of Ashton's recently retired sheriff, Nick Dalton, has been found near Azure Lake. No more information has been released on the matter, but much of the town is in as state of shock. Sheriff Dalton was considered to be a hero by many...but at the very least he has always been seen as a good man by most.

[User]
Nyx let the radio chatter as she continued to unpack. She had lived in Ashton for two weeks, long enough for most people to have set up their entire apartment and even begin decorating. Nyx was not like those people. Nyx had her desk setup, complete with electric blanket, space heater, and water heater. Her desktop wasn't top of the line, but it did well enough. She didn't need it to do anything super exciting, or run complex programs or video games. She was just extremely proficient with excel.

Her desk was the only thing set up. She had her boxes of kitchen goods half opened, enough for her to find bowls for soup and cereal. She still hadn't found any of her silverware, and a plastic spoon sat next to her sink. Nyx didn't want to ruin the environment, all those turtles and jellyfish. She thought it was about the turtles and jellyfish, though she wasn't sure.

The radio finished another round of "White Christmas" updating everyone on the body that had been found by the lake.

"The entire reason I moved here was that it was supposed to be some nice town." Nyx sighed.

[Assistant]
Pop pop pop pop!

Helena's fists hit the heavy bag in a quick four-punch combo. She slipped to the side and took a step back from the heavy bag, bouncing on her toes and waiting for her imaginary opponent to mess up. The opponent she pictured in her head threw a cross, which she easily slipped, then followed with a quick left hook. She ducked under it and moved forward into range and unleashed another combo. She hit the bag with a quick left hook to the body, to the head, then popped a cross to give her some cover while she slipped back out of her opponent's range. Helena breathed through her nose and let out a soft exhale through her mouth as she waited for her imaginary opponent's next move. She controlled her breathing, staying calm and collected as her heartbeat grew faster with every movement. Before she knew it her timer was beeping and the final round was over. She dropped her hands and pulled off her training gloves. They weighed 16 ounces and were her favorite gloves. She had several different pairs of gloves for different types of training, but her 16 ounce gloves were always her favorite. Maybe it was because they were the heaviest she wore, maybe it was because they provided the most cushioning for her hands, or maybe it was because they had lasted her so long. Either way, she was very partial to this specific pair of gloves.

With her workout over, Helena made her way to the lockers and showered. Fortunately, her boxing gym offered showers, something she was incredibly grateful for. She finished, got dressed, and quickly put her damp hair up into a loose ponytail. On the way out, she saw her coach who was training another young prospect. "How'd you do, Champ?" he asked her, holding out his fist.

She gave him a fist bump and replied with a large grin, "Not bad, but always room for improvement!"

"That's what I like to hear!" he said with a chuckle, "Go home and get some rest kid."

"Sounds good, Coach!" With that, she exited the gym. The air was like ice. She had a love-hate relationship with the cold weather. On one hand, the city always looked gorgeous with the blankets of snow covering everything in sight. On the other hand, she tended to experience more asthma in the cold and that hindered her ability to train outside of the boxing gym. She already had to be cautious when training, the cold just made it harder. At times, even sitting down in the cold could trigger some of her symptoms.

Helena quickly made her way to her car and hopped in. Somehow it was much colder in there than it was outside. She cursed under her breath and started it up as quickly as possible, hoping the heater would warm up within the next few seconds. The young woman pulled out of her spot and made her way home. For the past year, she lived with her friend Brittany on the other side of town. They lived together since they were 15 and were still good friends, so naturally they didn't mind renting a two-bedroom apartment together once they were financially stable enough to do so. They were lucky to get a place a few miles away from Brittany's family's home. They were just far enough to be independent, but close enough to go to family dinners and events every couple of weeks.

Before getting home, Helena made a detour to the local cafe. They had great hot drinks, which were especially welcomed in the winter. She parked as close to the entrance as possible and made her way inside. Her plans were to get herself something small and to bring home something for her roommate.

