[System]
Appearance:

Ghisronia is a short young woman, with a noticeably overweight body. A mixture of fat and muscle, she has a squat, rounded form, with a large stomach, pudgy face, and a double-chin. Whilst markedly flabby, her arms and legs also have a decent amount of muscle on them.
Age: 18

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Occupation: Performer/Cook

Weaponry: A variety of poisons, lightweight crossbow, and a slender short-sword.

Apparel: Ghisronia dresses in a motley combination of cloth and leather when not performing; with a hooded cloak, and trim shoulder pads for added protection. A simple leather mask is sometimes worn to obscure her features.

Equipment: Basic cooking supplies, materials for making a campfire (flint and steel etc), ornate necklace, and a handmade waterskin.

Skills: Acting, Cooking, theft, the art of disguise. Reasonably skilled with her crossbow and sword, but not at a remarkable level.

Magical abilities: Very mild understanding of healing magic. Can patch up minor wounds, and can prevent larger wounds from festering and becoming infected.

Personality: A self-aware narcissist, Ghisronia cares about one thing, and one thing only; Herself. Whilst not completely sadistic, Ghis does draw a slight sense of satisfaction from the suffering of others, and delights in meddling in affairs that aren't her own. A survivalist at heart, Ghisronia is good at adapting to hazardous situations, and is able to keep a cool head in the face of danger.

An expert actress, Ghisronia will usually pass for a fairly eloquent teenaged girl with a slight air of spitefulness about her, working to shield the full extent of her dark side.

Backstory: Born to a family of farmers, Ghisronia suffered at the hands of her abusive farther, until the day she snapped and killed him. Running away from home, Ghis spent a few months as a beggar and a thief, before falling in with a troupe of traveling performers. Having always had a skill for cooking, Ghisronia worked as a chef for the performers, whilst they honed her acting skills in return.

Plagued by memories of her mistreatment at the hands of her father, Ghis spent the majority of her childhood in melancholy, feeling like a victim, until the day of her second kill.

After a performance, a spectator from the audience followed the young girl back to her tent, attempting to force himself on her. After she refused his advances, her stalker became feral and violen; giving Ghisronia a black eye and a split lip. Enraged, she killed the man in a fit of anger, slashing his neck with one of her cooking knives.

Horrified about what might happen if the body was discovered, Ghis began to cannibalize the man who'd followed her, finding that taste of human flesh send electric sensations through every fibre of her being, in a manner that she had never before experienced. Ghis cooked the remains into a stew, which she served to the rest of the troupe; thus awakening a dark thirst that she would never be able to shake. Wherever the troupe travelled, Ghisronia would pick off easy targets, before feasting on their remains, and satisfying her gluttonous desires.

Ghisronia has continued to develop her acting skills, becoming an extremely convincing actress, as well as her thievery, to the point where she is a formidable pickpocket and con artist.

Other

[User]
"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Amy, the teaching assistant for "Magic 102: Introduction to Elemental Theory", stood in the doorway of Klaus's faculty quarters as he tripped about the room, stuffing various belongings into a travelling bag.

"Yes. Have you seen my spectacles?"

"In the sock pile."

"Of course." Klaus picked them up, wiped at the lenses, and put them on. He blinked owlishly at Amy. "Why are you still here?"

Amy sighed. "I just- well, I'm not sure if it's a good idea for you to travel alone."

"Why not?"

"Oh, come on, Professor Banning."

In many ways, Amy was Klaus's caretaker as well as teaching assistant. She extinguished his wardrobe when he set it on fire, led him patiently back to his quarters when he got lost sleepwalking, and gently coaxed him down from rooftops whenever he got the urge to walk the railing.

(The faculty at Ironwood had drawn straws for that task. Amy lost.)

Klaus was not ungrateful. He was well aware of Amy's utility and personal sacrifice. This, however, was not a conversation he wanted to be having.

"Don't you have papers to grade?"

Amy heaved a sigh. "Professor Banning, nobody wrote their final papers. You failed them all mid-semester."

This was news to Klaus. "Did I"

"You said none of them had a healthy respect for, uh, chaos theory."

Klaus stiffened. "No, they did not. Good riddance. Kids these days, Amy, I swear. Where's my butt plug?"

"Your what? No- you know what, never mind. Professor, I really don't think-"

"That concerns me, Amy. You're a degree candidate. That requires thought."

"You're not even allowed in the capitol!" Amy spread her hands in exasperation.

Klaus lifted a finger. "I'm not allowed on university grounds. The city itself is fine. I checked the laws."

"See, the fact that you've done something- something so egregiously awful that the country's best university won't let you step foot on campus-"

"No, Amy, I will not tell you what happened at Highmont. Stop asking." Klaus

"I wasn't-" Amy was visibly struggling for words. "Sir, you've been perfectly happy in your lab the last few years. I just don't understand why you think you have to go."

Klaus paused. Amy watched him expectantly; eyes wide, questioning, innocent.

She hadn't seen what he'd seen. She hadn't heard the echoing roar; she hadn't seen the flames and carnage, the horrifying vision of things to come.

He'd thought it was happening again. He'd thought it was just like five years ago at Highmont, when they found him shrieking in his lab.

But no- the King had seen it, and others had seen it, which meant that Klaus was not going mad.

Or maybe they were all going mad.

"No," he told Amy, "I wouldn't expect you to."

~

"Please stop poking me." The gatekeeper was visibly annoyed.

"I'm not poking you." Klaus poked the gatekeeper. "Wow. What an art. You can see my past? You can see everything?"

"Professor Banning, you are holding up the line."

Klaus glanced perfunctorily at those waiting behind him. "How much detail? Does it intesify when I touch you?" he demanded.

"Sir-"

"Why haven't I met you? Were you at the university? I can't believe this is the first time I've- you have to let me study you, this is incredible-"

"Sir, either get in the castle or get out of line."

Klaus tripped hastily through the gate.

His self-directed tour of the grounds was sadly cut short by the aggressively polite wait staff, who directed him to a large dining hall. He strode in just as Elden and Riya introduced themselves to each other, and slid into the chair next to Riya.

"Klaus," he added by way of introduction, "although I'm sure I'll be repeating that throughout the evening. We should just assign ourselves numbers. I do that to my students. Makes everyone's lives easier."

He surveyed the table with glee. "Sprouts!" he said, pleased. "Helps you pass stool. The King's a wise, wise man."

[Assistant]
Ople Hendric

As Ople waited in the line, she looked at the front and back of the line. Seeing many strange looking characters, she nervously wondered what she doing at the line.
The court mage stood in front of her. The people in front of her were already either inside, or were removed for lying. She looked nervously into the mage's eyes, as he looked backed with confidence. This overwhelming feeling was not new to her, but it was the first time she felt this much pressure.
The mage spoke, "You will be directed to the main dining hall. The King will be there shortly."

As Ople was guided to the dining hall, she was awed by the inside of the castle. She never thought she would ever lived to set foot into the castle. Once in the room, she sat quietly next to Amy. She looked at everyone at the table, which included Elden; Riya; Klaus; and Amy.
"Um...Hello." She said it nervously, with a gentle smile.

[User]
A dense mist had rolled over the carnival ground, shrouding the brightly coloured tents in a thick blanket of pale wispy fog. From the spacious interior of her own fairly large tent, Ghisronia could faintly make out the performance of "The Society of Vagabonds" from up on the makeshift wooden stage.

 "I thought I might find you here, vile insect; dwelling amongst your squabble of hoodlums and lowlifes!"

"Impoverished they may be, you obnoxious pretender, but these 'lowlifes' have more nobility than any of you up-jumped criminals!"

"How dare you sir-"

Ghis blocked the performance from her head, having heard each individual scene countless times before, and continue loading the last of her possessions into the sturdy oak trunk that lay in front of her. Placing her waterskin on top of the neatly folded pile of leather armour, the young girl heaved the heavy wooden trunk closed, wiping a bead of sweat off of her forehead.

Somewhere behind her, the flimsy patchwork flaps of her tent were gently pushed aside with a delicate flutter, and a lean figure wordlessly slipped into her living space.

"For all you known I might not have been decent." She called back over her shoulder.

"I've endured all manner of horrors in my day; the prospect of a small naked girl doesn't scare me" A slimy voice whispered out of the darkness.

"I've been called a lot of things," Ghisronia remarked as she slowly got up off of her knees, causing their joints to pop loudly "but small is seldom one of them."

Despite her slight height, Ghisronia was undeniably a larger girl; with a stocky build, and a corpulent body. Her vast belly pressed firmly against the tight material of her simple woollen blouse, and her ankles often ached from supporting her hefty frame.

"I don't remember saying that you were excused from the performance." Hissed the figure from behind her, taking a few soft steps to close the distance between the pair.

"Oh, was that today? The young girl asked drily, turning to face the figure.

The troupe master was tall and frail, with sickly grey skin and large yellowish eyes. He wore an extravagant silk outfit, fashioned from fabric swathes of many different colours, and had a long scarf pulled over his mangled lower-jaw.

