[System]
Alias:
Goddess of the Summons

Gender:
Female.

Domains/Portfolios:
Magic (Summoning)

Domains/Portfolio Description:
The Domain of Magic, a Domain which holds many secrets and mysteries. A Domain which can both create and destroy, heal or injure. Astarte uses arcane energy to influence the world and her subjects, but her specialization lies in using such energy to call forth various creatures from her own personal plane of existence; creatures which range from dogs to ghouls and to awe inspiring phoenixes.

Alignment:
Indifferent. Astarte doesn't believe in the existence of good and evil, and just does what makes her happy.

Personality:
Astarte doesn't think much about herself, if at all. In her own words, she's just 'there', experiencing things and enjoying what life as a Goddess can offer her. She enjoys using her hands and her avatars can often be seen both building things and creating shoddy art in their spare time. To Astarte, nothing's more important than seeing her creations grow and mature; she also deems it important that they become a positive influence on the world, eventually.

She often wonders how it would feel to be a mortal and go through the life she's provided for her creations. She gets somewhat lonely whenever she thinks of the topic.

Appearance:
- Preferred form

- Form when speaking to mortals

Musical Theme:
Meant to Be

Description:
Astarte, the Goddess of the Ranges, is a very approachable Goddess. She's friendly and helpful to those who mean well to her and her creations. She's also a romantic, often showering her favorite mortals with things to love and cherish for as long as they live.

[User] Mirtagn summoned what appeared to be hundreds of the skeletal dragons to soar towards enemy forces. He promptly disappeared, another twenty dragons arrived in the sky, altogether, the forces of the skeletal dragons were five hundred of the fierce winged creatures. . . "Try to not harm the civilians. . ." Mirtagn disappeared from the area with a flash of lightning and vanished, to take his own portion of the invading dragons elsewhere. Meanwhile, Sauranath's avatar also promptly vanished. . . Before his real form, as a majestic creature that he is came from the Stars above. . . "I am coming for you". . . He spoke towards the tree. His breath of fire, focused with the entire force the dragon deity possessed, was searing and hot enough to burn frighten anyone sensible.

[Assistant]
Battle Brother Zerabil, Prophet of Vowzra, Blessed of Undasis

Level 23 Hero, 2 Khookies

'Victors! To me!' Zerabil shook himself from his reverie and gave out a thunderous command which reached everyone in Orabson with some Wi, 'my people! Gather yourselves up and come to me, we must leave this place at once!' upon his words, the town burst into life as people left everything they had, gathered up their families and made for Zerabil. He had spurred his horse and was now near the outskirts of the town, the fifty Brothers and Sisters of Vowzra's Victors encircling him. Slowly, people began to trickle into the defensive circle while Zerabil and his Victors kept a look out to ensure no more dragons were coming.

Things were quiet for half an hour as the people gathered themselves. As the last of Orabson's citizens gathered in the circle, the crystal dragon up in the air made a move. Before his very eyes, Zerabil witnessed the arrival of more skeletal dragons than he could count. The crystal dragon growled something to his minions before he disappeared.
'Let us be gone from here,' Zerabil said, and his voice reached all. With the combined effort of Zerabil and his Victors, and with a feat of the discipline and focus Vowzra's Victors prided themselves for, all the people were lifted from the ground and began floating away at speed. Some of the dragons gave chase, but a few Wi attacks deterred them and they turned back towards the now deserted Orabson.

The roots of Orabil were once more mowing down the flying monstrosities, their flames and attacks simply twisting away from the tree and all things within its radius.
'Foolish Beings, Get Thee Away For You Stain The Purity Of This Place,' the great tree's voice rumbled and the roots suddenly withdrew. There was no longer a reason to fight them, they posed no threat to the land or to Orabil and Zerabil had evacuated his people.

Then Sauranath burst out in his divine form and all things beneath him crumbled and were dust. Orabson disappeared and the very life was exterminated from the place. Even the skeletal dragons which had been summoned forth, dead as they were, crumbled into dust. Orabil, however, stood firm amongst the destruction, a bastion of life created by a mighty god and connected to the very Astral Home; the source of all life and the greatest concentration of life force. It was the living, beating heart of Galbar.

'I am coming for you,' Sauranath's terrible reptilian voice sounded and Orabil gazed upon the great dragon. It was a tree and he was a god, there was nothing it could do against him. And so, it closed its eyes and accepted Fate. The fire of the Great Reptile Sauranath enveloped the tree. The fire grew, leaping from branch to branch, bursting leaves and cracking the bark of the great tree. The fires were so potent that they pierced to the very centre of the immense tree and burnt the veins of life energy flowing to it from the Astral Home.

The Tree of Light's radiance was put out by the burning, crackling heat and light of the god's fire. It did not burn slowly, the flames were impatient and it was a simple matter of minutes before the enture tree was naught but a great charred pole, huge and black and ugly. A wooden claw tainting the skies of Arguilla.

Then the darkness returned.

[User]
- Vestec shared some of his essence with Astarte upon her own request, giving her a taste and affinity for chaos and imbalance. And teasing. Maybe.
- Vestec has given Astarte permission to mess around with his creations as she sees fit(Gods help them all), and has gifted her with one of his dragons.

Astarte looked at the sky. The fake, never changing sky, and huffed. She had been laying down for a long time relaxing, meditating and most of all thinking. 'Why must every other God be so stuck up? Damned Ice God, damned Life God, damned Time God. They're all boring.' She sighed and sat up, grabbing one of her bangs and putting it between her lips.

Then Astarte heard a footstep behind her and she turned to see a miniature tiger stalking the grasslands. Its eyes were fixed on a nearby sleeping animal. The animal, though, woke up with a start once the tiger made another sound, and darted away. The tiger soon disappeared between the grass leaves in chase of the animal.

Astarte stood, jumped up and floated in place. She then yelled out, "You're a bad predator if you can't keep silent, you idiot!"

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and a shiver went down her spine. "I know! The less stuck up one is Vestec. He kind of is a predator like you, Tiger. He isn't as much of a disappointment, though. Thanks for reminding me."

So Astarte clapped her hands and lied down mid air, belly up and one flexed knee over the other, foot twitching up and down in a rhythm, much like a teenage babysitter's once she calls her friends while working.

'Vestec? I need you over here right now.'

Vestec was drawn from watching of his daughter (whom he had decided was a worthy daughter of his) by Astarte's summoning. Of course, he went over immediately and without a second thought, appearing before her only a moment after she had called. He glanced about curiously to see if she had changed anything in the Ranges or anything that would require his help. Seeing nothing of note, other than the addition of tiny animals, he focused on Astarte and bowed.

"You called?"

Astarte raised her head to look at Vestec, "Yes, I did call! I wanted to ask you something, Vestec--" She gently set foot down on the ground, pulling Vestec down as well. She put her hands on his arms and smiled, not taking her eyes off his, "Do you have any extra dragon you could give me?"

Vestec merely tinged pink as Astarte pulled him down. "I have plenty of dragons. But I don't think they're quite..your taste. A bit more suited to mass destruction rather and violence, as I made them that way, than you might like. Why ask me for one? You can always go get one yourself fairly easily. We are, after all, Gods." He tilted his head at Astarte, waiting for an answer.

"I could get them myself, sure, but where would the fun be in that?" Astarte shrugged.

"I set my eyes on a few of Vowzra's humans for a while, tried to see if they were worth my time. Turns out they weren't. They were too... Clean, too balanced. And as you know, my entertaining, pink little Vestec, too balanced is not fun. So instead of watching those humans, I watched the ones you took for yourself. It's enough to say that they are far more entertaining."

She fell silent for a moment, then perked up and moved to his side, leading his arm to wrap around her shoulders. "If nothing else, I want one of your dragons so that I can play around with your armies and soldiers and chosen ones and peasants... You know what I mean." She chuckled.

Vestec chuckled as Astarted spoke. "Why do you think I even created my humans? To have some fun with them. Vowzra, Arguis, and Escre can keep their perfect little organized nations and secret races. I'll just add a little chaos for them." The God of Chaos quicky turned fully pink as Astarte put his arm around her shoulders. "Take your pick of them, and feel free to have fun messing with them. Can't have things going too smoothly for them, can we?"

"You bet," Astarte grinned and playfully poked his cheek to get him to look at her, "I also have another request, but for that one you need to have your human face up." Vestec immediately shifted his smooth face into a human one with full features.

"Soo, remember what you did the other time?" She asked, somewhat hesitant, "With your essence and the lips?"

Vestec's clothes began pulsing pink as the Goddess of magic asked her question. "Yes." He said cautiously. "Why?" He knew what he hoped why she was asking, but voicing that didn't seem like a very good idea.

"Because uh..." Astarte looked around, then back at Vestec, "I want a way bigger measurement of chaos. I feel way better since last one, so why not more? It feels like I need more." She said in a quieter tone than usual.

Vestec raised an eyebrow at Astarte as she hesitated. When she finally asked he smiled. "Your wish is my command." He kissed her again, this time holding her close as more of his Chaos essence traveled into her, leaving no escape. She returned the embrace, and a few long moments later, she gently pushed him away, shuddering lightly.

She then wrapped her arms around his neck, smirking. "That was easier than I expected. I think you might like me quite a bit, Vestec." She said as she trailed a finger along his jawline.

Vestec shivered as she drew a finger along his jaw. With only minor difficulty he spoke. "You're right. I do 'like you 'quite a bit', to put it lightly. The question is, what are you going to do with knowledge?"

Astarte shrugged and smiled sheepishly, breaking the embrace. "I don't know. I might do something about it, I might not. Most importantly," She raised an eyebrow, "I see you've been with a human."

"Ah. You saw that." Vestec spoke, slightly embarassedly. "That...wasn't what you think. I was curious to see if a child could come from a human and a God, and Viscardi was offering a rival up to me. Needless to say, a child can come from such a union." A bit of pride slipped into his tone. "I don't know if the mother is still alive, but Roxana is certainly a child of mine."

"Gods and mortals should not be together." Astarte said, then waved her hand dismissively at Vestec. "You may go whenever you like, Vestec. Keep your head up for a dragon circus."

"I don't think I'll leave quite yet. I enjoy your company too much." Vestec replied bringing her close to him again.