[User]
Location: Brewster's Coffee & Treats

As you enter the establishment you are greeted by an obviously disheveled waitress that you recognize. She is a sweetheart of a young woman named Dawn, and despite having a history of messing up orders she is always polite and helpful. Her hair is messier than usual, and despite the cafe being rather slow at the moment she seems anxious and overwhelmed.

"Welcome back ma'am. What can I get you? Start you off with a coffee....or a tea?"

[Assistant]
"Hey Dawn!" Helena greeted, happy to see the young waitress. However, upon seeing Dawn's out of sorts look, Helena grew concerned. Even during the cafe's rushes, the waitress never seemed too overwhelmed. Why was today so different?

"Is everything okay?" Helena asked, though it was obvious something was wrong. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and slipped it out to take a peek. She didn't like being on her phone when talking to others, but considering this was her business and personal phone she always had to at least check.

The notification hit her like a metal bat. Ashton's Retired Sheriff Nick Dalton, Dead, Body Recovered Near Azure Lake. Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach and she even felt her eyes become a bit watery. Although she wasn't close to the man, she had seen him around town here and there. His kindness was strong in and out of uniform. He was the town's role model and hero. How could he be dead? She didn't bother reading the article, at least not yet. Questions zoomed through her head, but she shoved them to the side.

Helena gulped, pulled herself together, then returned her attention to Dawn. "Everything okay?" she repeated, clearing her throat and allowing a faint smile to appear on her lips.


[System]
Appearance: Megumi takes the appearance of an average height girl with striking red hair and eyes with an ego to match. Her hair is rather long, yet well kept and constantly gathered up in pigtails or one long ponytail.
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Class: 2-A

Personality: Prideful to say the least, Megumi is extremely intelligent, calculating, patient, while simultaneously unwavering and iron-fisted. Megumi calls people as "pigs in human clothing," and justifies that the weak and foolish must be ruled. Due to her steadfast convictions, she also possess a natural charisma and ability to lead others. In spite of her pride, Megumi is shown to be pragmatic and determined, willing to cast aside pride and using whatever means necessary in order to secure victory, even if it threatens her life.

When first meeting her, she is cold and rather ruthless, just gazing upon her will send shivers down ones spine. Not only is she intelligent, yet she knows what to do to bring weak targets down, especially when those targets have a very low self-esteem. In some cases, she could be what you consider a 'Major Bitch'.
In spite of her behavior at school, she is not heartless. While very harsh and not very willing to tolerate failures, she does care a great deal for those who she manages to care about, such as her brother. Megumi has a small social circle, so most of the time she lingers around her sibling.

Background: Megumi was always a stuffy, if not brilliant girl. Born under the daughter of Izuma Hazekage, and sister to Kurogane Hazekage, she was put under speculation by both the press and by her family; although, by extension, her brother would be the heir, she would still represent the family in hindsight, in both business and in war; which she was expected to throw herself into once she became of said mature age. Her days were spent studying with her mother, a softspoken lady that didn't have much to do with her brother, Kurogane. She would often spar with her father and brother, although, whenever she entered the dojo, it was to the sight of Kurogane bleeding, battered and bruised, while her father goaded her in with only a stoic shift of the head. She blossomed underneath his teachings, and often tested her skill against Kurogane; whom she knew to be holding back insurmountable amounts of anger at her father's way of abuse and stress-relief. Every-day, she would help him, either with studying or medical attention, and every-day, he would do the same, straightening her form or giving her a round in a game of Shogi. Life continued on, with Megumi's creative mind allowing her to come out on top with anything she put her energy and time towards. Her relationship with her brother became her strongest bond yet, although it will surely be tested to it's limits in the time to come.