"Choose your words carefully, girl" he oozed in his usual oily manner "if you think that you can just walk all over me then you haven't been paying attention."

Ghisronia sighed theatrically, folding her arms across her wide chest "I know you've got a mighty inflated opinion of yourself, but when it comes down to following your instructions and prancing about on stage with the new meat, whom calling actors is being insufferably optimistic, or answering a royal decree from the bloody king, I'm going to go with the latter every time."

The troupe master shot forwards, placing one wiry white hand under her double-chin, and forcibly tilting her head upwards. "Off so soon?" He jeered, his putrid yellow eyes fixing on the wooden trunk. "You're breaking my heart, girl."

"I'll send you a letter from Highmont." She said plainly, her gaze never falling from his sickly features, her demeanour unflinching.

"You're not going anywhere, you little cu-" before he could finish, Ghisronia's left fist shot forwards, barrelling into his frail chest with considerable force. The Troupe master released his grip, stumbling backwards and coughing hoarsely as he clutched at his rib cage.

"I'll cut you for that." He snapped through coughs, staring daggers at her.

"Come and have a go, if you think you're hard enough." She snapped back, motioning to herself with one great sweeping gestures.
The Troupe master said nothing for some time, glaring at her from behind his scarf. When he finally spoke, his voice was dripping with poorly-repressed malice.

"Don't bother coming back. You don't have a home here anymore."

And with that, he turned and walked out of the tent, and back into the foggy carnival ground.

 *

Ghisronia waited impatiently in the line, heavily tapping her foot on the cobbled floor. Having initially amused herself by observing all the exotic looking characters who'd banded together at the gates, Ghis had quickly grown bored, and was anxious to get somewhere warm.

When it was her turn to stand before the Court Mage, Ghisronia forced the look of pent-up irritation from her face, adopting a much more agreeable demeanour. She was by no means happy, but knew better than to squander the opportunity she'd been presented with by throwing and angsty fit.

She smiled politely as she came before the mage, fluttering her eyelids ever-so-slightly. The mage regarded her with a blank expression.

"Please follow the others through into the dining hall."

Skipping along curtly, Ghisronia navigated her way through the castle, until she arrived in the dining hall.

Her eyes fixing immediately on the food that was scattered across the long table, Ghisronia snatched up what looked like a bowl full of black mushrooms cooked in garlic, probably intended to feed more than one person, before grabbing a leg of mutton with her one free hand. Slumping down heavily in one of the chairs, which creaked and moaned beneath her weight, the young woman begun to tuck into her meal, taking occasional swigs from a large metal jug that was filled with honeyed mead.

"Pleasure to meet you all." She said to no one in particular, gesturing to the other occupants of the room with one grease-covered hand, before letting out a throaty belch.


[System]
---

Wu Jen Mystic 19 / Wizard 1I, who have learned so much, know naught.

[User]
Vincent marched through the city following what seemed like a long line of heroes on their way back from some grand adventure. But of course, he knew better. They were here because they answered the call of the Twin Dukes to come here to the Seat of Mavros. Vincent was fiddling with his chain shirt as they walked not knowing what else to do. He had to admit he was nervous the last time he had been in Mavros he had nearly caught the city on fire by accident and had since avoided the city.
 As he always did though, Vincent hid any nerves he had behind a cocky grin and a bow. They continued to walk through the city with crowds of people all gathering to watch them march onward. There were quite a few who shouted at him angrily but others, mainly the young ones, stared on at all of them in awe clearly dreaming of the adventuring life.
  Oh if only you knew young ones. If only you knew.
 His family had at first hated his adventuring lifestyle. But growing up in Reywald he knew that he was meant for more so he spent his time helping out the people of the city and even learning from a Warlock in the city. That was before the Phoenix's spark ignited within him and he burned down his masters home killing him in the process. From them on his family marked him as a black sheep with his sister wanting nothing more than for him to perish while adventuring so she could claim his place as the future Duke of Reywald.

[Assistant]
A third rider came into the town with the rest of the group. This rider was a gnome with soot darkened goggles with bright pink hair, and she was riding on a mechanical cat like creature with two saber like teeth protruding from the mouth. Normally, the gnome would have announced her arrival with fireworks and a grand advertisement to visit her stores and purchase her wares. As of now? Well, she was calming her nerves down in only way she knew how: Tinkering! She was currently drawing a blueprint regarding one of the heroes and what the current modification idea would be and how it would affect him.

One of the heroes that she was traveling with was a Warforged!

A genuine, bona-fide Warforged!

What were the odds?! She always dreamt of at least tinkering on an existing Warforged and giving them some cool modifications, if not create a Warforged of her own! And from the looks of this particular Warforged, Titan Bane, it seems as though his creators neglected to give him a personality.

A lack of personality meant a lack of freedom to a certain degree! And that is something that Scrapmouse would not stand! She tried talking to Titan Bane before, only to receive no answer, but when she asked him if she could make some modifications on him to improve his fighting skills, she got an affirmative answer!!! That made her so giddy with excitement, she could've clapped her hands like a child! She was going to have figure out a good time she can tinker on him later...

Oh she could just imagine it now! Titan Bane, donning clothes of his favorite colors and twirling around with, what others would call, a "Broadway" personality, laughing and smiling at others he met. If she could give Sparky his sweetheart personality, then how hard could it be to give a Warforged a personality? Almost manic giggles escaped from Scrapmouse's grin as she continued drawing the blueprints for a weapon that would shoot crossbow bolts from the Warforged knees. She called it..."The Bee's Knees"

It was just...Genius!

.....It would also be good to install a Force Shut Down function in case the Warforged Barbarian decided to go Rogue on anyone and/or turn evil.....

Scrapmouse shook her head rapidly, trying to get rid of the dark memories that plagued her. She never wanted to participate in such a Battle Royale, and she never wanted instant powers like others seem to desire.

She looked up when she heard a commotion to see that the masked humanoid woman with the owlbear stop and console a child. She couldn't help but grin. It was honestly a cute and comical sight. And then it was spoiled by the half-orc paladin who commented on the reasoning for being in this city and admitted that he was worried and anxious about hearing why they were here.

Scrapmouse had Sparky walk past the both of them and she commented casually as they moved past, understanding the worry,

"Oh relax, Buster. Worryin' ain't gonna help wit' anythin'! I'm sure we all can handle whatever they need help with, otherwise, they would never have called us,"

After Sparky strolled past them and continued on the way to their meeting point, Scrapmouse turned to look at the other travelers. There was the human thief who tried to sneak away, but was caught by the elderly human, a halfling with a staff, a wood elf, and a half elf who seemed to be almost on fire.

The half elf and the human thief were definitely attractive guys, but their flaws were plain as day to the gnome. The half-elf seemed to be enjoying the attention too much, and she didn't want anyone stealing her inventions! So she ignored the both of them as she turned her focus towards the crowds once again and towards their intended destination.

[User]
The little halfling woman left her home in quite a tizzy. She had spent most of the past 20 years living off in Ghostlight Forest; helping stray travelers as she looked deep within herself for answers and strength. She hadn't even held a conversation with another person in nearly a decade. Vale desperately tried to brush her hair and remove some of the wildness from her appearance, but only seemed to make it stand out more. If only her stitching work was completed; she could at look like she was a person that knew what she was doing.

Vale packed everything up she bothered taking with her; leaving behind some trail makers should more people wonder in. Her destination was Mavros, a well known city in the eyes of the world; even if Vale couldn't be the one to say anything more about it. Living alone had shifted her focus away from common cares. If she recalled correctly, her destination was just on the other side of the wastes. It was going to be a long walk.

Vale hesitated at the edge of the forest, looking out at the treeless land spread out before her. Deep breaths as she stepped into the sunlight. It was a nice day outside the forest, the soft grass felt good against her bare feet. And with everything she could think of ready to go, she marched on. A road crossed her path, looking around before crossing. She had no map and there was no telling where the trail led. But it was a rather peaceful start; free of any living soul.

Soon the trail became rocky. Vale was beginning to miss the forest floor, or perhaps the forest in general. The sun had set hours ago and the chill in the air bled through her rather lackluster attire. Though she didn't slow down; she had a few days worth of walking still to go.

Vale walked on for days. A few pests looking for an easy target quickly learned not to mess with the three-foot walking terror. Around day three the mountains started to come into focus. She was getting close, but still had a few days before she crossed the mountains and continued on to Mavros. One day she shared her rations with a couple of travelers; a nice introduction with people of today's age. Though they were twice her size, they were quite friendly and it always felt good to help people out.

As she neared the base of the mountains, she came across a clear spring. She had been walking for days without rest and the sound of the clear trickling water was too good to pass up. Vale set down her haversack, and stripped off her equipment before slipping into the water. It was nice and cool, but that didn't bother her none. She sighed and closed her eyes. Critters came and went, but none no bigger than she was ever disturbed her. Looking into the sky, she watched the sun set on another day of her journey. Slipping out before it got too dark to pack back up again.