She grunted and struggled against him, "I'm not one of your tiny mortals that you can manipulate into sleeping with you at a moment's notice, Vestec. You'll have to try harder than this." She rolled her eyes.

Vestec chuckled, but let her go. "I don't have any tiny mortals. And if I just wanted to sleep with you, don't you think I would have lied to you when you asked for a bit of my essence, and said it required you to sleep with me?"

"Who knows? Maybe you are lying to me right now-" Astarte scrunched up her face for a moment, then chuckled and started walking in circles around him, slowly. "Maybe you make me believe you have to kiss me to give me essence, maybe you could just give it to me through a handshake." As she walked by his back, she put a hand on his shoulder and another on his waist, and leant up to whisper, "I don't mind a few lies." then she pulled away and tucked a few stray bangs of her hair behind her ear.

"Now go, lest you want me to break one of your little Roxana's arms while she sleeps."

Vestec followed with his head, not exactly certain of where this was going. He was about to deny what she was saying, when she whispered in his ear. The God of Chaos shivered again, before chuckling at her dismissal. "Do you promise? And it seems that the last kissed worked well. Very well. " He gave another bow, before disappearing from the Ranges.


[System]
Age: Unknown. If one was to the ask the Ork directly, the answer would either be 'Lots' or a series of unintelligible grunts.

Gender: One uv' da Boyz.

Appearance: Ya din't see dis, cuz I'z too sneaky.

Canon, AU, or OC?: OC

Universe of Origin: Warhammer 40k.

Personality: As a Kommando, Arragoz displays a level of kunnin' uncharacteristic to most Orks. Rather than simply charge into battle while yelling 'Waaagh!,' he prefers to sneak up on the 'stoopid humies', plant a few explosives here and there, before proceeding to shoot, stab, and explode his way out of whatever situation he got himself stuck into. In the event he is outmatched, or 'has uvva fings to do' according to Arragoz, he will promptly unload as many explosives as physically possible, set them off, and use the chaos to cover his retreat. Truly, a master tactician.

Despite this, he is still an Ork, and will gladly get stuck in wiff da Boyz in a proppa fight. He is also quite fond of nickin' weapons, armour, and shiny fings in general, especially off of humies.

Abilities/Weapons:

Slugga: Arragoz' prized slugga, while poorly made by the standards of most civilizations, is both reliable and incredibly effective in the hands of a proppa Ork Boy. With the Ork's latent Waaagh! field keeping it in working order, and the almost nonsensical volume of fire it can produce more than making up for its poor accuracy, it has served as Arragoz' preferred tool for krumpin' unsuspectin' gitz.

Choppa(s): In the unlikely event that the hailstorm of bullets from his Slugga fails to do the job, Arragoz will be more than happy to fall back on his tried and true choppa. If that still fails to kill something, he will use his second choppa (which also doubles as a knuckleduster), for double the choppin'.

Stikkbombs and other 'Splodey Fings: Arragoz carries a variety of explosives on his person, ranging from simple grenades and mines to shaped charges and melta bombs.

Stikkbomb Types
Stikkbombs - Most common and basic type, these are the Ork equivalents of Imperial frag grenades.

Krak Stikkbombs - Rarer version analogous to Imperial krak grenades and used against enemy vehicles.

Stunbombs - Basically the Orky version of a flashbang.

Stinkbombs - These are made from cultured fungus and other unsavoury substances and release clouds of noxious green vapour. The resulting stench is beyond description, having significant effect on any non-Orkoid with a sense of smell.

Fungus Gas Bomb - Releases a gas cloud of very old, fermented fungus. While harmless to an Ork, it is poisonous to almost all other living creatures.

Firey Stikkbombs - Filled with flammable liquids, these stikkbombs are used to cover a target area in flames.

Smokey Stikkbombs - Functions in a similar manner to a smoke grenade. Good for making 'taktikul retreats.'

Goo-bomb - Contains a sticky greenish-black ooze made from the fermented leftovers of dead squigs. Upon exploding, the surrounding area will be coated in the substance, thoroughly trapping those hit. However, the effect is temporary, for the ooze will eventually dry out, allowing any victims to break free with relative ease.

Buzz-bombs - A rather unusual type of bomb, a small swarm of carnivorous Buzzer Squigs is trapped inside. Detonation will release the swarm, which will almost immediately proceed to devour anyone or anything caught in the general area.

Super Stikkbombs - An 'upgraded' version of the standard Krak Stikkbomb, they are essentially a large number of their smaller cousins wired together in order to make a much larger explosion.

Da otha' stuff
Landmines - Pretty self-explanatory.

Tankbusta Bombs - Heavy magnetic discs the size and shape of manhole covers. They are directional and are used when Stikkbombs simply aren't sufficient to destroy something. They're attached to the vehicles by magnetic clamps and detonated with deadly efficiency.

Melta Bombs - Presumably stolen from an Imperial Armoury, these deadly contraptions explode with intense thermal energy, effectively melting the target with microwave radiation. However, their range is infamously short, requiring them to be directly attached to a target in order to be effective. It is also worth noting that they possess an integral timer which can be set for up to one hour.

As one of the countless greenskins which make up the dreaded Green Tide of the forty-first millennium, Arragoz possesses a number of traits that make him into an excellent fighter. His tough hide and semi-fungal physiology make him immensely difficult to harm, and even when he does suffer an injury, it will likely do little to impede him. An Ork can easily survive being dismembered or even decapitated, and just about anything short of extreme trauma or outright disintegration. In short, he is, as Orks often say, Ded 'Ard.

Paired with this immense degree of durability is an exceptional level of strength, allowing Arragoz to easily overpower normal humans and hold his own against a 'Spess Muhrine.' However, it is worth noting that, like any proppa Ork, Arragoz is in a bizarre state of authority-fuelled growth. So long as he remains the biggest and strongest Ork in the area (not exactly a difficult task, given the circumstances), he will continue to slowly get bigger, greener, and meaner, eventually ascending to Nob status and beyond.

Due to his race being genetically engineered by the Old Ones to serve as soldiers that could be mass-produced on a moment's notice, Arragoz' brain contains a wealth of instinctive knowledge regarding both the waging of war and the crafting, operation, and maintenance of his wargear. Combined with his experience as a Kommando, this makes Arragoz 'da best there is at wut he does.'

Backstory: As an Ork of the Blood Axes clan, Arragoz spent his early life fightin', winnin', and lootan', as most Orks are wont to do. However, as time passed, he began to exhibit a particular fondness for being kunnin' and sneaky, even more so than the average Blood Axe Boy. Unsurprisingly, it didn't take long for Arragoz to find himself working with a unit of Kommandos, where his talents could be put to proper use. The next several years were also spent fightin', winnin', and lootan', but in a sneaky 'n' kunnin' way.

Eventually, a crack team of Kommandos, one of which was Arragoz, and a few Mekboys were chosen by Warboss Mardrug to partake in 'Da Great Titanheist.' As the name implied, they were to sneak onto the forge world of Canto II, which had recently been attacked by a Tyranid splinter fleet, and nick a Warlord-class Titan called the Wrath of Caseopea while nobody was looking. The first few parts of the plan went exceptionally well, with the forge world's inhabitants being none the wiser as they snuck on board the Titan. Well, with the exception of the Titan's crew, but they didn't really count, since the Orks shot them before they could do anything.

Unfortunately, that was the point where things started to go wrong. When the Meks jump-started the fusion reactor, the machine spirit of the Wrath of Caseopea was a tad grumpy. Because they had slaughtered the Titan's crew, the Orks had no way of actually controlling the Titan. A minor oversight on their part, obviously. Arragoz and the other Boyz were carried along for the ride as the confused and enraged Titan went on a rampage across the forge world, prior to overloading its own reactor and violently exploding. Despite this spectacular failure, Arragoz 'died' happy, knowing that he got to see such a massive boom before the end. However, instead of going up to the big green Waaagh! in the sky, where he could spend eternity fightin' and winnin' with Gork and Mork, the Ork found himself transported to an unknown location, surrounded by some weird-looking humies.

Before he had the chance to shake off his confusion and start krumpin' gitz, the group explained that if he were to aid them in their endeavours, he would be greatly rewarded. Arragoz asked if he'd get to 'fight fings,' to which they said yes. It was all the convincing he needed.

Faction: Shadow Eternity.

[User]
Dio sighed and shook his head, glancing at the projectile that was just shot. He would have preferred staying in top condition, but...

"Shame that you're such a great fighter..." he trailed off before glaring at Carver's position. Using 'The World' to launch him closer to Carver, Dio kicked the chargind weapon in Carver's hand, forcing it to simultaneously break and discharge, blowing off Dio's leg as he used the momentum to catch Carver's arm mid-swing with one arm. As the blade dug into his shoulder, Dio punched through the armor near Carver's neck and jabbed his fingers into the man's neck.

"I hope you'll reconsider your position in the future." Dio stated as blood began flowing into his body and regenerating his wounds.

[Assistant]
**John Carver- CMS Terra Nova**

The last thing John expected the seemingly cowardly fighter to do was charge hin and sacrifice half of his limbs. After the leg came off, Carver felt a brief moment of victory. Just after this, however, he realized that it was part of the guy's plan. His blade stuck itself into his shoulder and John found that the man was drinking blood from his neck, next thing he knew. In the time it took for his RIG to slowly drop down to the red, he pulled his blade all the way through to finish cutting the man's arm off, then turned the blade 360 degrees and jam it into his abdomen. It then turned off upon his letting it go, and he collapsed. His back was facing upward, and his RIG showed that his massive blood loss put him on death's doorstep.

He did one last thing before passing out. Connecting with Isaac and Bannon via RIGLink, he sputtered one last phrase. "Isaac... Vampire..." He then passed out, confident either of them could finish the job.

[User]
**Daijuji Kuzaku - Yggdrasil Restaurant District**

Kuzaku sat at the bar, head heavily resting in his hands as he lazily sipped on a milkshake. He felt sick, honestly, and really wanted at that point to finish his frozen dessert and just retire to his quarters. However, he knew that he had obligations to fulfill after downing the rest of his shake. He had to track down someone in Yggdrasil that could help him divine the meaning behind his visions, and quickly. Ignoring them would undoubtedly be a mistake, and putting off investigating them was equally so. Even so, he had not been on Yggdrasil for long, and was unsure of who would be able to help him. Even among those he knew, several were conducting a mission on board the _Tanngrisnir_, or were otherwise indisposed. Kuzaku sulked, blowing bubbles into his milkshake.

