[System]
Chris Falcon
Alias: "The Street Samurai of Brazil"
Age: 19
Nationality: Brazil
Gender: A boy, as girly as he looks like.
Appearance: A somewhat tanned skintone with blue eyes and a smooth, straight black hair that goes a bit down further his waist. His body is somewhat slender, but with the results of rigorous training and some scars that are the consequence of his fighting life. Far from being a body builder, but with some muscle developed - as far as his rather androgynous appearance goes. His clothing consists mostly of a tanktop, a pair of gloves, the common "baggy pants" used by Ninja and a pair of tabi. Hair is always kept in a ponytail, as both as a matter of preference and practicality.

History: Kurenai-Ryu dojo has a bit of history in both Japan and Brazil - formed by descendants of Hanzo Hattori and Kirigakure Saizo, they were nearly extinct by the time that Japan had the Meiji Restoration. However, practitioners who kept the tradition alive spread the ways of the dojo to every country they could. Cue the Japanese mass imigration of 1908 and a few Kurenai Ryu representatives spreading around from the moment they got off the Kasato-Maru.

More than a century later, A certain pretty boy who's been training on the style since childhood managed to make quite a name for himself. Little is known about his origins or his true identity, except he was adopted by the Kurenai Ryu masters and showed a natural talent for it. When he started witnessing a skyrocket in crime rates, at first, he used his knowledge to protect himself. Then, when a former student of the Dojo with a grudge came in, stormed the place and started a smearing campaign on the internet, Chris decided to take matters into his own hands. After taking care of the salty ex-student, he was approached by a livestreamer and offered an interesting proposal: Beating up thugs and nasty mutants known as the "Rakshasa" for the crowds on social media to have something to watch while he could easily clean up the name of his school.

And soon, Eva Roulette got her attention on the "Street Samurai of Brazil" and the large fanbase he earned.

Personality
Motivations: His main motivation are the vows to his dojo, and a bit of a personal enjoyment in being a vigilante himself.
Sexuality: He's straight to the point of beating men when they attempt to flirt with him.
Likes:
* Reading. His favorite authors are Sun Tzu and Ludwig Von Mises
* Cute animals, like Hamsters, Raccoons and Squirrels.
* Cookies and Coffee

Dislikes:
* Guys hitting on him
* Television
* Alcohol

General: Pretty chill guy, even though problems come to hit him hard. He's far from being the stoic, arrogant martial arts expert and a compassionate at times. He's not bloodthirsty, even though he loves the thrills of a good fight. He can easily get bored when he has to deal with mundane, slice of life situations where "nothing interesting happens at all".

Fighting Arts
Skills: He's an agile traceur, able to use online technology with ease and stealth to an extent.
Fighting Style: Kurenai-Ryu is a style of Ninjutsu that was created by the descendants of Hanzo Hattori and Saizo Kirigakure after Ieyasu unified Japan. With the ban of weaponry in the 16th century, only special agents of the Shogunate were able to practice the arts. It faced a decline in the Meiji restoration era, but it returned with full force when Ninja movies became a fad in 1980's.

Kurenai Ryu focuses in taijutsu, mostly in the use of kicks and leg-based grappling to pin down and strike opponents. The strikes focuse on hitting the pressure points that could immobilize enemies or bring them off-balance while grappling is a way to "beat a bunch of bastards using this bastard". Kurenai Ryu ninjas also use a lot of Chi, but instead of shooting, they channel it to enhance their durability and strength, making legs stronger than steel.

Weaknesses: Being a leg-based martial art, expect him to be in a big disadvantage if he can't kick. And Kurenai Ryu is focused in fighting against large numbers of foes at once, so he's not quite the best in ring battles.
Special Techniques:
* Oborozuki: A somersault kick that hurls the opponent upwards.
* Seiryuu no Mai: A stylish three hits combo that is executed in the air, tossing the opponent back in the last blow.
* Shirohebi: A grapple with the legs. Opponents hit by this will get themselves swirling and slammed to the ground.

Super Arts: Kirin Matsuri Kyaku: Chris darts around in a Pentagram-like movement, stunning enemies. Then he jumps up and kicks down, Kamen Rider style, which ends with a big burst of chi.
Exp: 0
Equipment: A few shuriken he carries with him, in case he needs to keep enemies at bay.

Other: While he has a background as an internet celebrity, it doesn't interfere much on personal interactions - I don't intend to make this character be a victim of the fame tampering with his views, but rather as a rather energetic young lad. Characters who are familiar with livestream are a bonus for interaction and, while I prefer having the concept simple, room for social development is always welcome. For a personal motif, go with Loud Faith, by T.Stebbins.

As a beat'em up Junkie myself, both the games that range from the old-school arcades and the more modern, fresh takes on the genre are equal in my book. My favorite old-school entry in the genre is TMNT Hyperstone Heist, and in the modern age, I'll stick with the Musou games. Even the Non Koei Tecmo ones like Fate Extella Link.

[User]
Sam looked up from the thug he'd just flattened to see a pair of twins blazed onto the scene on their motorcycles. With the way, the pair rallied the remaining thugs made it obvious they were the leaders of this rather flimsy gang. Before Sam could choose an opponent to engage Llexe had already rocketed into combat heading straight for the new arrivals. Sam wasn't eager to get in-between Llexe and her quarry so he decided he'd head for the thugs on the left, see if he couldn't keep them off the berserker.

Sam stormed towards the line of goons only to stop as Light blinked into the enemy and abducted one of the poor souls, seeing it fit to deliver the mook straight into Sam's hands. Sam grabbed the thug by the scruff and gave Light a nod before turning to face the panicked thug. "Hey let me go you freak!" The thug yelled as he struggled helplessly in Sam's vice-like grip. Sam's head twitched as the thug called him a freak, letting out an angered growl and lifting the man high into the air his feet dangling at least 3 feet off the ground. Sam slowly wrapped his free hand around the thug's ankle and let his scruff go causing the thug to fall painfully onto his back.

Sam looked at the rest of the gathered mooks and started advancing on them, dragging the poor thug behind him, intent on using the sorry sack as a weapon to beat the other gang members with.

[Assistant]
Well, that had gone pleasantly. It transpired that most other minions remained outside, and by the time he'd stepped out, two... very, very similar-looking women had appeared, the only noticeable difference being which of them was blowing a bubblegum bubble, at least at first. However, leaders they inevitably were, for their mere presence brought their allies running to their side, some even revived and ready to fight all over again. A fascinating amount of charisma. Yet what a shame it was wasted on crime.

Llexe made her attack immediately, lunging from- ah, the one he'd winded was looking to be in bad shape- from the doorframe and into the sky, dropping down on the twins with what looked to be a vicious assault. Simultaneously, Light charged into the group, clad in some form of energy that apparently sliced at the gangsters as she literally passed through them. She was an oddity to behold, for certain - but it seemed that Llexe might want help fighting the two identical gang leaders. Or not, but she'd probably lose if she fought them on her own... or kill them outright. Either way, his help would be required.

Knives, and fans. Kiyoshi knew that of the two, the fans were the more defensive weapon; though normally tessen were used as clubs rather than razors, they were nonetheless good at deflecting attacks. That being said, of the two, Kiyoshi believed the knife-bearer might be somewhat simpler to render a non-threat. And thus, after a second or two of consideration and walking calmly in their direction, Kiyoshi, for want of a better word, "charged" - though his real self continued to calmly walk toward the duo, his figure suddenly blurred into a chain of rapid afterimages around the weaker gang members, each image holding the wooden blade as if to strike from above until the clone before the final clone. The last clone, the true attacker of the chain, spawned into existence in a crouched position, already moving to unleash quite an abrupt low slash toward the knife-wielder's gut specifically, an effort to catch her and her ally off-guard by how it repositioned itself - and luck had it that it even struck both of them in one go, occupied with other threats as they were. This was his Afterimage Strike, or at least a version of it - funnily enough, the ability to spawn ki images of oneself was extremely useful, especially when they didn't have to spawn in the same positions as their predecessors.

Whether or not the attack made contact, most of the clones would vanish, save one positioned right next to one of the weaker gang members. To those who knew not how the technique worked, they might well be shocked to realise Kiyoshi's "real" body faded too. To those in the know, they'd be more than aware that his real body had merely switched places with the image in question, just in time to follow up his initial charge with a blow to the head of the unfortunate man, knocking him out cold. The gamble was, would this draw attention? It surely wouldn't matter either way, of course, but he imagined that Viper and Cobra would be too preoccupied to deal with his presence specifically, or else that the other gang members would be dealt with accordingly before a loss of focus would be a problem.

