[System]
---

Appearance

Aged 90 | Male | 6'3 | 192 lbs

Tall, dark (not really), and handsome, or at least he considers himself as such, Benjamin sports dirty blonde hair and gray eyes. He stands on the taller side of things and has a fit figure, pale skin and long facial features giving him a rather serious look. His choice of clothing is usually simple and comfortable, preferring comfort over style, although he can dress up for the occasion if need be.

Personality
The only thing anyone needs to know about Benjamin is that he will become the next Lord of House Eve.

Benjamin comes off as a taciturn, stoic figure. That is most definitely not what he is, though it amuses him that he can have that appearance if needed. He is passionate about everything he puts his mind to, whether it be his fighting ability or endeavoring into the political world. There is very little in this world that phases or frightens him, believing that fear should serve as a motivator to improve oneself. He does, however, keep his wits about him and reacts accordingly to most situations.

While not as serious as he looks, so long as he keeps his mouth shut, he can keep that appearance up to the point that he really can be the neutral Eve he's expected to be. Instead, Benjamin is every traditionalist's nightmare: frighteningly progressive, looking solely to the future while wanting to get rid of outdated rules, and more than willing to inflict radical change if and when it is needed--and in his opinion, this world needs it sooner than later. That being said, he is smart enough to know going in with torches and pitchforks won't accomplish anything except further fighting, instead hoping he can change the system from within.

When it comes to mages, Benjamin believes their fleeting lives require guidance. Just because they aren't around long, however, doesn't mean that they shouldn't be respected. On the contrary, they very much exist as vampires do, even if they are a little frail for his taste.

Benjamin is known as the young troublemaker of the house; where most stick to the common Eve stance of neutrality, he feels that keeping that mindset is precisely what led to the house's current state. What needs to happen is change, but seeing as how he's outnumbered, change needs to come slowly but surely. While he does have sympathy for Count Lutheran, he is aware of the vampire's struggles and feels he doesn't have what it takes to properly control the rest of the family.

Bio
Benjamin always had a tendency to stir up trouble in his youth, despite being raised to be proper and poised. He liked to ask questions, he liked the freedom to do as he pleased, he disliked being told what to do, and he absolutely hated having to show 'respect' to those that often did not deserve it. Fortunately he also hated getting punished just as much, learning to keep his words to himself and keeping up the image of a proper gentleman. His family is one of the few branches that has managed to hold on to both dignity and wealth, leading to a proper upbringing and the freedom to lay out his own path--though life would show him his privilege sooner than later.

The first instance had to be at a meeting in which a mage had corrected their vampire on something. He never did remember what the information was, but he couldn't forget the way it was dealt with: a direct smack across the jaw, with absolutely no one batting an eye to the contrary. 'It was deserved' was the common consensus, followed by a shrug and a change of topic whenever he inquired. He was told that was not how mages should be: they should be seen, but not heard. That was just the way things were, but it never did sit well with him, his protests and questioning reaching a head when his own father had to get involved to stop him.

For some time Benjamin was quelled until he met Delia, a mage belonging to Duke Gethin. Their meeting was entirely on accident, with Benjamin stumbling across her while looking for his mother. It was the first time he had met a mage not belonging to his immediate family, but the two got along well. The bruises lined around her neck had gotten his attention, but she was able to successfully evade his questioning and distract him with a much too pleasant conversation. By fortune the baron was conducting some business with his father, and Benjamin insisted on going along despite being deemed too young to properly understand. The woman was rigid next to her baron during the meeting, a strange mask of neutrality that greatly contrasted the warmth he had encountered before. It was all too obvious that despite never laying a hand on her in front of them, the abuse the baron gave was apparent in the ever so slight flinch anytime the baron raised his hand.

After the meeting he managed to borrow her, asking if she was being treated badly, but she wouldn't give him any semblance of the rather obvious circumstance. Time passed and things stayed the same, and despite her warmth, it greatly disturbed him to know she was being treated in such a manner. In his foolishness, Benjamin would eventually confront the man, setting off an unfortunate chain of events that resulted in Delia's death. It was deemed an accident and swept under the rug, and aside from an obligatory warning from the Council, nothing came of it. Gethin continued to mistreat his mages, and Benjamin was shown just how powerless he was in the grand scheme of things.

Feeling responsible for Delia, he decided to dedicate his life to advocating to mage rights, finding a lot of pushback from the older generation. Rather than wait to get taken out due to his 'radical ideas', he took the initiative to undergo vigorous training, covering both long range and short range forms of fighting. His first encounter with an assailant proved that his paranoia had a place, but instead of getting shaken he actually found himself enjoying the tussle, ultimately disappointed when it ended. From that point forward made sure to divide himself between his training and his work, working slowly but surely to make sure he would see his goals through to the end.

Likes
Benjamin's passion has always been the thrill of battle first and foremost, having trained in several forms of martial arts. He values strength, both physical and mental, believing that without it very little can be accomplished. He enjoys sports of most kinds, or any physical activity, really. Traditional archery is a neat hobby he picked up around twenty years ago that he finds himself enjoying as of late.

Dislikes
Sitting still for too long tends to get to him, and while he understands education is important, he would rather sit out in the sun than willingly listen to lectures. He doesn't like the mistreatment of mages nor is fond of the idea that they are lesser. He loathes paperwork, often procrastinating unless he gets a streak of motivation. He also doesn't appreciate when he isn't being taken seriously; disrespect is more insulting than any combination of petty words or even a thrown punch to him.

Habits
He loves to play darts as it keeps his aim right. Whenever stressed he tends to go completely mute as he mentally drowns in his own thoughts. He's a bit of a slob; if it isn't important paperwork (and even that is haphazardly, if not at least kept securely in a safe), his personal possessions often getting lost or turning up in random places. He gets lost in his thoughts a little too easily, often spacing out at inopportune times during conversations.

Other
His forte is ranged combat, favoring bows and crossbows with an assortment of throwing knives often carried around. He does have a falchion dubbed Sigmund that was given to him after completing basic training. His ears are pierced to match his mages, each one wearing small silver studs with the Eve insignia engraved into them.

[User]
Amaris Marivaldi

Interacting with: Madalyn @Achronum

"Straightforward directions would have been preferred, as would have been some type of clearly marked path… but then this wouldn't be much of a test now would it? I hate to admit it, but sometimes the most effective way to learn is to dive head first into the deep end. Amaris had folded her arms across her chest while she and Madalyn had been talking, her tapping index finger an agitated contrast from her otherwise calm exterior. The anxious tick came to a slow stop as the countess inhaled slowly and deeply, exhaling the tension she had allowed to build. Now wasn't the time for her to panic, after all, they had only just taken their first steps.

Stay calm. Your role here is as a resource, a role you cannot fulfil properly if your mind is clouded by wayward thoughts. Stay focused on what can be solved and nothing more. The countess scolded herself silently before finally relaxing.

"I leave myself in your very capable hands, Maddie."

It was difficult for Amaris to proceed without her sight, her hesitant steps only serving to slow their already limited pacing for what felt like a long time. Eventually, as Maddie grew more confident in her ability to guide so did Amaris' confidence in her ability to be led. Still, having some semblance of perception would have been much preferred to the current situation.

As the path stretched on, the countess' thoughts wandered inward to the blood within. So far she had only learned how to trick the eyes into seeing something other than what was before them, but was it possible that there was a way to see through the spell placed on her? Would it be wasted energy to hope such a feat would be a passive one? Amaris had to silence the scoff before it had a chance to make itself known to her partner.

How childish.

Eventually the pair came to exit their initial path, the change in pressure alerting the blind vampire to the approach of a second clearing. This one was a bit different from the last, however, as the silence was broken by the sound of metal striking metal… no, that wasn't exactly correct, it wasn't as crass as that. With each brush of contact the metal sang to the space around them, each voice adding to the previous until a chorus had been born. Windchimes?

Her thoughts were confirmed as Maddie read the sign and described the scene for her, yet somehow the countess was still hopelessly lost.

"Neither do I, but for all we know it's just meant to intimidate and distract us. Let's just take a moment to pick this apart and figure out what we can before moving on. Hopefully that will help ease some of our uncertainties." Amaris began to chew excitedly at her lower lip as her mind went to work, careful to not break the skin like she had so many times in her youth. The first riddle might have been disappointing to her but this one? This is what she had been waiting for.

"It sounds like our direction is pretty clear, so this must have more to do with an obstacle we will face along the way. Is there anything in particular about this that stands out to you?" The countess was itching to pick the lines apart one at a time and analyze the many possible meanings they could have but the test was not hers alone. Normally Amaris would be disappointed in having to show such restraint, however this was a good opportunity to learn a bit more about her partner. Not only would she get a glimpse into the mage's thought process, but she might glean a new outlook on the puzzle before them if she halted herself from prematurely injecting her own bias.

[Assistant]
---

"The riddle says the game starts when they're whole again, so I'd assume something stupid is gonna happen after we do this, but it doesn't give any directions we can go on otherwise." Max responded as he switched his own block to his armored hand. Better to just guide both in magically to be safe; he wasn't quite sure how perfectly syncronized they'd need to be for the test to consider them 'in tandem'. The vambraces moved of their own accord, raising both their limp arms upward and, after a quick glance by Max confirming they were aligned with the holes, tugged their hands forward to fit the blocks snugly into their assigned slots.