However, the sound of commotion behind him caught his attention. Suspicious persons? Whipping around quickly enough to nearly knock over his shake with his braid, Kuzaku dashed out of the ice cream bar and back into the lobby of the restaurant district, spotting the figures that Saber had pointed out. Both she and Nono quickly shifted into more battle-appropriate forms and engaged the apparent enemies. Kuzaku couldn't help but be impressed by the sight of them, particularly Nono, who was a dead ringer for Metatron. He silently wished that he too could have a cool transformation (perhaps, not unlike his father), but he had more important things to worry about.

He attempted to summon Cthugha and Ithaqua, but his spell sputtered out and produced no result. Perhaps he was still disoriented? He hoped that was the issue. Kuzaku moved himself into better cover as he focused more intensely to cast the spell to summon his twin spell cannons. This time it succeeded, bringing great relief to the young knight. With the familiar weight of his guns in his hands, Kuzaku trained Ithaqua on the enemy that Nono was barking orders to, while sweeping the area with Cthugha.

---

**Kiss-Shot**

Just as suddenly as they had begun attacking, the strange creatures ceased. This interested Kiss-Shot slightly, but not terribly much more than they had initially. Staring at one of them, she condensed her ghastly energy into a form within the creature, and then manipulated it to rapidly expand. The end result of this being that the creature exploded quite violently, seemingly for no reason at all. Giving a small, bemused laugh, Kiss-Shot's fangs protruded out over her full, red lips.

"Now, has sating our innate lust for violence brought us any closer to the truth of our situation? I thought not. Perhaps something more productive would be in our best interests, hm?" She spoke aloud in a golden voice, rich with condescension.

[Assistant]
Arragoz Plizgin - Shadow Eternity HQ

Shortly after arriving in the headquarters of 'Shadoo Foreva,' Arragoz had decided to take a quick look around the base, mainly to see if there was any 'shiny fings' worth lootan. Along the way, the Kommando had planted enough explosive charges throughout the complex to turn the surrounding area into a smoking crater if need be. He'd done this for the sake of security, of course. At present, he was sneaking through the base's vents, or about as close to sneaking as he could get, given the circumstances. Due to his bulk, combined with the inherently noisy nature of a ventilation shaft large enough to contain his frame, Arragoz was making enough of a racket to wake the dead. Not that he minded, as that only meant more gitz for him to krump.

Thankfully for the inhabitants of the base who valued their precious ears, the Kommando eventually halted upon reaching a grate. Looking down on the hangar below him, he dimly recognized some of da 'portant gitz that he'd been told about. In particular, there was the cybornetik flying lizard git and the puny humie Dok wif his choppa and pair of snazzy guns. After making a mental note to nick the Dok's flash gear at some point in the future, the Greenskin decided to introduce himself, in proppa Orky fashion.

Raising his arm, Arragoz clenched his fist before bringing it down on the grate in a crushing hammer-blow. The force of the impact caused the metal to buckle and break free of its moorings, resulting in the grate crashing into the floor of the hangar with a distinct clanging noise. Shortly afterwards, the bandana-clad head of Arragoz poked out from the newly created hole, and shouted a greeting of sorts. "Oi! Wot're you gitz up to?" While the words were uttered in a horrifically mangled version of Low Gothic, the Ork's translator barely managed to convert it into somewhat less mangled English, for the convenience of his co-workers.


[System]
Grade Level:
Senior

Appearance:

Graduation major:
Foreign language/theology

Academics/Clubs:
Band/Theater

What would you say your home life is like?:
Eclectic, our family are members in good standing with the local coven. Dad was corpsman in the navy until he met my mom and retired to work in the New Orleans ER. Mom is a certified Hoodani priestess who spent most of her time as a 'Eucharistic minister' in the same Mississippi hospital my dad worked at before hurricane Katrina us move to central city. We share our cul-de-sac with three other houses with other 'spirituals'. The neighbor kids try to make fun of us and consider us the freaks of the suburbia. Fuck-em.

What are your dreams for your future? Your ideal job?:
Love to open up a mystic shop and sell occult stuff along side standard magician supplies.

If you were given one million dollars, what would you do with it?:
Take 900,000 and invest it it into 12 separate 75,000 annual corporate bonds,
live off the 100,000 for the first year as each bond Matures
4% interest of 75,000 is 3000 a month for life aside from anything I do to earn income on my own, 36,000 a year.
Supplement the interest with regular finances until stable enough to not need regular employment.

What would you say is the best thing about yourself?:
Open-mindedness, when you worship multiple gods and believe in faeries and other magical creatures, then what you look like or who you kiss seems like stupid stuff to worry about.

What about the worst thing about yourself?:
Short temper, weekly fights over people messing with my family or friends.

What would you say is a fact about yourself you're most afraid getting out?:
I have a quite reasonable fear of storms and large bodies of water, but people would still make fun of me for not being able to swim or crying when lightning strikes.
My dad trained me in Ninjutsu from when he was stationed in okinawa for 10 years, last thing I need is everyone knowing the half japanese guy who is already a publicly known witch also knows ninja stuff. Naruto jokes for days.

Codename assigned:
Phantom

Power gained:
431625 - Teleportation, phasing through solid objects
After the initial injections, he developed a unique defense system to involuntary central nervous system disruptions. Simply put, he phases to avoid electrical shocks. As such, his costume comes with two small electrical current generators in his hands to give himself a low voltage shock. At initial exposure, he and everything attached to him becomes insubstantial for one second, if the electrical threat is still present after the first second he involuntary teleports up to ten feet from his location and remain insubstantial for another second before reforming. This prevents him from accidentally teleporting into a solid object without extrasensory spatial awareness.

While this may seem to back door grant him immunity to electrical attacks, accidental exposure to electricity also prevents him from interacting with other objects at the same time. Such as, he can not phase through an electrical gate protecting a lever as he can not become solid under threat of electrocution.

Costume design plans:
A masked suit made of many layers of kevlar strips for not only adding his his ghostly appearance but for visual blocks grasps grapples and snags.

Assigned back story:
The spirit of the fallen warrior, Rashid, a speedster. He has come back from the beyond as a spirit of justice, not revenge.

[User]
While waiting in the office Paul could feel the awkwardness just making the room more and more stuffy by the moment. Between Oliver quietly pacing the room, Dani looking at him in a way he wasn't liking, and now his math teacher accusing him of trying to get her fired. Paul felt very uncomfortable and wishing he could just vanish.

It wasn't helping that while he was wishing that, he was still steadily shrinking more and more. His clothes looking more and more baggy on him as he slouched against his chair. He wasn't noticing yet but he knew something felt off at the moment. "Dude, I don't want to talk my dreams, I just want to go home." Paul said matter of fact. He didn't really have an issue with Thomas, the guy seemed alright barring the more 'interesting' parts about him.

[Assistant]
Dani's attention was slowly diverted away from Paul as others piled into the room. The Zombie was the first to distract her and Dani snorted slightly at the accusation that they were all there for the sole purpose of getting her into trouble. "Not everything is about you." she said with a roll of her eyes. She actually felt a little bit bad for the teacher. But only a little. Stuck in a dead end job, convinced that everyone hated you? That was sad. Ms Velmont was practically the polar opposite of Dani. Dani had tons of energy and a drive to go as far as humanly possible while the zombie just seemed lethargic and depressed. But that didn't mean Dani wanted her to get fired.

And then there was Tim, asking if anyone else had a weird dream. Dani tensed at the memory of her own dream. The dream had given her the creeps. The fact that Tim, who was actually in her dream, had also had a weird dream just made her even more creeped. She was uncomfortable with everything that was going on right now. And when Dani got uncomfortable, she got catty...Or more catty than usual.

"Aren't all your dreams weird, Lestat?" she practically hissed. The comment was uncalled for and she knew that but she wasn't going to apologize. "And is no one going to comment on Benjamin Button over here?" she asked the room, throwing a thumb towards Paul next to her while looking incredulously at everyone else.

[User]
"Well," Oliver cleared his throat. "I didn't want to bring it up first." He then laughed. "None of this is normal!" He chuckled hysterically "You already brought up Paul's reverse growing. Carol looks like she's been living entirely on protein shakes for five years, I swear to God I saw Thomas flicker for a second. I keep hearing people's minds and I broke a mirror with my mind! Who knows what the Hell is up with Dani, Eric, and Velmont!" He calmed down for a moment.

 "So how's everyone's day going" He flashed a goofy smile. "Aside from becoming freaks of nature overnight?"

[Assistant]
Derek Quintanilla

---

One of the waiters had barely put his drink down on the table before Derek's friend Dani sat right beside him and snatched it up for herself. He had reached over to grab it only to look up and see her drinking it nonchalantly as if it belonged to her. "Well damn don't mind me. It's not like I was going to drink that or anything," he said sarcastically before giggling to himself. After conversing with one another for a few minutes, everyone seemed to scatter from the cafe and onto their respective classes for the day. Nothing too spectacular happened throughout the day with Derek except promoting the pep rally that was after school. He did have a mild headache which he assumed was from not having any coffee in the morning thanks to Dani. The only thing that was remotely weird was during Biology class when Derek went over to one of the lab table to pet the class pet hamster, Rodney. When he reached inside and took out the hamster, he could feel a tingling sensation in his hand when he held Rodney. Derek couldn't exactly explain what it was and thought he just had the jitters.

Before he knew it, school had ended but not before he heard his name over the intercom with other names included to head to the principal's office. He immediately started to panic in his mind and tried to remember if he did anything bad throughout the day. He couldn't remember breaking any rules and he was a good kid. A detention or suspension could ruin his clean record and possibly affect his future. As he began to dramatically freak out, he walked reluctantly to the front office where the others had already sat waiting. He glanced over at Dani who was sitting next to that cute waiter that worked at the cafe. He rushed over and sat next to her quickly, not even taking note the weird things that were happening with the other students.