[User]
The sound of motorcycle engines alerted Naja to the new arrivals. Seeing how there were no threats left inside the building Naja started walking out in time to hear the reasoning of the two females for attacking them. Hmpf. Llexe was already on her way, so it was likely Naja's retort would not be heard, but…

'You fools. Us being beaten by the likes of you right now would only prove that we're weak. If you want recognition, wait until we've dismantled a couple Disasters, THEN beat us,' Naja told them with a sigh. 'Though, not like it matters…' the cyborg then bent her knees in preparation for launching herself. 'You're not beating us.'

Their opponents fought like a duo. Naja could see it in their stances. All the holes were being filled by their partner, one through offense and the other through defense. Fighting against them by herself may even have been a challenge. However, she wasn't alone. As such, Naja dashed in full speed to fill in behind Llexe. The berserker was going to have to live with Naja looking after her, duo against duo, whether she liked it or not.

Llexe's Roll Over was likely faster than Naja's top speed, but Naja was pretty fast, herself. She dashed in behind Llexe's mid-air assault, past the walking Kiyoshi, where she realized how exposed Llexe had left herself. Trying to defend her Naja pulled a swiping kick with a metal leg to slam away any who intended to attack Llexe in her motion. If any grunts came for the cyborg she could easily slam away their attack with a punch and then elbow them with a baji quan elbow slam that probably left them disabled.

The problem was in case the twins were good enough to somehow counter Llexe's assault. If so, Naja attempted to kick away their counters with quick, defensive long-range savate kicks, hopefully too quick for the enemy to intercept while long-ranged enough to discourage interception before Llexe recovered. There was Kiyoshi's… clone, too, which could perhaps assist with the matter, perhaps even ensured Naja wasn't needed, but she wasn't about to gamble that. Impressive speed, that.

Time was on their side, as Naja couldn't imagine any of her companions being taken out by the goons. With time, there'd be less thugs about and their victory would come easier. All that really mattered now was that Viper and Cobra didn't manage to injure any of them. Because that'd mean they were off to a terrible start.

If it turned out her defense wasn't needed, Naja'd stick around by Llexe, intent on backing up in this fight against the twins.

[Assistant]
Viper and Cobra appeared shortly after Chris had taken down his foes. He looked at the twin girls and cracked his knuckles. For him, there was no place for Chivalry on the battle field and the two women seemed to be formidable opponents.

Both were weapon wielders, which made things far more interesting. He tried finding gaps on their defense or holes in their attacks, but the synergy of the twins was very polished. When he saw Kiyoshi using after images to get their attention drawn, an opportunity seemed to be appearing soon! The ninja used his fast parkour movements to make cover on the Samurai's part. His goals were only of disposing of potential threats. While he wasn't hiding or anything, his motives were rather clear. Even though the Snake sisters could perceive the little bluff on his part, it would at least be a nice little gamble to lure them both together. If Chris could distract them, he would have an advantage on a sneak attack as his fighting style was great for facing multiple enemies at a time.

All he would need was Kiyo's clones to start either distracting Viper or put Cobra into anticipating her defense. Then, his kicks would do the rest - Shirohebi, being a mixture of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and acrobatics, would be more than enough to exert some pressure on Cobra's defenses and Oborozuki could put Viper out of balance. Even if some thug prepared an ambush, they were so ridiculously weak and unskilled that they could be sent flying to a nearby trash can with a single Sparta kick.


[System]
Age: 23

Appearance: A dark skinned, tall, pigeon-chested man with a gawky build, Gilles seems to fit the description of your stereotypical nerd quite easily, especially when paired with his braces and ridiculously thick glasses. His head is square-ish, and the hair on said head is twisted back into simple dreadlocks which hang down to his shoulders in no specific pattern or style, while his facial hair is mostly untidy stubble. Decked out in a simple (and slightly worn out) blue hoodie, gray sweatpants, and brown running shoes which were, once upon a time, white, one might think that he may be the atheletic sort despite his nerdy appearance and build - not that you can tell much under the clothes- but rest assured, this is not the case.

Other:
-He's got quite the knack with technology
-100% Certified Manchild
-College drop-out
-Works as a a freelance computer and system repair man and as a vlogger
-Originates from Belgium; speaks French and limited Flemmish
-Terrified of most every kind of creepy crawly
-Naturally curious and not afraid to stick his nose where it doesn't belong
-Wanted to take up acting before
-Fascinated by the gems and expresses it in a way akin to a six year gushing over their favourite super hero

[User] Emerald heard the sudden, screeching noise echo throughout the van, reverberating in his ears, eventually joined by the singing of Johnny, which wasn't bad, necessarily, but the noise! It hurt his ears, and he didn't like it. Large cracks formed throughout the rock on his arms and hands, and chunks began falling off as his arms slowly became mobile. "Urgh....what is that noise?! I miss the quiet!" He broke the mold of stone on his arms and plugged his ears. He might've liked it, had it not been for the incredible change from quiet to a new, loud, strange noise. He began searching around for something to do, and found a whole lot of nothing. He would love to dismantle some of the contraptions he found, and maybe make something else, but this was someone's stuff. He may not have known what anything of this weird being's stuff is, but he knew the meaning of property.

[Assistant] Spinel could faintly hear the sound pattern coming from Johnny's car. She liked ambient sounds and silence better, but this was nice too. She unenthusiastically nodded her head up and down, thinking to ask some questions about it later. Then again, the other gems would probably already be asking the same questions, so maybe she'd just listen. As she listened to the music, a fun idea crossed her mind. She lowered her crossbow without letting go of it, as it wouldn't do to make it look like it was just floating. Her crossbow vanished to her mild surprise, but she knew she could summon it again. She began focusing on her natural glow, dimming it to the point that she was barely visible with the intention of going completely transparent as soon as the vehicle stopped and they came out to check for her so that it would appear she'd fallen off. As soon as this van stops, they'll be in for quite a spook!

[User]
"A few hours," Evenkite repeated. She glanced down at Amber's gemstone and smiled, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

"That shouldn't be too long. And if it takes longer, that's fine, too."

Like the others, she two passed most the ride in silence, until Johnny began to blare some...sound. Having quite enjoyed the previous quiet, Evenkite wasn't sure how to feel about this sound. It certainly wasn't as irritating as the clanging of Sodalite's weapons, Amber's bellowing, or perish the thought, Emerald's snoring. In fact, it was sort of pleasant, and Johnny's voice was quite nice as well. But it was loud, and that bothered the tiny gem.

"Excuse me, si-Johnny, could you tone it down a bit? I'm with Emerald on this one, it is sort of loud."

[Assistant] Aquamarine eyes sparkled at hearing the sound coming from the radio, though it wasn't constant, the noise was beautiful and something new to her. She listened carefully, taking it all in even when Johnny's voice mixed with it as if in harmony with the radio. She had no word to describe what this noise was but it reminded her of fusion and dancing which made her smile brightly. She hummed to the rhythm for a bit before Emerald and Evenkite spoke up, stopping her sound before speaking her opinion, "Really? I think it's incredible! It reminds me of dancing, the harmony of voice and sound much like the trust and movement needed for two beings to dance."

[User] Emerald listened to the various reactions, and was glad somebody agreed with him. He then heard what Aquamarine said, and turned his head towards his feet. He wasn't really sure what that had to do with anything, and he wasn't sure he could even dance. Not that it made much difference, given their current situation, and even more in Emerald's case. "I don't see what dancing has to do with anything. We're in a moving vehicle!" He really wish he could mess with the stuff in the back, it would be nice having something to do, especially something he didn't need to use his torso and legs for. "But, um, Johnny? Can I mess with some of these contraptions back here? It would be nice having something to do. Please?" He felt a little bad, feeling that his being a Gem might make Johnny be too focused on helping a Gem that he might not think his decision over.

[Assistant] Zircon sat cross-legged against the wall of the van while looking around the new scenery and adapting to the atmosphere. Her head perked up when the music came on. After a few seconds of listening to it she slowly leans back against the wall while tapping her knee with a finger to the beat of the song. It took awhile to get the beat; it was way off at first but she eventually got the hang of it. She leaned her head back and slowly closed her eyes trying to relax, "This sounds nice. ...Whatever it is..." she half-mumbles while complimenting the new sound to her. It was a nice sound. A catchy sound at that. She didn't mind listening to it at all, but she doesn't mind silence either. Although currently she would like to keep listening she has no preference what sounds go about. ...Unless it's really obnoxious.

[User] She held back from saying anything to Emerald's statement, keeping silent as they continued onward. Aquamarine understood that these gems wouldn't get what she meant but it was still hard on her to not have someone get the joy dancing meant to her and most gems alike unless they found it weak. She relaxed back onto the side of the of the vehicle, closing her eyes as she thought over this day so far and the last moment she had been awake. It was hard for her to believe that war wasn't raging all over the place and that everyone else she had know was probably gone. Home world obviously wasn't completely gone but at least they weren't here in person which was a small victory in her book.

