[System]
Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: UNKNOWN

Nationality: UNKNOWN

Weapons and/or equipment: UNKNOWN

Backstory: UNKNOWN

[User]
Using the power of her suit, 595 pushed the soldier up against the back of the driver's seat, the shotgun between them. She reached for the Rothian sword on her back, but her opponent wasn't about to make it easy. They savagely kicked the inside of her shin, overbalancing her. They followed up with a sharp elbow into her other hand, sending the shotgun flying across the cabin. It hit Freyr in the visor, nearly putting her on her backside again.

"Freyr get out of here!" 595 shouted again as the two of them traded a couple of untidy punches. The Agent went for the sword again and the ambusher immediately barrelled forward. They grabbed the smaller operator with both hands, lifting her up and smashing her against what had been the floor of the car, now above them. 595 pulled her pistol and fired a few shots into her opponent's neck, flaring their shield up. They threw her against the wall, but 595 was ready for that; she twisted to absorb the impact in her legs, before thrusting forward and headbutting her assailant. They took a step backwards, while the second soldier, who until now had been almost still, grabbed 595's leg from behind when she landed back on the deck.

The Agent drew the Rothian sword, activated it and sliced clean through the sitting soldier's arm in one motion. The blade sliced through some of the middle door behind them too.

The other soldier seized their chance, charging forward again to grab 595's sword arm and crush her against the bulkhead. They didn't make it though, as an overcharged shotgun round disintegrated them mid-stride. Most of the energy missed, setting even more of the truck on fire and flaring up the Agent's shields to near bursting point.

595 looked round and saw Freyr standing near the door, holding the shotgun out in front with her eyes closed. Face illuminated from within her clear visor. The scientist opened them up again and surveyed the damage.

"Did you just shoot at me with your eyes closed?!" 595 shouted in disbelief.

"I wasn't shooting at you! And it worked, didn't it?" Freyr complained, holding the shotgun out as if it might bite her.

Just then, a guttural scream sounded from right outside the street-side door. One of the infected people Freyr had seen running after their truck burst through the opening, scrambling past the debris to reach her. He was joined by another, then another, drawn by the noise.

Freyr screamed and tried to fire the shotgun again. Nothing happened, as its cell was empty. 595 grabbed the arm-less, weakly struggling second ambusher off the floor and shoved them into the opening between the middle seats. The infected writhed all over them, and the ambusher's armour began sparking.

"Alert, foreign connection detected. Initiating containment." Her suit informed her as 595 grunted with the effort of holding the soldier in place. "Freyr, pick up Dr Girard and get ready to run!" She shouted.

After a couple of seconds, 595 couldn't hold them back anymore. Her suit was getting contaminated. She let go, and the three of them shambled out into the lobby just as Vreta reappeared from underground.

[Assistant]
The moment she emerged from underground, Rhia had to take in her surroundings quickly. Just because the builder was gone, that did not mean the threat had ended. Her scans of the room quickly identified each of the remaining sources of potential threats. Three hostiles were engaged in melee with Major Osman and other allies near to the crash, who could potentially use assistance. She also detected the presence of Humans inflicted by this strange Cradle infection. She had clearly observed that they were maddened to the point of mindless hostility before, so a nonviolent solution to deal with them was not likely possible. She also observed that some of them were dissolving parts of the building on touch, so allowing physical contact with them would not be advisable.

At present, the infected might have been the greatest threat overall, but it would be easiest to fight them off if her allies could all work together. She needed to assist them. Rhia sprinted towards 595 and the scientists, while taking aim at the ambushers Osman and the other soldiers were fighting. She swapped her weapon to single fire to make carefully-aimed, precise shots, then analyzed the fight carefully to predict the movements of both her enemies and allies. She had subroutines constantly making small adjustments in her muscles to keep her aim stable on the move, and others looking to identify the right opportunity to take her shots. As soon as the momentum of Osman and her opponent put them on predictable trajectories, Rhia squeezed off a pair of shots at her opponent. As she came to a stop near the crash, Rhia found another shot on a different ambusher, which, altogether, she hoped would be enough to swing that fight in their favor quickly.