"Oh my god, am I in trouble? We did we do? What did I do? I have a bad feeling about this," Derek rambled as he looked around nervously. If it wasn't known, he had a knack for wanting to be a goody two shoes.

[User]
Cia looked around at the other students realizing that none of them were there to get her fired. "Really? Huh, speaking of dreams. That was one of the rare dreams I ever got. But man did it feel good to get some sleep." Cia said with a smile as she thought about the fact that she actually got some sleep for once. As she thought of that feeling of bliss though her body started to melt. Soon enough her legs had becoming nothing but a puddle of skin. "Yeah that was great... why is everyone taller?" Cia said looking at the others in the room. She then realized that one of the students, Paul, had become shorter as well. "Your all talking about weird things happening. So I'm not hallucinating then?" Cia said before looking down to see the puddle of skin again.

"Right, I'm sure there is an explanation for this." Cia said looking at the others now trying to be an adult despite being shorter than them currently as half her body was a puddle. "I'm sure that since we are all experiencing this and we were all called here, someone will explain what is going on. Right?" Cia said trying to be optimistic. Sure she wasn't a great teacher, but she atleast knew how to prevent a panic.

[Assistant]
Paul glanced at Dani with an awkward glare of confusion as to what she was talking about, then Oliver chimed in with complete insanity. Paul wasn't sure what was going on, but he wasn't quite buying that it was something weird. Paul wasn't the kind of guy to just buy into crazy stuff, he would like to think he was a normal person, rational, and not just fall for any stupid crap. "Okay seriously you guys? Here's a thought, maybe you guys should stop with the stupid conspiracy theoHOLY SHIT MS. VELMONT?!"

Suddenly Paul's powers kicked into overdrive. The sudden shock of watching Ms. Velmont melt near him caused him to lose all thought, and his powers caused him to practically vanish in his seat. His clothes gently fluttered down onto the chair as Paul suddenly found himself naked and in a weird new world of cloth skies and denim lands. He glanced around frantically, "Uh guys? Melting Velmont? ANYONE?! ...AHHHHHHHHHHH!" Paul screamed in complete fear, though no one could possibly hear it based on the fact that he was so small his voice couldn't be heard from such a distance. Still he tried to cover himself as he glanced around. "Uh... I might go ahead and reconsider what you guys were saying?" He awkwardly said aloud.

[User]
Carol was having a hard time wrapping her head around what was going on. Dani had pointed out Paul and she had to watch for a while to realize that the boy was shrinking. She didn't really know him so only until she saw it did the reference click. Oliver mentioned several other odd things but not having seem them herself she couldn't really say. Obviously she knew of the things that had happened to her. "Okay, I do remember a dream and I think several of...you..." Ms. Velmont seemed to halfway melt before their eyes. However she didn't seem to be in any pain and actually was trying to keep things calm.

Despite the teacher trying to keep things from going crazy Paul seemed to lose it and suddenly disappear. Or more likely he shrank rapidly as his clothes flopped down where he stood. Dumbfounded Carol ran her hands through her hair and groaned slightly. "I'm not checking on him." He was probably naked under the clothes and she wanted nothing to do with that. This is crazy. Whoever called us here needs to hurry up and explain some things. Alright, so the dream thing seems to be a common theme. It's kind of hazy for me. I remember being on something like a medical table and getting a dose of something. I just thought it was a nightmare from when I was in the hospital or something. What about your dreams?"

[Assistant]
"Lestat? Really? I'm shocked you aren't vapid enough to call me Edward you twihard."
"Aside from becoming freaks of nature overnight?"
"Welcome to the club, we have tee-shirts

It was hard to guess or not assume which we he was speaking with as he tried to set his hand on carol's wheelchair handle. A cheerleader and a soccer jock finally on the receiving end of being outcasts. It was about damn time! Unfortunately, his hand phased through Carol's chair, and carol, and he lost his support as he fell through the counter top of the office and solidified on the other side with a crash into one of the computers, shocking his hand and actually teleporting himself back across the room to the rest of the students in a reflexive crouch over the place of the disappearing Paul's pile of clothes. Did Paul teleport too? And was he somewhere naked?

Looking back over to Carol, the light did go on from what Oliver said that she did look more muscular than before. Mostly in th face and neck lost its softness and the way she framed her shoulders. She was stronger in the upper body over the last two years of using the wheelchair, but now that he had distance and a cue to notice the way she sat in the chair it was more obvious.

Eyes went from Carol to the teacher to see her melting like a candle but speaking in perfectly calm tones. She didn't seem to be in pain, but he still didn't want to risk getting too close so he stayed crouched on the chair with the chains and straps of his pants dangling.

This is crazy. Whoever called us here needs to hurry up and explain some things. Alright, so the dream thing seems to be a common theme. It's kind of hazy for me. I remember being on something like a medical table and getting a dose of something. I just thought it was a nightmare from when I was in the hospital or something. What about your dreams?"

He had to agree; this was getting too freaky, too fast. If someone didn't settle the situation soon it was all going to go to hell in a hand-basket. He nodded in agreement to her explanation of last night.

Same here, lots of people, strapped down and stabbed with god knows what. Then I woke up. Didn't mind the strapped down part.

The last he added with a pointed look to the cheerleader to get her goat.


[System]
Male, 20 Years, Born in Finland

---

Appearance
Standing at five feet, seven inches tall and weighing 67 kilograms, Tryg isn't the owner of an imposing build, but he likes it that way. He requires glasses to see properly, at least in the real world. Tryg owns a great many black t-shirts, and has a tendency to wear a light gray and black jacket. For legwear, khakis are preferred. His nose is quite pointed, his eyes sunken, and his hair jet black. On his right temple is a wire-thin scar. Anytime Tryg has been seen awake, he seems to have his bass trombone (which he dubs "Dainsleif") strapped to his back, if it's not in his hands.

Personality
Tryg is rather arrogant, but he is not without his idols. He holds his trombone in such high regard that some think it to be worship, but his true undeniable worship is given to JJ Johnson, a jazz trombonist from the Americas. Before moving to the UK for University, he had a shrine erected in JJ's honor in the closet of his bedroom. He sees no other musician as worthy of his attention, and can even be condescending to those who are not musically inclined, believing them to be lacking in education.

Even for all his arrogance, though, there's something about those who are downtrodden that tugs at Tryg's heartstrings. Maybe because he feels he relates due to struggling to meet his goal? He couldn't admit that, though, could he?

---

Persona

Mist rarely reveals her true form to anyone considered "beneath" her. However, when she is convinced of a warrior being worthy of a place in Valhalla (in Tryg's mind, those of Valhalla are Soloists or First Chair musicians), she at last reveals her face. Even to a lesser companion, she will ensure they are not harmed beyond healing. She will remain faithful to any considered a "friend" until their demise, even if they are not deemed worthy in her eyes. Or perhaps it's not a matter of an improvement outsiders must make . . .

Arcana
Faith

Skill
Mist grants the ability to Heal allies, as well as the ability to create a concealing fog.

Equipment
While in the World of Fog, Tryg utilizes a rapier for melee combat and a light crossbow for ranged attacks.

---

Education
Tryg is in his third year of University, and as the trombone being carried around probably indicates, he is majoring in music.

Biography
The product of an inconsequential family out of Tampere, Finland, Tryg was clearly influenced by music at a young age. His parents seemed to be proud of this, as he was taking after his father. After his seventh birthday, he discovered American Jazz, and it became an obsession, enough that Tryg's primary instrument of choice was the trombone. His parents initially granted his wish, and even paid for private lessons, but as the costs of another musician in the family grew greater, so did the tensions between parents and child. Tryg's musical abilities grew rapidly, yet his parents grew weary of this increasing obsession, both in terms of money and morale. At the age of 14, Tryg got into a horrible confrontation with his father that left Tryg's mother terrified. Tryg would never admit it, but he was the first to throw a punch that day. The fight left Tryg with a broken wrist and a scar on his temple, and his father managed with only a couple of bruises.

Yet Tryg refused to give up his passion, and became more determined to follow this obsession through to the end. He even took up odd jobs around town and earned small jazz gigs to earn money, and applied for scholarships to help pay for further tuition. By the time he finished his local schooling, he had amassed enough to go abroad for the remainder of his tuition. At last, it was time to escape from his parents and show the world what he was capable of.

To celebrate "moving up in the world," Tryg had managed to save enough money to purchase a new bass trombone, which he gave the name Dainsleif with the promise that any time he touched the instrument to his lips, the sound would be so pure it would "kill" those who listened. He found it entertaining when he arrived at Thames' Edge to learn of their motto: Find Your Purpose. "Heh. I've got my purpose," Tryg thought. "I'm here to fulfill it." His first two years of school were uneventful, but it's now that he has begun to question his goals. Once he finishes this, what is it he's going to do?

Affiliations
Brennus and Candace Truman, his parents, though he likes to not bring it up

Relationships
None, at the moment. Views himself a lone wolf.

Character Theme

[User]
Rose rolled her eyes as the boy had the audacity to lecture her before running off."Hmph, the nerve of some people." She muttered to herself. What was wrong with expecting some manner of politeness from people? Was it so difficult to say sorry? Then this would have been over, and no harm would have been done. Clearly, Rose had been raised much better than this child.

The other boy was still here. He offered to escort her to university. Rose smirked. Although, she wasn't at all enthused by the remark, she definitely appreciated the offer. It helped that this boy was kind of cute. Not that she was one to lose her wits over a man. "As a matter of fact, I do attend Thanes Edge. I accept your offer. It can be so difficult to meet new people in University, it would be nice to have some company." The young woman offered her hand for him to shake if he wanted to. "My name is Rose Hadley, by the way. You look familiar. Do we share a class by any chance?"

of Thoth

[Assistant]
---

Towards the back of the library, Felix had made a small den of books. He had maee it to the University with even more time to spare, thanks in no small part to his anger at the woman. But like most emotions he stuffed it back inside as he put his mind to learning several new subjects and enchancing his understanding of old ones. In truth, he knew how unhealthy course, his studies of psychology made that perfectly clear, but there was too much for him to deal with at this point. It was nearly twelve years since he had begun doing this, ten years of repressed emotions that he could not let loose on the world.