[Assistant]
Johnny was sucked out of his reverie by a couple of complaints from the backseat, some party poopers apparently. Well it couldn't be helped, it was a jarring change he supposed. However he was also happy for the positive feedback as well, looking through the rearview mirror he could see some of them thumping along and humming while Emerald and Evenkite had some troubles with it. With a quick motion he turned the radio down, it was still an all encompassing sound but it wasn't as loud. In fact it was more of a gentle, indoor voice. Coincidently, a more meloncholic song began to play on the radio. An old favorite of his really. It brought a small, sad smile to his lips at the memories it brought, both good and bad.

However, Emeralds words of wanting to tinker with some of his stuff worried him. The amps back there were complicated machines on the inside and more importantly, expensive. With some quick thinking he reached over to the glove box and dug through it before finding what he was looking for. A Rublix Cube. Tossing it back towards Emerald, Johnny just said "You gotta make each side a solid color. Good luck." before going back and humming softly to the tune.

[User] Emerald caught the cube, and stared at it. Make each side a single color? What does he mean by that? He fumbled it around before he realized how it actually worked, and started trying to figure it out. He then laughed to himself for a second before actually working. Okay, that side's done....now how do I solve this without messing that bit up? "Heh heh. This gets harder one you've completed one side. Now I'll do the rest!" Emerald smiled, and wondered how this actually worked. Maybe I'll find out later. But for now, to solve this. The back of the van suddenly became quiet, without Emerald's complaining or snoring.

[Assistant] The music was different now, but Sodalite didn't mind. It was still pleasant to her ears, and put a different set of emotions into her mind. Still, she said nothing, and bobbed her head to the new rhythm of the music. It was much nicer now that Emerald was in a better mood, and allowed her to hum quietly in peace. The van was comfy, cozy, and she felt like she could spend another unknown amount of time just sleeping in there like the apparently did in her hole back in the Kindergarten.

[User]
[Feel free to post stuff taking place before this post at your disgression.]

As she felt the van slow to a stop, Spinel went completely invisible and waited for someone to step out of the van. Of the sensations she'd observed so far, she was sure that peaceful isolation was her favorite, but the anticipation of frightening someone took a close second. Maybe it will actually work this time. Then again, since most of the people in the van knew she could become invisible, maybe not.

[Assistant]
Click.

Recording ended.

Taking the video camera off his tripod and placing it on his lap, Gilles began to scroll through his clips, occasionally pausing one to write what were probably either notes, or perhaps edits to his script, on the pad of sticky notes by his side, which he later stuck on his papers. After finishing his scribbling, he would then delete the clip, giving a goofy grin and an awfully cheery "Adieu!" as he did so. It wasn't too often that he took his scenes away from Mohs Town, so doing so meant that this video would be special, and therefore he'd be a bit more picky with what made it into the video and what would not.

His scrolling, however, had come to a sudden stop. Fingers that once hovered over the 'trash' button immediately dropped down. He blinked once. Twice. And then he hit the 'play' button once more, a goofy grin spread on his face. If he had been excited before, as he usually was while recording, then he was ecstatic now, for somehow he had captured something truly unusual.

In the background of one of his recordings, a van seemed to have driven by, drowning out his voice. Under normal circumstances, he'd have probably deleted it for that very reason, but ironically enough, the van was reason behind why he did keep it. Why was that?

Atop on the van was a person.

Except people don't glow like that.

Hello? Mystery!

The video could wait, and Gilles could not. And so he quickly folded his tripod, gathered his papers, turned off his camera, shoved them all into his carrier, slung it on his back, and took off in the direction of the van with his arms made like an airplane, giggling to himself like a sugar-crazed five year old. He had no idea what it was that he had just seen, but he was determined to find out. Besides, if he wasn't mistaken, it wouldn't be too hard; he'd seen that van around town. It shouldn't be too hard to find, right?

[User]
As slowly as it started, the van that Sodalite and the group of gems were in began to slow to a halt. She shifted slightly as they stopped, but did her best to keep her weapons on her without letting them be seen. They were hidden under her dress and arms, which was actually somewhat uncomfortable, but she made it work. None of them were currently stabbing her, or if they did, she couldn't tell, and the Gem began to scramble towards the door.

She fiddled with the door for a good minute, trying to figure out how it worked and how to get out, before she was able to open it and escape back into the outside world. The air was back to normal, and while she had no reason to breathe, Sodalite took a large breath of air, relaxing slightly out in the open. Her arms were still close up against her body, trying to prevent the weapons from falling out, but she could be seen relaxing and getting comfortable back out in the open.

She shuffled slowly away from the van, hoping to get a little more room so her weapons would have an even smaller chance of being seen.

[Assistant]
--5052 years ago, near the beginning of the Gem rebellion--

"I can't believe this, how could you go against your own kind. I thought we were partners. What makes these humans so special to you? What do they have that I don't?" Bloodstone shook his head and turned around. "Jasper, Bismuth, let's get out of here. This fool and her 'friends' will see what happens to traitors."

[User]
Following Sodalite's example, Evenkite got out of the van in quite a hurry, refrainign from flat-out running only out of fear of dropping Amber's gemstone. There wasn't anything particularly bad about being in the van, for the crowded space wasn't much of a bother due to her size, and the other song wasn't quite as harsh on the ears. Nonetheless, she was glad to be out in the open once again. There was a lot to see, and the little gem was eager to take it all in. More than that, however she wanted to be away from the others, even if just by a little.

As she wandered off to get a better look at all the unfamiliar sights, her eyes currently fixed on colourful winged creature which some part of her mind registered as a butterfly, something had occurred to her; she hadn't seen Spinel get off the van, but she didn't remember her still being on top of it, either.

Whatever, it's not like she can't handle herself. Besides, you're not responsible for her.

Though she tried to shrug it off, curiosity, as always, got the better of her. Did she care about Spinel? To be honest, probably not. But she was curious as to where she now was nonetheless. Thus Evenkite turned around, gave the butterfly one last glance, and made her way back towards the van, though still keeping her distance as usual.

"Spinel...?" She called out, eyes scanning the area for the faintly glowing gem. It seemed as if the thought of Spinel being invisible had completely slipped her mind.


[System]
Age: 25

Gender: Female

Equipment/Possessions:

One ceremonial sword, sharpened at a local blacksmith to be usable in combat, intricately designed with the crest of the Crawford family.

One necklace made of silver, holding a brilliant green gem at its center, kept around her neck at all times.

One lute, perfectly tuned and made of a beautifully varnished cedar.

Personality: Axley has had to make a very rough adjustment to her new life as a woman without means. She often finds it difficult to fit in with the people around her when she forgets that she is one of them now, as opposed to a member of the bourgeois who is used to looking down upon the peasants of the lower class. She doesn't take shit from others and tends to have an attitude with people who don't hold her respect. She has a fine eye for detail and a particularly fine ear for music from her upbringing, giving her great talent with both her voice and an instrument.

Though she is intuitive, Axley is not overly versed in the world around her, having grown up sheltered from it for quite some time. She is quick to anger, but not quick to violence, only carrying her blade for intimidation, and only protection as an absolute last resort. She shies away from conflict when she can, though does not step down to the catcalls of the men around her. She has a sarcastic, sassy streak that shows itself whenever she grows irritated with others, but once someone has proven themselves as trustworthy to her, she is a loyal friend that would always keep an eye out for them.

Axley loves fashion in spite of her limited income, and can often be seen in the merchant district, browsing the various silks and fabrics for sale in the wishes that one day she might be able to reclaim her fortune. She'll often try to set up her post near there so that she can look on the job; though she wishes to pinch some for herself, she lacks the skill set to be a thief and knows it. She keeps her nose clean of trouble, though the possibility of breaking the rules and seeking adventure has always allured her, even though she has not had the daring or the strength to take those chances.

Backstory/History: Axley was born to people of means, a wealthy merchant family in the affluent district of Ulfhednar. With a silver spoon in her mouth from birth, Axley grew up never knowing the trials of the lower class. She looked down upon them as her father had, calling them the 'pigs' of the Blessed Isle. She saw herself as entitled, a level above those without money, and quickly developed a superiority complex over those who were without. Having been tutored privately to read and write from a young age, Axley's own interests turned towards music once she had grown of age, and began taking lessons from private instructors to tune her ear to the world of sound around her. After all, were she to land a fetching husband in due time, she would need to showcase some sort of talent to win his affections. That's what her mother told her.