Soon she came upon a city between the mountains. This would have been a good halfway point, had this not been her destination all along. To her pleasant surprise, she had entered the Seat of Mavros to find it bustling with people. Everyone there towered over her as she dodged in and out of people's way.

Vale gripped her bag and staff tight. There were more people here than there were trees in her forest. Yet she moved on; finding herself trapped in a convoy of well equipped travelers, obviously a higher class then the rest of the townsfolk. Fortunately, she didn't seem to be the smallest one here; though she was still notably shorter than the pink-haired gnome riding the mechanical monstrosity.

Vale gazed upon the line. As colorful and diverse as it was; the only thing that stood out would have been the half orc. Well, not so much him as the symbol he carried. She easily pinned him as a follower of Tyr... Teer? Tier? Honestly, she wasn't too experienced in names and titles. Living alone, she had made her own sense of how the world works.

Normally she would be fine and dandy to just walk out the rest of the way into town in silence, but her anxiety was getting the better of her. The last time she was surrounded by people so tall was when she first started to develop her skills and sought a master wizard to train her; not that that ended well. Instead she ran her eyes through the line one last time; noting a couple more people of interest. There was that one shape-changer elf, and... an owlbear. If it wasn't for the fact she was sure she would get eaten, she would have hopped up to the beast in a flash. Inspecting the rare beast and parading around it in awe. Rather, she settled for the mechanical man with an unwavering silence. Quickening her pace to catch up and keep with the strolling soldier; laying her hand onto Titan Bane's leg to both announce her presence and so she'd not get separated; though he was easily the tallest one in the area. Reaching more than two and a half times her own height.

"Er- Hi, I never seen a man quite like you. You're a warforged, right? You seem quite serious. You have any idea why we're here, or. Oh! Excuse me, my name's Vale. Sorry, I've spent so much time secluded in the woods, I've quite forgotten my manners. Nice to meet you." Vale stretched her neck as far up as it would bend, trying not to blind herself with the sun; but making the effort to look the giant in the eyes.


[System]
Alias: Ghost
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Hair: Platinum-Blonde, stick straight, and thick. He keeps it tied up behind his head in a loop with whatever suitable material he can find. If let down, it reaches well past his shoulders.
Eye: Grey-Blue

Family: Unknown. He has no memory of who his biological family are.
Affiliations: Hunter with the Bloodhounds.
Home: None - he goes where the Bloodhounds send him rather than put down roots.

Magic: N/A
Inventory: Johannes carries a long pistol that has been repaired and reassembled repeatedly and keeps it holstered at his side, hidden under his vest. His backup weapon is a knife with a handle made like a pair of brass knuckles.

Combat: Johannes' favored fighting style is from a short distance and behind cover while using his pistol. Since his pistol is not accurate at very long distances, he is adept at hand-to-hand fighting out of necessity. Up close, his combat style employs lots of dirty tricks - sand to the eyes, biting, kicks to the groin, anything to gain an edge so that he can get in a good stab.

History: Johannes was raised by an elderly Bloodhound hunter that retired due to injury. Johannes joined the Bloodhounds himself at age 18 and trained to be a hunter. He has been working as a hunter ever since.

Other: Johannes is a gunsmith, skilled at repairing firearms. He also knows how to reload his own ammunition, given the proper materials. He's good at moving quietly without being seen or heard behind/under cover. He also likes explosives when sneaking isn't an option.

Below are some references/inspiration for Johannes' clothing and appearance.

[User]
Johannes hated everything about every Wasteland outpost he had ever visited. The rooms were too hot. The food was too bland. The drink too bitter. The bathwater too cold. The people too crude.

But most of all, he hated the Miraculum.

They had a special rotten vibe, those sorts of mages. He could never put his finger on what caused it, but it sure as hell was strong with this one. Bast, they called him. Short for bastard, probably.

Johannes kept his eyes on Bast and his hands on the table at first, observing. The cocky little bastard ignored him like he was a lampshade. Just the way he liked it. He was almost content to watch a moment longer until he approached the young kids.

Not just any bastard, but a sick bastard too.

Johannes leaned over to Ezra and dropped his voice to a barely audible whisper. "Stay here." He ordered, then slid out of his seat.

Unlike before when he had entered, Johannes kept his steps light and impossibly silent as he approached Bast from behind. Getting close enough to speak to the scumbag in a low voice - that damn smell, it was awful this close - he murmured to Bast.

"Best be removin' your hands from that kid now."

His voice was firm, steady, and cold, yet it had a drawl to it. It was an order, not a request.

[Assistant]
Ezra glanced up as the door open, his brow pulling into a furrow as he caught Johannes' expression towards the man standing there. Confusion worked across his features and he didn't seem to understand what the big deal was until his eyes landed upon the man's face.

The youth was unable to suppress the shudder that ran down his spine, this man was eerie.. Seeming to wear a putrid veil around him and proudly it seemed too. Miraculum. The color drained from Ezra's face as his hand suddenly went to his bicep, though he quickly turned his face towards the table to hide his look of fear as Johannes leaned to whisper to him. No fight.. No snarking. Just a softly whispered, "Okay."

Though he mostly kept his face angled towards the table his light brown eyes followed the Hunter towards where the mage stood, intimidating the two kids who sat there. His heart plummeted into his stomach as Johannes approached. Shit, he was not prepared to go up against an agent of the Miraculum.

[User]
The man smelled of smoke and sulfur, an unpleasant mixture that likely indicated he was a fire enchanter. His fingers had begun to dig into Morgen's collarbone, making the boy hunch his shoulders up with a grimace. Even still, those dark eyes were on Morwen. Watchful. Predatory.
Hungry.

There was only a brief flicker in his eyes as the Hunter approached to make his demands. He didn't turn. Either he still didn't consider the man might be a hunter, or he was confident enough not to be worried.

"Tell you what, Champ," He tipped his head down a bit to the left, allowing him a side-glance to the man. "Why don't you decide whether or not you really want to try and make me. And if you do, well... then we'll set--" He stopped, mid-sentence, to whisper something that sounded nonsensical. Fire suddenly licked out hungrily from between the shoddy floorboards between Johannes and Bast. The sleazy fucker had attempted to catch the hunter off-guard, attacking mid-sentence.

Rali swore colorfully and grabbed at the cowering serving girl nearby. She began to evacuate her small staff as, somehow, the fire actually started to feed hungrily on the stone wood.

Bast hauled Morgen to his feet roughly, and shoved the boy around the table, towards his sister. With both kids behind him now, He turned sharply on his heel to face Johannes, the growing wall of fire between them.

[Assistant]
Morwen head snapped up at the chanting. "Move!" She shrieked standing up.

She stumbled back as she grabbed her brother, hugging him close. "Down, down!" She whispered harshly as she pushed him underneath the table. "We need to get out of here!" She looked to were Rali and the others were going, there was a back exit. A chance of escaping!

There was a pause. She looked back to Bast and the hunter. Bast was focused completely on the hunter, they weren't important anymore. This was her chance. A chance of revenge. For those months of torment. Morwen kissed her brother's forehead, before crawling towards the man underneath the table. Slowly, she produced the knife she stole earlier. She took a slow and steady breath. The smell of almost making her gag underneath the table. It was to familar. It brought back painful memories of the Miraculum for her.

She hesitated, holding the knife in front of her. Morwen narrowed her eyes. Revenge filled her thoughts. She quickly slashed at his ankles, with the hopes to cripple the man. She then stood up quickly, to throw the table on top of him. "Run!" She grabbed Morgen's hand and started to drag him to where Rali and the rest went.

[User]
The corner of Johannes' mouth turned down as his nostrils flared. Showy displays of magic always irritated him, but using magic to threaten people was downright disgusting. The tavern-woman's flight with her hapless barmaid and the rugrats scrambling away barely registered - he was too focused on Bast. Johannes took a single sliding half-step backwards so that the flames wouldn't touch him, but he kept as close to Bast as otherwise possible.

It came as a surprise to Johannes when the kids didn't simply scurry away. He had not expected the girl to make a move, to do something as risky as go for his ankles. Not when it meant leaving that dumbfounded-looking boy unattended and wasting precious seconds they could be using to put distance between themselves and Bast. Suspicions and curiosity rolled around in his head, but that was for later.

When the girl slashed at Bast's ankles, Johannes took advantage of this opening. Reaching to a slim leather pocket-sheaf on the side of his dark brown cargo pants, he wrapped his fingers around something. In a flash, he had it out - a long knife with a handle like a pair of brass knuckles - and he didn't hesitate for a second.

Johannes lunged forward, disregarding the flames, and slashed at Bast's throat.

[Assistant]
All but leapt to his feet as the magical flames shot up, his heart pounding in his chest. Fire magic.. It had to be fire magic. Snatching up his bag he started to reach inside to pull out his scribing set before pausing. The crackling of the flames sent him into a pause.. While the smell of sulphur burned at his nose.

Ba-dump Ba-dump.

Ezra could hear the blood pounding away in his ears or could that be the sound of his heart pounding against his ribcage? He wondered wildly if all those nearby could hear it as well. His hand shook as he took hold of the wooden box he kept the set in, looking up in time to see Johannes slashing at the man's throat.