Above all, Rhia could not allow them to be overwhelmed by infected. Once in position to protect the civilians, she swapped her weapon's firing mode to its plasma thrower. It was ideal for crowd control against large numbers of unarmored targets, as without substantial thermal protection, the clouds of superheated plasma could incinerate flesh almost immediately upon contact. Whether they were curable or not, these infected were a threat, so as they neared, Rhia would not hesitate to burn them alive. Already, she was unleashing clouds of plasma to keep them at bay.

[User]
Time seemed to slow down as 595 exited the truck behind Dr Lang and Dr Girard. Flames and smoke curled out of the door after her, but it didn't sound like that would stop the infected. The noise in the lobby was unbelievable; energy fire mixed with screams and mechanical grinding.

Freyr was still holding the shotgun while struggling forward with Dr Girard. 595 scooped it out of her hand and rested it upside down in the crook of her arm. With practiced precision, she unclipped the energy cell, letting it clatter to the floor and replacing it with the fresh one attached to her thigh.

The guttural screeching behind her grew louder. They'd got past the melting body of the ambusher she'd lodged in place. The shotgun dinged when the new energy cell reactivated its systems. 595 spun it round into a firing position and turned her body as well to face the danger. Her form was immaculate as she unloaded a barrage straight back through the door, where three of the crazies had just appeared. The truck rocked and they dissolved into a blue firestorm.

"Come on!" The Agent growled to herself, turning to assess the situation in the lobby with the shotgun up to her eye.

A few well-placed shots had evidently tipped the finely balanced melee by the second crashed truck in CraSec's favour. Osman straddled her newly unarmoured opponent and smashed their visor with the butt of her gun. She then got up and fired energy rounds into their immobile form before looking round. The other two remaining CraSec soldiers were doing similar.

On the other side of the lobby, the tall sheet of glass separating the brightly lit lobby from the comparatively darker outside fell and folded. The people banging against it from outside had melted it, and the material coated them like hot wax as dozens of them surged forwards.

The clouds of plasma from Vreta's gun had disintegrated some of the first wave as they'd thrown themselves blindly towards them. This second wave spread out across the lobby, eyeing the big lizard up before trying to circumvent a fiery death. They were at bay for now, but there was only so much ground Vreta could cover.

"Tangier, do you read? What is your status, over?" A voice crackled over team comms. 595 tapped her ear in Osman's direction, who nodded as stray energy fire from outside fizzed past her shields. "I read you! We've still got the civilians, taking heavy fire. All boxed in - where is our backup?" Osman looked out of the hole created by the second truck. CraSec were still desperately grappling with ambushers from all around the convoy. The Major's subordinates were beginning to give out suppressing fire.

"We're trying to get to you, but transit bubbles are opening all over the city. Are you mobile? Orders from Command are to evacuate all personnel." Osman swore and looked at 595, but she had turned away to shoot an infected person who had got through the plasma net Vreta was dispersing. They flew backward and slid across the floor. "No, we can't leave now! We're so close!" Freyr shouted, hovering between 595 and Vreta with Dr Girard leaning on her left side.

"Ma'am, we're out of time. The connection is happening in ten minutes." The voice replied. "Tell them to call it off then, on my authority!" Freyr yelled. There was a pause. "Standby." They replied. "We need to get you out of here!" Osman asserted, taking cover behind the truck as more of the ambushers took notice from outside. "Is that a hole into the garage?!" 595 asked, stealing a glance towards the gaping abyss in the middle of the lobby.

[Assistant]
The team had stabilized their situation, but only for the moment. The hostiles who had ambushed them had been neutralized in their immediate area, but the convoy itself was still under fire, and these infected seemed to be an indiscriminate threat to everyone. They had a window to get to safety right now, so they had to make sure to act on it.