Until the age of twenty-three, Axley lived in comfort with her family, oblivious to the darkness dwelling just outside their pleasant abode. Her father, Eiric Crawford, hadn't acquired all his wealth quite so legitimately-it turned out he owed quite a few favors to the local crime syndicate, and they had grown tired and frustrated with his truancy on his 'donations' to their cause as of late. Eventually, it had all boiled over to a head. While the Crawford family slept one night, Axley awoke from her bed to find the scent of smoke clogging her nostrils. She opened the door to her room to see if something was wrong, only to find the lower floor ablaze, hungry flames consuming everything in reach. Her parents' master bedroom was already blocked off by the blaze, and she found herself desperately low on time to escape; the fire was already making its way up the stairs. Gathering what few possessions she could from the wall, including a family sword and her beloved lute, she tied her blanket to the window and clambered down, making the leap to the ground and running for her life as the fire went on to burn unabated until there was no more.

She didn't have the heart to look back on her destroyed home. The news had spread quickly enough; the charred corpses of her parents had been found, but Axley had been nowhere to be located. Whatever might have survived the blaze was most likely looted by the dawn. She was left with nothing; her fortune evaporated before her eyes, the few things she had managed to save from the tragic fire all she had to her name beyond a little jade.

She knew not what caused the fire, but couldn't bear to face the common folk of Ulfhednar, especially given the reputation she knew her family had with the lower class. Instead, she decided to start life anew. Using what money she had left, she purchased a ticket on a ship traveling south across the river, eventually finding her way to the Imperial Ruins. Nobody recognized her there; she managed to find herself a cheap building on rent on the outskirts of the city, and quickly weaved her way into life there as a traveling bard, wandering the streets and bars singing her hauntingly alluring tunes, now twinged with sadness as hints of her former life leaked out in her voice and lyrics while she played for what coin the folk she used to mock would spare her.

[User]
Running away was obviously a good plan, and Fergus made no objections as he followed Axley, Cilia, and Snow. That said, running away without a plan was likely just postponing the inevitable. The shells kept falling. Buildings and people continued to be consumed and destroyed. The groans of the Juggernaut grew louder and louder. Then it happened. Fergus and the unlikely trio he was now fleeing with were retreating across the city and trying to avoid the deadly bombardment, but ground forces were less easy to evade. Three warriors with sickly grey-white skin and wicked curved blades crossed their path, along with a woman in heavy armor who wielded a flaming sword.

"Not far to the remnants of the grid, General. We'll mop up around here while you get it ready for his arrival." The woman gave no verbal response, and simply ran back toward the center of the city. The three men turned their attention to Fergus and the other survivors from the church, and began their approach. Fergus, while far from a warrior himself, had received his share of combat training from House Mnemon. He drew his short blade, but was visibly trembling. This was not training. If he fouled up here, he would be dead.

"Shit shit shit! What do we do?!" cried the barrister mere seconds before the men were upon them. One took a wide swing at Fergus, who barely stepped out of the way. Rather than lose his whole arm, the sleeve of his shirt was very crudely torn and he took a small cut on his bicep. The pain was not immediate, however. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. In retaliation, Fergus took a stab at the warrior. While his blade atually hit its mark in the foe's side, there was no blood. This caused Fergus to take another step back. Undead. That meant only one thing. Even a man who was not involved in the Scarlet War knew that undead were often a hallmark of a Deathlord. Wait. Could that mean... no. The monstrous roar. Was this going to be a repeat of what happened in Thorns?!

It may have seemed silly, but Fergus took a rock from one of his pouches and hurled it at his opponent's face. It smashed right into the undead's eye, causing him to yell out in anger and pain as the hefty rock did severe damage to his eye. "We need to leave! Now! Follow me! Please, I beg you trust me!" and with that, he fled toaward the northwest. Fergus knew he needed to tell the ruling class in Lord's Crossing about the impending invasion by the Deathlord. If they were informed of the sacking of the Imperial Ruins yet again, perhaps they might take action. But to ensure that, Fergus (and his new friends) needed to recount their tale of survival and escape to House Mnemon and the other noble houses.

They needed to survive. They needed to escape. They needed to live.

[Assistant]
Cilia Cosgair

---

Link to Cilia's Sheet

---

[User]
丂刀のW 丂ｱﾑ尺尺のW

He was practically holding Cilia, an arm around the arm of Axley. He made sure they stayed behind Fergus. It might even be out of a desire and a need, a panic to do something, anything. As he ran though, his mind began to enter back into a state of awareness. Adrenaline was pumping through him, and then he remembered his training, his battles on the Threshold. It all came back to him, and how he had to harden his heart and focus on the task at hand.

They got sight of a woman. For a fleeting bleak instant, he saw the Solar that had saved his life so long ago. But this was a twisted reflection. The burning sword was all that was radiant about her. Everything else seemed of malice, cursed and black. The undead, those loathsome creatures against the natural order. He saw them as rotting corpses barely recognizable as human anymore with their weapons. No time to hide, they were noticed.

He released the women, his staff before him as he entered into the five dragon style stance, his front leg forward, back leg bend, the staff held across his body. He waited just a moment "Get behind me~!" He tried to shout but they came at once. Snow knew what to do against a blade, having fought them many a time in the past. He lashed out with his staff, aiming not for the person, but the hand itself. The strike would even if the monster couldnt feel pain, would disrupt their swing. He ducked underneath the swipe, and in a fluid motion, used his leg and staff to trip the creature off his feet, before jumping and spinning the staff raizing back and arching with a jump.

A THWACK hit the creature square in the face, his non existant nose pummeled to gravel, skull shattering against the stones. He took a moment to aid his companions, even as Ferguson edged them ever onward...

[Assistant]
Cilia Cosgair

---

Link to Cilia's Sheet

---

Cilia did what she was told, she was good at hiding and being small. Snow moved in a way that was like a well choreographed dance. She watched his muscles tighten as he prepared to fight. She moved back from the fight to stay out of the staff's range.

She could smell the stench of death and the smoke of battle. It made her stomach churn and head ache. Emotionally, she was as charged as the air was filled with the sound. Yet she felt powerless and small.

As she moved back one of the dead things approached in a flanking maneuver. As it came in to attack her, she tried to retreat, while the dead warrior slashed. She threw the book as the sword flashed. It cut into the corner of the book and then into the muscle of her left arm. The momentum of the heavy book deflected the blade enough to keep it from her heart. As the book spun paper came out of the binding and floated in the wind. The heavy binding and most of the pages continued to spin hitting the creature first in the right eye with the cover, then spine hit where the nose should be and finally the back cover hit a cheek and bounced.

The attack did some damage to the creature, but she did not want to see if she killed it or not. She ran after Fergus holding her arm to stop the blood that flowed with each step.

[User]
Heavy footsteps thudded against the cobblestone as Axley led the pack through the streets of town, but she couldn't even hear them over the raining mortars and screams of the public. She could have sworn she could hear the occasional jeer of some sinister force as well, but she simply did not have time to even think about that possibility. Axley rounded a corner, looking to lead them down a narrow alleyway to take a quick shortcut, but came to a screeching halt as they were accosted by four armed warriors...one looking far more dangerous than the rest. Luckily, it seemed the female had absolutely no interest in them at all; granted, three trained foot soldiers was a bad bet for them regardless. Axley had almost no real combat training, and had rudimentary swordplay practice in her lessons in self-defense most bards decided to undergo. Everything else was learned on the fly, often to deal with hecklers or particularly drunk and randy pub-goers.

But this...this was far more real. Were she to fail here, she'd lose a lot more than dignity. Sparrow and Fergus seemed capable of handling their own, but the third soldier was more confident in the others, stepping to the two females with a particularly disconcerting leer in his eye. He went for Cilia first; Axley took the opportunity to slink around him in a flanking maneuver as he engaged her friend, silently thankful Cilia knew enough to distract the man and keep herself alive. She nearly cried out for her as she watched the blade cut into Cilia's flesh, but the flying book gave her just enough time to get behind the assailant while he was momentarily distracted by the pain of the heavy bound cover smacking into his face. It looked like it stung, but it wouldn't for long; she had to act fast.

An unexpected kick to the undead's back leg sent him to one knee as he tried to turn to deal with the new threat. Axley didn't give him the chance to recover; another kick, now to his back, put him on his hands and knees for the briefest of moments. Pure adrenaline kept Axley moving; in a single motion she strode forward, foot coming down hard on a leg to keep the soldier from rising before drawing her ceremonial blade. The warrior was not heavily armored, luckily; her blade, she knew, wouldn't be able to take many jarring shots, even though she'd had it sharpened for some form of combat. With a single heavy stab downwards, the blade skewered the undead's chest, uncleanly spattering blood over her bard's outfit as she had to forcibly yank the blade from the undead's body as it stuck fast. She didn't even know if she'd hit anything vital, or if an undead could shake it off and laugh before continuing the assault. She had to keep moving; the others had started to take off again and she'd be left behind if she dawdled. With a rush of adrenaline-fueled speed, Axley bolted back to the group, gasping for breath as she did her best to lead them once more. She had just taken her first 'life'...but her own was still on the line.