"Okay, now five paces back," Max instructed as he followed his own advice, all the while watching Eris' movements for confirmation. Ideally, even their steps should be syncronized, but that was a lot harder to do when Eris couldn't see and he didn't have nearly enough metal present to just puppet the vampire's legs like a marionette. When they were both in position, Max turned his gaze back toward the magic bird feeder in front of him. Best case scenario? This opens a neat little portal to the finish line. Worst case? He didn't even want to guess; the only thing this school had really taught him is that even his most pessimistic predictions could be exceeded at any moment.

"Alright, ready? Three... Two... One. Oceleusi Picon."

---

[User]
While Ben understood the insistence on concentration, there was no escaping the nagging feeling that the practical was being used as an excuse not to talk properly. He would much rather insist, but that said, the more he pushed the more he risked alienating Lilie further, that much he was sure of. How troublesome. That said, there was one possible solution: continue to push whenever there was a lull in conversation after solving the steps. She couldn't refuse his conversation if she didn't have any excuses.

Mercifully Lilie did read out loud the instructions given as well as everything in the vicinity. He agreed with her proposed course of action and decided to think on the riddle. A comfort at night was the moon, or at least that was his initial reaction. The dark was terrifying to all, the moon and stars offering comfort to all. As to how the moon correlated with the bushes, that much he was unsure. "I'd say the moon is most comforting to those in the dark," He offered his interpretation of the hints given. "I can't say I have much knowledge in botany, but maybe one of the flowers is connected to the moon. I've heard of a flower that blooms at night, but I can't say I remember what it looks like or what is it called."

As limited as the information was, he sincerely hoped it would help in some shape or form. If he needed to regain her trust then this was the time to do so. He shuffled in place as he crossed his arms, fingers flexing for a moment as he waited for something to happen.


[System]
Ignore the obvious axe.
Apparent Age: Middle-Aged
Gender: Male
Nation: Grado
Class: Knight
Weapon Mastery: C
Level: 4
Background:
Griswal hails from a standing line of once-famed knights within the Grado military. There was previously some element of prestige to be had within the family, even harkening back to Grado's ancient lords. Such things have dwindled to but a speck in the wake of Grado's disaster - yet, still, they live on to serve proudly. As true to the nation's role in the safety of the Fire Emblem, Griswal as a soldier was raised and trained in sturdy defense. Employed as a guard for Grado Keep in the face of the nation's dwindling military, Griswal saw little battle against anything beyond the now-common monsters of Magvel.

During Jehanna's call to war, Griswal was deliberately held back from combat, fearing that any front-line battle could not be won in the long run. Surely enough, Jehanna brought the fight to the capital within days. When it was decided the Fire Emblem was no longer safe here, Griswal was one of the first volunteered for its escort by none other than General Nero, his superior. While Griswal himself found no reason to refuse, he would only later realize the consequences of this...

Personality:
A gruff, but respectful individual. He talks and thinks with the hard, confident tones expected of a knight of his caliber. While prideful of his prowess in combat, Griswal is not quick to anger nor easy to turn to violence, and would much sooner berate someone else for seeing excessive gore or death as a solution. He's also something of a stoic when it comes to emotion, and doesn't find himself pursuing things like romance, vengeance or adventure.

Griswal has been rendered somewhat cynical and sullen by Jehanna's waging of war over the Fire Emblem. The very mention of these occurrences can lapse him into this foul attitude, and bring with it a lot of pain. However, Griswal remains ferociously serious of his role as a protector knight, and would do his very best to protect his trusted allies and innocents. Above all, Griswal is a sworn guardian of the Fire Emblem, bearing his armor and crest with dignity in spite of the hateful men and ruthless creatures who would bear down on him for it.

Plot-Susceptive: Yes.

Equipment / Items: Iron Lance, Vulnerary

R-button Summarization: A proud knight of Grado heritage. Stoic, but empowered.

[User]
Ret grimaced watching the soldier fall, maybe all this killing has gotten to him. But he quickly reminded himself that they were the ones who attacked first, showing them sympathy was unreasonable - they would have shown him none. This was to save the world. Right?

Right.

So he grunted and shrugged it off.

Seeing how poorly the enemy ranks were treated by their own side, Ret felt a pang of indignation - he glared at the one who just raised his weapon against their own soldiers.

"Kill fat one, maybe little ones run." In the wilds, killing off wolves who attacked - caused their remaining members to flee. Especially killing the fatter ones first. It seemed that Ret no longer considered morag human.

[Assistant]
"I'm...I'm fine," Archibald said as the initial shock of his arrow release left him. Turning to the young healer, he flashed a somewhat faked smile. "I'm completely fine, no need to worry," he said as he smoothed his hair over the right side of his face. No-one needed to know. 'Why do you hide yourself?' the voice rang again, 'be true to your desires!' With an intense internal effort, he gagged the voices and once more locked them in the back of his head. No-one needed to know... Closing his eyes, Archibald took a deep breath and steadied himself. The initial sweat had dried up now as a cool breeze blew past. They were nearing the entrance now.

Opening his eyes, a wide smile appeared over his face. "Alright you sons of bitches!" he shouted to Aiph and Darius, "just a few more leagues and we're home free! And the only thing standing in our way is Morag!" This elicited a cheer from Aiph and a a small grunt and spit from Darius. "Let's show him the same hospitality he showed our boys a month ago!" Archibald hissed with little malice, his hand resting on a particularly colourful looking arrow. For every enemy, Archibald had a special arrow made for them. In Morag's case, it was a cruel creature. With an easily splintered shaft and a hooked, barbed bone head, this thing was meant to shatter upon insertion...and stay there. It wouldn't necessarily kill him, but it would most definitely hurt. The voice rose up to the surface again as he fingered the rough raven feathers of the fletching. 'An eye for an eye...' For once...Archibald agreed. The torture and murder of one of his men would not go unpunished.

He and the Spike Guild leader were very much opposites. Archibald was carefree and fun loving. Morag was cruel and greedy. Archibald commanded his men through respect, camraderie and friendship. Morg ruled by fear and an iron fist. As such, it would only be natural that the two would meet each other in combat sooner or later. Dashing forward, his cloak flapping behind him, Archibald cleared the wall and came into view of the guild leader. "Oi! Morag you pox-ridden, ponce brained, limp wristed sheep fondler!" he yelled across the distance separating them as he pulled his hood up, "I've come to repay the hospitality you showed my boy last month!"

[User]
After the immediate battle had settled with the surviving enemies retreating and hiding, Alvin gave Griswald a sideways smirk. "Well that was easy, should only be a couple more men standing between us and escape. So, you, me, and Marwood." He said looking over to the other prince and raising his voice a little to get his attention. "Shall advance forward with our lances and hopefully make short work of them and hightail it outta here." He finished with a final nod to Marwood and Griswald.

"Shall we?" Alvin gripped Medea's reins in his hand and urged the wyvern forward, coming to a stop a few feet in front of the man with the spiked mace. Behind him he heard one amongst his company call out.

"Oi! Morag you pox-ridden, ponce brained, limp wristed sheep fondler! I've come to repay the hospitality you showed my boy last month!"

Alvin turned and saw the archer who had been helping them escape, so he was a streetlord of some kind? His experiance in surviving the outside world would prove invaluable, so Alvin put on his best lord face and stared Morag down. "So, you've grieved my friend have you? I 'll tell you what, stand aside or you'll be wyvern food." The threat delivered in an ice cold voice uncharacteristic of Alvin. If anyone who knew him had heard him they'd be shocked at the pure malice in his voice. "And I assure you, she's quite hungry." He added, patting Medea's neck who let out a low snarl for emphasis.

[Assistant]
It seems that the Spike Guild had made bitter enemies merely by their pressence this day, Archibald swore and alvin threatened morag, past grieviences rose to give the wronged ones courage.

But Ret was a simpler man, he just hated how morag treated the poor soldier. It might be because of this, that he started to pry his attention from morag, feeling that both the archer and dragoon's enemity would suffice, that he noticed the hint of a spear sticking out beside the wall in front of them.

An ambush?
Ret's brow rose at the notion, quickly he dipped his right hand into a satchel of iron dust and brushed it against his tome - pulling ambient electrons onto his palm. Stepping forwards past the frontlines, he deftly reached out to grab the hidden enemies' spear by it's handle in an attempt to stimy any retaliation, and with his other hand, deliver a charged fist to where he thought the soldier's face would be.

[User]
These men were clearly lowliest among even Jehannan mercenaries, belonging to one of the lower caste Guilds. If he recalled correctly, it was the Spike Guild, led by the boastful sword-fighter, Morag. Even his body type alone measured up that his bite wasn't quite up to par with his bark. With this small mass of combatants escorting the Fire Emblem, there was no question as to whether they could break through Morag. Indeed, if the group picked their paths carefully, they could find themselves simply having to plow their way through the lesser guilds, in wherever across the world they were going.

The only question, then, was how long it would take until Sion put the chase on them. Not very long, with the rate he was advancing. At best, this motley crew of escorts would start having Jehannan guilds and search parties in hot pursuit for them by next morning. And then, where would the last of Grado go? Sion has easily taken the keep, so it was doubtful they would have any more luck even in a place like Renvall. So, too, it seemed like no other country previously aligned with Grado has reason to harbor them... even Renais, in spite of Marwood's wishes.

Griswal had a fair measure of time to mull this over in his head as Alvin spouted out his plan and charged forward once more. The Grado Knight would stomp after the Wyvern Rider, but Griswal knew he stood little chance of properly keeping up with the prince. He might've even thought to stop and ask Aldo of his intentions of the caravan once they fled the capitol, but this was not the time nor place for more than a moment's discussion.