Did he get him? It seemed everything moved in slow motion.. The man staggered by something.. What the hell did he miss? His gaze fell upon the fleeing kids before looking quickly back towards the Hunter and Mage. Nails pressing down against the wood as he waited with bated breath.

[User]
There was a scrambling sound at the closed front door. Vicious barking. Spot knew something was up, but she was helpless to aid her wards, foiled by a lack of opposable thumbs. Morgen's head turned in the direction of the familiar barking as he hid, dazed and disorientated beneath the table where Morwen left him. He had no idea what was going on anymore; it wasn't fair, why did he have to be blind?! He considered skinwalking, if only to escape this confusing hell hole, but resisted temptation.

Bast gave a snarl of agony as Morwen's knife but into the tender tendons of his foot. His leg buckled involuntarily and he hissed through clenched teeth, turning towards Morwen, only to have the table overturned against him. "Orphaned cunt!" He roared after her, his flames burning higher, brighter. It was a perfect distraction; he never saw Johannes coming.

The hunter was atop the enchanter before the latter even knew what hit him. For all his magic prowess, all his dedication to the Miraculum, He was still a erratically any other, and the flesh of his throat split in a wide, red smile courtesy of Johaness' knife.

Yet the fire did not extinguish. It began to consume erratally now, spreading rapidly, with no enchanter to keep it tempered.

Rali and her staff were waiting at the back window for the twins. It was large enough for a grown man to fit through, and she helped haul them out into the hot rain. Spot had circled to the back of the inn to greet them. She chuffed and nuzzled at both kids, tail beating back and forth vigorously.

[Assistant]
Morwen made sure her brother got out first before climbing out the window herself. She clutched onto the bloody knife, coughing and sputtering at the smoke she inhaled when she ran. The warm rain washing off the soot and other dirt she accumulated over the past few days. Her dress clung to her now, showing off her unnaturally skinny frame. Her amber hair clutched to her shocked expression. She dropped the knife when she saw Spot, dropping to her knees and giving the dog a tight hug around her neck.

There was a range of emotions going through the young girl, and she wasn't sure which one to focus on. Bast was gone. The man that haunted her nightmares, his lecherous touch that still made her shudder in fear and flinch away from uninitiated affection. Gone. Just like that. Finally, she decided on relief. That monster was gone.

She hugged further into Spot, Morwen buried her face in the dogs dark matted fur. A shuddery breath could be heard from the young girl, trembling lightly against the larger dog. She stayed that way for several moments. Finally, she pulled away from the dog and looked to her brother. It was unclear in the rain if she was crying or not. "Morgen are...are you ok?" She rose from her crouched position and hugged her brother as well, "I'm sorry I left you like that." She said softly.

She looked behind her at the Tavern, then to the workers. "U-Um..." She shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to do next.

[User]
Johannes felt a twinge of pleasure as he felt his knife slice through Bast's throat. It was a good feeling, one that made him feel oddly powerful and alive knowing that some twisted son of a bitch was dead at his hand. The feeling was like electricity in his veins. The blood that splattered across his arm and chest was like a temporary badge of honor.

He didn't have time to dwell on it - the fire was spreading and out of control, and he was sitting inside a tinderbox. A quick tug at the strap of his backpack ensured all his belongings were still on him, and that was good enough for him. Dashing for his table, he grabbed on to Ezra and shoved him once roughly toward Rali's open window. "Move!" Either the scribe would get the hint to follow, or he'd burn. This would make for a good first test.

Johannes dashed toward the window, grabbed on to the frame, and hoisted himself out. He tucked and rolled onto the hard ground, landing with a grunt, but he scrambled to his feet right away. Despite the growing flame, he waited at the window, figuring Ezra would need a hand climbing out. A quick glance around ensured the staff and the kids were out as well.

Johannes bounced on his toes a bit as he waited for Ezra. Shit had hit the fan, and he wanted out of this outpost now. He never stuck around to see if anyone would thank him for disposing of mutants or Miraculum members; he never knew who would be thankful and who would be angry. This was especially the case when property damage happened. No doubt the tavern-keeper would be livid that her livelihood was turning to ash.

At least maybe that bad vibe would go away.


[System]
Merchant

---

Level 3

-------STATISTICS-------

-------MASTERIES-------

| VIT -- 22 | 75% | BLADES -- E
| MGT -- 6 | 50% | POLEARMS -- D
| SKI -- 8 | 55% | AXES/BLUNT -- E
| SPD -- 9 | 55% | BOWS/RANGED -- C
| SRT -- 2 | 20% | THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 0 | 5% | MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 5 | 40% |
Secondary Statistics

WGT -- ?
ACC -- ??
AVO -- ??
RES -- ??
CRT -- ??

---

Traits:

- MOUNTED: This unit rides their favored mount, gaining +2 MVT, while being subject to mounted weapon restrictions as well as being disadvantaged by certain weapons and skills. Similarly, a mounted unit may spend whatever MVT remains to reposition directly after attacking. A mounted unit may dismount at anytime. While mounted, a character may use the 'rescue' command to carry another unit to safety.
- CELERITY: Movement +2.

---

* Bronze Short Spear

	+ MIGHT | 3
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 3
	+ CONDITION | 24/30
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 190

* Bronze Short Bow

	+ MIGHT | 2
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 2
	+ CONDITION | 18/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | +5% Critical Rate, Cannot be used with shields
	+ COST | 275

* Bronze Sling

	+ MIGHT | 1
	+ ACCURACY | 85
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ CONDITION | 10/10
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 60

* Bronze Crossbow

	+ MIGHT | 5
	+ ACCURACY | 90
	+ WEIGHT | 7
	+ CONDITION | 30/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 470

Possessions: Vulnerary (1/3), 190 AU

Personality/Appearance
Zarif is a man of 22 years and 7 moons, standing just under 6 feet tall, and never seen far from his Camel, Salador. With skin paler than most and strange clothing, Zarif is one who attracts a passing interest in some, and a scornful look from others. Not accustomed to the lands of Akkad or their strange gods, Zarif tends to appear bit naive about its ways and customs, though this is often a ploy used to lower people's guards to his cunning. Still a salesman at heart, Zarif always does his best to strike a good deal.

Backstory
Born in the distant lands beyond the endless desert to the west, Zarif was raised to be a Merchant like his father, and took to it quickly. When he was old enough, his father bought him his own Camel, and Zarif quickly bonded with the animal, whom he named Salador, and has been inseparable ever since.

Having heard stories of a mythical "Golden Land" beyond the desert, with cities paved with gold, armies so large that drank rivers dry, and a king who was both a god and a giant, Zarif joined a merchant caravan to cross the seemingly endless desert. After many moons, with the lands they had been traveling to, with the destination almost within grasp, the caravan was set upon by raiders. Nearly dead and robbed blind, a mercenary company crossed paths with the bloody scene, and managed to save Zarif and Salador. Trapped in this strange land, and with no way to return home, Zarif joined the company, and has been with them for 3 years.

[User]
Etor: "Bah. The money is looking a little to relaxed and nonchalant for my liking"

After looking around and finding nothing of interest or value, besides geek feces, Etor catches up to the group.

Etor: "Nothing in the back room."

He says this to no one in particular as he keeps an eye on kastilus.

Etor moves 4 tiles to 10-26

[Assistant]
Splitting isn't exactly the best plan to move forward. Not that the young Hellions seem to have a plan that isn't simply moving forward. Still, both Yeeks and fellow humans could be just around the corner.

Lyun moves deeper into the branching path, scouting just enough to continue holding the corridor with his frame. Heavy steps on the rough stone below, wordlessly announcing his arrival.

Lyun moves 4 tiles to 5-24, readying his hand axe for battle.

[User]
Slowing his pace to a cautious walk Siris continued forward while brushing his hand on the wall, keeping his sword in his hand while doing so.

He turns his head slightly towards Ashür, making sure to keep most of his concentration in front of him.

Siris: I'll stay near this wall to make sure we don't unknowingly pass any hidden passageways, hopefully avoiding any possible ambushes from behind or to the side.

Although his bleeding was slowing down it had not completely halted, the injuries however were not debilitating and had the side effect of increasing Siris's focus to avoid leading himself to an untimely death.

Siris moves 3 tile to 11-17 and waits

[Assistant]
Makeen

Shaking off his frustration, Makeen gave a nod of thanks to Zarif while doing his best to hide the shame of missing twice against one of those blue gremlins. Then he turned to Gesties and noticed he looked far worse than how he felt.

Putting on a well practiced smirk, Makeen told the ragged man, "Better make that five times." Reciting the archaic words from his tome, Makeen began to heal the wounded man.

Makeen stays on 11-25 and uses HEAL to heal Gesties for 9 VIT. Gains 18 XP.

[User]
Iddin

Iddin surveys the area. Gesties and Makeen where wounded and nearby, Siris... that idiot would have to wait. Makeen was already upon Gesties wounds, so Iddin moved to heal Makeen in turn. The priest stirred the ground with his staff, the glass ornaments chiming. Iddin stepped next to the mercenary and put his hand over the wound, directing the sand on top.