[System]
Age: Looks 21(148 years, but who's counting?)

Mood Music I Guess

Gender: Male

Species:Vampire

Appearance: About 6'0", with messy blonde hair and muddy red eyes. Pale skin, Caucasian, and longer nails. Average facial features, excluding a small scar below his right eye that causes pain. Doesn't care to hide his fangs, as his hygiene is one of his few redeeming traits. Easily blends into crowds. Wears some tattered Victorian clothes to keep the memory of his past life behind(maroon sports jacket, white shirt, green dress pants, loafers). Whenever he goes out, he wears cracked sunglasses to disguise his red eyes.

Background: Was transformed into a vampire in the year 1889. A college student, working at Oxford University, London, he had a promising life ahead of him. His name at birth was Adam, and he lived a happy life. Coming from a fairly wealthy family at the very end of the Industrial Revolution, Adam imagined his life as going smoothly, figuring he would create a medicine company with his expertise, and grow even more wealthy. He had no idea of the horrors he would witness

 One late afternoon, Adam was walking in the 'shady' part of town when he came across a caravan advertising rare ingredients at low prices. Figuring this could help him with studies, he stumbled into the smoky room. An old man sat at the end, looking through some papers. He approached the old man, and inquired about the ingredients. The old man went on and on about his stock, but Adam immediately dismissed almost each and every one as a fraudulent version of some existing chemical. After inquiring about anything worthwhile, the old man pulled out a small wooden chest with a lock on it. After fumbling around to open it, a stench filled the room. 3 hunks of rock sat in the chest, which Adam would later identify as brimstone, meteorite, and solid hellfire. He immediately purchased all 3, and ran back into the lab to begin work on his new pet project.

 After a few days of fiddling with the stones, Adam unwittingly created a new gas that not even he knew about: one that attracted paranormal beings. He had been working late, and a small lab fire, mixing with the brimstone, obsidian, and chlorine Adam had been working with, created a smell extremely attractive to beings such as vampires and demons. It was no surprise Adam was cornered by a vampire the very next evening. Working late yet again, Adam had spilled blood while cleaning some equipment. This sealed his fate, and as he stumbled home he was attacked by a member of the undead. Adam was well read, and so knew of these creatures. He ran into the countryside, feeding on the occasional sheep. He lived in fear of society, as the urges to feast on human flesh grew.

 33 years after he was turned, World War One started. He had been lurking around a small village when the news hit, and figured he could use it as an opportunity to get some food. He hid under tarps, hiding under cars until he arrived at the training camp, taking the place of a recruit looking quite similar to him: one Atlas Johnson. Somehow hiding his terrible secret, he made it to the trenches. The horrors of the gas warfare, along with the monstrous Panzer units, scared Atlas for life. He fought until the war ended, hiding in rural Siberia until the second World War broke out, taking the distracted U.S.S.R as an opportunity to escape.

 The moniker Atlas stuck, and so he jumped from country to country, war to war until eventually settling in Brooklyn. He began researching the occult once again, and ran into the mysterious Seph Kane. Due to Atlas' experience, and knowledge in alchemy, he was recruited. Atlas chose Belfast due to isolation, and the abundance of wild game to feed off of.

Current Life: Due to sunlight aversion, set up in a rickety mine filled with bones and gold, both of which are useful for alchemy. Has a lab set up there for testing. He only goes out at night to drink at whatever local bar is open, usually keeping to himself in a corner. Visits local penitentiary on nights when he needs to feed. Has been in Belfast for two weeks and already loves the weather.

Personality: After all these years has become very apathetic. Due to the horrors witnessed during war has a distaste for blood, which causes some turmoil when it comes time to feed. No longer believes in any higher power, and just wishes for the sweet release of death that will never come naturally. Has become an introvert due to aversion to sunlight. Spiteful of the living, but also just hates people. Raging alcoholic.

Schools of Study: Alchemy, Botany

Specialization: When it comes to alchemy, he is very knowledgeable in poison brewing and the science behind 'holy water', but has failed at that aspect. Wishes to find a cure to vampirism

Spells: Ice Burst: The only spell Atlas bothered to learn, it allows him to freeze objects, create hunks of ice, and lower body temperature, the last of which was never a problem for a vampire. He is very used to it by now, though using it too often will tire him out, leaving him incapacitated. This makes him wish to avoid using said spell, out of paranoia.

Abilities: Carbon Vision -Knows the chemical makeup of most plants and animals.

 Shaken, Not Stirred -Can make 'quick fix' potions such as healing and poison.

 Undead and Hating It -Superhuman strength,Able to mesmerize people for short periods of time, Can turn into a bat

 Been There Done That -Extremely knowledgable when it comes to history

 Flower Power -Has some botany skills to help him grow ingredients, and can identify many plants.

 Close Minded -Takes pride in his brewing skills, but lacks knowledge in many other subjects.

 Been Around the Block -Due to living for 148 years, can fluently speak English, Italian, French, and Soviet-era Russian

Weaknesses: Sunlight, Jesus and Co., Holy things in general, a minor distaste for garlic, has to be invited indoors

Equipment: -Poison Bottle: Filled with a nightshade-venom mix that he has been working towards perfecting for centuries

 -Erlenmeyer Flask(4): Used to make potions

 -Bag of Ingredients: Small ingredients used in Alchemy
 -Raven:Pet

 -Gas Mask: A gag item

 -Heavy Gloves: Used when handling acidic/destructive materials. Prevents the need for restoration, which takes up energy.

 I'm going to list all seven knives here. 6 are from W&R, and one is the heirloom

Tubuel: This blade emits a bright light that can be seen by all within a certain radius

Raguel: This blade ignites when the proper incantations are spoken

Simiel: This blade emits a loud noise when the proper incantations are spoken

Inias: This blade attracts insects from within a small area.

Saboac: This blade is constantly covered in poison

Tubuas: This blade acts as an opposite to Uriel, and sucks in light, leaving a void of darkness around it

Uriel: This blade ran in the family, and thus only responds to those of their descent. It is seemingly linked via magic, or Atlas would be unable to use it due to the vampire cells. Operates as a boomerang.

When Used In Unision:
Tubuel+Tubuas: Creates a radar of nearby living things
Raguel+Saboac: Flame grows twice as strong
Inias+Simiel: Attracts insects from a larger area than Tubuel alone

Other: Pretty good at the mandolin and bartending.

Here he is

[User]
The meting adjourned and everyone got up to prepare for their missions, leaving the large office mostly empty except for Seph and maybe Markiel. Yet, it wasn't long before one of the investigators returned.

Mithias intended to find Seph alone and had returned to the office. His hair was still back and his shades still on, but his outfit had changed. Gone was the eloquent and friendly suit, replaced now with a black, military style cloth armor vest and long, weapon-concealing black jacket. Durable boots and pocketed pants lead up to a girdle that holstered two swords at his hips. There was more on him, but the details didn't matter. He looked like something out of the Matrix.

The vampire's uncanny ability to move with minimal noise made it seem almost as if he had simply appeared out of thin air, but the more logical explanation was that he had just been noticed late. Regardless, he was there, and surely he would explain why. Indeed, Mithias approached Seph in the backroom of his office, pulling off his shades as a sign of respect and allowing the aged shifter to see his eyes. He spoke softly, believing no one else to be listening. "Seph, my friend. Before we embark on this mission, and before I specifically join the others, I would make a last-minute request from you in the interests of safety and sanity." He knelt down in the middle of the room, for to Mithias blood freely given was sacred. "I beg you to saite my hunger, for I know that you can. Put it to rest so that I will not be distracted by temptation should anything happen. I would chose to feed here, rather than hunt in what may potentially be a frozen wasteland."

Mithias waited for what Seph might say.

[Assistant] Already through the portal to the front lines, Drake's thirst for adventure was soon vanquished by the harsh conditions of the snow around him. If he wasn't so prideful about his own equipment perhaps he would have grabbed more winter gear back at the office, but it was too late now. In the middle of a blizzard, Drake's body would begin to smoke and steam up rapidly, trickles of embers falling from his armor's cape and caps in the metal. The harsh wind and snow made it difficult for his fire to grow, and as such he had to expend even more magic to keep it from burning out as he casted the flames off of his body. Within minutes he was a walking inferno, flames burning off of his form and swirling a bit around him, being carried briefly by the wind and most of his form would appear as a silhouette surrounded by bright fire. The snow around him would rapidly sublimate around him, the heat too intense for the snow to simply turn to water. Despite being shrouded in flames Drake was still cold, and had already expended much energy to keep his fire up. With his axe in hand he tried to get a better look at his surroundings and look for his teammates.