"Whether or not we're in the sim ourselves, it would be a poor idea to try and fight what the Object wants to do. It may well be far more capable than either of us know, and it may be fighting for its survival." Rhia remarked. She had her own views on these Cradle objects, but she did not expect that their behavior when facing destruction would be remarkably different from any other lifeform. If they were an obstacle to its survival, she did not expect it to simply accept death.

Rhia moved her rifle to her off-hand and held it underarm with one hand, continuing to fill the air with bursts of plasma to hold back the infected. At the same time, she drew her pistol and started to fire on those that were moving to flank them. "Yes, the builder retreated underground, without their suit. I spotted a garage and a rail line while I was down there. Does anyone have city schematics to know where it leads?"

[User]
"Yeah, on it." 595 confirmed, requesting a route through New Antioch's sub-layer.

"All units - fall back to my marker." Osman commanded, as the three of them spraying plasma fire all over a clutch of attackers surrounding the boxed in convoy outside.

"Negative! We're all torn up and there are still bogies in the windows - they have us pinned." Came the reply.

Osman glanced back into the lobby. There were still a lot of infected people rushing their position. Through what was left of the windows, she could also see runners clambering over the lorry blocking off the street behind the convoy.

The Major had a difficult decision to make.

"Tangier One, the Vault cannot halt the recoupling. There's been an attack on the control room. I am finally awake." GCHQ crackled over comms.

"GCHQ, say again? Think we misheard that last part!" Freyr called. No response.

"Get downstairs, get to the transit station. We'll hold them off from here!" Major Osman boomed.

595 didn't need telling twice. She pushed Freyr and Dr Girard towards the hole, shooting an infected person who was skirting round the side of it to get in front of them.

[Assistant]
Rhia stayed up top, firing on any infected in sight to cover the civilians while they jumped down into the underground level beneath them. It was a fair drop down, but not enough that it should be dangerous for an unassisted Human, barring an unlucky landing. In any case, Rhia waited until the others had made it below before dropping down herself.

Hopefully, the subterranean route would at least let them make the rest of the way to their destination uninterrupted, though there was no way to ensure their safety. At the very least, Rhia's echolocation would work exceptionally well in an underground tunnel, so she would receive ample warning on any approaching threats. She checked the route 595 had given them and tried to estimate how likely it was they would arrive in time.

"We cannot afford any more delays. What are our transportation options?" Rhia asked.

[User]
"Good luck, Godspeed. You two, secure the far side." Osman ordered her soldiers, before switching back to commanding the battle unfolding outside. The CraSec grunts moved to take positions around the hole, freeing up Vreta to fall back.

Agent 595 jumped into the hole feet first, her knees bending slightly to compensate. She spun nimbly round, surveying the garage through her shotgun sights while her suit pinged the area. Some of the motion-lights flickered on and off, never fully activating. Sounds from above were muffled and disconnected from this tranquil subterranean zone.

Cars hung vertically from the garage ceiling like bats in their nest. 595's eyes followed the ceiling rail system which connected them all to a wide metal door at the opposite side of the room. It seemed intact, and nothing appeared to be moving around her.

"Clear. Come down." 595 called, just as a Priority 1 alert appeared in the corner of her HUD.

[ALPHA SITE COMPROMISED - RETURN TO BASE.]

"Shit." She growled.

---

"We can still make it!" Freyr asserted in response to Osman's final command. She turned to Dr Girard, trying to keep her voice level and reassuring. "I need you to jump now, Thalia. We're going to GCHQ to talk to the Object. I'll be right behind you."

Dr Girard nodded, her watery eyes full of fear. She tottered towards the edge then fell forward, landing clumsily on her front. Freyr jumped right afterwards, managing to stay standing. Vreta soon followed.

"I need to get you all out of here. GCHQ, are transit stations online?" 595 asked.