He should have followed the unwritten rules of society with that woman. What he knew from his studies trying to understand people said that you should apologise when people ask you to, even if it isn't your fault. But this desire, this addiction, to challenging himself got in the way. Why did she have to be such a powerhouse of a woman, the Athena to his Arachnee? He didn't think he was attracted to her in a sexual manner, as he had repressed his carnal desires with his emotions... for the most part.

Perhaps it was a blessing Manann would be taking him across to the realm beyond. The world didn't need to deal with the retched beast that would come forth when his dammed emotions finally broke out.

[User]
---

---

 Ah, what an unmistakable dreariness: time. The day was spent in false company. Many people surrounded him, and yet he felt as if he were there all alone. People came and went, talking with or to him. Ideas for scripts, camera discussions, compliments towards the last year's work and appreciation for contemporary pieces. He smiled, sometimes, and carried on with life as it was. The same old anchor that tied his feet to the ground still held onto him. He couldn't shake it, nor could he loosen its grip. It felt hurtful to admit that he'd lost a lot of hope in finding what he ever so desired. And so, he continued to just work as he always did. Maybe someday it would come. Maybe it wouldn't. He didn't know but he surely did care. It was one of those things, those sparks that can't catch alight. Split asunder between his true needs and his personal situation, he simply dragged himself to the toilet every so often to catch a breather and a drink of water.

 As the day went on, he began to drift into his mind. He thought back to the dream he had. A blue room laced with velvety strings, coating the bridge of a ship's interior. It had been so...surreal. Chalking it up as a dream didn't feel right. Something felt different about it, like he physically sensed things a man usually wouldn't. From the long-nosed captain to the spiritedly intriguing figure beside him, it stemmed from no prior schema or experiences he'd had before. It wasn't a creative pounce. That worried him, but it also made him more intrigued by what it had been. He began to think over the small details he could remember, just as if he were there in person. The shaking the sea yet the stillness of the ship. Sails tattered and loose, being dragged along in the wind. Metaphorically, he had no clue what it meant, at least from the vague memory he held of it. Oh, the cold furnaces and funnels that weren't active. Something about them seemed to catch his attention, but to what reason was still unknown. Most of his reminiscence came from within the room.

 The man with the long nose, as he'd be known as, was a very distressful figure. He spoke with an eerie tone, one that felt too provocative of a stalkers tongue. The things he said, the suggestions he made. Bets, games and keeping a close eye? But he wasn't the only one in the room either. Laurence stood amidst several figures of unknown shade. Clouds and gases covered their faces. God, the entire thing befuddled him. He wanted to know. He had a desire to learn about the dream, if it were a one-off special to his weird imagination or something of a premonition? It couldn't be, he thought. Those were things beyond real cognition; a pseudoscience perhaps? Either way, it puzzled him through the entire day, right up until he'd decided that he'd done enough work. He wasn't sure if he'd be heading out to his treated dinner that night or if it was a reschedule. Either way, Fiddle would've called to have let him know later on.

 The time? 5:30pm, on the dot. He felt a strange thump in his head. It ached for a little while, forcing his hand to hold against his temple. The plummet felt extraterrestrial. A murky tailor to his scalp suddenly discomforted him. It lingered and it toyed with him for a while, increasing its irritation over the course of a few minutes. Rotten luck, he imagined it was nothing more than a migraine at the very worst. It didn't ruin anything in the day, only discomfort. One of the small things in life that would pile on to the endless seas of struggles that one must face. He looked back up at his phone. 5:42pm. Time really did fly past when there was nothing to work for. He sighed. And so, he slung his bag over his shoulder, collected his laptop and walked towards the nearest exit.

 The air felt fresh, yet poisoned. Each step he took felt riddled with motion sickness. He staggered once or twice, but maintained his course. Getting home was the priority. The campus was huge, taking a while to cross from one end to the other. And along the way, as he walked down a particular alley leading behind the science department, something began to warp around him. The sky. It...shifted? No. It changed colour? Or did it? The warps and waves fluctuated through the sky. Ripples bounced all around him. A violent agony besieged his forehead. He didn't know where it was coming from or what was happening, but he could've sworn an entire mist appeared when he closed his eyes, falling to a single knee. As far as he knew, there wasn't anyone near him, nor in the same alleyway. He tried to speak, but felt his throat close tightly. His eyes shimmered with bright lights and crude obscurities, like clouds. And before he knew it, there was an awfully unrecognisable change occurring around him, one that would forever begin the path he and many others were unaware they'd take.

[Assistant]
He didn't make much from his performance, but for essentially being a street performer, Tryg could do worse. As he finished his tune and parties departed for class, Tryg realized he should probably do likewise. A music theory class to start the day, followed by lunch, then private lessons and orchestra, and lastly (and in his opinion, best) jazz band. Of course, the freshies in the latter two made it near impossible to accomplish anything first day, though they had still received a few sheets of music to begin practice for performances and recitals and the like later in the semester. When all was wrapped up, he stayed over and found an unoccupied practice room in the music building to give this music a more proper look.

Nothing too challenging by Tryg's standards, but could be seen as fun nonetheless. Clearly intended to not scare the new kids out the door as they transition from lesser education levels of musical talent into pseudo-professionalism. It made sense for the purposes of building their abilities, but as far as Tryg was concerned, if this truly were an attempt to transition students into becoming professionals, then this needed to be treated like a more professional gathering. Give the kids the challenging stuff. Make them work to prove themselves. If they can't handle it, then stick them on third seat or send them out the door. Tryg, of course, challenged the higher seats immediately upon his arrival to the school, and played those who were his "senior" under the table. Since, he has been the foremost Trombone seat.

Then that one kid today, wanted to challenge him for first seat, so Tryg went down to the music library, grabbed a piece he'd never played before (something out of his own comfort zone as well, so not even jazz related) and proceeded to show the kid why he shouldn't even be in orchestra, yet the director still had the audacity to promote the kid from third seat to second. The kid couldn't even hold a middle C (and his notes sounded as chunky as the director's fat rolls. What the actual hell was going through the director's head? Whatever. Tryg would make sure the kid came to worship him and his trombone soon enough.

Then about 5:30, a wave of heartburn seemed to set in. Or, unless the clock on the wall was off, it was right on the dot. Shit, must've been something I had for lunch, he thought. He played another ten minutes, and over that time the discomfort transitioned into pure nausea. Okay, time to call it quits and find a restroom. He was on the second floor, and there was a restroom at the end of the hallway that should be unlocked. He slung Dainsleif over his shoulder and stumbled through the door.

The hallway seemed to twist and writhe before him. Either I'm on an acid trip, too, or this bug is worse than I thought. Rather ungracefully, Tryg made his way down the corridor, once straight as an arrow, but now serpentine, writhing and rippling the whole way. Colors morphed, then returned to normal. Tunnel vision started to set in, but the restroom door was right there. All he had to do was reach out and grab the handle. Or take two more steps and grab it. Damn thing. After repeating this cycle no less than three times (might've been more), Tryg finally shoved the door open, revealing a place that wasn't the restroom he remembered, being completely covered in fog and near impossible to see in. Then, Tryg threw up. Shit.


[System]
Gender: ♂
Age: 46
Rank: nobleman
on the left
Personality: The Lord of Cirencester is boisterous and mirthful. He is a prized hunter, with many war dogs and horses in his keep. Banweald yearns for a male heir, and as he realizes his wife cannot give him this, he has been looking among the thegns for a new one.
History: As a young man, Banweald was a knight under Offa the Great who fought in several campaigns against the Welsh. For his glory in battle he was made a thegn and given dominion over the recently assimilated Hwicce, and resides at a lavish estate just south of Cirencester called Celnaer Manor, which is connected to the barracks and dungeon of the region. He took a teenage pagan as his wife, and proceeded to live a debauched and drunken life of fresh meat and wine. After ten years, Hwithryth has yet to bear him a living child, and his patience with such things is wearing thin and his eyes are drifting to nearby towns, searching for a concubine.
Loyalties: Coenwulf the King of Mercia, and The Church when it suits his purposes.

Name: Hwithryth the Barren
Gender: ♀
Age: 24
Rank: noblewoman
on the right
Personality: Icy and distant, cold and calculating. It's no secret that she despises her husband, who killed her pagan kinsmen and married her for her beauty when she was just a child.
History: Before Hwicce was fully assimilated into Mercia, pagans were given reasonable freedom within the Wych to do as they pleased. Hwithryth and her family lived there, and she was meant to become a prophetess. After 780AD all pagans who didn't flee or convert were put to the sword, and she was taken by Banweald as a wife at just 14. She has been seething and stewing ever since, waiting for an opportunity to escape him.
Loyalties: the Wych

Name: Winoc the Dog, or more formally "Winoc Beordhorthinen Draefends-Ealdgeneat"
Gender: ♂
Age: 33
Rank: freeman
Personality: Winoc is a gentle, quiet Welshman. When he does venture into town he is known to be kind in his dealings, never overcharging for whelps, and a good listener in conversation. Despite his typically distant nature, he's often very curious about foreigners and newcomers. Some pious among the community find it odd how much time he spends "hunting game" in the Wychwood, but his good nature deters most serious suspicions.
History: Winoc grew up on a modest piece of land along the River Churn where he and his parents raised sheep and sold their wool. His parents died of sickness when he was just thirteen, leaving him to tend the farm alone. He took in a wild dog shortly thereafter and named her Queen Brig; she lived for half a decade and had many litters in that time, each more profitable than the last. Since then he's become quite wealthy breeding, training, and selling hunting dogs, each a descendant of Brig herself. He now resides on a sizable estate of two hides on the northwestern side of the Churn past Cirencester. He lives a simple life, seeming to spend all of his time tending his estate, raising his hounds, and more recently reading old manuscripts at the local abbey. It's rumored that he helps hide pagans who are trying to escape to Jutland, but no hard evidence of this has been found.
Loyalties: the Wych