So Griswal simply thought it out for himself. With Grado teeming with Jehannan invaders, Frelia nearly in civil war over what side to take, Renais unwilling and unable to help, and Carcino practically running off of Jehanna, that only left Rausten unconcerned. There were some rising rumors that the young new emperor, Edan, had intentions to put a stop to the sudden war, but there was a lacking of certainty. What was certain was that one of Rausten's most acclaimed scholars published the idea that the Fire Emblem must be destroyed, for one reason or another.

It was either Frelia or Rausten. Both very shaky, and without guarantee that even their swaying the local lord to their side would prove to be enough. Such was the trials of survival in a war where you were the enemy.


[System]
Age: 16

Gender: Female, but looks male.

Bio: Arman grew up traveling, village to village, never settling anywhere. She was the story keeper for her troupe, telling stories for her keep. They are currently stopping by in Crosshaven for a little while, before they plan to move on. Arman hides the fact that she is a girl. When she was little she was picked up from the roadside and has been with the travelers since then.

Who is the Seer?: Another traveler, someone, she respects if 'he' exists. She has heard of 'him' in legends and one of the first stories she read was a piece of poetry about 'him'. She would also like, if possible to be the one to record the seer's story, and tell it to others. (But for that matter she quite likes telling anyone's stories, if they will let her.)

[User]
While people knew the Seer was in fact in town, there was still general confusion about exactly who was the Seer as there were more than a few travelers on the road. Of course there were the clever ones, like the somewhat bashful shaman who had just taken a seat beside what he probably thought was someone akin to the man on the proverbial hill for shaman and wizards. It was rather annoying really but the Seer realized that this one had a part to play in the story at hand. The Seer sensed a few more presences that would play a part in the forming tapestry, the threads were there now it was time to string them together and then decide which branching path to take.

"Our name is of little import I am afraid but I can assure you my age is beyond the least needed for a drink that mind." The Seer said, speaking to the barkeeper. "Now this young man here," the Seer nodded in Argo's direction, "is going to pay for my meal, aside from the honey-wine of course, I have foreseen". The Seer was of course lying through the teeth and had not seen if the boy was going to pay for his meal because of his powers, this was simply called fabricating your own future. Still in a way the Seer was allowing Argo to feel more comfortable in talking, since the boy was silent as a dead mouse.

The Seer ignored the person who had just come in to lean on the counter for the moment, a more pressing matter was at hand. The aura the Seer had noticed before on the road was now in the establishment and had a wild side to it, different from the 'wild' side of a drunk patron. It was entirely too easy to follow the source to a rather wild looking young woman who was entirely unused to civilization it seemed, not that one would consider Crosshaven exactly a huge source of civilization. The Seer locked eyes on her and motioned with eyes only, that and a look filled with authority despite the Seer's rather deadpan expression. The Seer had powers of persuasion beyond normal men, though in reality it was but a simple trick of presence that few had mastered, message did not have to be spoken to be understood though the Seer decided to speak anyway.

"Come here child we have business to discuss." A few patrons turned their eyes curiously from the Seer to Niana, unsure of who she was or what was happening. Mostly the Seer just did not want Niana to slink off after getting a whiff of some not so great civilization, it would be better to figure out where this piece fit in the upcoming tapestry.

[Assistant]
Arman trudged into the town alongside Ryan, heading for the local tavern. There was no better place to sell herbs and spices, and also the best place to ask around for the town healer. "The Niirborhood Tavern. Well they're not from my neighborhood." Ryan joked pushing through the door, followed closely by an eye rolling Arman. Steping inside she gagged. It wasn't like the smell was new to her, but after being on the road for so long, she had grown used to the clean air. But she would adjust, just as she always did. She followed Ryan up to the bar, where he snagged a spare seat, and she stood behind his shoulder, as usual, waiting till he gestured to a seat next to him, leaving a short gap between her and a pair of others a few stools over. When the barkeeper finally got to them Ryan nodded to the man, "Hello sir, can we get a drink? Two ales, please." Arman growled silently and smacked him round the head, "Fine, fine, one ale and, …do you have any milk?" Ryan amended his request. "Also, when you aren't busy, I'm selling herbs and spices, along with a few interesting odds and ends. Would you be interested?"

Arman was listening to every conversation, at least every one she could hear, paying attention, hunting for a story, interesting things like that. When the, was that a boy or girl?, called across the tavern to a wild looking girl skulking near the entrance, she swiveled her head, watching everything she could. Paying as much attention as her tired self could.

[User]
Lucas stared wide-eyed as customers poured in to his tavern. First, Argo graced the establishment with his presence, a peculiar young man who was studying medicine or something-or-other. Then, more and more came right after: about five other people in total, some from town, one who looked like a traveler, and one- Oh, Hell, what does this girl think she's wearing? For God's sake, she's in a public place!

Running a hand through his dark hair, Lucas began trying to serve each one of his new customers. Firstly, the gender-bent one who asked for honey-wine. The individual claimed that Argo would be paying for the meal, which was a little strange since he just walked in... "Argo!" He yelled across the noisy tavern. "Hey, are you paying for this guy's meal?" Lucas mentally winced as he threw out a gender-specific title, but shook it off, figuring that maybe "guy" would register as unisexual as well.

Lucas then looked towards the traveler, who he hadn't ever seen around town before. He looked a little lost, like a child in a crowded market. In fact, that might have been the truth, come to think of it, that might have been the case. Lucas ignored him for the moment, and two other people entered the bar: two more travelers of whom he hadn't ever seen. Before he got to them, it was time to address the skimpily dressed girl. He started to walk towards her, but stopped as the gender-less customer called out to her. He quickly stopped the individual before he got up. "Uhm, excuse me, you look like you two know each other," he gestured to the female. "Could you tell her to cover herself up a little more properly? This is a tavern, not a brothel." Already he began to see regulars gawking at the girl, and he rolled his eyes.

Next, a couple more travelers he hadn't seen before wandered in to the tavern. They approached the bar and took their seats. They ordered two ales originally, but one smacked the other in the back of the head and changed his order to milk. "Alright, coming right up, you two." He began to fill up a cup of ale and a cup of milk, listening to one give him an interesting offer. Apparently, these two strangers were salesmen, offering herbs and spices to him. "Well, I'd be happy to buy from you two fine gentleman. I should have plenty of money to buy after today," Lucas agreed, gesturing to the crowd. He heard a bell ring to the right of him, and a small plate was sitting on the bar with and small sandwich and a bowl of vegetable soup. Ah, that's for... he picked up the plate and set it down where Mr. Nameless was sitting before she got up. "One meal for the one who ordered it! You didn't give me your name!" He pointed at those sitting around the nameless one's seat. "If you guys touch his meal, you'll lose a finger."

[Assistant]
Niana could feel eyes on her. She could feel the gaze of many patrons drinking in her immodest visage. She had hoped to blend in, but clearly blending in with a forest and blending in with humans was an entirely different beast altogether. She pressed herself against the far wall, like a cornered cat that was hoping to slip through the wood and out into freedom. No such luck for Niana though. Someone pushed past her and she felt and drunken hand grope her chest. This was degrading. How did people live like this? She felt like she had thrown herself into a cage. Her hand felt her bone knife and she remembered her purpose. The Seer.

As the thought made its way through Niana's mind she heard a voice call out to her from across the tavern. Wha-? The Seer's eyes locked onto Niana's own and she felt oddly calm. Not entirely at ease (she never felt she would be in this place) but her mind was at least calm for the moment. After a moment of deliberation Niana pushed herself off from the wall and slinked through the crowded tavern up until she was finally face to face with the Seer.

[User]
It was not even a full minute after the shaman entered that the tavern picked up its activity by a significant margin. The light grumbling and gentle laughter that had filled the place previously was now replaced with a much louder, more joyous variant. The day was dragging on and more people were coming in, though what really surprised the shaman was the way the occupancy of the tavern seemed to almost double in the span of a couple seconds. Surely this was the work of some otherworldly force, after all, was it not said that where the seer traveled many were drawn close along behind? It was Lucas, the barkeep's, voice the finally broke Argo from his revere, reminding him of other things at hand which required his attention.

"Hey, are you paying for this guy's meal?"

The shaman nodded in the affirmative, still a little slack in the jaw. He watched in silence as the seer went on to converse with a few others before finally lodging his request. "Great seer," The shaman took up a rather reverent tone, as if speaking to someone who was by far his superior, "I am an apprentice in the shamanistic arts, though you probably knew that. I have come seeking advice and training. I wish to know all that you can teach me." When the seer's reply was not immediately forth coming Argo allowed himself to at least take stock of the newer members of the bar, in particularly the crudely dressed woman near the back of the room. He recognized her from his work in the fields and with herbs, often caught glimpses. Still, he'd not really bothered to give her much interest until now. She was so out of place?

Gazing back again at the seer to see if they would grant his request the shaman found again, sadly that it had not spoken. Assumedly it was more interested in its sandwich and honeywine at the moment. Still, it would give Argo a chance to run damage control, especially after Lucas' latest request to 'tell her to cover herself up a little more properly'? Rising, the shaman-in-training made his way over to the scantily-clad female, removing his light poncho which he then offered to her. "It would probably be best to cover yourself, miss."

[Assistant]
The Seer had gotten the wild one's attention and soon they were face to face. Her appearance did not bother the Seer in the slightest but many of the others were quite taken aback by her appearance, even calling her a 'whore'. The Seer now had a few things to juggle: food, those around the Seer, and of course the honey-wine. The Seer kept Niana in that mystical gaze and somehow managed to also procure half a sandwich and a glass of honey-wine. The Seer also had an adoring fan in the next seat who decided to go ahead an offer the girl a poncho for herself. The poor thing looked healthy but she was quite out of sorts in this environment, still, the Seer appreciated the help from the side.