Skills: Megumi is talented in the field of math and engineering, though she is rather lacking in history and social sciences. Due to her great knowledge, she knows quite a bit of information especially pertaining to the crafting of items(Thinks like nailed in baseball bats, or simple weapons for defense, if she were to have completed her studies, Megumi would have learned a lot more). The young girl is a fight fanatic, she dabbles in hand to hand from the teachings her father and brother had given her.
She knows some medical treatments, like disinfecting cuts and bruises, but that's something everyone should already know how to do.
Friendship wise, she sucks at gaining trust from others since she is constantly brooding and upset.

Weapons: N/A

Relationships/Friendships:
Kurogane - Her older brother and someone she knows very well. He is the only person Megumi is actually willing to socialize with, mostly due to the fact that they are siblings.

[User]
Things were heating up a little with that punk girl punching at the guy with glasses only for the other short male to intervene and take it himself. Ironic how that same guy was gonna take a beating shortly before all this happen. It was only expected that everyone would be scared or freaking out with this sudden, dangerous situation they were all in, but unlike them it didn't really bother him as much.

Not like this was the first time he had to deal with surviving on his own; only this time it was the undead instead of being out in the forest and hunting for food.

Everything turned to shit real fast and would only get worse as time passed and they were all just students who never dealt with this kind of stuff. So what was there to do other than trying to survive? which was the only thing that mattered at this moment. To survive and get out of this school and...then what?

Well, he would think about that later, but right now he would at least help get this group out of the trapped room. The male with computer wires seemed set on climbing down from the windows and he had no intention of stopping him.

Adjusting the backpack to secure it on his shoulder then placed himself against the cart besides kurisa. They would have to be fast as he turned his head to kurisa and gave a noticable nod to show he was ready. He exhaled slowly then slammed his foot down, pushing the cart as hard as he could. The cart charged towards the door and just as someone opened the door, slammed into the small group of zombies surrounding the doorway.

The force of the cart knocked them back into each other, sending the rotting ghouls sprawling against the opposite wall or to slam onto the floor. A sickening crunch of bone from one of the wheels crushing a zombie's ribcage leaving it trapped beneath the cart and Kenny motioned for the others to get moving. He then turned left, heading the opposite direction of the others, running past growling zombies reaching at him as one had caught his pants and started to pull his disfigured face in to bite. Slipping the backpack from his shoulders, he flung it at its head, knocking it away then quickly ran on until he was free of them.

On he ran down the hallway, having decided to try and find Reiko and make sure she was safe before he would work on getting out of the school.

weapons: hammer, paper cutter
Hits used: none
Hits left: 12/10

[Assistant]
"Ah yes, I almost forgot." Megumi mumbled. She strolled over to the couch and began removing the cushions, revealing two more boxes of confiscated items. "These are for the more dangerous ones, brass knuckles and such since there appears to be affiliated gangs at the school." She explained, dumping the weapons into the floor. "Pick your poison."

Megumi and her brother would usually keep these items instead of turning them into the school themselves. They kept the weapons as trophies of sorts, that and they didn't want to start unnecessary problems in the school, such as murder, or gang fights. With the whole system now shut down, Megumi didn't have to worry about keeping all of these weapons anymore.

She slipped a knife into the pocket of her sweatpants and slung her duffel bag back over her shoulder. The redhead then removed her pigtails and bundled her hair into a messy bun so that her hair wouldn't get caught on anything, or grabbed. Soon, Megumi might actually have to cut her hair.

She tossed aside her school skirt and stretched in her pants, feeling rather free in them.

"So, how will we leave the school? Obviously we can't run off via foot, so a vehicle will be required to make an escape."

Metal Piper-Hammer thing which will probably be tossed for something better in a post
Hits left: 5

[User]
Sure enough they did have more hidden items, but what she pulled out seemed more like a black markets dealer den. She and her brother got all these weapons from students? This seemed like the school from the manga Beelzebub. Well he already had his scalpel claws, so brass knuckles were useless to him. That and they were more for stronger people who could actually crack a mans skull with one. Plus it gave them more chance to bite him. He held up what would look like a gun, but was nothing more than a toy, this made Aki looked up questioningly at Megumi before putting it back in the box.