Name: Mildemaer of Crowland
Gender: ♀
Age: 15
Rank: freewoman
Personality: Mildemaer is fiery and talkative, disrespectful towards her elders and unafraid of holy men. She's full of energy and has a nosy thirst for knowledge, not shy about asking improper questions or striking up conversations with strangers. She loves animals of all kinds, from sparrows to stallions. It's rare to catch her without a chicken or pup in her grasp. Her resourcefulness and quick thinking make her a force in the market, but with such a short temper, she's been known to get into screaming matches when merchants won't deal fairly with her. In the short time since she came to live in Cirencester, Mildemaer has made herself quite a spectacle; she no interest in marriage or in becoming a nun, and often prefers belted tunics and trousers more typical of a small boy than a young woman.
History: Mildemaer was born in Crowland, near East Anglia. She was the only child of a Celtic scholar and a Welsh dairy maid; both Christians who frequented a large cathedral. She lived in a tiny village near the coast just outside the marshes of Crowland her whole childhood until just two years ago, when the church and the town were victim to a viking raid. She claims that she fled into the marsh, pursued by two vikings, and was saved from a gruesome death by the lost Icling Queen of Mercia. Naturally no one believed these claims, and her only proof is an odd war axe. She was sent thereafter to live with Winoc, her only living relative. She now helps him around the estate and frequents the markets in town.
Loyalties: The House of Icel

Name: Justiciar Alexius
Gender: ♂
Age: 47
Rank: nobility
Appearance: {image WIP} Alexius is a very tall and quite lean man, with severe features and dark, sunken eyes. His hair is dark brown and already graying, particularly on his face. He almost always wears dark robes typical of a judge or church official of his status, akin to a very long tunic, and a red belt or wrap on his waist or shoulders.
Personality: Justiciar Alexius did not get where he is today by being kind and generous in his dealing; he has a reputation not just for being harsh and severe, but for being lethally effective in his work. He has no qualms about playing dirty to root out pagans and criminals, fully willing to break the law to make it right. This has not made him a popular man, but certainly he's a feared one.
History: The good judge was born Brennus Maccaba, an orphan thrall in East Anglia. From a young age he served many holy men and members of the clergy in various monasteries, where he learned to read and write. He was granted his freedom on the condition that he join the church, which he happily agreed to do, becoming a translator for officials and missionaries coming from distant and powerful empires. Such a position allowed him to make acquaintances among the English nobility, eventually coming to Mercia to aid in the culling of heretics.
Loyalties: the Church

Name: Wilmot
Gender: ♀
Age: 22
Rank: thrall
Appearance: {image WIP} She is slender and quite tall, seeing eye-to-eye with most men. Wilmot's hair is raven black and curly, but cropped close to her head and often covered with a cowl. Her eyes are dark brown and somewhat narrow; her skin is translucently pale and free of freckles or marks. Typically she wears a modest dress of light grey or beige, and a darker cowl and shawl.
Personality: Like most thralls, Wilmot is very quiet and humble. She is quite easily amused and distracted, often lost in her own thoughts and wondering or getting lost while doing errands for her master. She's good natured and sweet, but quite naive; easily impressed but shy.
History: Wilmot was sold as a thrall just before her tenth birthday. Her mother died shortly after giving birth to a dead son, and her drunken father was incapable and uninterested in raising her alone. She was purchased by a lowly lord near Tamworth, and spent her teenage years doing menial housework around his family's estate. Her master found himself indebted to Justiciar Alexius, and thusly sold her to him two years ago. He told her that she may have her freedom if she finds a husband or joins the nunnery, but she's not eager to do either of these things.
Loyalties: the Church

[User]
Fryor woke in a haze with a slight shutter he pick out some hay from his hair and brushed it off his clothing. He had slept in this horse pen for a day or two in exchange for labor in the fields Fryor's back and hands ached Fyror was a warrior his whole life so slaving in the fields was a long call from his old life. "Alas this is my lot in life now to walk this land until my shameful death brings this chapter shut" he said in a hushed tone.

the former Viking stood up slowly he brushed off the hay that clung to his tunic and trousers "well i think i have worn my welcome a long overdue" he said as he pushed open the gate closing it behind himself he walked the dirt path out into the cobble road. Ahead lay the road to a large city Fyror had never been to it before most of his time here was spent raiding the coast with his Kin.

He started his stride down the road a meager coin pouch weighed little on his waist. "well i hope this place is kinder to my folk than the villages i've passed i'd like to not lose my head this day" he joked to himself.

[Assistant]
Beornraed cringe slightly at Alfred's ramblings; he respected his commander greater than any other he'd served, knowing his brilliant strategic mind and the trials he overcame on the battlefield, but some of his behavior was... troubling, at times. "I'll certainly keep my ear to the citizenry, my liege. The day is yet young, but by God's graces, we may see the day peaceful." He watched Alfred ride toward Celnaer Manor, sucking in an uneasy breath when his commander nearly trampled some poor stablehand before the second in command returned to th militia.
As was often the case, Banweald leisurely rose from his sleep later than any of his subjects. He donned a blue silk tunic with intricately woven stripes at its hems and fine black boots, and placed a golden garnet circlet upon his head. When Alfred entered the Manor, the lord was just tucking into a breakfast of honeyed ham and fruit pastries, certainly richer than anything the commander would ever see upon his own table.
Banweald smiled just slightly at Alfred as he approached. "You certainly hurried here; can't even let me eat in peace?" He asked lightly, rising from the table to address the commander properly. He slapped his comrade's shoulder playfully, seeing his troubled look. "I'm only teasing you, sword-brother. No need to have such a grim look."

---

Unicycle
Wilmot nodded in quiet agreement, glancing once more up and down the quiet main road of town. For a moment she seemed once more lost, as if watching someone far down the way, but quickly her attention returned to Garod as he finished speaking. "I apologize, I never introduced myself... my name is Wilmot. May I ask for your name, kind sir?"

---

Mildemaer caught the pear and took a joyful bite out of it right away. "Keep it up and soon we'll both be called misers!" She joked to Sibley. She finished the pear quickly and saw her pup eyeing her with begging eyes, and mercifully tossed it the core to gnaw on. She'd already sold the hen to a local farmer for a small sum of gold and silver coins which now was tied at her belt, hanging at the fringe of her tunic. Sitting on the bank by Sibley's boat, Mildemaer turned a silver penny over and over between her fingers. "Sibley, can you read any?"

[User]
Banweald and Alfred always had an odd couple type of relationship. One of them is lively and animated, lax and easygoing, lives lavishly and enjoys fine things, likes to hunt and likes women. The other is not like that at all. It is humorous to consider that Bandweald is fifteen years senior to Alfred but the demeanor of each men quickly betray that. One would think that Alfred was significantly older than his liege. Alfred would very likely not like Banweald if they just met on the road. In fact, Alfred would actually be bothered by the lord if they met in different circumstances. He might even start a fight with him.

Their past however tells a very different story. The two were in and out many battles together ever since Alfred joined Banweald's service. As Alfred rose through the ranks of his lord's army their respect for one another grew. It all came to a head when Banweald rescued Alfred from imprisonment by launching a daring and suicidal rescue mission. All the other lords wanted Banweald to forgo this plan, but because the lord did not, Alfred will always swear faithful allegiance to his lord. Even if he can be quite bothersome in his mind.

"My liege, I was told that you needed to see me promptly," said Alfred, "I was concerned and wanted to know if there was something required of me and the militia."

[Assistant]
"A bit, yes," Sigrid said. It was a lie, and she knew it. She could read, but only a little bit, and even then only the Futharc used in Jutland. The Angle runes baffled her. They were familiar, but just not familiar enough that she may recognize the corresponding runes in Futharc. What's more, she's pretty sure the Angles have at least twice as many runes in their script. "Why do you ask?" She hoped that there wasn't some sort of test coming up, or worse yet, a task assigned to her that required mastery of the script. Most horrifying of all would be if her failure to read Angle script marked her forever as a foreigner, a blood with the brutal raiders that ignited the flames spanning the whole Angle-land coast. Sigrid took a nervous bite of her pear, and found it tasting like ash. Perhaps she should have gone to the other farmer . . .

Soon enough, the pear was done. Despite its taste, Sigrid still wished there was more. Pears aren't exactly the filling type, and a merchant's job was never finished. She still had a couple of things to handle before night, not least of which was meeting the local jarls and working out a charter. She looked over to her ship, her mind cataloguing all the articles of clothing she owned. There had to be a fancy dress somewhere in that rotting log. She distinctly remembered buying something of the sort in . . . either South or East Seaxe, definitely something with Seaxe in the name. Yet, for the life of her, she cannot remember if she traded it away. That'll be an afternoon of digging through her muck again.

[User]
Banweald's smile faded somewhat as he began to speak. "Your second didn't deceive you, I do. Tensions are growing in Northumbria; Coenwulf will need not just men for the frontlines, but he'll need sound strategic minds for his court during wartimes." The lord cooly picked up a goblet of wine and drank from it, glancing to his sword-brother with dark eyes. "How have you been sleeping, Alfred?"

---

The tangle-headed girl put her coin away. "Oh, no reason." Rolling thunder echoed in the distance, making the hairs on Mildemaer's neck stand on end while her whelp started to bark incessantly. She glanced to the sky, and the gray clouds of morning had brewed into pitch-black murk that threatened to burst at any moment.
"Would you like to come to my cousin's estate? I doubt many will want to trade during a storm."


[System]
Age: 20

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Standing at about 5'9" tall, Tiral has a fairly average build for his age, which is kind of strange considering how he's perpetually surrounded by the other Iron Rose Knights who seem to be much sturdier than he. His light brown hair is cut short, but has found a way of remaining a shaggy mess that barely avoids his eyes, even while he is wearing armor. More often than not, though, Tiral opts to avoid the usage of any large plate armor or metal armor, instead only wearing stronger equipment over his vitals and leaving the rest under regular leather garb. His sword will often times be sheathed at his side, ready for combat at a moment's notice.

Personality: Tiral is... Actually fairly deliberate for a knight, if not somewhat bored by the peace of everyday life. His journeys at a young age meant he was already able to experience life in the real world, and since then the dusty old libraries that the mages hold in such high regard have been... Well, fairly dull. This doesn't mean that he isn't devoted to his work, but rather that he does not wish to learn anything unless he finds it interesting. Even so, his patience when it comes to such things is unparalleled. Or maybe it's just the fact that he can slap some ice onto people's mouths when he's trying to focus. That too.