The barkeep was a bit miffed at her appearance but he would have no complaints after what the Seer did next. The Seer took the poncho from the young shaman's hands and instantly put the garment on her. "Alright young one, I have at least an idea as to why you are here. For now do not leave my side until I have heard the story." The Seer commanded quite sternly, getting down to business. "As for you young shaman," The Seer finally acknowledged the young man who wished to learn all the secrets the Seer had, "keep your eyes and ears open. Observe and you may learn something." The Seer then took a quick break to down some food and drink.

"As I am currently dining by all means explain your request in full. By coming to us, you have interwoven your life's thread with several others in this room for a span. Now speak." It was impossible for Niana to back out now, her fate was interwoven with that of the Seer since she entered the Tavern.

Almost as an afterthought the Seer reached inside it's garments and produced the necessary coin for the drink and placed them on the counter.

[User]
When they received their drinks Ryan placed a couple of coins on the bar.

He called me a gentleman, a gentleman! Arman sniggered silently to Ryan, Oh that's a good one, you're a gentleman, you! That was too funny, them gentlemen? Oh, and she collapsed into silent laughter again, with Ryan gently thwacking her ear, to get her to stop. Pulling herself together, Arman stopped laughing and instead watched the scene further along the bar play out in front of her. Good material for a story if ever there was some. The wild girl, with very little clothes, was interesting for a start, and the person who had called out to her, Arman had long since given up trying to decide on a gender, was certainly quite a piece. The boy who offered the cloak like thing was also worth mentioning. Basically, Arman found the whole situation interesting. She took a swig of her milk, gulping it down. For now she was content to watch. But later, maybe, she might, might, jump in.


[System]
BASIC
Goes By (Nicknames): Yavvie (Elven Children), Yavanna (All), The Brightest Star of Rivendell, Bright Star of Middle-Earth. Dearest Child, Dearest Grand-daughter (By Her Grand-Parents)
Royal titles: Lady of Rivendell/Lady of Imlardis. Princess of Rivendell/Imlardis, Her Highness/Your Majesty.
Other Titles: Daughter of the Stars, A 'Sensitive' others refer to her a Psychic.
Age: 67 *Looks 18-19*
Gender: Female
Race: Elven Hybrid *Mortal, Noldor and Sindarin Bloodlines*
Other Bloodlines: Teleri and Vanyar *Through her Grand-mother Galadriel's relatives*, *Maiar through her father and his relatives*. Celestial*Through her mother.*
10/20 Elvish, (5/10 Noldor, 3/10 Sindarin, 0.5/10 Telerin, 1.5/10 Vanyar) 7/20 Mortal, 3/20 Maiar

APPEARANCE
Face Claim: Adelaide Kane
Hair Color: Raven Black
Eye Color: Green *Sometimes crystal Blue, when Sad/Grieving. Intense brighter Blue, when Stubborn. Silver when Angry/Betrayed.*
Skin Tone: Creamy
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 118 Lbs
Body Build: Slim

Bow:

Sword:

Daggers *From Lake-town* 4 of these:

Sword from Erebor:

Combat Suit:

Dresses for Two Towers/Return of the King

Her Cloak

PERSONALITY

OVERALL PERSONALITY
Likes: Hobbits, Elves, Dwarfs, Humans, Nature, Music, Dance, Peace in Middle Earth, Summer, Starry Skies, Rivers/Seas/Oceans, Animals.
Dislikes: Death, War, Orcs, Greed, Liars
Strengths: Combat/Fighting, Healing/Medicine, Intellect, Singing, Conscience Views, Kindness to Strangers, High Resistance to Harsh Temperatures, Enhanced Senses ect.
Other Skills: Star Light Manipulation, Elven Magic, Telekinesis, Acrobatics.
Other Powers: Telepathy/Visions, Telekinetic Hovering/Flight, Light of Purity-Deadliest to any evil enemies.
Weaknesses: Horseriding *Arwen's the faster rider*, People taking advantage of her niceness, Stuborness
Fears: Spiders, Sauron/Saruman, Loosing her loved one's

Elegant | Compassionate | Tender-Hearted | Fun Loving | Courageous | Innocent | Pure | Talented

Yavanna is the youngest child of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian. Many people, of Middle Earth believe that she and Arwen; are the symbol of peace and love in Middle Earth. Just like her elder sister, Arwen. The young elf is blessed with beauty and grace. Over her life, she's been taught the magic of healing. She's a skilled, talented healer among her people. Being Innocent, some people take advantage of her loving sweetness and niceness.

There is an Pureness about the young she-elf. Yavanna never hates; no matter what the other person may think off her. It's not something, she's capable off. She believes, that most of Middle-Earth are not enemies. They all belong in this world; no matter what race they come from. She values life, and is friends with most. A value, that is not seen in many others. Yavanna will often defend others; even if she does not know them too well.

Due to her rare elven Bloodlines of Noldor, Teleri and Vanyar. Three of the Elven blood-lines, that are not so common in Middle Earth anymore. Yavanna has talents and knowledge of Elvish Magic. Her father, Lord Elrond has Maiar blood; allowing him and his children of magical talents. It comes naturally, especially to Yavanna. Her powers come from the heart, at times her emotions can even control her abilities.

Whilst she's young and curious. Yavanna has explored parts of Middle Earth. She knows the forests outside of Rivendell, rather well. Having ventured out there many times. Lothlorien being one of her favorite places, as her grandparents live there. She's not afraid of adventure and helping those whom need help. When Young Bilbo and company, come to Rivendell during their quest. She is there to offer some guidance and help, with along with her father and grand-mother Galadriel. Be-befriending a few of the dwarfs in that period of time.

After Thorin and his company leave; Yavanna decides to join the company on their task to reclaim Erebor. Despite Thorin's cold, harsh demeanor and reservation, with her joining. Yavanna is set on helping the Durin King and his family/friends. Proving to be a rather valuable alley, and eventually helping warm Thorin up to her and Saeril. She helps, save Thorin numerous times through out the quest. Forming a strong bond with his two nephews and the she-elf Saeril.

When the company gets captured by the elves of Mirkwood. Yavanna tries to reason with King Thranduil, about the release of the Dwarfs. In the midst of it all, she meets the young Legolas. After meeting his son, Legolas. The pair have a slightly shaky start to the start, but despite his coldness. Yavanna saves his life, during the company's escape from Mirkwood. Yavanna finds herself drawn to him soon enough. The pair grow closer, after sticking together for a while. Yavanna is present, during the defeat of Smaug and Battle of Five armies, to save Middle Earth. After Fili's death, Yavanna grieves over the young Dwarf...as he had been one of her closest friends. Her best-friend in fact. Whilst he will be missed by her greatly, he will always be remembered.

Many years later, young Frodo now has Bilbo's ring...and is on a task to destroy it. Yavanna becomes a part of the Fellowship of the Ring. Helping the young Hobbit on his quest. Growing protective of the young Hobbits, that are in need of guidance and helping hand.

BACKGROUND
Place of Birth: Rivendell *Also known as Imlardis.* The Last Homely House East of the Sea
Family:
~ Lord Elrond *Father; Alive* *Half-Elf*
~ Lady Celebrian *Mother; Unknown;Presumably Deceased* *Sindarin/Noldor Elf*
~ Elladan and Elrohir *Brothers. They are Twins; Alive* *Half-Elves*
~ Arwen *Sister; Alive* *Half-Elf*
~ Elros Tar-Minyatur, King of Numenor *Uncle; Deceased* *Half-Elf*
~ Galadriel *Grandmother; Alive* *Noldor Elf*
~ Lord Celeborn *Grandfather; Alive* *Sindarin Elf*
~ Eärendil the Mariner *Grandfather; Deceased* *Half-Elf*
~ Elwing the White *Grandmother; Deceased* *Half-Elf*
~ Finarfin, Prince of the Noldor *Great-Grandfather; Deceased* *Vanyar Elf*
~ Eärwen *Great-Grandmother; Deceased* *Telerin Elf*
~ King Finwë *Great, Great-Grandfather; Unknown* *Noldor Elf*
~ King Olwë *Great, Great-Grandfather; Deceased* *Telerin Elf*
~ Lady Indis *Great, Great-Grandmother; Unknown* *Vanyar Elf*

Other Relations:
~ Legolas Greenleaf *Love Interest/Mate; Alive* *Sindarin Elf*
~ Thranduil Greenleaf *Family Friend; Alive* *Sindarin Elf*
~ Tauriel *Acquaintance/Friend; Alive* *Silvan Elf*
~ Bilbo Baggins *Acquaintance/Friend; Alive* *Hobbit*
~ Kili Durin *Friend; Alive* *Dwarf*
~ Fili Durin *Friend; Deceased* *Dwarf*
~ Dis *Acquaintance; Alive* *Dwarf*
~ Thorin Oakensheild *Friend; Deceased* *Dwarf*
~ Searil Hermiaen *Acquaintance~Later Friend/Mother Figure; Alive* *Elven Hybrid (Noldor/Sindarin/Silvan Elf)*
~ Aragorn II Elessar *Friend; Alive* *Man*
~ Haldir *Friend/Mentor; Alive* *Silvan Elf*
~ Gandalf the Grey/White *Friend; Alive* *Maiar*
~ Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrine Took (Pippin) and Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry) *Friends; Alive* *Hobbits of the Shire*
~ Gimli *Friend; Alive* *Dwarf*
~ Azog the Defiler, Bolg *Enemies; Deceased* *Gundabad Orcs*

[User]
Saeril lowered her head just slightly, as she heard the sad words of the young Elven girl. It only took her a moment to think of the right answer. "There was an incident", she spoke softly, and sadly.