Iddin: "I stand before a healer of a different sect. Zuzu, grant mercy to the waylaid. They do not heal through you, but they still pay their respects to the gods. Let his lesser divine heal the outsider, and let your power restore him."

Iddin slams the staff, then holds still as the sand heats into flesh and repairs Makeen's body.

Iddin moves 1 space to 10-25, casting Heal on Makeen. Makeen gains 5 VIT. Iddin gains 12 EXP and 1 Theurgy EXP, losing 1 Heal durability.

[Assistant]
Satisfied with his kill, Zarif smiled and glanced down the hall. With the cacophony of sound from his allies and the dying monsters, it was next to impossible to sense out any remaining yeeks in the darkness. Placing the heavy spear in it's slot on his back, Zarif equipped the much lighter spear into his hands and strode down the hall after Siris

Zarif: Hail, armored one! Charging alone into the darkness against the giant, how very reckless of you! Or, perhaps word in these lands is... brave? Curious, how here in this distant land, they use two different words for the same meaning.

Zarif move 6 tiles north to 10-18 and equips his bronze shortspear


[System]
Species: Human werewolf.
Age: 23.
Gender: Female.
Personality: Ashley is fairly mellow. She's not overly happy, nor is she overly sad or cynical. She walks the middle of the road and would be found refilling the glass for another round than trying to figure out if it's half empty or half full. Ashley is lazy to a point, and generally does things to her own time over taking care of everything at once.

Appearance: Ashley is of average height since she stands at five feet five inches. Ashley's skin is close to copy paper in color due to her extended presence in clubs or bars. Ashley's hair is cut quite short and is black in color. Ashley's eyes are a dark green in color and are thankfully free of any fashion contacts or other oddities. Ashley's eyebrows are rough, but not excessive, and match her hair. Ashley's face is overall free of blemishes, which Ashley is immensely thankful for.

Ashley's body is fairly well rounded. Her upper and lower body is well developed and fit. She's not boasting bulging muscles or a six pack, but she's more than qualified for extended physical activity. Ashley doesn't have much in the way of marks on the rest of her body either, which she is again more than thankful for. Ashley's nails are trimmed down, and have also been painted black to fit with her overall punk look. Ashley's most prominent feature is actually a prominent bust, which she gets annoyingly frequent comments about.

Ashley's wardrobe fits well with her punk theme. Ashley wears a plain black T-shirt along with a light black cloth jacket. Ashley also wears a pair of black jeans. Beneath these jeans Ashley wears a pair of knee length nylon stockings and a pair of calf length black leather boots.

Ashley also wears a pair of fingerless leather gloves. These gloves have small metal studs over each knuckle, though they're obviously not weaponized. However, that doesn't prevent them from hurting a little more than usual should someone suffer a blow from Ashley. Ashley also wears a black one piece kneeskin swimsuit in place of traditional undergarments, since some more unruly members of the audience would sometimes find themselves throwing their drinks at the stage, leaving Ashley and her band members varying degrees of wet from time to time. The swimsuit helped prevent people from seeing more than they needed to.

When transformed, Ashley loses most of her outfit. Thankfully, her swimsuit is stretchy enough to handle the transformation with ease while still keeping everything covered. Her wolf form stands at six feet and five inches, making her taller than most men. Ashley's transformed body is coated with a fine layer of muscle. Not excessive like a bodybuilder, but slim and practical while still being easy to notice. Her legs are digitigrade, which makes her more agile and allows her to run faster at the cost of not being able to operate certain machinery due to her height and how her legs are shaped. Ashley's body is roughly the same shape aside, though everything is scaled up to fit her new size. Ashley's head is that of a wolf in this form, and her hair grows slightly to fit better. Ashley's fur is stormy grey in color with the underside of her torso having a lighter grey. Finally, while transformed, Ashley has a small lightning bolt on the top of her snout.

Powers: Lightning/electricity generation and control: Ashley is capable of generating and controlling electricity and lightning. This is primarily represented in bolts thrown from her fingertips, though she can also charge the studs in her gloves with electricity to make her punches hurt more.

Transformation: Ashley is a werewolf, and is capable of transforming into a werewolf form when enough adrenaline enters into her bloodstream, though this costs her most of her wardrobe for a while. While transformed, Ashley still has access to her lightning abilities, and can now charge her claws with lightning. As a bonus, she's also able to charge her fists with lightning, making her punches devastating.

Strengths: Immune to electric shock. Heals quickly. Physical prowess is enhanced in werewolf form.

Weaknesses: Water shuts down her electric powers due to the fact that she would shock herself if she used them. Skin contact with metal also shuts down her powers, and nearby metal will attract electricity. Silver burns her while she is transformed.

Background: Ashley grew up singing cover songs in bars and nightclubs in order to get by after a crummy early life. Her looks drew a crowd, her voice kept them there. However, this lifestyle turned out to be rather unsustainable. Forced to contemplate her future, Ashley walked to a nearby park to think things over. While she was walking around the trees, it started to rain. In her rush to get home, Ashley was struck by lightning. She passed out, and merely moments later a rogue werewolf tracked her smell. He giggled to himself that nature had cooked him a meal, and sank his teeth into Ashley's shoulder.

The werewolf went flying as ten thousand volts flew into his system. The bite healed shortly after, and Ashley got up and went home with a massive headache. This was three years ago, and her life has been different ever since.

Misc. Notes: None.

[User]
"Sam is fine, and thanks," he said to the professor, he figured fireproofing his room may have to go on the back burner for a bit, but he was glad to know it was something they could get to work on in the near future. He would have offered to watch over the girl they found at the crash site but after saying it the professor seemed to decide she was probably fine on her own. The offer to let him help cook was appreciated but he had to inform her, "I'm not that great in the kitchen, I can grill things and that's about it, I'll help out Ashley."

Speaking of Ashley, she now had the transponder to locate Boxcar and asked Sam if he was coming, "yup, coming." He walked down the stairs quickly, skipping the last few as he followed her around the corner and in to the basement. Sam was usually fine with basements, but that was when they had proper lighting, and the stairs had a proper railing. At least there was a wall to keep him balanced, he was really awful with stairs. Not that he couldn't use them, but he was always paranoid that without something to hold on to he would just fall down.

Sam figured now might be a good time to tell Ashley that he thought the werewolf thing was actually kind of cool, "hey, Ashley..." but unfortunately for him as soon as he started to speak she seemed to have picked up on Boxcar. "Never mind, tell you later," Sam went to the corner and heard her thuds on what should be ground sound more like a metal door. Ashley was trying to keep Boxcar calm, which was probably a good thing. Sam figured it might be a door the original owners may have wanted put in, but why was it hidden then? At any rate, Sam figured Boxcar must have found a button and walked in before trapping himself. So Sam started feeling the floor and wall near where Ashley was to try and find how to open it up to release Boxcar, "come on, the friggin' wolf can find the secret lever or whatever but I can't?" He was more talking to himself than Ashley at that point. It had to be a hidden button, there was no other obvious way that would open some secret door.

[Assistant]
Boxcar heard Ashley's voice, and then shortly after that, could hear Sam as well, and almost immediately stopped howling and barking. Good, he had been found, and despite the thickness of the hidden door, they were able to hear him. He didn't question why or how they had found him so quickly; for his animal mind, it was only important that they were there now.

"Okay, listen up!" he said loudly and clearly in his somewhat growly, gravelly voice. "There's a catch built into the wall, kinda hard to see but it's just a little right of the door. Should just sink into the wall when you push on it." Then when he heard scrabbling around on his left, he grumbled a wolf-themed expletive under his breath before barking, "Hey! My right, not yours!"

A little more shuffling around, and obviously one of them must have pressed the button because the doorway slid out of the way again, and Boxcar found himself looking at Ashley and Sam. He stepped out of the doorway nonchalantly into the basement proper and turned his head to look up at them. "About time!" he gruffed, though his tail was wagging behind him and betraying that he was glad to see them, and very grateful for a rescue. "Say...that smells like food, doesn't it? Now that you mention it," he said, even though no one had mentioned anything, "I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast. We should go get the food."

At the moment, Boxcar was completely unconcerned about the secret doorway in the lodge basement. As soon as he had been rescued, any trauma of the event had fled his mind, replaced with a very "I meant to do that" sort of attitude.

---

Nora had gone back to the kitchen to start loading plates with fajitas so that people could start eating them as soon as they arrived, when she heard a thump against the kitchen door frame, and she whirled around to see the girl slumped against the frame. "You're awake!" Nora gasped as she put her utensils down in a hurry and - without stopping to even take her oven mitts off - strode over to where the girl had stopped, and she came to a halt just within arm's reach. She tried to gesture with her hand by her glasses, but then realized she still had the mitt on, and she had to take it off and then make the adjustment. A medical diagnostic program supplemented Nora's basic medical knowledge; while the girl was shaky and was still a little pale, nothing indicated any serious injury, at least externally.