Brief Backstory: Having been orphaned a young age due to an illness that wiped out the rest of his village, Tiral was taken in by a priestess of Mayon who was moving with a group of travelers to bring aid to those in need. Though he was never explicitly religious, he greatly appreciated the efforts put forth to save his life, even then. As he grew up alongside these people, the priestess soon found that Tiral had an aptitude for magic. With a recommendation from her (and the goading of those around her), Tiral went off to the capital to further his studies of magic. Sadly, the monotonous life of a studying magician was not quite what the then-young boy had expected of magic.

It was then that he heard of the Iron Rose Knights, whose feats were oft recorded in the books he was forced to pore over. Deciding that the life of a knight was much more entertaining than the life of a magical scholar, Tiral packed up his things once more and went to join the order. Learning the sword came about as easily as magic did to him, but the combination of the two (and his somewhat strange insistence on learning both at once) made him particularly noteworthy among that year's recruits. Since then, Tiral has been honing his abilities, both magical and physical.

Equipment: Other than his rather 'unique' set of armor, Tiral wields a shortsword and a small ceremonial dagger. While the sword is standard-issue, the dagger is mainly used as a catalyst for some of Tiral's larger spells. It may be used as a glorified kitchen knife, but he'd probably never stand for that. More often than not, this dagger is tucked away in his shirt or under his breastplate, but it never leaves his person.

Skills: Contrary to many of his peers, Tiral has chosen not to solely specialize in the way of the blade; rather than just being proficient with his shortsword, Tiral is also proficient in the usage of magic in combat. This magic, focusing mainly on the manipulation on water and ice, has become particularly noteworthy for those who are particularly religious. He, quite frankly, just sees it as sort of a coincidence; his specialty being water does not mean that anything was pre-ordained by the gods.
Probably.

[User]
Sir Garrett
Themerlinhawk

Sir Garrett's eyes narrowed as the two of them both focused their collective gaze on him. Oh now I see how it is. Well if we are going to play this game then, it's war. As Marianne took his other arm he exhaled slowly through his nose; how best to deal with these two in one fell swoop. Marianne was playing at something other than Julianna was. Turning he lead the two lovely girls out of the general center of attention. While the tips of his ears were quite pink from the excessive attention it did not break his alcohol bolstered social confidence.

What in the world did I do to deserve this Sir Garrett sighed as he directed them towards the edge of the room again. No doubt they needed to make an appearance before the princess; however before that he planned on not having both of them hanging on his arms. It probably would not present the best possible image for a Knight. Let alone someone who had been thrust into the spotlight as foreign nobility. Flicking his eyes he looked for an effective escape from the situation.

"Fine if this is going to be how it is then have at."

There were plenty of things he'd hidden from the Knights but it largely had to do with the fact that this was partially a self imposed exile. Now that he was in the spotlight here in Thaln it would no doubt cause enough of a ripple to get attention at home. Unwanted attention which could have future consequences. People had been suspicious since his sister had escaped and his brothers supporters had immediately questioned if he had let her go and used the whole thing as a ruse to keep her in his back pocket for a rainy day.

Fools, instead of chasing her they just looked to burn me at the stake instead

Wandering his way over the line of people making to speak with the Princess he stopped with the two female knights. "You have until we reach the Princess. After that if you want more then you're just going to have to give chase. Ask all you want but you won't get any more from me. You'll have to find me on the dance floor.' He paused and thought for a moment. Hopefully I still remember how. Hopefully he could hide there long enough to avoid the third degree from everyone whose ears had pricked up at the title.

Why did I come again? Stupid herald.

Looking up Sir Garrett saw a rather tall man through the crowd. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he caught how the man was looking at him. What the hell? Tilting his head ever so slightly he narrowed his eyes as he took in the pair. Who the hell is that? The appearance scratched at the back of his mind as he lead the two through the crowd putting some space and bodies between the pair. The hairs on the back of his remained on end as he walked. The axe at his belt suddenly became far more apparent and he became incredibly aware of just hwo difficult Marianne had made it for him to defend himself.

Oh this night just keeps getting better.
@IceHeart

[Assistant]
Tyaethe was brought out of her confused stupor by the half-dwarf's ribald comment. In the general scheme of things, she wasn't actually opposed to such observations. Given their surroundings it went from 'amusing but blunt' to 'when did she start drinking?' Of course dwarves were stubborn and hard-headed, so any reprimand would require a little more emphasis than normal.

Hence stretching and cuffing the girl round the back of the head. "We're knights and not allowed to say that at balls."

Draining the rest of her beer in a move completely counter to her reprimand, Tyaethe's eyes fixed once again on the princess. Gillian was currently holding her attention but it would be a poor idea for someone so mercenary to report on the knights' actions, particularly as he had no reason ti display the necessary loyalty to the captain. Resolved to prevent any miscommunication, the undead paladin used her small size to slip through the crowd, gain another beer, and squeeze to the princess's size. There was some elbowing involved and the threat of being poked 'by accident' with a sword but overall, nothing disruptive.

"The Captain had a highly successful first mission, surrounding and exterminating the bandits, and getting the better of the Three Hundred-Man Slayer in her first experience of real combat. The lone casualty was to the hands of that vile fiend," Tyaethe proclaimed, nodding authoritatively, "The only time any knights were placed in jeopardy were those who thought to act outside of their ranks."

Speech over, the paladin hoped that the princess would recognise her despite the odd size. Her sword had to be quite well known...

[User]
"Ah, we can all hope for that, of course," said Eliabelle with a nod. It would be lovely if they didn't need to worry about too much fighting anymore. But at the same time, the people deserved someone who could keep them safe. The guards deserved someone they could look up to, a shining beacon of justice. That was what the Knight-Captain of the Iron Roses was, wasn't it? That blazing light of righteousness, as much of a star as the legendary Starlight Saint, who led her order against injustice time and time again. "But looking to the Starlight Saint is something I would think anyone would do in her position."

It was about then that... a little girl approached? Wait, that sword... Eliabelle stared for a moment as the little girl loudly proclaimed how successful Fanilly had been in leading the knights for the first time, and destroying the bandits. Even facing off against the Three-Hundred Man Slayer. Eliabelle had heard such a man had been there, but she hadn't known many of the details. Simply that he had been killed. To know that Fanilly had faced off against him and gotten the better of him... Eliabelle couldn't help but be inspired once more. A girl no older then herself doing such things...

"Ah, I'm so glad to hear that! But... er..." she paused for a few moments. She didn't want to be impolite, but... "... If... if you really are the only person I know to wield a sword like that... you're... er, much smaller then I thought!"

Any excitement felt at speaking to the Immortal Knight was somewhat dampened by confusion.

---

Soon enough, both Christina and the odd little girl had arrived at the table. Upon it, there sat a number of different sweets. Various forms of biscuits, a large multi-tiered cake decorated with the purple and white of Thaln's flag, various tarts, waffles, and an array of cupcakes. The little girl immediately set about gathering a plethora of sweets into her tray, excitedly. There was a gleam in her green eyes as she stacked a tray high with sweets, and then eyed the cake eagerly.

Before doing anything more, she spun on her heel and turned to face the knight, smiling brightly as she did. "You helped me out a lot! All those people were just all over the place, it was really inconvenient!"

Her smile widened into a grin.

"Thanks, Christina!"

Wait... when had the little girl heard Christina's name?

"By the way, you might want to keep an eye on that Princess~"

With that, the girl, the sweets she had gathered, and the entire cake were suddenly gone. Well... all aside from a single slice, which had someone found its way onto a tray, that was somehow in Christina's hand.

A few people nearby, including those looking on in bafflement at the sudden lack of a cake, would hear strange, somewhat childish laughter.

"Fufufu~"

---

"F-four hundred and fifty magil..." Bethany repeated to herself, nodding somewhat more firmly. Her cheeks were still flushed with embarrassment, but when she turned back to face the knight, she had a look determination on her face. Right. This was a way in which she could assist the Iron Roses!

"Y-you can do better!" she declared, more loudly(thought still in a wavering tone) then before, "Th-that's above the average b-baseline, meaning you have a l-little more mana to work with, wh-which means that y-you should be able to cast more efficiently w-without wearing y-yourself out even wh-when up close! A-and if you're in b-back you can do even more!"

She clenched her fists, her confidence swelling... a little bit, at least.

"A-and with how you use your catalyst... y-you can do a lot better!"

[Assistant]
Tiral looked at the Court Mage with a look of bewilderment when she said that he could "do better." What he had said earlier had already implied as much... Didn't it? Compared to the spells that he had seen most magicians use, those of his own composition were usuqlly shorter and consumed a bit less, anyhow. Granted, the bigger spells were a bit messier (the frozen log popping back into the mage's mind now), but he had to amplify the scale of the base spell on that occasion, so that was... Somewhat justifiable?

"I cannot exactly command from the backline if I'm told to lead an offensive, though. Casting magic, commanding troops, and dealing with direct combat... I am only human, after all. If I attempted all 3 at once, I run the risk of making a fatal error. The lives of those at my side are more important, after all."

The vagueness of the Court Mage's words weren't exactly the most helpful pieces of advice he could ask for, but... They were concenient enough to let him segue into questions of his own. After all, if there was nothing left to be asked, then it was probably okay to get some actual advice instead of empty words.

"Though... Erm... Sorry to ask, but do you have any notes on anti-electricity wards applicable to people or on any sort of clairvoyance spells that can look over a large battlefield? The former is a tad less important at the moment, but the latter would be greatly appreciated for future campaigns."