Fili held a quiet amount of anger within him but, as always kept himself composed. There was no sense in continuing to argue, so he made his departure from the room, silently cursing his uncle, though not personally. How dare he? Why hurt such feelings of an Elf, who's fairness is beyond most? Of course, Saeril held the same amount of elegance, compassion, and beauty, but it was the brightness of the girl that made her appear so...rare.

It may not seem like it, but the winged she-elf held a growing fondness for the princess, almost, and possibly foreseeing her like a daughter. "Many years ago", she began with a sigh. "Thorin and his kin withheld a very successful foundation in Middle-Earth. At the Lonely Mountain, they forged and mined within its thin crevices for gems and other valuable riches. So much was found, they had started a trusted trade-route with other races; both Man and, more profoundly, Elves", the woman paused, having to think about that terrible day.

"That trust became so concrete, Thorin believed that it was shared in a very personal fashion. When a Fire-Drake came down from the North, he'd thought their allies would come, and aid them. But on that day, there came a betrayal. A party of Elves arrived in the distance, and witnessed the destruction. But did nothing; they just watched", Saeril foretold the tale. "Watched them suffer; their homeland burned, and left homeless. It was on that day that he cursed each and every living Elf; blaming them, hating them", it was a hurtful statement. "He's skeptical, even to this day. That trust in them is second to none", her tucked-in wings lightly fluttered, as soon as she said so.

[Assistant]
Kili held a rather serious; yet irritable look across his face. It seemed like uncle had crossed yet another line. It was one thing, to mean to Delva. His and Fili's God-Mother. But then to be so harsh, mean and unjust towards one of the most fairest, gentle elfs like Yavanna. Now that was a total insult. Kili was fond of the Princess, with his brother. Just like the young she-elf was fond of the two Durin Heirs. It was a very mutual feeling, the trio held. At the moment, Kili could not deal with his uncle. He was too frustrated to even try.

The young Dwarf, just simple walked away in another direction. Before he'd do or say something, he might live to regret.

There was something about Saeril. Something kind and motherly. She could certainly see who young Fili and Kili, were close to Saeril. It was nice to be around someone, like her...so motherly, caring, protective. It reminded her of her own mother, and something that Yavanna had indeed missed herself.

Listening to Saeril's story about the Lonely Mountain and Thorin's hatred of Elves. "Smaug." The young Princess muttered to herself. She had heard the stories, of the last Fire-Drake of the North. The terrible and terrifying Smaug. Yavanna sighed sadly. She could understand his feeling of betrayal..but to hate, even the innocent elves that had nothing to do with that event, was a little more than harsh.

"I can see that..." Yavanna replied, her voice weak with sadness. She could see, just how skeptical, and untrusting he was towards anyone of her kind. Even the kind one's, who offered help and aid. She was as hurt by it, as Saeril was.

[User] "Don't take it personally, Your Majesty", the winged she-elf told her albeit softly. It wasn't direct, but it was more simply a request. "Whether he likes it or not, we all pity him. It's just that, some scars are not meant to be healed so easily", she said, adding to her request. She took a few steps towards the princess, towering her by an inch or two. Such beauty this girl possessed was not meant to go unnoticed. Lifting a well-manicured hand to the young she-elf's face, she noticed a small tear running down her face. Gently, she brushed it out of sight, with a thumb. "Do not let such words sadden you. Sometimes, they can make you stronger than how you normally are", Saeril comforted her with that same soft, motherly voice she would often speak to Kili and Fili. It was meant to reassure the young elf, but more so, encourage her in not letting those words weaken her spirit.

[Assistant]
Listening to Searil speak. Yavanna was in deep thought for a few moments. 'Maybe's she's right.' she thought to herself. What use was it? Getting upset, over this? But a part of her, could not help it. His words had caught her off guard and hurt, even if she wasn't meant to take it personally. "How do you usually, cope with him?" Yavanna asked her. She wasn't sure, how long Saeril had known Thorin. But it seemed like she either tuned out his harsh words, and tried not to take it to heart. Or she just hid her feelings well.

She didn't even realize, tears run down her cheeks. Until she felt the winged she-elf wipe a few away. Yavanna gave Saeril a gentle, soft; slightly sad smile still. But a hint of her light was coming back to her. Her motherly comfort was starting to make her feel better.


[System]
Nickname: Ran

Gender: Male

Age: 2,532

Physical Description: Dark skin, as is normal amongst his people, as is the snow white hair from not having seen the sun for his entire life. He has more muscle than the typical elf, sacrificing agility for brute strength. Unlike most drow, his eyes aren't the deep red that has come from adapting to the darkness. His eyes were a light yellow, almost golden in color.

Attire:

A plain white tunic with dark blue pants is normally what comprises his casual wear. It varies if he chooses a black cloak with this outfit.

Pure black armor crafted from a mixture of metal ore and obsidian found deep within the caves that the drow call home. It depicts scales, trimmed with a deep blue dye.

Personality: A quiet man of few words. He doesn't like to be the first one to speak, preferring to listen than initiate conversation. Despite that, he has been found to be very vocal when it comes to things that he finds unjust. When it comes to morality, he is very passionate. Other than that, though, he makes it incredibly hard to allow others close to him.

History: Nathe was born to two drow warriors, both training hard to be included in the dark elven army. At least, they did until his mother became pregnant. He was brought up as any drow was, trained in the art of war and taught the horrors of humans and the naivity of the forest elves. The difference between him and the other drow, though, was that the thought never sat right with him. He tried to research on his own, but any books available to him were written by the same prejudice drow that suggested these severe outlooks. So, he had no real luck studying up on the true history.

That was, until he met one of the elders of his sect of dark elves. The man claimed to have been alive during the first great war with the humans. He talked to Nathe about the way the drow used to live, as one of the elves, before they split into dark and forest elves. He explained the drow's concepts and why they chose to leave Elwyn's grace in favor of Inioch's. He also spoke of how he failed to change the drow as he wished to when he left as a brash youngling. It was all very radical, but it aligned with what Nathe had suspected for years.

He spent centuries under this elder's tutelage, learning everything he could about the old life and the forest elves and the humans. He continued to learn until the elder passed on. It was a sad day, the last of the knowledgeable drow having passed. This cemented Nathe's plan of action, though. He adopted a nickname, calling himself Ran and hiding himself from his drow bretheren. He left the cave systems, moving back to the surface. He had learned all he could from speaking with the elder. It was time for him to experience the above world for himself and his lost brothers and sisters that still hid away in the forest.

Weapons: Ran's primary weapon is a longsword and shield. He has a second sword at his side and a dagger tucked away as well, in case he loses one of the primary weapons. His true secondary weapon, though, is a longbow.

[User]
An armory? Now, that was interesting. The forest elves were rumored to be spineless cowards, hiding away in their forest. Most thought they had a few soldiers, but nothing to warrant a standing army. An armory would prove otherwise...the elves produce enough weapons to need a separate storage for them. Not that it was too surprising. By the look of Mel's swords, they had clearly figured out how to forge weaponry. The steel wasn't fine enough to be dwarven make and he doubted highly that they would do business with the humans. That left precious few others to provide them with weapons. He had always assumed these forests would discourage any sort of forge from being used, but it seemed he may have been wrong in that assumption.

As he was introduce, Nathe stepped forward, a wince coming as he felt his wound irritate again. Despite his earlier provocative comments, his knees bent and he all but collapsed to the ground, keeping himself upright on one knee, his other bent a bit too much to be a proper kneel. "Your..." He paused a moment. "My apologies. I don't know what you call yourself now. It is a pleasure to meet you, though, leader of the elves." It was said in a pained voice, clearly having trouble keeping this stance with the wound in his side.

[Assistant]
"And you." the leader responded in turn, inclining his head politely. His eyebrows rose as he took note of the wound in the Drow's side. "That's a nasty wound you have there, it's not usually our way to injure others in such a manner." at this Mel was given a rather scathing look of rebuke. Ducking her head in apology, the she-elf mumbled.
"He startled me, I did the best I could to mend it but it will probably take a few days."

"Which brings us to a point." the older elf continued. "Exactly what would a Drow be doing in our lands?"

[User]
Nathe hesitated before answering. What was the best option here? Honesty? There was a huge chance he just wouldn't believe him. Lying could dig him into a deeper hole, though. He honestly wasn't sure what he should do in this situation. Instead he bowed his head respectfully, deciding to test his luck. "I would ask that you not be so harsh on her. My people would have responded in kind, I'm sure," he stated evenly. "I'm honestly just satisfied that I was left alive. Traveling here had a very real chance of ending with an arrow through my head rather than a sword in my side." He didn't sound hurt by the thought. He was simply stating a fact.

With a small sigh, he offered a smile to the leader. "As to why I'm here...curiosity. I tire of our dark caves. I wanted to see what the forest elves had to offer," he explained. "That's the simple reason to it. I don't believe elves and drow have to be at each others' throat. I come alone for that belief. No armies or soldiers. I am fully and utterly at your mercy and I willingly put myself into that position."