No response.

"Transit station is this way, let's go." 595 pushed forward, marking a waypoint beyond where the subway line crossed the garage.

"You heard GCHQ. There was an ATTACK!" Freyr wailed, still supporting her scientist colleague who was continually unsteady on her feet. "It may be no safer out there than in here. They could be waiting for us to exit the sim so they can kidnap us! We can still finish this."


[System]
Alias: Bulk Lad

Age - 19

Powers/Primary Skills - Dai possesses the unique metabolism and body type of his Glucona people. Dai's major organs, skin, and even jaw are elastic. So with his powers Dai can consume anything upwards of numerous feet tall or long, edible or inedible for normal people. When Dai eats his body can very rapidly fatten up. Going from a fit, albeit lean form, to a gigantic obese like size. When Dai does this his endurance, strength, and durability greatly increase the bigger he goes.

Weaknesses - Although Dai's power grows the bigger he becomes, Dai's mobility and speed likewise decrease. At his biggest (6'9 and around 2 tons) he can barely move but is basically a living wall. Also while his body grows quickly the more he consumes, it can take him upwards of a few hours to shrink back to normal.

Appearance -

Brief Bio - Glucona was a once unoccupied planet that was discovered by Earth's Japanese astronauts when they began heavily searching the galaxy for a second home. The planet's atmosphere caused a biological evolutionary change in these early people. By the second generation children seemingly rapidly gained and lost weight. As time progressed the weight gained and lost grew to the point these days when its not unheard of for a Gluconian to gain and lose upwards of 800 pounds in a day. Still, these people retain bit of their Japanese heritage in eyes, naming, and general height.

Even still some Gluconians found themselves with special genes that allowed for more room to digest and grow, as well as the rare case of being able to digest inedible food. Such as the case with Dai Suwind, a young man who always seemed to have a smile on his face. Growing up Dai was able to grow in weight and size much bigger than other kids, and developed a peculiar appetite for iron. He adored the Legion of Superheroes as kids, one of his prized possessions being an autograph by Cosmic Boy. When the group was destroyed by Brainiac 5 however Dai was devastated. It was one of the very few times Dai ever cried when he heard the news.

Growing up Dai Suwind wound up becoming an athlete in his own right. Trained in the Glucona national sport of Hypersu. The planet's take on the tradiational Japanese sport of sumo wrestling. Only instead of simply taking your opponent off his feet, it plays out more akin to amateur and even professional wrestling. Requiring a pinning of your opponent's shoulders to the mat for a three count. Dai Suwind's unique physiology gave him an advantage but it was his technical skill that garnered him some of the highest honors in the sport.

Notes -

- Glucona is like its ancestors in being a very technology forward planet. Cities are massive and covered in massive video ad screens, and its considered a basic for civilians on the planet to know their way around tech. Dai lives up to that end of the bargain, and has skills with devices and even ships.

- Dai's skills in hypersu are a combination of palm strikes, kicks, takedowns, and grappling. In a typical bout, the competitors are given time to not only warm up but bulk up before their bouts. They are not allowed to see or know their competitor's size until the two are in the middle of the large circle based mat. Force fields keep the competitors enclosed while still providing a great view for the crowd. Although some do wear the classic muwashi of sumo. Most stick with very elastic singlets or in Dai's case, compression shorts. All however do wear robes to the ring. It is considered a big moment in a match up when the robes come off at the same time to finally show just how big the competitors are.

- The goggles are not just because Dai thinks they make him look cool. Dai has eye issues and has always needed to wear glasses. Even when he competed in hypersu (He was the first competitor to do so).

[User]
Even in his massive form Bulk Lad could only look awkwardly confused at the command being put on him. Horus had given the order, grab the worst weapon he could think of. Why did he have to get a weapon? Bulk Lad was under the impression, and it was a good one, that HE himself was the weapon. Not a lot his ever found could hurt him like this. Why did he need something on top of that? Him fattened up and carrying a weapon just makes him attacking go from vicious to borderline illegal.