[System]
Age: 15
Physical Features:
>Hair: Ilyssa has extremely dark black hair that goes to her hips. It's mostly wavy, though it begins to fall in ringlets near the bottom. The tips of her hair fade to a lighter, lavender/gray colour, and streaks of this colour run through her hair. She usually keeps her hair out of her face by either tying it up, clipping it back, or just putting on any headband like object nearby.
>Eyes: Ilyssa's eyes have a black ring at the edges, and they're light, grey/lavender colour at the middle. Black flecks are in the middle as well. Her eyes are wide and round, and usually look curious or apathetic.
>Skin: Ilyssa has pale skin, clear of any blemishes. It's naturally pale, though her time spent at the school has caused it to become almost white. She has pale freckles, but only a very few, just on her arms and the bridge of her nose.
>Build: Ilyssa has a thin, graceful build. The way she holds herself is reminiscent of a bird, like she's ready to take off any second now.
>Height: 5'4
>Weight: 100 lbs
>*Tattoos: A tattoo of a flock of birds taking off on her left collarbone (like Tris's from divergent, but smaller birds and more of tham, though not a lot), and a simple tiny heart on her right thumb, the top joints bottomside, or the pad. Both are black.
>*Marks: Scars, lots of 'em. She has a large, jagged one on her back, going from her left shoulder to her tailbone. There are many more tiny ones on her back too. She has strange ones on her arms, some looking like shapes and words. She has a thin one on the right side of her face, right on the jawline. There are a ton on her feet too, a lot looking like she stepped on something that's better not stepped on. Her left elbow and the skin around it has an old burn scar.
Outfit: A baggy pale grey/lavender tank top tucked into grey jean shorts. She wears black tights under the shorts and has black boots. She wears long black gloves that go past her elbows, and has a black bandanna she wears either around her neck or on her mouth.
Race: Human
Weapon: Handguns
Power: Telekinesis
Attitude: Curious, apathetic, bored
Basic Personality Traits: Ilyssa went through many difficulties in her life, which numbed her to most things. She's a bit apathetic at times, and doesn't care what anyone thinks of her. She's straightforward, not holding anything back, even if it'll hurt people to hear. Ilyssa's an ambivert, though she's much more on the introvert side. She can socialize, she just prefers not to most of the time. People aren't very interesting to her. There are times where she'll become really outgoing and talkative, but these are rare, only happening when a ton of conditions were met. Ilyssa used to be curious avout how everything worked, and she still is, just less so. She's mostly interested in how people's brains work, how they think and act, how they react to situations. Because of this she'll often do strange things on a whim like go and start braiding a stranger's beard, or climbing onto their shoulders.
Strengths: Strong, uncaring of others' opinions, intelligent
Weaknesses: Bad at teamwork, not a people person, overthinks things

[User]
Jasper:

"Not... Really..." I replied, awkwardly taking the knife. I had my own, but I didn't clean it (or use it) often.

[Assistant]
Isaac:
"Alright, I'll teach you," I stoke the fire a bit to ensure it's good enough for this, "So what you're gonna want to do is heat up the blade so that's it's a very dull red. Don't want it too hot. When we get over Alex in short burst of 1-2 seconds put the knife on the cuts until it has stopped bleeding then move on. Be careful to not to get anywhere else since this can damage skin. And this should be a rather quick progress so we shouldn't need to reheat the knife, but to be on the safe side I'll keep the fire going. After that have the others do their best to wrap the cuts. If you need to switch out it's ok, I can go finish if the sight of blood or anything gets too much. Don't stress too much over that, it's ok," I try to give them a reassuring smile, though I'm unsure of successful I was at that.

[User]
alex:
my chest is heaving slightly and i seem to be fighting for breath. my eyes flicker momentarily then close again in a sort of pained expression. my body starts to grow cold as ice. what little color i have starts to fade from my face and soon, i am deathly white. i sort of fall into a nightmarish sleep like i tend to do after getting wounded. soon, i am completely incased in nightmares. my fingers twitch like they're trying to grab my daggers from their sheaths. suddenly, my arms jerk to my sides and i draw my daggers in my dream states, scattering everyone. i seem to be fighting an imaginary monster, and it seems to be one that i am having trouble with. in reality, it is my mother: hela. then, i start to glow and i levitate off of the ground. a blinding blue light explodes from my very soul. a woman's voice echoes from the shadows: "you may have won this time my son, but it will not happen again." then the light vanishes leaving me unconcious on the floor.

[Assistant]
Ilyssa:
 I was a bit surprised at what at happened, but it soon switched back to boredom. I continued to answer Kludd.
 "I agree, though maybe focus on the larger ones. I can disinfect and wrap the smaller ones, and I'll take care of the disinfection after cauterization too. While they warm th knives, try and keep the bandages moist to help speed up the healing process. I'm going to check out a few more rooms to find some supplies."
 Heading back into the hallway, I examined the wallpaper designs. As in the dining room, the designs looked pretty and harmless at a glance. Upon closer examination however, a person could begin to pick out some odd components. Like a deer with a dog in its mouth, or a small cage of humanoids in the background. It was definitely morbid, to say the least.
 The room beside the bedroom was probably the worst, at least in my opinion. Blindingly white, cube shaped, with a small toilet, some liquid food, water, and a bed, it was a literal isolation room. Why they had this in the house, who knew. We didn't even know who they were yet. Sighing, I continued my search, hoping they were the type to keep weapons.

[User]
Jasper:

"Okay..." I put the knife in the fire until it was dull red, then took it out. His smile wasn't that reassuring, but I wasn't going to tell him that. I went over to Alex with Isaac and mentally freaked out a little when I saw how bad it was. "I have the knife..." I said awkwardly, crouching beside Kludd and Alex. I shakily cauterized most of the worst cuts on Alex's face, trying not to cringe.

[Assistant]
Kludd-

"Yeah, I got it. But might as well just cover all our bases while we're here." I told Ilyssa, "But will do. Thanks for the directions, its been a while since i've had to treat massive claw wounds. Much easier to do on another person rather than yourself." I said, half sarcastically and half seriously. Of course, it was true, I had dealt with my own, similar large claw wounds after a certain incident in which I was attacked by and turned into a werewolf.

I was about to move alex back to the room with the fireplace so Issac and Jasper could do their thing, but he suddenly started to stir violently, turning pale. I set him down quickly but gently on the ground, which, honestly I would have preferred not to but I realized very quickly was probably the best thing I could have done as he started reaching for his daggers and fighting with the air. I stepped back, waiting for a moment until I got an opportunity to step forward and grab his wrists, snagging the daggers quickly before stepping back again. I just let whatever was happening happen, because I really didnt know what else to do in such a situation. He started emitting blue light and a random womans voice spoke from nowhere. If I didn't know better, I would think this was some sort of wild trip. Maybe, actually, this all was a dream. But so far there was only about a fourth of the amount of blood present as in one of my usual nightmares, so, it was unlikely.

In any case, eventually he stopped, and I was able to move him back into a more accessible location so his wounds could be cauterized. I kept his daggers with me, just in case he had another fit of nightmares- or whatever just happened. He could have them back when he woke up. Jasper walked up to Alex, kneeling next to him.
"Alright, just be careful, he started moving earlier, so be ready in case that happens again."
I noticed as they were working that they were pretty shaky, so I just did the first thing that made sense, crouching beside them and gently grabbing their wrist to steady their hand.
"You're doing alright," I reassured them, though not exactly knowing what the issue was. I just wanted to be sure they didn't burn anything but what needed to be burnt.

[User]
Jasper:

I nodded and did my best to cauterize the the wounds. I finished and looked at Alex's face. It didn't look any better, but the bleeding stopped and hey, I didn't pass out! "Is it okay...? I'm not sure it looks any better."

[Assistant]
Kludd-

"Its gonna be a shit show no matter what ya do, but the bleedings stopped, so thats good. Thanks kid." I let go of Jasper's wrist, patting him on the shoulder and giving them a small smile. "If you want, you can go ahead and go down through the crawlspace and start looking around down there. Ilyssa's still down there I think." I told them as I cleaned up Alex's face carefully, just wiping off any remaining blood and such, but trying not to touch the recently cauterized wounds if I could help it. I figured it'd be best to leave them mostly alone for now, until they healed a bit more at least. But I did want Jasper to go find something else to do, this really didn't seem like their thing whatsoever. If anything else needed cauterizing, Issac could likely handle it anyway.

[User]
alex:
my eyes fly open suddenly and i sit straight up, gasping for air. "my... my mother. was she here?" i ask shakily, like i was terrified of my own mother. "can i have my daggers back now?" i ask. im still shaking violently and i try to steady my vibrating hands. i look exhausted.

[Assistant]
Londyn

I patted his back slowly. I may have had a tough grip but most people said I was pretty good at comforting somehow.
"It's okay, and you can have your daggers back in just a little. You're still in shock, Jasper helped you. Actually, everyone helped you." I said softly, trying to soothe him. "And no, your mum wasn't here. You really are in a crapload of shock." I murmured quietly.

[User]
Kludd-

Alex suddenly jolts back to life, bolting upright. I recoil my hands back from where I was cleaning up his face.
"Woah, hey there, settle down," I tell him gently, "You're still hurt, lay back down for a minute. There's a bedroom we can move you too in a bit, but, for now just lay down." I sigh softly as Londyn comes over to start comforting him as well. At least I didn't have to do it alone.

"You can get your daggers back once you've calmed down, I promise. You had a nasty dream earlier it seemed like, but no, I don't think she was here." I told him. I had heard the voice and everything, but I wasn't going to tell him about it yet. Not when he was acting like this, it would just be bad. "We're all here for you anyway, so you can rest easy about that."

[Assistant]
alex:
i nod slowly and then lay back down slowly. my face hurt like heck, but i could deal with some pain.

[User]
Isaac:
"He's not bleeding much anymore, so once we move him some of us should explore to find resources now that critical situation is taken care of. We might want someone to keep watch of him, just to be safe. Since the sink gives us a source of water we don't really have to worry about that, but we should find a cup of or something for Alex. Next I'd focus on food primarily then medical supplies. Though I'd like my knife back now, it's a very lovely knife."

[Assistant]
Jasper:

"Yeah, here ya go..." I handed Isaac back his knife and stood up. "I'm gonna go with Ilyssa..." I informed everyone, going into the little crawlspace to find Ilyssa. The place was so weirdly designed. Ilyssa was in the bedroom, if you could call it that. "Erm... Need any help with anything...?"

[User]
Ilyssa:
 "Not really, I'm just exploring. Unless you have a map of this place, than yes." I opened another door, deciding to just look in. That turned out to be a good idea, as there was a giant fall after the door, which I couldn't see the end of. Quickly closing it, I scratched a little 'x' onto its wood.
 "Suggestion, don't go in there."