[Assistant]
"You have strange views for a Drow." the forest elf replied, raising an eyebrow with some scepticism as to whether he was being fully truthful. It would be the first time a Drow had any interest in their way of life since the divide had happened all those ages ago in the days of Inioch and Elwyn. "Whether or not you speak the truth, you are certainly not fit to travel in your state. I propose that you stay here with us until your wound heals adequately. Then I will make further judgement on what we will do with you. If you give us little reason to believe you a threat, perhaps I will grant your request."

At length, after some further considerations and discussion between the forest elves present, it was concluded that they would not trust Nathe to have free reign to wander about their village unsupervised, for fear that there was a chance of him bringing harm to any of the other elves that dwelt there. Feeling somewhat responsible for his predicament, Mel immediately volunteered for the position.
"He's more likely to trust me." she explained in a hushed voice. "I helped him once. It may keep his mood a bit more...amicable."
"Very well." the leader agreed, waving a hand in Nathe's direction as if to dismiss them. "I will leave him to your caretaking, Meliya. Nonetheless, despite his surprisingly good manners I still caution you to be careful; Drow are unpredictable."

"I will keep my guard up, sir." the she-elf promised, bowing respectfully before she returned to Nathe, directing him back towards the door. "Come, I will take you to the infirmary."

[User]
The drow remained silent as the decision was made. He nodded to Mel, struggling back to his feet. He offered a half bow - as much as he could manage, at least - to the leader once more. "Thank you for your mercy, sir," he offered softly. This was going better than he had thought. He might be under watch, but they chose the one person who might actually relax with him. It was his best shot at getting an inside look at how the elves worked. Besides, the blond beauty was much better company than the distasteful soldier he had met.

As the two left the meeting room, he offered a small smile to his savior. "Thank you, for taking responsibility for me," he said softly. "I...don't know how your people work, but I was worried to the treatment I would receive from your soldiers..." Every now and then he would wince once more as a surge of pain hit him, following the woman to the infirmary. He was doing his best to ignore the pain, though. He had had worse. He wasn't going to let that stop him. "So...you're name is Meliya? It's a pretty name." Despite the hushed tones that the elves had used in discussing their prisoner, he had excellent hearing, just as all elves did. "My name is Nathe. I don't think I properly introduced myself back there."

[Assistant]
"Nathe?" Mel echoed, smiling faintly back at him. "That's an interesting name. Well, it's good to meet you, Nathe." she paused as he winced again, concerned that he was hiding most of his discomfort, though he seemed to manage to hobble along fine enough. They were nearly there, after all. His thanks surprised her, she hadn't thought Drow were awfully fond of politeness, in truth it was the last thing she'd expected from him.

"You're welcome. Most of the soldiers aren't too bad," she assured him, holding the door to the infirmary open for him when they reached the building. "They've been drilled to be wary of your kind, we all have. But for the most part we try not to resort to violence, if it can be helped."

[User]
Nathe offered a small shrug. "I cannot say I blame them," he replied. "We have never been the most peaceful with your people. You have had every right to be wary of us. Though, I think that is true on both sides." He returned her smile. "We have both been taught to be wary of the others, but I believe it foolish for us to decide how an entire group will act without any type of communication. An...unpopular opinion on both sides, I would think." He paused a moment, seeming to decide how much he should share with the woman. "If someone doesn't take that risk, no one will. I just happened to decide to."

He nodded in thanks as they reached the infirmary, entering in first and waiting for her to follow. A drow walking in alone would be a cause for alarm. He did not need their medical teams being put on edge by his presence. It would at least be a little more bearable with his guard accompanying him.

[Assistant]
"And quite the predicament it has put you in, hasn't it?" the she-elf pointed out with a raised eyebrow as she slipped in after him, letting the door swing shut behind them. She wasted no time in finding an unused chair for him to rest on, sure he would be glad to take the weight off his side as it was clearly ailing him still. Her head turned as another familiar voice spoke and one of the healers approached them.
"So, the rumours are true then." a soft chuckle escaped her. "For a moment I was unsure whether to believe it, but then I had to remind myself that you do take after me."
"Mother please." Mel grumbled in embarrassment, turning her head away. "Don't make a scene."

[User]
Nathe's eyebrow rose in curiosity as he heard the exchange. So her mother was a healer. He suppose it made more sense then. Why this one elven woman was out in that clearing so early in the morning. He hadn't expected anyone to find him when he passed out in the woods. Though, now that he was here, this conversation was starting to interest him for entirely new reasons.

"Does she, now?" he asked curiously, a pleasant smile coming back to his face as he eased himself into the seat offered him. He was grateful for the weight being taken off his side. "Is that a reference to her patching up a stray in the woods or talking to the unsavory sort of people?" He knew it was a shot at his own race, but he figured the elves would appreciate that. He wasn't so full of himself that he couldn't make these jokes. Most drow were unsavory, in truth. It's why he never fit in well there. It didn't mean he thought them the monsters that he assumed the elves made them out to be.

[Assistant]
"The former." her mother confirmed with another light chuckle. "Although I suppose the latter could be debated upon, I would not put it past her."
Mel scowled and mumbled something under her breath in protest, she had more common sense than that even if both her parents seemed to think otherwise. Perhaps that point of view was due to her constant unwillingness to simply accept facts given to her by her mentor (or indeed her father) as a youngster, but she tried to brush it off as simple curiosity.

"Curiosity indeed." her mother scoffed. "If that is what you wish to call it, then I will not argue with you."

[User]
Nathe listened quietly to the two, the same smile on his face. Such a different dynamic than he was used to. He was used to more yelling and harsher words. Of course, that wasn't typical of the entirety of his race. Years of hatred had turned them harsher than their nature really was. He was just glad to see the same softness that they had lost in their exodus from the forests that once protected them.

A wince came on from a separate source than the pain in his side. He couldn't think of his home now. He was in a new environment. He had to adapt to this. With any luck, his people could adapt to. He could return them to the fold of their forest dwelling brethren. That was his hope at least. He couldn't leave his brothers and sisters to fight a never-ending war. "Well, hopefully your leaders will see I wasn't a mistake on her part," he offered. "I, for one, am grateful for her kindness in not putting an arrow through my head." He offered a small laugh that quickly turned into a grimace as he felt the surge of pain once more. "Right...can't do that..."

After a moment of pause, he looked up to Mel. "If it's not too much trouble...do I still need these bindings? Since your leader agreed to let me stay, for now?" he asked.


[System]
Age: 20

Race: Half-elf

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Backstory: Being a half breed, and a female at that, Vella had to go through all sorts of prejudices to make her way in life. Fortunately for her, she was able to become a healer's apprentice and learned skills like how to treat wounds and cure illnesses. Now she lends her services to those who need it, helping people one at a time.

Aspirations or Desires: To help whoever is in need of help.

Skills prior to adventuring: Medical knowledge. Cooking.

Personality: Always helpful to whoever needs help. However, she will also always judge if that person deserves that help. Needless to say, don't get on her bad side.

[User] Hargh diverted his stare to the shop owner for a moment or two when asked wether he wanted somthing but faced the snake man once more without a word. He stared at the snake man for a minute or two as he made his face become more and more ridged, then with out turning his head he went back over to his pot and stick and sat down, still staring at the Naga. Hargh began to slowly and loudly bang at the pot while keeping his gaze on half snake half man creature.

[Assistant] Arthur looked at the outrageously high price that the merchant gave him for the map. "I, uh, think I'll try my luck at bidding. One coin, please." Arthur quickly turned around, looking at the people around him. He hoped to whatever cosmic being of fate that existed, that no one would be interested in the map. His eyes were practically begging for no one to step forward. Oh, please. Oh, please. Oh, please. Don't let anyone bid against me. I need this. His expression quickly changed to that of fury as a few nearby shoppers came closer. I swear on all the gorgeous women of the world if you even think of it, I'll pull your own arm off and shove it down your throat. His new expression actually got a few would-have-been customers to back down, while the rest gave the idea of purchasing the, possibly fake, map a few moments of consideration.

[User]
I used Afrikaans and Google Translate for the other language Arusi speaks. If someone can come up with a more elegant solution to displaying it, I'm all ears.

"Wat de hel is verkeerd met jou ?!" she shouted at her father through the bars, the cell door rattling as she shook with rage. "Dobbel helder oordag ? Jy het om te weet dat dit sou gebeur !"

It was the third time this month. Behind all the anger, that was the thought that filled Arusi's head. Paying off Geldin's bail had cost her one whole month of toil and trouble, so far. Paying this one would mean their finances would be shot. Along with Nontle, Kunto, and Deka, she would be out on the street and starving soon.

"You know how they lie Arusi, the people of this town," Geldin approached cautiously, his mandibles twitching as he wondered if his stronger daughter would try to lunge at him through the bars, like last time. "They just want to keep us poor and licking their boots. Wees kalm my kosbaar ..."

"No... We're done here father. I'm already late for the market. I'm going to sell some pots and try to convince myself that I even want you out again."
---

All she could think about was the way Geldin had called after her. Now that she'd had some time to cool off, Arusi knew that Geldin was afraid. Always afraid. As much as she wanted to deny it, Geldin loved his family. Every theft, scheme, and con was designed to gain a little bit of security for the future.

The real question was what to do now? No one was buying any of her pottery, not while the stranger with the map was putting on his show. She'd also made the mistake of setting up shop near Rook and his little helping hand. Now the little twerp's luck was rubbing off on her.

Despite this, an idea started to form. The map was the prize of the day. If she could get wrangle it into her possession, then maybe she could generate some interest in her stall and even sell off the map later for a profit. The Backpackers had a thing for maps, she could probably sell it to one of them. So with the last two gold coins to her name, she called Arthur's bluff.