After a minute of rummaging, he just took a pocket knife with everything else being really pointless. Unless he was winging something with enough force in itself, it was pointless taking blunt weapons. As he stood up he saw Megumi changing her hairstyle followed by tossing her skirt aside, which again gave a questioning look followed by a shrug as he gripped the pocket knife and went over to the door, opening it and with the coast mostly clear wrapped part of the duct tape around the air horn which released that loud ass noise instantly. Aki cut the duct tape, and like a grenade, threw it down the hallway, and closed the door. The noise was still pretty loud and so was all those growling noises that walked past the room and off towards the sound. Aki gave it a minute, since that noise was still going on and peeked out the door. Their hallway was clear, but the other one showed just how many would have torn them limb from limb. And people say supports were crap in games.

Aki opened the door and went away from the big herd that loitered the west hall to get towards the noise. Considering the stair case was next to his class's room he knew where to go, not without interruptions though. One of them stumbled out of the b class's room while another from the closest c class room. Aki pointed at the farthest zombie for Megumi to take down while Aki took out the closest one. When Aki went to jab the zombie stumbled causing his fist to miss. Aki stumbled back himself as the creature nearly bite him. It was enough of a fright he quickly checked to make sure. He again threw a jab this time hitting, and piercing through its eye and to the brain. He could feel the eye liquid on his fingers, which made him shudder as the zombie fell to the ground.

Weapon: Scalpel claws.
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[Assistant]
Megumi shrugged her shoulders when he didn't reply and simply followed behind him after sending out that little distraction-which was rather smart for someone like him-. She jogged down the hallway, making sure her feet didn't make too much noise as she went along behind her fellow student. With her pipe-hammer clenched tightly in her hands, she ran forward past Aki to violently swing her weapon upwards towards the shambling beast. The audible noise of bones breaking reverberated through Megumi's ears, playing like music as the corpse fell to the ground. With the heel of her shoe, she slammed it onto the exposed head. Brain matter oozed through the broken parts of skull and mixed with the rotten blood of the dead. "Ah fuck." Megumi gagged and placed the sleeve of her sweater over her nose to prevent her from inhaling the stench of rotting meat. It was as if gas was trapped in these things, yet it hasn't even been a single day. The biology of these things were so odd.

"All of their organs must have shut down... I wonder if they really need to eat flesh at all?" Megumi shook her head and continued on. Her fingers gripped the bottom of her pipe as she had realized how weak it grew, it was only a matter of time until it decided to break on her. "Just a little longer."

Metal Piper-Hammer thing
Hits left: 4 plz
Hits used: 1

[User]
"Not sure on that, your guess is as good as mine." Aki replied, as he caught his breath a bit. Her earlier question still ringing in his head. At the moment he had no answers for it. He always got picked up after school, so if any vehicles were outside they were probably already taken. And if some were around then it would still be useless since the students would carry their keys around. And Aki knew for a fact he could not hot wire anything, and he doubted she knew as well. So while it may have been bad to think, he had to have hoped someone died behind the wheel of their car so they could take it.

"Lets keep going, were almost there." Aki spoke as he continued on down the hallway, it was good to know those air horns lasted a while as he could hear its faint sound still. They did reach the stair case and with nothing there he began to silently walk down the steps. With them now being on the first floor, all they had to do was get to the front entrance, hopefully Aki could save the air horn for then. "So even if we do make it out.. Where should we even go? Considering if were lucky enough to find a car with the keys magically in." This question showed he heard her earlier one, just showed he really had no good answer for it.

[Assistant]
"I suppose if we do manage to get out of this place, we should attempt to find somewhere to stay just for the night." She murmured, her shoulders shrugging as she headed down the stairs. "My house is far from the school, so even with transportation it would take quite a while depending on the stray cars and walls of corpses." Megumi scrunched her nose up as she thought about possible transportation and routes they could take. "We could break into a house, since there isn't any law holding us back anymore. And for transportation, we can either contact someone if the cell towers aren't down yet, or try to break into a car and pray that it would let out an alarm."