"E-Easy there," Nora stuttered soothingly as she flipped off the glasses readout and held out her uncovered hand. "Can you make it to the table? I just finished making lunch, and you look like you need some nutrients right now."

Nora suddenly remembered that her last chat with this girl hadn't gone so well, and she swallowed audibly in anticipation of another blow-up, but she held her ground; the girl had been through a terrible crash, and possibly hadn't eaten for a day or two by what her glasses told her. It was no wonder she was on edge. And Nora still didn't know her name!

"I hope you aren't vegetarian," she quipped with a nervous laugh.

[User]
"I had the weirdest dream," Sam began. She was staring past Nora, whom she did not seem to immediately recognize. Maybe it was the lack of a labcoat, or perhaps the concussion, but her voice was quiet and distant; not the defiant enemy she had been before. "They were coming to take me again." She took a deep breath, but instead of a calm exhalation, it shuddered its way out. She pulled her eyes away from the non-specific point to which they were affixed and studied Nora. She didn't see a labcoat anymore; she saw a pretty blonde girl with Coke-bottle glasses and a witty apron. She could not help but crack a smile.

"Vegetarian? Hell no. I didn't hit my head that hard." She quipped. Apparently even a concussion had little effect on her social skills.

There was something familiar about Nora. Sam could not assemble a complete memory, but she had definitely seen this person before. It was outside, she decided. There had been trees, and sunshine, and the smell of smoke. She inhaled again, and the lingering scent of grill smoke triggered another part of the memory. Still lacking enough information to piece it all together, Sam decided to leave the puzzle for another time. There were more important matters, like making sure her head injury hadn't removed more than an hour or two of her short-term memory. Everything seemed hazy, and she couldn't concentrate.

Still, presence of mind eventually won out and she began wondering where all the classic questions were. She'd expected inquiries about her name, her place of birth, or what day it was. Through this indulgent musing, Nora's voice was like a quiet murmur.

"Sorry," she eventually offered, shaking her head. "Must have hit my head. It hurts."

She pushed gently on the door frame and straightened herself, then took a tentative step. The room spun, but she fought it with deliberate care, each step a minor victory in the war for fajitas. They just smelled so damned good.

[Assistant]
Ashley was rather perplexed at Boxcar's sudden lack of stress once the door was opened. Perhaps he was more basic in nature than Ashley had initially presumed? With the location of the switch to open the door now known, Ashley figured she could come back at any time. Though she would want to come with a buddy system since, as Boxcar had shown, the door seemed capable of closing behind you. If there was no way of opening the door from the inside, Ashley would want someone reliable standing on guard to open the door once they were finished.

When Boxcar mentioned that food had been made available Ashley gave a sniff of her own. The smell was faint, though noticeable. Seeing no point in being rude and skipping the communal lunch time Ashley gave a shrug and spoke her thoughts aloud. "This doorway will be here until we get back, unless it somehow moves. The food upstairs, however, may not always be present. Let's eat while we have the chance and perhaps some others can join us later." Turning, Ashley gave Samuel a thumbs up and said. "Good work, yeah? You had something you wanted to tell me earlier, what was it?"

Ashley had heard him begin to speak before she had found Boxcar, and was curious as to what he might have to say. Ashley initially assumed that it had to do with her announcement of her lycan status, but she didn't speak this thought since it would've been rude to assume what Samuel had wanted to say. Instead, Ashley merely waited for him to speak again, hoping that Samuel himself remembered what he had wanted.

Boxcar, likely either unaware or uncaring of what Samuel had wanted to say, probably headed upstairs to find himself something to eat. Ashley didn't blame him, as it had probably been a while since Boxcar had eaten. Ashley wasn't really all that hungry due to the fact that she stopped for food on the way over, but it was better to eat food when it was offered rather than force food to be made when you were actually hungry.

With that in mind, Ashley waited for Sam to speak again, though she wasn't afraid of leaving to go and eat should Samuel find himself at a loss for words.


[System]
Species:
Human

Age:
37

Eye color:
Black

Hair color:
Black

Height:
6'2"

Weight:
211 LBS

Other:
His body is riddled with a variety of scars, both from his upbringing and Sith training.

Personality:
Vaeren holds a surprisingly calm exterior for a Sith, though underneath his facade he is boiling with the emotions that drive him and give him strength. He uses this control over his emotions to surprise people with sudden outbursts of pure passion, whether it be in conversation or in battle empowering his use of the force. He truly hates the Jedi, and to a lesser extent the Republic, and will do anything in his power to see them brought to their knees even if it takes a hundred or a thousand years.

Bio:
Vaeren was the third son of a family of Dantooinian farmers and grew up as the butt of his brothers often abusive and harmful pranks. By the time he had reached young adulthood he had resigned himself to a life of such torment, until he met a girl near his age, and they fell in love, slipping off to get married in secret. He lived a happy life for several years until a rebellion began on Dantooine, with his wifes family supporting the rebels. His wife was taken in for questioning under Jedi observation, and a freak accident resulted in her death, which Vaeren blamed the Jedi for. Still unknown to him is the fact that his wifes death was orchestrated by a Sith Lord who had taken an interest in Vaeren, and used the death of his wife to spur his anger and hatred, having already sensed his affinity with the Force. His training was brutal, requiring almost constant focus and he was often attacked by his Sith Master at random to enhance his skills, resulting in scars from a variety of weapons. His Master fueled Vaeren's hatred of the Jedi by setting up a variety of encounters showing the Jedi in a poor light, some true and some orchestrated. Finally, during a mission to Coruscants inner workings, his Master attacked him in their typical training regime. The battle was hard fought and it became clear that this was a battle to the death, with the backdrop of Coruscants heavy machinery pumping molten metal and steam as they fought for nearly an hour, finally resulting in Vaeren catching his Master in a trap, burying him in molten durasteel and claiming the title of Dark Lord of the Sith.

Equipment:
Lightsaber: Vaeren uses a specialized lightsaber. The hilt is of a fairly standard length but contains a springlock that can be released to extend it into a long-handled lightsaber. It's also an early form of Dual-Phase saber, with the springlocked hilt extending or retracting the blade as well.

[User]
Karnus stepped out of the spaceport, taking in the sights of the infamous Mos Eisley. The port-city was bustling with traffic, both speeder and foot vying for the unmarked roadways through a jumble of dome-roofed, sand-colored buildings. Karnus' face was hidden behind practical weather-protection mask in case a dust storm happened to pick up during his visit.

Tatooine was one of the last places he had expected to visit, but he'd heard rumors through some of his sources that a Sith Holocron was hidden somewhere on the planet. Not that that helped much, combing a gigantic desert for a single holocron wasn't something he intended to do, but Mos Eisley was a place where information could be gathered easily and people wouldn't think twice about his line of questioning, especially if they were paid. Besides, he had no intention of leaving any loose ends afterwards. Murder wasn't likely to be looked into deeply on Mos Eisley, either.

With those thoughts in mind he strode towards the cantina, his imposing height and build, not to mention his heavy aura of power, resulting in him being given a wide berth by the oncoming traffic. It didn't take much time to reach the large building, it was practically the first thing you saw coming out of the spaceport after all. He removed his mask as he stepped inside the darkly lit building, making his way towards the bar as he quietly made note of the various people inside.

[Assistant]
"No! Get away from me!" a girl screamed.

"I'm fraid we can't do that, little lady! You've been hiding something of the Hutts' and they want it back. Until you give it to us, we aren't going anywhere." the lead man of a group of thugs explained, a twisted grin on his face.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I swear!" the human woman replied, honesty in her voice.

It's a shame this was the crime ridden Tatooine, honesty was never valued. The thug took the woman by the hair and lifted her to eye level, "You're lying, bitch! Tell me now or this is going to get ugly real fast."

"You're right. It will." a womanly voice from behind them said. The thugs all turned to look at her, she was in a black cloak that obscured her face.

The ringleader smirked and started stepping toward her, "Trying to play all white knight, lady? Who do you think you are? Some Jedi? They don't bother with Tatooine, it's too far out." he got closer to her, "So if you're not a Jedi, then you're just some other woman who looking for a good beating. Unless of course, you know her and you're affiliated with the item in question that she's hiding."

The cloaked figure looked at the woman on the ground, her feet were bleeding and she was bruised. "I'm neither a Jedi nor a friend of her's. But I'm not going to stand by and watch you beat the poor girl senseless."

"And what're you going to do about, miss? Kill us?" the thug smirked, pulling his blaster pistol from his holster.

"If I must. Then I will." she said, the cold confidence in her reply made the thug hesitate shortly. When he flicked his arm up to fire aa blaster round into her head, there was a quick 'whoomv' sound. It took a couple seconds to register that his hand was missing and when it did, he looked down to what had taken. A red lightsaber. It purred and hummed like any lightsaber ever did. He staggered with his words but finally managed to bark out a command to his lackeys, two of which had run at the first sight of the saber, "Get her!"