"I bid two gold to his one."

[Assistant] Amon watched the strange creature for a moment , unsure how to react to his strange antics, but his attention was quickly grabbed as the bidding seemed to be starting, he wasn't to worried about the bard, Amon barely knew of him, and if he had yet to make a name for himself as a performer, Amon doubted he'd put up too much opposition. He did however start to worry as the pottery merchant chimed in. If one merchant started bidding, others stall owners may yet smell an opportunity, and it could quickly snowball from there. He sighed as he grabbed his hat back from the stall and donning it, winking at Rook before rising on his coils, putting himself a good foot above the others in the crowd and raising his hat to gain the merchants attention, adorning a false bravado, "Ha, I see her two coins and offer my five in their place," he yelled, making a bit of a spectacle of it. It was a bit of a cruel tactic he knew, jumping the offer like that, but he knew these bidding wars could go badly if you couldn't scare off the competition early.

[User] Hargh now stopped banging his pot and stood up he looked away from the snake man and diverted his eyes to the map. Suddenly Hargh's eyes lit up life dragon's fire and he waddled straight up to the merchant. Hargh stared up at the merchant for a moment with his eyes as wide as saucers and slowly and shakily offered up his pot to the merchant then with the other hand he offered up his stick to the merchant, bidding the only two items that were of value to him to the man.

[Assistant]
Vella watched as the bid war continued. So far it hadn't gone very high. A measly 5 coins. There was even some odd hand creature thing that looked like it was trying to place a bid by using a pot and a stick for currency. She gave it a moment's thought, wondering if she could get it and then sell it to some poor sucker for some profit. Even if the map was legit and there was indeed treasure at the end of it, she had no need nor want to follow it. And, she did just get paid for a job. Not like she had much to spend the money on besides herbs and food and whatnot.

"10 coins," Vella said, raising her voice to make it audible.

[User] Arthur stood dumbstruck as now several others joined the bid. No. Why? It was going to be mine. He watched as a few surrounding merchants joined the bid, before a strange hand-like creature joined in with his pot and stick. A woman joined in with ten coins, almost making Arthur laugh. As if ten measly coins could contend with a pot and stick that magnificent. He gave a defeated sigh and looked down at the lute in his hands, then he looked back up at the merchant. No, not unless there's no other choice. Arthur grabbed his coin purse and held it up for all to see. "23 gold coins!" he shouted. It was all the money he had. If this wasn't enough then he'd have only one other choice.

[Assistant]
Just like that she was shut out of the bidding war. It seemed like she'd also opened the floodgates and been drowned. Even Vella and the little hand thing were joining in. Though Arthur had bet a ludicrous amount for a map that no one could confirm was genuine, she knew it was pointless. That pansy Amon had entered the contest and could outbid them all. Well, maybe.

She still had her pottery. If she was being honest, it was all worth about 30 gold. If she was being dishonest then it was worth 50. But like before, there was no way to know the map was genuine. No, she decided to shush and watch the proceedings.

[User]
Amon let out a bark of laughter as the war picked up, enjoying himself, the calm and apathetic demeanor gone to the wayside now that he was on a battlefield he had lived on since birth. He had seen the merchant eyeing the pot the little creature had offered, seeming genuinely interested. Ahhh apparently it's true, all that glitters isn't gold, especially in the eyes of what was at least an eccentric if not crazed man.

 Amon shook his head, trying to talk himself out of his next move. He didn't even know if this was the true map, hell he was even sure there was a true map. However each time he managed to talk himself out of it, he saw the faces of his family, the sneering,g of his brothers and sister as they tore apart the family name and business, his mother's voice saying it was to dangerous for such a sickly child, his father looking at him with disgust as all he saw was some diseased shell looking for a hand out. Those eyes he saw everyday, that contempt he felt even when his father was away on trips.
 He could feel a determination, a stubbornness welling up he was going to prove them wrong, he was going to be the face of the Shukal family, HE WAS GOING

"250 COINS"

To have to get out of town soon. Horror covered his face as he heard the what had just left his mouth. His brothers and sisters were going to kill him, and that was if he was lucky and his father didn't find out first.

[Assistant]
Rook

Rook gasped in awe as Amon placed his second bid, the absolutely exorbitant amount of money being bid being enough for the little guy to fall on his butt and say: "M-Mr. Shukal! Y-Y-You ca..."

Sketchy Merchant

The Merchant's eyes grew absolutely massive; he'd never expected someone would actually pay that much for that map,and he ESPECIALLY didn't expect the jump from that masterwork pot from the triple-handed man, to a small fortune. Holding the map up, he called out: GOING ONCE TO THE SNAKE MAN WITH NICE HAIR...GOING TWICE TO THE SNAKE MAN WITH NICE HAIR...

At this point, no one dared to try and outbid Amon. Most of the townsfolk thought he was either insane, or just foolish. Or he had the coin to burn and just wanted people to watch.

Back to Rook

Rook gulped as he stood back up, shakily poking Amon. "Y-You can't...i-i-it could be a fake! If the Master finds out, it'll be the end of you!" he said, legs trembling, ears trembling, arms trembling, fucking EVERYTHING ON HIM trembling.

[User] Argh stayed indifferent towards the large sum of money, his face still full of hope. The little creature didn't realize that there was likely nothing he could offer to out bid the snake but he still tried. In addition to his pot and stick he now offered up the measly sum of 3 coins, the pot, the stick and now his loin cloth which he held up to the merchant revealing absolutely nothing underneath oddly enough.

[Assistant]
Llhora Revinas

Llhora came back from her hunt with her three brothers as the group of hunters came back with Deer and Rabbits this morning to return to their father who would later later butcher the sell the meat. The misty, cool morning brought together a pleasant sense of relaxing and labor as the relaxing morning was slow and adequately paced for the hunt, perfect for Llhora and her brothers. But while passing through town, the men and women strangely attracted their attention towards the center part of the town near the marketplace of Fireside. Nobody in their right minds would normally be up this early, not with this many people. So after Llhora and her brothers dropped their hunt off for their father she followed the people who eventually led to where the commotion was gathered. She looked over yonder to see what exactly the fuss was about, climbing over several stacks of hay to see the marketplace and in the center a ragged merchant was holding a map for auction as buyers attempted to fix a reasonable price for the map.

As the crowed softly talked among themselves to arrange prices and Llhora couldn't help but feel entertained that so many people would exaggerate and spend so much effort and/or money just for one map. This however, this was not 'just one map', this was none other than a map which supposedly led to great treasures and that only so few have dared to travel this far according to the merchant. This particularly caught the attention of many aspiring adventurers who wanted both a taste of both adventure and what riches came with it. This is what singularly her attention too as she always dreamed of having an adventure beyond Fireside, the home she had always been attached to nearly all of her life. But how could she be so sure that the map is in fact as accurate as the merchant said it was? Was it even true and was there and treasure at all? Was it worth either the money or the risk? One person even offered a pot and a stick and Llhora soon thought of her options and waited to see what would happen among the buyers.

[User] Vella's eyes widened in shock at the latest bid. 250 coins?! That's outrageous, Vella thought. However, it was perhaps a great move to do, as it seemed that no one wanted to place a bid higher than that. Vella was fairly sure that the map wasn't even worth that much. Oh well, might as well see who else will contend, she thought as she took one step backward, continuing to watch. Perhaps something would happen, or the large bidder would win the map. Only time would tell.


[System]
Identity: Franklin Isaiah St. Jopling (Not publicly known)

City of Operation: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

Appearance:

Age: 41

Gender: Male

Superpowers: None

Skills/Talents: Frank is fluent in both English and Afrikaans, and he always has interpreters on radio standby to deal with any other languages. He possesses substantial experience with a myriad of conventional firearms and artillery, both aged and advanced. He is trained in the operational roles of several combat-oriented vehicles, including air and sea units. He is knowledgeable of various methods of unarmed combat and how to counter them, but not so much as to utilize them offensively. Lastly, he is naturally adept at utilizing extreme interrogation techniques to acquire information from those he or his men have apprehended.

Equipment: On his own person, Frank is always equipped with a TAR-21 tactical assault rifle and a Taurus Curve handgun (both properly modified to suit his preferences), proper and plentiful ammunition for both, a Kevlar vest concealed beneath his custom-painted combat wear, and proper communications equipment to get in touch with his men. Readily available to him are all the weapons, vehicles, and manpower the Sunflower Group is comprised of, though he understands how much is too much in any given situation.

Weaknesses: Frank does his best not to let any kind of weaknesses show, whether they be mental or physical, but he does have some to note. He can't stand someone who's bested him multiple times, taking their very existence as a challenge that he will pour all he is and more into overcoming, to a rather unhealthy point (such an example would be Joe Magarac). Besides this fault in his personality, injuries he has sustained during repeated violent encounters in the past have left his lower spine and right leg permanently damaged, having required extensive surgery to keep from being rendered useless. As such, most of his general lower body movements are slow in action, and he is incapable of moving any faster than at a quickened walk.

Psyche: Frank considers himself a few fair things - cunning, adaptable, devilishly charismatic, and a brutally effective businessman. Disputing such considerations with him would be unwise. Frank is out for fun and profit, with blood and mayhem just being side products of his efforts. Ever since the incident that made him the leader of the Sunflower Group, he has harbored a deep resentment for anyone and everyone with super powers, magic abilities, so on and so forth. He doesn't care how much good they can bring about the world, or how much people look up to them, or anything really. He is absolutely hell bent on capturing and selling off of as many as he's capable, by whatever means he sees as the most effective, entertaining, and profitable.