Somehow, even to Bulk Lad's surprise, he reached the weapons first. Maybe the others were just as confused where Horus was going with this? Still looking at the long row of items Bulk Lad shrugged at them. He's never used anything like any of these things in his life. Finally grabbing something Bulk Lad ran back to where he was standing. In his hand was a very tiny in comparison police baton. It barely fit in his large grasp. "I uh... I got a stick..." Bulk Lad could only meekly say aloud.

[Assistant]
Pano-Zu decided to fly back with the others due to quite a nasty gash in his leg from his ordeal with the holo-news stand and while he healed a little faster than normal thanks to his connection to the speed force, he'd rather not run on it and make it worse than it was. Once getting back to the HQ, Pano decided to go 'treat' his leg in the bathroom by simply wiping up any blood that he could. After cleaning up his leg he decided he'd go check up on the Daxamite. Pano walked leisurely to the power house's room and knocked on the door, hoping for a response.

"Hey Sol, you wanna chat for a bit?" Momentum asked through the door, simply wanting to pass the time. He also wasn't entirely sure if Sol was even in there but it was the only place he'd really think to look for the Last Son of Daxam considering Pano hadn't seen him all too much which in of it self could mean that Sol could be literally anywhere.

[User]
Days later, Legion HQ...

The new Legion of Superheroes was off to a rough start. The girl from Talok VIII walked out on the day of the team's first mission. Three new recruits and a veteran Legion member of days past had defeated a small squad of techno squids and a humanoid robot minion of Brainiac Five. However, two recruits en route to the new HQ in Queensland Park as well as another returning veteran [Stargirl] never made it to orientation several days ago. Cosmic Boy, currently confined to a futuristic hoverchair, looked over recent reports in the media for anything of use. "Could it be Brainiac?" he asked himself.

Several Legionnaires were walking around downtown Metropolis in their civies, however each wielding their own unique powers and their new Legion flight rings/translators. Sol was amazed at fast food in the 31st century. Big Belly Burger was still holding strong some thousand years later as the United Planets' largest fast food chain spanning entire space sectors. Now though, it just said 'B's' on the wrappers. Trashcans in the new age featured biodegradable waste bins that converted waste into mulch when full. The oddness came in the units moving themselves every so often to spread the stuff around.

"So...Isaak? What's with just having the pentagon for a symbol? Why not go all the way and put the S on your chest?" asked the yellow eyed Daxamite in his white New Navy t shirt tossing some waste in the wrong bin. @Weird Tales

"You're not supposed to put metal alloys in there..." grumbled an alien civilian in passing who now sped up looking back.

The waste bin exploded from its opening and launched the now semi destroyed can into the air with a bit of a bang like an aerosol can in a microwave from the 20th century. It scared a few members of the group but Sol realized his mistake and blasted the remains away with his solar heat vision.

"Did you guys hear Cos' talking to the authorities about a few recruits not making it to HQ? I wonder why he doesn't want US looking into it?" Ultra Boy continued trying to break the ice and get to know his new brothers in arms like he had with Momentum and the others who went on the first mission days earlier. Sol had a ton of respect for the veteran Ferro Lad and thought his power was one of the coolest.

~KL~

[Assistant]
Kid Lantern

Ferro Lad was upset, verily so. He had learned from Rokk that Star Girl had gone missing along with a group of new recruits, Ferro had already lost too many friends, he had begged and pleaded with the Legion's leader to go look for them, but he had none of it, thankfully. Ferro realized that going alone was suicide.

Ferro had been the one to suggest that everyone head out to go shopping, take their minds off everything, perhaps catch a movie. Ferro still wore his metal mask, he didn't want to traumatize any children as he had done in the past, poor kid, she deserved better. Another mistake Ferro had made, what a mess he was. Not that he looked it, dressed in a navy-blue suit over a crisp white button-up. He had thought about bringing a tie, but he had already been overdressed, and when he got ketchup on his jacket, he had swore at the top of his lungs in anger.