[User]
Max shook his head at the offer to enchant his shovel, then stopped because of the way it made the flaps on his hat whip about. "In my experience, it's not wise to depend on magic for mundane things. There can be a steep price tag."

He considered for a moment, fully aware of how dangerous this situation was, before sighing. "I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Remind me not to tell my mother about this." With that, the tall man bent his head and stepped through the portal to the snowbound street, shovel tightly clamped in his gloved hands.

The cold hit him immediately, the wind feeling like a gale of needles against his skin. He breathed in involuntarily in shock, then regretted it immediately- the air itself was so cold that just breathing it in felt like a knife in the lungs. The worst winters in Seattle were never this bad. Hell, the winters when he was studying in Minsk and Saint Petersburg hadn't been this bad (though the haze of vodka and Baltika might have colored his memory). Max' teeth began to chatter, and he instinctively hugged himself as the cold cut through even his heavy clothing. Though his head felt absolutely fine. Maybe there was something to be said for the foxy hat.

Still, he was here to do a job. Lifting his scarf to cover his nose and mouth, Max unfolded his shovel and began the work of clearing a path through the drifts towards the house they had been shown in the scrying crystal. Too much was at stake for him to stand there and shiver- with unlit furnaces and coats deep in closets, it seemed likely unsuspecting locals might freeze in their homes if this went on. Max eventually fell into a groove with the digging and began to make slow but steady progress towards the house, edging towards the front door.

[Assistant]
Mithias appeared through the portal all too near to Drake and immediately backed away from the heat, stepping into a half-puddle of melted slush. "Gyah..." He remarked, holding his hands up against the blazing aura Drake was giving off. "Thank you for melting the landing point, Drake my friend, but you should refrain from expending so much energy, particularly magical energy, for there are those who might notice such a thing."

The wind whipped over the edge of the trench of snow that surrounded them as they waited for the rest of their group to arrive. Mithias looked around, extending his senses to detect any sounds, movements, or scents that might be relevant. Seeing Drake still shivering, he commented, "Did you fail to bring adequate clothing? I don't mean any insult. It's just that I myself can no longer feel the cold to judge." That was only half true. Mithias wasn't completely insensitive to it. He had to keep his own blood from freezing at least, or even he would have problems.

Extending a hand, the vampire offered a minuscule taste of his own brand of magic, heat manipulation. Softer, gentler, and more slowly, he caused some warmth to build up within Drake's own body. Carefully he concentrated, making sure that only the barest rise in temperature occurred so as not to harm this delicate life.

[User]
Atlas finished his rant on Vermont with something about Xanax and minerals. He got up, and turned to Baron. "I am motivated by the promise of death. Kidding!", Atlas remarked, stepping through the portal. The first thing he noticed: His bottle was empty. He turned, looking at his surroundings. "Ah, this is near the haunted log cabin I talked about!", he remarked to nobody in particular. The ice barely bothered him. Pulling out another bottle, one would think Atlas had a magic coat, filled with all the liquor in the world. At this point, one could only guess.

Stepping forwards, snow crackling under his feet, Atlas took a long breath. Cold. He recognized this chill. Siberia. It was cryonic Magic. Christ, what if that crazy lentil farmer had come back from the dead? Ignoring his last thought, Atlas took out one of his knives. 6 in all, each with a weak magic enchantment. Fire, Ice, all that. This one, this one was special. A family heirloom he had grabbed from... Someone. It acted as a boomerang, increasingly useful to him, as the winds grew stronger.


[System]
CS:
Race (Human or Type of Fae): Human

Position (In court if you are a fae, Any fae outside of a court will be under extreme pressure): Servant to Tegvan O'Aenges-Mor

Age: 61, looks 17-19

Personality (Fae type has effect): A once proud young woman, she was bent to the task of serving O'Aenges-Mor quickly. Still she snarks at her Lord Fae, and is more than willing to question him and his orders. But she knows any out right disloyalty could get her killed and if he were to die she would wish to perish soon after without his protection in the Fae Courts. She is sharp to others of lesser rank than she, and is wise to the way of the fae. A must within their realm.

Appearance: Thick red hair falls to her waist and frames grey eyes. Pale skin from time spent with the Fall Court. She generally wears a heavy gown of dark green or brown with a cloak of grey. Dressing in the style of Victorian times. She appears and actually physically is around her seventeenth or nineteenth year. It is uncertain when she stopped aging after she was brought into the fae courts. She is a bit on the shorter side, and is petite.

Background: Aisling was born to a wealthy family and had a very lovely childhood. She never had want for anything, but when she had fallen for a young man and learned a horrible truth that jeopardized her privileged life she panicked. Fleeing to the forest she sought solace while trying to comfort herself with something. It was there she was found by Tegvan O'Aenges-Mor of the Fae. She offered him anything, if only to grant her the answer to her problem. He gave her the promised answer and took her to the realm of the Fae as payment. She has served him ever since.

CS:

Name: Tegvan O'Aenges-Mor

Race (Human or Type of Fae): Fall-born Fae

Position (In court if you are a fae, Any fae outside of a court will be under extreme pressure): King of the Fall Court

Age: Unknown

Personality (Fae type has effect): Sharp as a blade, quick as a snake, Tegvan rules his Court with a iron fist and is more than willing to employ almost tyrannical means to get his Fae followers in line. His is swift with justice, and swifter with vengeance. He has a cruel amusement and enjoys the 'finer' things in life. Not to say he is without mercy. He doesn't even know the meaning of the word.

Appearance: A tall fae, he appears as a dark shadowy form, or as a dark skinned fae with black armor some say is made of dim grey starlight. His ears have definite points and his nails as well. His eyes are the fall storms and his teeth are sharp as a blades. Ravens are said to be his cloak of feathers and his voice is said to be the rushing wind. In his glimmer spell, he takes the appearance of a tall man, with short black hair and pale blue eyes. His skin is periously pale and with high cheek bones and an arrow straight nose. His ears are however not pointed in the glimmer spell, rather human shaped and size. He usually wears something matching the current time, for the present it is dark jeans, black boots, and a loose grey shirt. His build is not bulky like the winter fae but rather well muscled and toned.

Background: Tegvan O'Aenges-Mor is a ancient and powerful Fae. Little is known about him and why he took on a human pet is less understood. He is not a fae to cross though he does have his good points. Often putting out small prizes for the fae that messes the best with Spring and Summer Court, and dancing about the politics with the grace of a falling leaf. No one is certain how long he has held the throne but all have seen the tormented Fae who tried to take it from him. Their final moments imprisoned in artwork. He has no mercy, but is more than willing to listen to the lesser Fae before considering their points. Tegvan is not a Fae to cross and he makes that well known. But within him is a deep sorrow well hidden by the many, many years he has walked the earth and Fae Realm.

CS:

Name: Giomanch "The Hunter" Yoilugh
Race: Cŵn Annwn
Position: Huntsman of the Wylde Hunt
Age: 1,762 years
Personality: He is a cruel, but loyal Fae. A excellent fighter, tracker and hunter. Giomanch is one of Falk's (The Fall King) best huntsmen. Though his borderline sadistic personality requires a short leash. Quick to the hunt and kill, he has a keen hatred for the Summer and Spring Courts.
Appearance: A black specter dog, with red ears and eyes. He's the size of a large wolf hound, with teeth like daggers. His glimmer puts him as a dark haired, Scottish man. Wearing raggedy fur clothing and bare foot. He wields a bow, sword, and dagger.
Background: Giomanch's pack was large and took up the northern portion of Tegvan's territory. When a Seelie court attacked that portion, conducting a raid, his family was slain. Giomanch fought valiantly, but was one Death's Door when the Wylde Hunt drove off the Seelie force and he was saved by his bond to Tegvan. He has served the Fall King faithfully since, as to all Fall Fae. He has seen challengers go against his lord and he as felt shame for them as they were dismantled. Horrible torn to shreds. Physically and/or literally.

[User] Falk nods, mussing over some factors. Raising a hand he summons a handsome mirror of silver, studded with rhinestones. "Take this to the Summer King." He beckons lost to approach the throne of bones. The mirror's face rippling with the water below. "A gift, a token." The Fall King nods to himself, a hunter's smile upon his lips. Yes, a token. But of what that king would wonder, and Falk wanted him wondering.

[Assistant]
Lyra's head snapped towards the door at the sound of a much sought after voice.
"Ba-Ba!" she squealed excitedly and jumped up, poor Nikko rolling off of her lap and shaking his head a bit at the sudden move by his favorite perch.
Racing to the door, the child opened it and jumped right into the arms of the Summer King. "Ba-Ba I was looking for you," she said, her face pulling into a frown and folding her arms crossly. "They said you left," then she suddenly smiled. "But Cook gave me cakes! Nikko had one and I had one, but the lady didn't want one. Now we can play!" Lyra giggled then hugged him tightly.