History: Frank was born somewhere in South Africa in the year 1974, to a mother and father whom he has neglected to share any recollection of, if he even has any information on either of them. Sometime after he reached adulthood, he served in an English-owned private military company for many years, receiving extensive training in many appropriate fields, slowly rising in the ranks until he was practically one of the leadership. The PMC, known only as the Sunflower Group, was cemented in the human trafficking market, operating mainly in several areas of South Africa. Their forward operations reached as far the US, Brazil, Afghanistan, and western Russia. While relatively small compared to other groups at the time, they were well equipped and organized, and managed to keep themselves afloat for a good while. That was, until, an incident in 2012, when a group of prisoners with super powers almost killed every last one of them.

The exact details of the incident are unknown, but the entire leadership of the Sunflower Group was killed, as were most of their collective manpower stationed in South Africa at the time. Frank and a small cadre of soldiers survived throughout the incident and successfully retaliated against their attackers by utilizing overwhelming firepower. Once it was done, Frank was named the de facto leader of the Sunflower Group's remaining forces, and reestablished contact with forward operation parties. After a period of recovery, he elected to indefinitely postpone their operations in South Africa and most of their other occupied territories, and move everything to the United States, where global chatter labeled as the "hotspot" of superhuman activity. Fortunately, around the time supers and magic users came about, so did demands from no-names and shadow governments for captured specimens, with the offers reaching far higher than any human would ever be worth. Frank, with newfound hatred for all things superhuman, decided this was the perfect wagon to jump on to get the Sunflower Group rolling again.

The remaining Sunflower Group members now operate in small pockets around the eastern coast of the US, armed with a multitude of equipment they managed to smuggle in. While they are still attempting to recover their collective manpower lost during the incident, currently numbering at only a few hundred strong, they are still very much active in the relatively fresh superhuman trafficking game. Frank, spearheading the effort up from on operating base in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, is determined to make as much of a profit off of the suffering of as many supers as possible, no matter what kind of destruction it causes in the long run. The Sunflower Group's activities have since led to Joe Magarac, the local top dog in terms of superheroes, to catch wind of their crimes and attempt to combat them. And for the most part, he has succeeded. Conventional firearms have no effect on the man of steel, and he shrugs off explosives with ease. Frank and Joe have quickly formed a rivalry, with Magarac recognizing Frank and the rest of the Sunflower Group as a very serious threat, and Frank determined to subdue and sell off Magarac to the highest bidder.

So far, the Sunflower Group's efforts have yielded a fair number of captures and respectable profits. But a certain invitation that Frank himself received has brought up the possible opportunity to expand their operations further inland, or at the very least, see if there's a potential threat that knows anything important about them. To St. Louis he is called, and so to St. Louis he will go.

[User]
---

The Scarlet Mistress

---

Morrigan hated plans.

She hated plans. Even with first class amenities, she hated it. It was unnatural for things without wings or magic to fly.

The people on the plane were annoying too. Crying babies, people clicking on their weird computers, others talking loudly on their cell phones.

She opened her book and spoke, "Chainthe silentio" and the entire plane was silent. No one spoke, no child cried, the stewards went about their business with a smile on their face. Everyone just sat there in silence.

This was how you flied.

---------------------------------------

Finally arriving in St. Louis, she decided how she would get to the funeral home in question. Perhaps she could teleport there and scare everyone. Maybe summon a large snake and ride it there. No, she decided, too much chaos would cause trouble. She didn't want trouble. Yet.

She walked outside where taxis were lining up. One man leaned against his, "Hey gorgeous, need a ride?"

She merely smiled and nodded. "Hop in then." he said.

She did so and they started driving. "Where to lady?" She gave him the address and he looked at it quickly before putting it down, "Someone close to you die? Sorry to hear that. My sister just lost her fiance. Our families going through our own struggles, you know how it is. It's a bad world, he got shot, some gang business. He was a good man. Lost too soon. I told my sister, I told her look, things happen. And when.."

Morrigan spoke up, "Do you know what it's like to feel your blood boil inside your body? Do you know what it's like to feel your skin rip off delicately? Do you know what it's like to bash your head against a wall countless times until your brain spills out? If you keep talking, you'll find out. Now drive!"

The man sat and drove in stunned silence as they pulled up to the funeral home.

She got out, didn't pay and took out her book. She spoke a spell and the man drove off. He would be fine, she didn't want him dead, as annoying as he was. She just told him to keep driving and not stop. He'd end up somewhere else entirely, but he'll be fine.

She walked into the funeral home, book in hand, should things go sour.

[Assistant]
The slush alternatively crunched or squished under her feet, which she hated. When she moved fast, the surface under her feet didn't matter; it seemed she barely touched it. She'd been running earlier, ever since dumping the stolen car at the state border and that had felt good, stretching herself, being able to run. She eyed the building dubiously and checked her watch. She wasn't late, but evidently other people were already in the building. And some outside too. She knew a grunt when she saw one.

Cassie shoved her hands in her pockets. The right touched the reassuring stubby feel of her handgun, the left, claws half-extending, brushed against the invitation that had brought her here.

~~~

The invitation was propped up against her cap. Her fucking cap. Nobody touched her cap; nobody. She read the invitation through twice, her lips tightening. A conference. Huh. She considered it carefully; could this be a trap, something set up by Redlame and his new friends? Cassie shook her head. He wasn't smart enough to arrange something that complicated. Anyway, it's not flashy enough for him, the dumbass.

She'd binned the plane ticket and stolen a car instead; maybe that was stupid with the airport practically on her doorstep, but there was the risk that her claws might set off the metal detector wand at the airport, and thinking up some story which explained why her hands were making the wand beep wasn't what she did – she couldn't be bothered. Besides, in a car she wouldn't have to risk some fat greasy fuck sitting next to her.

She stopped the car at the border, shrugging into her leather jacket as she got out. Her breath plumed out like smoke as she considered the sky. The western horizon was still a rich, royal blue, but the east was grudgingly allowing the sun to assert itself; the dawn was almost colourless with just the faintest edge of pale pink as a concession to the sunrise. A tight smile pulled her lips back as she sucked into another lungful of cold air and started to run.

~~~

Cassie regarded the two sets of goons in front of the building. She could start shooting before they knew she was there, but why bother when she could get in before they could stop her? She stretched and ran towards the building, her pace no more than a moderate jog to her. There were no gunshots, no shouting. She heard a voice from behind exclaiming "Where the hell did she come from?" when she was at the door. Then she had twisted the door handle and stepped inside.

I didn't expect this. She felt a surge of something like claustrophobia at the sight of the people inside. Her claws slid out inside her pockets. She took a steadying breath and let them slid back under her nails. You can deal with this, it's cool. You just weren't thinking so many people would be here.

She glanced around at the others, raising an apparently disinterested hand to flick her hair back from her face. A couple of balding villainous types, a couple of dark haired women with red eyes – they could be contacts, but she didn't think so - a woman dressed in clothes that probably cost more than the car she'd borrowed earlier, a shorter blonde woman, and - holy shit, he looks like Godzilla's little brother! A huge freaking dragon man; she'd seen him on the news, fighting some flying chick. A flying chick who had joined up with Redlame. He went up several points in her book for that alone.

She took another look at the others. Actually a few of them did look vaguely familiar. She looked at the woman in the demon costume. Have I see her on the news or in a soap opera?

[User]
Vibrating suddenly started coming from one of Frank's front pockets. He reached into his coat, and instead of pulling out his communicator, out came what looked like a cell phone. There was a number on the screen but no name – as it should be. It had been the calling number plenty of times for Frank to recognize it on the spot. He answered and held the phone up to his ear.

"Yeah?" Frank said.

"Hi dad!" Responded the voice of a young girl, no older than ten from the sound of her.

"Hey!" Frank replied, keeping his voice down. A smile grew on his face but, not the malicious kind he was so accustomed to. This one was sincere. He waved Cliff over to make sure no one was eavesdropping as he continued. "How's my favorite flower girl doing?"

"I'm okay."

"Are the boys taking good care of you? Food, rest, everything?"

"Yeah, everything's good. When are you coming back?"

"Baba and Uncle Cliff are still here with me, we're gonna be, uh… in a meeting, pretty soon. Then we'll be on our way back if we're lucky."

"Okay. I saw Mister Magarac on TV again. He was with some reporters and they were talking about you."

"Is that right?" Frank said, shaking his head a bit. "What'd they say this time?"

"One lady called you a man ass, and she said Mister Magarac was going to start looking for you more."

Frank couldn't help but chuckle a bit. After stifling it, he replied, "Menace, honey, she said menace, not… nevermind, it's okay. Did she say anything else?"

"Not really. Just a lot of boring stuff about Mister Magarac's friends."

"Right. Thanks for telling me. I'm gonna get back to work with Baba and Cliff, so you be good, okay? Make sure the boys are doing their jobs."

"I will. Bye dad. Love you!"

"Love you too honey, bye-bye." Frank ended on, shutting off the phone and putting it back in his coat pocket. He leaned back and sighed, still smiling a bit. He glanced around the room, making sure everyone was still minding their own business. The guy with the crummy accent, the group of evil-looking women, and the hulking thing sitting ahead of him… he was starting to get the notion that he and his men were the only humans here. And he didn't like that notion at all. He passed Cliff a glance, who simply nodded back, assuring him everything was alright for now.

"Something better happen soon."
 Frank muttered under his breath.