Eating was a problem, but Ferro had Bouncing Boy construct an opening mechanism so that it was easier back in the days of the old legion, yet another legionnaire whose fate he didn't know. Ferro had rarely eaten as a child, an as an adult, he often gorged himself, prior to his meeting with Rokk he had eaten a whole pizza in twenty minutes. He was both very pleased and very angry with himself, his toilet had been even angrier.

Ferro found himself cowed into silence around the younger recruits, their green-ness and everything was kinda an elephant in the room that Ferro just couldn't get around.

Just as he began thinking this, the youthful Daxamite destroyed a can as it was shot in front of him like a clay pigeon, metal fragments flying through the air in every-which direction. Though he was loathe to admit it, Ferro thought this was awesome.

"I'm sure Rokk just doesn't want anyone getting themselves killed by Braniac's cabal of cavernous coloned cybernetic creeps, you can refer to his as Rokk by the way, as acting second-in-command of the Legion, I've got his word on it." Ferro could barely hold back a chuckle as he imagined Rokk's reaction to learning what the Daxamite had been told. Ferro decided to enter the conversation because if he hadn't, he might as well have stayed at home, and that wouldn't have been any fun.

[User]
Pano had been walking along peacefully enough with the group until he nearly tripped over himself at the sound of the explosion emanating from a trash can. He decided to pay it no mind as it seemed it had been the Daxamite who had caused the issue and him simply being from Daxamite was an excuse enough to be ill-equipped to handle some of the foreign technologies that Earth had to offer.

Momentum adjusted his pace so that he was walking beside Bulk Lad. Pano felt an innate bond with Dai simply due to their common interest in superheroes and this made Dai one of Pano's closest teammates, though wether this held true with Dai as well had yet to be seen.

"In all honest" Pano whispered to Dai "I'll bet those other recruits just got lost or had somewhere else to be. Not everything is overly complicated or the fault of Brainiac 5." Pano said, letting his two cents on the matter be heard by his closest company. Pano was very flustered about Brainiac betraying the Legion since on the one hand he didn't know the former hero very well and as such didn't have any first hand personal ties to him but when Pano used to watch the Legion's escapades in heroics, he wouldn't even be able to imagine them without the team's local egghead. Pano was hurt on a deeply emotional level by the hero's betrayal but he still had a sliver of hope for the rouge robot. Lately Pano had been using his what free time he had looking through all of the data the HQ still had on Brainiac in the hopes of finding someway to bring him back to the path of righteousness though so far Pano hadn't found anything substantial yet.

[Assistant]
When the trash can popped like a firecracker near Dai the Gluconian in the team to jump slightly. He had been a bit on edge lately, hearing the news about the others having trouble arriving made Dai more paranoid about what was going on. Rokk's silence on the subject wasn't helping. If there was something that Dai didn't like, it was the feeling of not being told something he should know.

When Pano leaned over, whispering about how his thought that the team were simply lost, Dai groaned a bit. Looking as lean and mean as he usually does when he hasn't eaten in a while. The clothes he had on were from Earth, so they didn't have the stretch most Gluconian stuff has. Meaning if he had eaten with the others at Big Belly Burgers he would most likely be ripping out of said clothes. It was partly that, he was never very impressed with Big Belly in general. They expanded out to Glucona but ran into controversy considering their name on a planet of people who essentially are food balloons ran into issues. That, and the more refined palliate of Gluconians made the expansion a bust.

"You sure?" Dai responded leaning back, "I mean I've never met Stargirl, but her getting lost doesn't sound right at all." He knew Pano had been taking a keen sense to Brainiac 5, in particular saving the robot mastermind from himself essentially. Something Dai didn't honestly think was either possible, or even at this rate reasonable. "I mean it might be case by case, but really man its hard not to think Brainiac's got a hand in it somehow."