[User]
Lost approached Falk on his beckoning and took the mirror. It was quite magnificent, and Lost would have liked it himself. His reflection looked good in it, but taking something of Falk's would incur a dire wrath. "I will deliver this to Phyre immediately." He placed the mirror in his satchel and began for the summer realm.

He ventured through Fall and crossed the border very easily. Even traveling through Summer didn't result in much conflict, but as he approached the summer court, he ran into Summer's salamander guards. "Excuse me, I have an important gift for your lord. If you would be so kind as to escort me and ask for his presence, I will not waste his time."

@BlackPanther

[Assistant]
@rechonq
Feoras chuckles and kneels down to get to her level. "And what did you have in mind for today?" His eyes remain orange showing that while he was happy to be around her, he hasn't experienced the same level of happiness as when he is in his forest. He would have to remind the cook later not to give her too many sweets.

the two guards who ran into lost nod, one goes in front of him, the other behind. The one in front speaks, "Please follow me" They then begin walking, not really giving lost much choice on walking or not considering the one behind him starts walking as well. When they reach him both guards dip their heads and bow.

Fears sees this and straightens, standing in front of Lyra as if subconsciously protecting her. "Rise...what is it?" The guard in front moves so lost is presented to their king."He says he has a gift for you my liege" Feoras tilts his head and studies lost. "Does he? Well, go on and show me then"

[User] Lost bowed with guards and rose at Phyre's command. "Your highness, I have a gift from my Lord Falk" Lost removed the mirror and humbly offered it to Phyre. He noticed Phyre was hiding something behind him. I do not wish to take anymore of your time. If you have nothing for me, I will leave you to your business. Thank you. Lost waited for Phyre's approval before dismissing himself, or being dismissed with the guards.

[Assistant]
"I want to-" Lyra started before being cut off by the guards that arrived with a visiting person. Lyra darted behind her Ba-ba, her usual hiding spot when strangers came. Gripping some material of his pant leg, she peeked around his leg to see the stranger.
He had funny horns and a funny tail and funny legs. Lyra wanted to giggle but kept quiet. Ba-Ba had told her about how some people might look funny but they were really mean. She wasn't scared by any means, but she was apprehensive as any small child is in an unfamiliar situation.

Then the funny looking stranger gave Ba-Ba a present. The four year old's curiosity was immediately peaked and she came out from behind his leg a little more to try and see what it was. It was a pretty mirror and she immediately wanted to touch it. But it was Ba-Ba's present, not hers. Although it was not always fun Lyra knew how to behave. Maybe if she was good Ba-Ba would let her play with the pretty mirror later.

She looked back at the stranger and up at his funny horns. She wanted to touch them too. Did they pull off? Were they hard or soft? They looked bumpy. She wanted to climb the stranger and feel the funny horns. Did he play with his tail like Nikko? Did his tail come off like Nikko's and then he grew another one?

Lyra's curiosity was unconciously causing her to inch her way out further from behind Feoras. She cocked her head like a puppy, wondering who this funny stranger was and if he was fun to play with. Her large bright blue eyes stared at him, like she was trying to see into his soul and decide if he was nice or mean.

[User] Fears takes the mirror and nods. "Let falk know of my gratitude for this token" Though he has no idea what it is for. While he is curious and completely confused, he doesnt think too hard on it. He then notices Lyra. "Small one, remember it isn't polite to stare" He has a faint smile on his face while he looks at the girl, knowing full well that she is curious of every being in the kingdom. He just hope she doesnt do something that would cause problems. He looks back at lost. "Thank you for delivering this" He gives a slight head nod, as a show of respect.

[Assistant]
@Belle
Lost was rather amused as the little girl slowly came out from behind Phyre. Both had looks of confusion and hers was riddled with amazement as well. She began to inch closer as she stared at Lost with intense curiosity and analysis. The girl was quite cute, and he wouldn't have minded playing with her, but he wasn't to familiar with the Summer Kings demeanor. He didn't wish to test it now either. If he protected her like Falk protected his human, then any signs of danger, whether misinterpreted or not would not go well for him. Lost merely returned her stares with a gentle smile. "I will deliver your gratitude to my Lord." Lost gave a final bow to the Summer King and backed out of the chamber.

With that he left the Summer court and began back for Fall. The warm winds turned brisk as he made his way to the Fall realm. He was rather warm and pleasant. His human was cute too, she must be a new addition to the fae world. What is it with the Kings and their pets? Summer realm does have a warm disposition to it. Playing with them is fun.

[User]
Aisling sat and strummed the harp. The cold stone beneath her yielded little comfort, but after much sitting and strumming she no longer minded. Mist wove about her like wind blown hair something she quiet enjoyed. Often the mist was dense when the King was absent but when he was about it allowed light to pass and gave a almost mystical feel to the Great Hall. But the Hunt was gathering, now the mist was something threatening and terrifying. A shroud covering a dagger. Aisling wondered what the Fall King wanted with the King of Summer, but knew better than to ask. Asking would get her nothing. Her job was to play her harp and bring him books. Be a general amusement, a pawn for his games of grandeur.

Already she was getting a feeling that his taking her on was not a whim but something far in the planning. That now the wheels were moving and the Fall King had no intentions of letting the die land at a disadvantage to him. The pool from which he saw about his Realm shimmered and gleamed in his power. Ice forming along the edges like in the dying days of Fall before Winter came. Her Lord was not pleased about the Moot. Something had not gone to plan. He sat in his throne, not stretched out but hunched forward. His eyes a ghastly green and shining, his hands steepled before him. She heard him send out the call, beckoning the Fae he sent as messenger- Lost, was it?- to return to him as soon as the package was delivered and with haste. Aisling fought down the need to flee. He wanted something and when Falk wanted something. He got it. The Fall King was never denied.

[Assistant]
Lost returned to Falk quickly. He enjoyed the scenery for what it was worth, but now the honor of helping the King was granted to him. He eagerly entered the Fall Court, noticing the King hunched forward with gleaming eyes. Even though he couldn't find any faults with his actions, seeing Falk like this sent shivers up and down his spine. He looked like he was plotting, possibly against Spring or even Summer, with whatever that token may have meant. Whether the other rulers feared, Lost feared for them.

"Lord Falk, I have delivered your token. The Summer King extends his gratitude for the gift. Is there anything else you ask?" Lost was very curious as to what the King was musing, but asking him seemed risky. If he was going to join The Hunt, he would have liked to do it on a good note.

[User] As the Satyr approached and offered his news, Falk shifted. Gleaming eyes locked onto the Fae like a hawk's on a rabbit. "Tell me about the Summer King's Court. What did you see, Lositay." The last word was breathed in barely more than a whisper but the command was a command and the there was a hidden threat. The Pool swirled to gleamed as a raven croaked high above. "See! See The Fall!" The bird cackled and swooped off squawking. Falk did not glance above but kept his eyes on Lost. What this Satyr reported would decide his next action. His next move on the chessboard.


[System]
Age: 14

Nationality: American

Prison Faction: SOUL

Power: Copy: the power to copy another superhuman's ability(ies). However, this ability operates rather bizarrely.

-It can copy a single piece of a person's ability (ex. Enveloping fire around a fist, but being unable to emit flames anywhere else). All he needs to do is simply observe another superhuman perform the action.
-He can use multiple abilities at the same time. If he wants to shoot laser beams out of his eyes and breathe frost out of his mouth, he can, assuming he's seem others perform it before.
-He maintains a perfect memory of each ability he's copied, and how the ability has been used by the other superhuman, as well as being able to "discard" an ability if he doesn't want it for any reason.
-Certain abilities he's copied must be performed EXACTLY the same way he's observed it. If he's observed someone performing a Frost Nova with a 12 foot circular radius, he must perform it using a 12 foot circular radius. No more, no less.
-Once an ability has been used, it disappears from his memory, and he can no longer perform it again, unless he observes the same ability being used.
-An ability he's copied must be used consciously. If he's observed someone using a regeneration ability that doesn't need to be used consciously, he must activate that ability consciously in order to gain its effects.
-If he does not have an understanding of how an ability is used when it was performed, he is unable to copy it. He can observe someone make a fireball appear, but if he doesn't understand how that person managed to do it, he cannot copy it. However, prolonged observation (about a minute or two) or being the target of said ability allows him to perform the observed ability without knowing how the ability works, though the same restrictions apply if he wishes to obtain the same ability. This includes prolonged observation.
-It seems there is a maximum limit on how many abilities he is able to copy, which is currently at 3. Should he attempt to surpass that limit, he will simply receive a rather painful headache for a minute or so before the pain recedes, while also failing to copy the ability.
Bio: Norvandell was a fairly normal kid. He listened to his parents, he had a few friends, and he had decent grades at school. His mother was a stay-at-home, and his father was an Accountant. He even had a pet dog named Alex. All in all, he was an American child of an American family living the American Dream. Life was good for little Norvandell.