The three loyal thugs all raised their blaster pistols and fired. One shot came back and stuck the first thug in the neck. The next one simply missed. The third shot bounced away into the sandstone wall of the alley. Another shot came and once again was deflected. The cloaked saber wielder raised her other hand and pulled the blasters out from their grips. Then, using the force to point the pistols at their owners, the remaining two alive in their knees. The one that had been shot in the neck was dead in seconds. The ring leader dropped to his knees, putting his hand to his stump, "Oh please! Please spare me!"

The cloaked figure simply stood there with her lightsaber in hand, "I don't want to see you again. If I even so much as hear you squeal about me I will find you and finish the job." she looked at the two remaining thugs who were cradling their injured knees, "That goes for you two as well. Out of my sight."

The ringleader ran off whilst holding tightly onto the stump where his hand used to be. The other two needed to be thrown out of the alley with the Force so the cloaked woman could get what she wanted. The girl on the ground scuffled away from the figure as she approached, knowing full well what a red lightsaber symbolized. When the figure was standing right over her, she raised her arms in some sort of feeble defense, but only heard the lightsaber deactivate.

When she looked up, she saw as the Sith pulled her hood back, she was pale looking and red in the eyes as if she was exhausted, but she was beautiful nonetheless. The Sith was in her youthful prime. Her raven black hair was a bit messy, but that's what one would expect on Tatooine. Her facial expression was softer than she'd expect from a Sith, and definitely not what she'd expect from somebody who had just dealt with a band of thugs.

"You know what I am?" the female Sith asked.

The girl nodded, "I do..."

"You fear me?" she continued.

"I do..."

The Sith kneeled down to be at eye level with her, "Not all Sith are evil." she offered an exhausted smile, "Though a lot are. Are you alright?"

The girl looked confused, bewildered and just lost in thought. She had expected this sort of behavior from a Jedi Knight but not the exact opposite. "You aren't going to make sure I don't say anything?" the girl asked.

The Sith shook her head, she brought her bare hands down to the bloodied feet, they were as cold as space. "Allow me to handle this."

Without permission, the Sith went to work on healing the poor girl. Her feet felt tingly, but as if it were some sort of magic, her feet were healing. "The Force..." the girl mumbled. The Sith nodded.

"You're quite well informed for a girl living on Tatooine." she said.

"I'm not from Tatooine. I'm from Alderaan." she explained.

The Sith chuckled, "As am I." she paused and finished up with healing her feet, "We're not so different. Two girls a long way from home, running."

The girl blinked, "Running? From what?"

The Sith was silent for a moment, "The Jedi Order wasn't too keen on my radical ideals, lets leave it at that."

Those words explained everything to the girl, she didn't need to pry to understand that this Sith didn't like the Jedi ways, it might have been the tone in her voice rather than the words themselves that tipped her off, there was passion in it. "Thank you, er..."

"Tenra. Darth Tenra." she then made eye contact with the girl, and at a closer look, the Sith was indeed fatigued. "Run along. Stick to the alleys until you're home. Lock the door."

The girl nodded and smiled to her, "Thank you." she said and left further into the alleyway.

The Sith watched until the girl rounded a corner and left her sight. After, she raised her hood and went back out into the streets of Mos Eisley. "I need to rest..." she said before turning toward a cantina. As she neared it, she could hear music. Stepping inside, she looked around and saw the place was bustling as usual. One man spotted her instantly and called her out.

"Shae! There's my favorite mercenary!" he said and approached her.

"Not now, Tendo..." she sighed as the broad man wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"Aww, already tired of the man who brought you half-way across the galaxy?" the bearded ship captain asked.

"Tired in general, Tendo. You know I will always be grateful for getting me off of Coruscant." Shae responded, looking around at all of the people in the cantina, "I need the keycard to your ship. All of this mercenary work has left me exhausted, I need a proper bed. All this sand stone is making me ache."

Tendo grinned, "My bed has room for nine!"

"A passenger bunk is fine for me, thanks..." Shae swiped the keycard from his pocket and waved it in his face, "I'll leave the cargo ramp unsecured."

Tendo was rubbing the back of his head before just shrugging, "That merc is gonna get me killed one day, but the view is great so I don't really mind." he walked past a few people along the bar, mumbling to himself, "Can't believe I gotta use the cargo bar ramp to get into my own damn ship..." he shook his head.

[User]
Normally an exchange like that wouldn't have drawn even the slightest bit of attention from Karnus, such interactions were common on Tatooine. But that so-called mercenary was practically reeking of the Force, and that meant she was most likely a Jedi. And when he encountered a lone Jedi in a far away place like Tatooine, he would hunt them down and destroy them. One less Jedi in the world could only mean good things in his eyes.

He didn't need to look to see where anyone was going, and he knew the Jedi would be waiting in that spaceship. Curious that she was working with someone else, though he supposed a Jedi this far into the outer rim would be likely working undercover. He suspected that pilot would be his way on board, but if he didn't order something soon the bartender was likely to make a scene.

"I'll have a Jawa beer." His voice was deep, and somehow hearing it made those around him oddly nervous. The bartender, normally a quite jovial Gran, simply nodded and turned away to retrieve the drink. In the meantime Karnus kept an eye on the man called Tendo.

After a few hours he watched the pilot get up to leave the cantina, following him shortly afterwards. He didn't even bother to hide his body, the Force ensured that his target wouldn't pay him any mind. His face was again obscured behind the insectoid weather-mask, a deep red HUD displaying variables her currently cared nothing about.

When the man arrived at his ship it was beginning to get dark out for the short period that Tatooine's suns allowed, the perfect moment for Karnus. He watched the man input a code onto his freighter, a somewhat uncommon, relic model at this point, but no doubt upgraded to make it on par with more modern vessels. When Tendo finished inputting the code, the ramp began opening, and Karnus made his move.

The entire action happened in seconds, with Karnus silently approaching from behind and igniting his deep red Lightsaber at an angle, leaving a smoldering, cauterized hole through Tendos skull, and retracting the blade so quickly that it was out of the way by the time the lifeless body fell to the floor with a sandy thump. Within a second Karnus was striding up the cargo ramp, seemingly completely unaware of his surroundings and easily open to ambush, but in reality his strong Force Sense allowed him to watch over everything around him, while masking his own. To Shae he would simply come across as a typical thuggish murderer, perhaps one of the ones she had fought off earlier come to try and kill her in her sleep.


[System]
Age: 24

Sex: Male

Appearance:  Dusty has the appearance of a very average person. He stands at 5'10, and weighs in at an average 165 pounds. He wears his black hair a bit long, often keeping it in a pony tail, lest it get in the way of his work. He wears a large blue coat over his thin cotton shirt, usually left wide open and flailing in the wind. His pants are unremarkable beige, and he wears black boots up to his knees, leather and water proof. The only thing that makes Dusty stand out in a crowd is his choice of weapons being unique. Over his coat he wears a bandoleer of ammo, a pistol and sword around his hip.

Personality: Dusty is a loner, but that certainly doesn't mean hes lonely. He knows how to blend and can laugh at jokes, and occasionally make a few himself. He would never turn away another person's company, but he rarely seeks it out either. He is by no means a malicious person, he just rarely opens up to people, preferring to put up a wall and to mask his true intentions, feelings, and thoughts before he can trust someone.

Background: Dusty comes from Arizona, a land known for its guns, and rugged terrain. As befits someone who embraced their home, Dusty is an active outdoorsman. He is athletically gifted, a talented marksman, and a skilled tracker. His family feared god and loved the red white and blue. Although Dusty does not follow their line of thinking, he comes from a loving household.

Powers: Dusty's powers are simple, and don't really manifest as truly mind blowing. He has an enhanced ability to follow trails, noticing tiny details that can discern his prey's tracks. He is a supreme marksmen, capable of hitting a target from a great distance away. Should Dusty continue to work at his abilities, he would probably find the ability to hide in shadows to hunt is easy, and to stay silent as well. He is a capable sword fighter should the need arise, but he is by no means an expert, and anyone who truly strives for martial excellence would probably find he is easy prey at close range.

Personal Motive: Dusty seeks wealth, mostly. He is a guide for hire if the need arise, and if the price is truly right, he can serve as an assassin. But thankfully, none have asked him to do that. He mostly tries to get by, and while not actively searching for a way home, the idea isn't one that is toxic to him.

Mementos: A red bandana. Dusty keeps it in his pocket, but has been known to wear it around his neck.

[User]
"Uh." Rickie raised an eyebrow. Thank god, this particular person didn't really care how bad had been his first impression. Of course he wasn't a sandwich. Looking right and left. Then to the woods. Then to his feet. Then to Kirrian.

"Okay, I'm not hallucinating. Probably."

He took a deep breath, and then pinched his nose. Where the hell are we? Obviously the sttutering newcomer has no idea either.

"Oh, sorry, I uh... was doing some research." He paused. "On sandwiches?" He shook his head. "Whatever, it isn't important."