Pano and Dai had really developed a friendship ever since the team really began to be formed. It was their mutual love of superheroes and just generally nerdy behavior that brought the two together. Especially when Dai and Pano have both spent time geeking out over one another's collections of memorbilia and other things. "If it was just them being lost or having a change of heart Cosmic Boy would tell us right?" Dai asked Pano.


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

---

Established in the wake of Westwel's destruction, the Runan Isles Savior Corps is by no means the most impressive program on Illun, but it's well-funded and well-run by a few survivors of Westwel's own Corps.

Character Info

Name – Besca Darroh
Age – 35
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Originally from Westwel, Besca Darroh has been around Saviors her entire life. Her grandfather had helped fell the Modir who would become "Dragon," and her father had headed Westwel's burgeoning Savior program. She met dozens of pilots, watched as their connection to the Modir ate away at their minds and bodies. Other nations treated their pilots like a resource to be burned through, kept at arm's length in all but public affairs. Besca, however, went out of her way to engage with Westwel's pilots and even piloting candidates, caring after them with a degree of humanity which was, frankly, missing in the programs of other nations. Her methods were derided as frivolous and naïve by her peers, but the pilots appreciated it, which, to her, was all that mattered.

She lost many things in Westwel's fall; her home, her father, her friends, and no small piece of her faith in humanity, but ironically enough she didn't lose her job. When Runa took in her country's refugees, and subsequently acquired their first Savior, they came to the last living member of Westwel's program for help in founding their own.

Nowadays, Besca doesn't often involve herself in the politics of the program. Technically speaking she isn't even chief of operations—a position occupied by the Runan government—but rather, her duties revolve around "pilot maintenance." While she hasn't lost her desire to make life easier for the pilots, she isn't nearly as incorrigibly optimistic or sunny as she once was.

Character Info

Name – Dahlia St. Senn
Age – 18
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Dahlia was a toddler when her home was destroyed by the Modir, spirited away from Westwel in the arms of a family friend. She spent the first fourteen years of her life in the quiet, lakeside town of Hovvi. She was, like many children, absolutely enthralled by the Saviors, so when she tested positive and was whisked away into orbit, Dahlia thought her dream had come true. She missed her friends, and her adoptive father, but this was her opportunity to do something important. This was her chance to help.

She had no idea.

Runa's Savior, Dragon, had not been phased by a single pilot until Dahlia entered the cockpit. With its potential finally unleashed, she was able to end invasions within minutes—which was crucial, because she couldn't remain connected for much longer than that before the giant's neural regeneration reached critical levels.

Dahlia has become Runa's WMD, and as such, she actually doesn't pilot as much as she did before R.I.S.C. acquired its two other Saviors. Besca has become rather protective of her, not wanting to risk putting her in situations where she may be forced to over-exert herself, or risk being overtaken.

Character Info

Name – Hadrian Ghaust
Age – 38
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Hadrian Ghaust is Helburke personified. He is strong, unrelenting, stoic to a chilling degree, and utterly devastating in the cockpit. Ghaust is also a veteran pilot, having commanded the Savior Marrowman in service of the Helburken crown for 20 years, and despite a phasing speed so slow that he rarely deigns to use his magic at all, he was well on his way to becoming one of his country's most accomplished pilots.

However, Ghaust's priority has always been the fight against the Modir, and Helburke's clamor for political power is something he viewed with silent disdain. To him, using Saviors to settle diplomatic disputes isn't just wasteful, it's shameful. So, when Helburke ordered him to bring Marrowman to bear against the newly-risen Runa's Dragon, he refused. When, then, he was given the ultimatum of going through with the duel or forfeiting his rank and position, he looked his general in the eye, ripped the pilot's medal from his collar, and left his home behind.