Her father had probably fled to safety, or hid in the comfort of his luxurious manor. For now, Megumi would have to roll with Aki and whoever else they run into on their way to temporary shelter.

"We can't stay outside for the night, so in the end we may actually have to resort in breaking in, or at least resting at someone else's home."

Metal Piper-Hammer thing
Hits left: 4 plz


[System]
Human (Caelic Isles) | 37 | Male

Appearance

Cillian does not stand out from the countless travellers on the road. He does not boast the powerful bulk of the warrior, or the lithe silhouette of the rogue, but he still stands at a decent height of around six foot, and beneath his clothing, his frame is one of wiry muscle, marked with dozens of scars and painted with the traditional woad tattoos of his people. His hair is pale, a rare sight among those who hail from the Caelic Isles, and he wears it long and braided, along with a short and unruly beard. His clothing is simple but durable, and he is rarely found without his carefully crafted mail armour, forged by his father's own hand. The spear and shield, often slung across his back, and the dagger on his belt, are also from his father's forge, and along with his armour, they are his last ties to his home, and his family. It is Cillian's eyes that are his most striking feature, a pale but fiercely intense blue that light up with an almost ethereal fire whenever he has a story on his lips, or a foe before him.

Personality

Cillian has spent years rubbing shoulders with paupers and kings, and this has left him with an easy charm. Coupled with the natural warmth and kinship of those hardy folk that carve out a life the Caelic Isles, Cillian is a friendly figure, although anyone who spends too long in the man's company will realise that there is something a little... unhinged about the wanderer. Perhaps it true that fey blood runs through his veins, or perhaps Cillian has simply spent too long dreaming of mythic creatures and fantastical legends, but despite the welcoming nature of the man, he is clearly not all there. Perhaps it is this that fuels his wandering, and sees him rarely spent too long in place, or with one group. Despite this, he is an earnest companion, an honourable warrior, and a talented entertainer.

Background

* Wandering Bard
* Lower Class
* Son of the Blacksmith and the Storyteller

History

(Will be filled over time)

Cillian was born into a simple village, clinging to a windswept rocky island that juts from the stormy waters of the Shrouded Sea. The second son of the village's blacksmith, Cillian had as comfortable a childhood as can be expected from the people that cling to the Caelic Isles, but that is not to say that his upbringing was uneventful. To survive on the islands, people grow up tough, and they grow up fast. Norgardian raids were common, and as soon as Cillian was old enough to stand, he had a spear thrust into his hands, and taught how to use it. It was to Cillian's older brother, Ronan, that the trade of smithing was passed down, and while his brother worked over the forge under his father's watchful eye, Cillian was drawn more to his mother.

The women of Cillian's village were as hardy as the men, just as likely to take up a weapon and defend her homestead as the men, and Cillian's mother was no exception. And yet it was in the flickering firelight of the night, as the clan pulled close together in the chieftain's hall, against the darkness and the chill, that Cillian's mother was in her element. It is the druids that tie the Caelic Isles to their gods, but it is the storytellers and bards that tie them to their myths, and their legends, and their history. Cillian's mother was one of those storytellers, and Cillian hung on her every word.

All of the village's children enjoyed her stories, gripped by the tales of great beasts and courageous heroes, but for Cillian, it was something different. He had an almost insatiable hunger for these legends, and when he heard them, his eyes lit up, and he felt truly alive, as if he could see these fantastical creatures in the room before him, even as his mother spoke. Whenever other clans visited the village, for trade or to keep relations friendly with their neighbours, Cillian begged them to share their own tales, and when they relented, he drank them in greedily.