He then looked at the young man in the face, and extended a hand, steeling himself. "I'm Rickie, nice meeting you Kirrian." He said, while looking at his surroundings. "I don't know about you, but you seem we could use a way out of this forest. I saw smoke before of us, we might want to try following that." Rickie said, awkwardly skipping small talk while deciding he would try and see if they could travel together. Four eyes saw more than two. And speaking of which, why was he seeing well despite not wearing his glasses? He decided not to give much attention to it now, but that had to be investigated later on.

[Assistant] The guy jumped back a bit from Rickie suddenly extending his hand, but it didn't take very long for Kirrian to realise it was just for a handshake, which he accepted. "R-Right. Yeah, it might be wise to t-travel together. I wonder if there are others..." That last bit was just a mumble, soon after the bleached-hair guy shaking his head. He pulled back his hand and started walking towards the smoke Rickie mentioned. "Oh, uh, Also? Let me keep an, uh, ear out for D...Danger. I seem to be able to... Uh... Focus better on my hearing." Obviously they couldn't tell rickie he could just mute out certain aspects of the enviroment. That'd be crazy. He shifted his focus to three things: Voices, Footsteps, Danger. Kirrian paused for a bit to let Rickie catch up before continuing on his way.

[User]
Stannis Krolikov, Juno Aulia, Johnathan McKenna, Edwin Gordon
Unknown Forest, by an unknown dirt road.
@GreenGoat@McFazzer

---

"P- please don't hurt me... I- i'm lost... I-" Someone said, Stas looked towards the voice and saw a terrified man a little ways away. In his teens Stas guessed, the terror on the newcomers face reminded him of the middle east. Of scared children that were running from gunfire, or a missile strike, an occurrence that happened far too often than he would like to admit. Stas stood up and waved at man, "He-"

"Stop! RPD!"
Stas instantly froze, he recognized the authority in the voice and at first thought that a military police had somehow followed him. His second thought was that she was police, as PD typically meant Police Department. "Alright, sir? I'm going to have to ask you to put down that spear, and tell me whats going on." She requested. Stas, at this point had his hands up, his left hand loosely holding the spear. He slowly and carefully crouched back down and placed the spear on the ground. Putting both hands back up, he turned to the police officer. Finding out that she had no gun. She did have a badge however, pinned to her skirt. She had a large horn on her forehead, and red eyes. Stas' reaction was one of mild confusion. He glanced at the other, terrified man and kept him in his peripherals. Stas looked back at the strangely clad police officer. He had never heard of a cop wearing a skirt and tee shirt while on duty, and the shackles. He put his hands down.
"I uh... thought you had your sidearm." He plainly replied, glancing at her horn from time to time, "Stannis Krolikov, formerly of the 75th Ranger Regiment, United States Army Rangers." He introduced himself. "I was hiking, went to sleep for the night, woke up, got lost and then found this dirt road. Not long after he found me," Gesturing to the scared man down the road with his head, "Then you showed up."

Soon after another man appeared out of the brush, Stas heard him say "Oh dear".
"We have a guest." Stas loudly whispered to the officer, so she could hear him despite the distance between them.

[Assistant]
In the middle of his slow and well paced backing away, Coco found his hairs standing up at the sound of rustling foliage, his body turning sharply. What he found was no little bird (thank God, he'd gotten sick of those), but rather a small ... tiger? Curiousity caused Coco's head to tilt as he leaned forward for a closer look and- yes, that was a tiger. The only time he'd seen one was in a cage the City Man's friends brought in once, but he was sure the stripes were a tell-tale sign. The colour was a bit different thou-

Coco flinched back at the tiger's sudden release of a growl, the hand he hadn't realized he'd been reaching forward quickly pulling back. "Good kitty," hushed the small man, crouching lower to try and seem less intimidating (something which he wasn't used to doing given that, well, he usually wasn't all that intimidating), reaching a hand to try and console the small feline.

The response he received was nothing short of welcoming. The clay tiger roared, leaping forward to try and ward Coco off, the dark skinned man releasing a surprised yelp. Before he knew it, in the panic, his body had heated up once more, and when he pulled his hand away accidentally brushed against the tiger's ear. Coco held his hands close to his chest, having fallen back on his bottom, looking over the tiger in panic only for it to change to curious shock.

The little thing was... meowing(?), its ear having hardened and causing it to tilt to the side. It wobbled awkwardly towards Coco before its ear landed on the ground with a soft and solid thud, Coco's hands having cooled down and reaching over his 'o' shaped mouth. Did he do that? Oh crap he totally did that.

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry," he said, starting to crawl towards the tiger once more (but at a distance where he knew both of them were safe), "Are you okay? I'm sorry- can you talk? Also I don't know how to fix you, sorry." A beat. "But it was mostly your fault for trying to pick a fight."

[User]
It felt kinda strange to be towering over people.

Plus, judging from how these people reacted, including that one behind her, it was clear as day that they were from the real world as well.

"I uh... thought you had your sidearm. Stannis Krolikov, formerly of the 75th Ranger Regiment, United States Army Rangers." The man started speaking. "I was hiking, went to sleep for the night, woke up, got lost and then found this dirt road. Not long after he found me," Gesturing to the scared man down the road with his head, "Then you showed up."

"I see. Juno Aulia, police officer." She looked around at them, noticing the spearman, Stannis, was sneaking looks at her horn. "I assume everyone here is heading to the village on account of some dream?"

All of them seemed a bit... young.

[Assistant]
Chad Formost

 Chad began walking, farther and farther into the woods it seems. No sign of any humans anywhere. This was until he hurt a scream, a bit of murmuring, something about a sandwich, and some yelling. Chad gave a smile. Finally, people. He didn't stop to think that the yelling was a sign of anger. He was just happy to hear voices, voices he could understand.

     After walking a little ways the voices grew louder and clearer. He got there just in time to hear a woman say something about being a police officer. Along with saying something about a dream and a village. Chad immediately stepped into ring of people. "Hey everybody." He gave a bright smile and a wave. "I'm Chad, Chad Formost. Please to meet you. I'm really sorry for butting in but I'm a little lost and could use some help. Do you think any of you could help me?" He looked at the woman and spoke, "I heard something about you being a police officer. You also said there was a village near. Could anybody take me there?" Chad felt embarrassed. It wasn't like him to butt into a conversation uninvited. He didn't like interrupting people while they talked, but he need the help. He waited for a reply.

[User]
Linnea hadn't flown very far, but high enough where she noticed smoke from the nearby village. As she was about to head off, she heard the commotion by the dirt path, and turned around to see more people showing up. Becoming curious, Linnea floated as close as she dared, but staying inside tree cover to see what they were talking about.
A policewoman? A soldier? They looked scary, but maybe it would be safe to be with them. At the very least, they were the closest to being authorities as she was going to find out here in the forest. It was after the happy looking young man asked for the village that Linnea made a decision. These were probably the others from Earth, so might as well work together. If anything bad happens, she can just fly away.

Linnea floats over to the group, revealing herself, but keeping above them so that they cant reach her (through normal means).
"Hi, um- hi. Eh-Excuse me, the village..." Linnea stops to take a deep breath, and points, "The village is over that way. It's not far, but maybe it will take us a while to get there... maybe."

[Assistant] "...Rickie, was it? Why does it feel like there's some sort of meeting going on?" Kirrian asked him while they both walked down the road.

[User]
Dusty yawned, slowly shifting in his sleep. He reached to his side to scratch his leg and felt something furry. He opened his eyes and looked down at the small furry intruder that was climbing into his lap. It was some sort of rodent, similar to a mouse, but different from any he had ever seen. He calmly brushed it away, and leaned his head back against the tree he was propped up against. But he didn't fall asleep. He went to sleep in his bed, not against a tree. He opened his eyes and surveyed his surroundings.

Raising his hand to his forehead to block out the sun, Dusty looked at the wildly large trees, and the local wildlife, completely different to the largely reptile population of home. He slowly stood up, talking to himself. "I didn't know there were forests like this in Arizona..." he said, turning around, and almost tripping over the rifle at his feet. Dusty bent down and picked it up. It was a musket, only capable of firing a single round a time. Not very high tech, but it would do. He grabbed it by the strap and slung it over his right shoulder.

Dusty then looked to his clothing, which was a distinct change from the boxers he went to sleep in. He was wearing some sort of uniform or working attire, and a pistol sword combo around his waist. A voice had told him in his dream he had been brought here with others, but Dusty didn't know there others. Could he trust them? He didn't believe in leaving it entirely up to chance. He unslung the rifle and loaded it, tightening the wheel lock, and pouring in powder from the small horn he was wearing around his belt. It came very naturally to him.

With the rifle loaded and in this hands he set out to find the others. Quickly he found a trail through the woods. Something big and strong with human feet had been through. It left a trail like an elephant, rampaging. Or maybe it wasn't. Dusty just found it easy to track, almost as easy as breathing. He followed it, quietly, almost completely silent at all points, and only audible within a few yards. He followed the trail to a small brook and then to a clearing where a large group of people and something Dusty assumed made the trail conversed. He stayed yards away in the tree line, listening without intervening, rifle lowered as he tried to discern the intentions of the group and if they were ultimately friend or foe.