Unfortunately, he was caught up in a robbery one day. As he and his mother went shopping, a man with a gun had entered the store and demanded money from the registers. Everyone, including Norvandell, was scared out of their wits. The robber then displayed his power by clapping his hands together and forcing two slabs of stone to come out of the ground and smash together, scaring everyone even more and making the cashiers move faster. Norvandell couldn't get the thought of clapping his hands together like the robber did, and did some involuntarily. Before he or the robber knew it, two slabs of stone came up from the ground and smashed the robber, exactly how the robber displayed his power. Everyone was confused at first, but then everyone began to turn towards Norvandell with fear in their eyes. Even his mother released him and began to back away. Norvandell was co.fused too at first, but then he looked at his hands and the slabs that had crushed the robber, soon coming to realization of what he had just done.

The police soon came, taking away both the body of the robber and Norvandell, who was lost at that point and didn't know what to do anymore. His mother called out for him, but Norvandell didn't notice as the car drove away. While in a cell, there were some unknown men that came and took him away. From there, he was moved to a much more secure facility, where he was quickly made to test his ability.

Of course, due to the very nature of his ability, it took some time to even discover what it was. Once that was done, however, the scientists began testing the strengths and weaknesses of his ability, as well as how to train it in order for Norvandell to control it. Norvandell wasn't sure why all this had to happen, but all he knew was that he wanted to live and go back to living a normal life one day, which was why he complied with everything he was told to do. From there, he began to do his best to learn everything.

Personality: Norvandell isn't exactly social. He tends to just listen to others talk, rarely speaking his mind on matters. However, he is quite intelligent, and will make the effort to learn about anything that seems or is important in some way. Norvandell also prefers to avoid conflict, and will go to great lengths to try to avoid it. He also prefers to avoid killing anyone, and even an attempt to convince him to do it will give him great mental stress, even to the point of a full-blown panic attack if the topic is continuously brought up.

Other: None

[User]
John White - Cafeteria

Having arrived early for lunch as he had done since he got chucked in here, John was tucking in to lunch, which thankfully was better then what the others seemed to be getting due to him being a member of SOUL, at one of the tables that had unofficially been allocated to the said faction. Thoughts soon drifted away from lunch, and the Cafeteria.

John had at first been one of those who had wanted to do the whole 'lone ranger' thing. Luckily that had been smacked out of him fairly quickly after being regularly coerced into the arena. This in turn lead John's thoughts to his initiation into SOUL but he soon shook his head trying to dislodge the thoughts from his head like an animal shacking water out of its fur - not the worst analogy when it came to John by any means.

As John made his way through his food, his mind raced around trying to come up with plan after plan on how to escape, something he didn't doubt much, was something that was on everyone's mind at least once or twice a day - but like most of the time his plans based around him and the other metas being able to use their powers, but with the current set up of the prison, that was not going to happen, unless....no - that was not something John thought would be plausible - but the worst that could come of his idea would be another Arena session to teach him a lesson with suggesting stupid plans - it would be something for John to think over for a while at least until the other SOUL members arrived for their lunch.

[Assistant]
Sam King - Cafeteria

Sam waited in line with the other prisoners for his food, he was in a bit of a bad mood this day thanks to some issues that the other factions had given his. Such godless fools, they had no moral integrity or noble causes like The Cross did. Behind him were a couple of crusader's and priests, ready to give him backup in case a fight ever broke out. He was more than capable of handling a fight himself, but it was always to good to show the fearlessness and power of your faction to detract rivals from starting messes.

"Just look at those sinful harpies" the crusader behind him who was named Albert, growled and Sam turned around to look him as food was served to him. The tall muscular man motioned with his head to the faction table for the Amazons.

"What about them?" he asked as he moved along the lunch line to finish getting his food.

"They rub me the wrong way, if they try to cross us then I'll have their sinful heads" he continued to growl.

"Remember what the punishment is for starting fights and killing other prisoners, solitary confinement. Are main goal is to try and get out of this hellhole someday. We need to stay focused and not allow these sinners to distract us, is that clear?" Sam replied to Albert.

"Yes leader" Albert said and gave respectful bow as they walked over to sit at their faction's table. After the priests said a prayer, they all began to dig in and his mind raced with possible ideas to get out of the center.

[User]
Jackson Stone - Cafeteria

Jack arrived at the cafeteria after his little skirmish in the arena. Days like this were fight days; days that Jack could knock someone out. Grabbing his food from a couple of his subordinates, he headed to the unofficial SOUL table. John was there, as expected. He seemed to have a habit of arriving kinda early, not that that was a bad thing.
"Right kid?" he called to the 25 year old male as he sat across from him. Granted, John was about 8 years older than him, but he was still a subordinate. Taking a spoonful of the damnable food the bastards at the place were serving, he was reminded at how shit his life had actually become. Yes, it was a bit better than the crap regular guys got served, but still it was bloody awful. Before waiting for an answer from John, he took a look around. Seeing the usual suspects, he looked over to the factionless table. Again, the usual people were there; Gloria, the strange bird one.

Turning back around, he began thinking again. The main factions as of current were The Amazons, STEM, MIR, The Cross, SOUL and the odd little group called Guardians. Then there were the factionless guys, which are always a problem, but then again they were easy to have people turn against. MIR had always had it out for everyone, but they were easily manipulated with the promise of fighting. Then there was STEM, which were just the punching bags for everyone. The Amazons were just a group out to protect each other, so they were mostly useless, and that went the same for Guardians. The Cross were a bunch of religious nuts that believed in helping "boys" with personal problems. The highest probability of resistance would come from The Cross and The Amazons, so there would have to be a way to appease them. The Amazons could be dealt with with the promise of temporary protection, but The Cross would be a different story. Taking out the leader was out of the question, but... Maybe Gloria would be able to do something. If he could get them both in solitary, then he could pass on a message to her, but that might not work. If they'd closed up the hole, there would be no point. But maybe... The Messenger.

"Oi, messenger kid, outside solitary in forty minutes, don't be late" he called back to the factionless table. If he could make him do something to get the Cross's leader away from the area. The guards wouldn't be a problem, so all that was left was the cameras in the arena. Jason could probably sort that out, but he would require more convincing. Some better food might do it, or a couple days off of the arena. Wait, what was he thinking about again? Oh right, John.
"Oh yeah. I gotta take someone out at the arena today. Think you can get Jason to disable the cameras?" he asked John, looking up from the shit food he had been stirring for the past thirty seconds.

[Assistant]
Norvandell Lozenges - Cafeteria
Norvandell followed Jackson into the cafeteria and waited in line to get his food. Once he did, he sat down at the unofficial SOUL table and began eating his food. It wasn't to his taste, but food was food, and he wasn't going to waste it. As he ate, he began his routine of recalling the main factions, as well as their leaders and each leader's powers. First up was SOUL, obviously, and his leader was Jackson Stone, who possessed an ability he called Flux Coat. Next came the Amazons, a faction composed entirely of women, and their leader was Hippolyta, who possessed Adoptive Muscle Memory. Her power was of particular interest to Norvandell, as he couldn't quite understand exactly how it worked, though not for lack of trying. The STEM faction, a faction composed of people whose abilities were used for tech purposes, was led by Jason Reed. That faction was of little interest to Norvandell, but he wasn't one to underestimate anyone, especially considering their power lied not in strength, but in other areas. After all, it wouldn't pay to be careless in a prison. The Might is Right faction, MIR for short, was led by Julius Abir, a powerful fighter with a powerful ability. Norvandell had tried to memorize one of his explosive punches during an arena fight a while ago, but it seemed like whatever was hindering his ability still affected him outside the arena, so the effort proved fruitless. Finally, the ones with little importance: the Cross and Guardian factions, led by Samuel King and John Carmichael, respectively.

With that done, Norvandell double checked his memory, making sure nothing was missed, even turning his head to look around the cafeteria in case he did miss someone. Then he remembered, the factionless. He couldn't remember them all, as that was a little more difficult. A few stuck out, though, like Gloria Lieth. Norvandell spotted her at one of the tables, having apparently come back from solitary.

Norvandell lifted his bowl and scraped the rest of the gruel with his spoon into his mouth, finishing it off completely. With that done, he began to focus more on his surroundings. It paid to do this, as it often gave Norvandell slivers of useful information. Nothing of significant importance was happening though, apart from Jackson having John deliver a message to Jason. All in all, it was a slow day so far.