Motivation

Cillian wanders the world, bringing the songs and legends of his people to anyone who has coin to spare, but he has long held ambitions of experiencing a legend of his own, and that ambition has drawn him to the dark depths of the Blackwood...

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [1/1]

* Polearm with Shield (1)
* Daggers (1)
*

Intelligence [1/1]

* Legendry (1)
*
*

Charisma [1/1]

* Singing (1)
* Charm (2)
*

Health [1/1]

* Toughness (1)
* Stamina (1)
* Rejuvenation (1)

Faculties [1/1]

* Perception (1)
* Intuition (1)
* Willpower (1)
* Woodcraft (1)

Agility [1/1]

* Balance (1)
* Swimming (1)
*

Mysticism [0/3]

*
*
*

---

Equipment

* Spear
* Shield
* Dagger
* Mail Armour

Money

5 Royals, 12 Lordlings and 28 Commons

Languages

Caelic, Northern Tongue

[User]
Not having given their names, Emilio and Wēlanandaz still could differentiate the now incredulous aristocrats clearly. The first one who complained the loudest was portly, with dark brown hair encompassing his curled hair to sweep down over his face and make a full, groomed goatee. His vest was purple and he seemed to be a bit more annoyed than the others when it came to the topic they spoke of. The next man was tall, with a hawk nose and a frock coat. He had hair on his head, though it was wispy and straw colored. The other looked a bit younger than them, average of height. Though he had strange, indigo eyes and black locks. He sported a dueling saber at his hip, just below a green vest of satin.

The portly man looked at Emilio with only the barest hint of suppressed anger. The merchant would see that there were more armed men there than the Knights of the Skull, even if this was clearly their stronghold. The nobles had their own personal guard it seemed. It was hard to judge how many of them there were, though an educated guess would indicate anywhere from twenty, to about sixty to seventy men between all three of them. It was hard to gauge considering they did not seem to be about to venture forth themselves, with many of their men likely out and about performing various tasks.

"Who the fuck are you?" The normally well mannered, bearded noble asked Emilio. He took a moment to stare down the merchant before he decided to turn away lest he order something of his guards he might regret later.

"A sales pitch isn't necessarily what we need right now." The younger noble remarked, though he did seem more amused and annoyed, and perhaps even intrigued at the man who so brazenly walked up to the three of them discussing this dark business. As for the third fellow, he actually chuckled. It sounded like a chipmunk squeaking when it found it's favorite nut.

"On the contrary. Bertram, perhaps this is what we need." He seemed to be referring to the portly one. "A Dwarf forged blade, or ones a stout one can vouche for, could give us an edge on whatever endeavors we find ourselves locked into." He imperiously waved a gesture at Emilio as he continued. "This fellow here seems a daring and smart one as well. Did not our father's father's become rich from such noble pursuits as salesmen."

"My father gained nobility from slaying a Malgani Sorcerer that was threatening the Kingdom, Valence." The fat one snapped back.

"And was he not able to afford Dwarf forged weaponry because his father peddled wares?" Valence asked. "Nathan, do help me out here."

The young one shrugged. "I would like to hear what the Dwarf has to say."
@Tony Pajamas

[Assistant]
"You'll have an easier time sleeping in the barn." The raven-haired woman said, doing her best to sweep whatever dust was on the porch away from the two newcomers. A strange pair by all accounts. Around them, the village was the epitome of the word 'quaint.' Men wore sporting vests of low quality whilst women wore wool dresses, though you could find either sex wearing workman's trousers if they were doing a menial job. There had to have been plenty of trade, as there was very little room for any farmland, and by any measure the soil was not made for it.

The hamlet of Berute was situated in a small vale surrounded by jagged faces of rock that could hardly be called mountains. More like upjumped hills made of stone, guarding the small area from the greater Blackwood and it's more pressing dangers, at least that was the idea behind the town's inception. There were two known ways in and out; the southern route and the northern route. The two adventurers had made their way through the south, from left the town of Gladstone a week previously.

Their provisions now low, Berute seemed like a dream come true. Lovely thatched houses and little in the appearance of deadly beasts. The only real indication this was still within the Blackwood was the large trees that had been spaced a bit less thickly as they hiked through the glens and glades toward the little village. Cows and other livestock had been grazing in the forest beside them as they had walked, which was likely the town's main source of food and comfort. Now, the two had sought a place to stay for the night as any would expect them to. As it were, that didn't seem to be working out.

"Look..." the woman said, leaning her broom on the wall and facing the two. She was a pretty woman with green eyes, though it was easy to imagine them flaring in severity if she grew angry. "I do deeply apologize for the lack of space. But we do have a barn. It's clean and we can provide some blanket. All you'll need to do is pay for the food."

A cart passed behind them, two handsome horses carrying a load of crates. Behind it, an Elf played a tune on a lye as two Dwarves grumbled, hauling sacks of grain while trying not to tell the elf to be quiet too harshly. Truthfully it was a beautiful melody, but Dwarves weren't elven fans at the best of times.
@Tortoise

[User]
Cillian had risen to his feet as he spoke, and as the unusual pair turned to look at him, he took a tentative step closer to their table, the well-rehearsed smile never leaving his face. If nothing else, his introduction seemed to distract the pair from squabbling over the fat coin purse, and that was as good a start as any.

 The pause in bickering was only short-lived, and Cillian quickly got the impression that the elf and the gnome were old friends, arguing back and forth, each looking to gain the upper hand. Cillian's smile didn't falter, but behind the pale blue eyes, his mind was racing to keep up with the overlapping intricacies of the conversation. He had the distinct feeling that he was being played, the pair perhaps sniffing out the oppurtunity that a fumbling newcomer might present. He had names now at least, but even those set him ill at ease. The elf was Saskia, and the gnome Calvin, but it had been the gnome's reaction that had surprised Cillian. Was it simply being introduced as a sidekick that had taken him by surprise, or was it the name itself? Before Cillian could ponder too long on the thought, his mind caught up with his ears, and he realised that the pair were looking at him expectantly.

 Ever the showman, Cillian grinned widely again as he spread his arms wide. Perhaps the pair were looking to swindle him, or perhaps it was simply idle curiosity, but whatever the reason, they had agreed to be his audience, and Cillian had never been one to walk away from a willing audience. Taverns had been his stage countless times in the past, and despite the unfamiliarity of the city beyond the building's walls, the bard was in his element, the fire behind his eyes slowly flickering into a blaze as he spoke.

 "I have many tales to tell, if you only have the time, but it is a tale that I cannot yet tell that has brought me to this fair city. Ever since I was a boy, clinging to my mother's skirts, I was haunted by dreams of darkness. But this was not the darkness that plagues all children, the darkness of shadows and things that go bump in the night, this darkness was deep, and it called my name. It was only as I grew older, and heard the tales and legends of the world, that I learned the name of that darkness. The Blackwood. Ever since that day, the darkness has continued to call to me, and although my path has been long and winding, I always knew that it would eventually lead me here. The inky darkness waits on the other side of the raging waters, and I know that my fate lies within it. I am a man of legends and grand tales, and the Blackwood will grant me my greatest stories, I need only for someone to strike the first match. Friends, the two of you strike me as seasoned travellers, familiar with these parts. I wonder then, if your paths have ever led you beyond the water, and into the darkness beyond..."

 Cillian allowed himself to tail off, the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, a single pale eyebrow raised towards the pair. He hoped that his hunch was correct, that the unusual pair would not be lingering in Greybridge without having travelled into the Blackwood, or at least know the tales of those that had. Perhaps this was a dead end, perhaps it would simply an oppurtunity to waste away some time, but Cillian could not shake the clinging sense that there was something else here, something more.

 Attempt to charm the unlikely pair, in hopes that it might loosen lips (Charm) = 3 + 1 = 4