Overnight Ghaust was made a Pariah in Helburke, and his home turned against him. He was forced to leave, and though several foreign programs sought him out, Ghaust denied them all, even passing up a pilot's seat in Eusero. Instead, he went straight to the burgeoning program in Runa, who was more than happy to take him.

Character Info

Name – Safie Calhan
Age – 22
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

R.I.S.C.'s newest pilot, Safie has spent the past year earning her place at Dahlia and Ghaust's sides. Born and raised in Runa's largest city, Queenshand, Safie was one of countless starry-eyed youths who dreamed of the day she'd get to step inside the cockpit of a Savior. A positive connection-test put her on the path, but it was the months upon months of personal training, rigorous study, and nights spent running sims until dawn that pulled her ahead of the other aspirants. With a phase potential speed just above average, she was a perfect fit between Runa's other two pilots.

While Dahlia has accrued something of a heroic mythos about her, she's often reclusive and hesitant to make many public appearances. Safie on the other hand loves to meet the people she's helping, be that with personal visits, answering fan-mail, or simply getting her hands dirty cleaning up after the messier invasions. Some see her approach as distinctly Euseran, but Safie didn't become a pilot for the attention, she became a pilot because it was the right thing to do.

Character Info

Name – Lucis Abroix
Age – 25
Affiliation – Casoban, on loan to the R.I.S.C.

Casoban's sole effort to save Westwel, while ultimately futile, planted the seeds of goodwill between it and Runa. Casoban has always lived in the influential shadows of Helburke and Eusero, but allied with Runa, the two manage a strong presence on the world stage.

As a show of solidarity, Casoban has even begun sending a Savior of its own as backup to Runa's invasions. Enter: Lucis Abroix.

Lucis is perhaps one of Casoban's most beloved pilots, despite having only a handful of deployments to his name. Handsome, personable, with a poetic flare and the voice of an angel, many people back home already consider him the face of Casoban's Savior program—a role he is more than happy to play. Lucis makes regular public appearances, seemingly never missing an opportunity to espouse his love for the beauty of the world, and his burning desire to protect it from the Modir.

[User]
Quinn's head spun like a top.

As they approached the door, she found it difficult to walk, difficult even to stand. She didn't really know what was going on as they walked—or, well, as Besca walked, and she stumbled alongside her. She understood, in the loosest sense, that they were going back to the dorms to sleep. That was fine. Sleep sounded good. She felt sick, and the tears were still dripping down her face for reasons she didn't fully comprehend. So she just leaned her head into the crook of Besca's neck and let herself be guided. The familiar sights of the Aerie were weird, distorted, seemed a little bit unfamiliar and...off.

At some point after they left the commons but before they made it to the dorm, she found herself talking. Or, at the very least, what could be passably assumed as talking of some kind. Really, less talking and more mumbling into Besca's neck as her brain spun in her head. Her voice was a soft, piteous thing, still clogged with tears, as well as heavy with the anxiety and pain that she couldn't seem to hold down anymore.

"Beshca, 's...ish Dahlia mad a' me?" She fell silent for a moment, burying her face in Besca's neck again as they traversed the hallway that led to the pilots dorms. A part of her dimly realized that's where they were, and her crying grew suddenly louder and heavier.

"Are...are you mad a' me?" Her tears quickly devolved into hiccuping sobs as her thin, shaking arms wrapped clumsily around Besca. "I don' wanna be 'lone anymore, wha'ever I did I'm sorry!"

[Assistant]
Besca had to steel herself. Had to. It was like listening to a pilot die over comms, just hammer blows of helpless misery and if she didn't mute that voice inside telling her to shut down, she'd crumble and that's all that'd be left. She didn't have that luxury anymore, hadn't long before she'd become Commander. Before she'd even come to Runa. There was a sizeable portion of herself still buried in the modious smolder of Westwel, right beside her old life—probably not too far from where Follen's own self was; difference being, she still had the humanity to look back and miss the things she'd lost. Right now, she wished she didn't.

"No, hun," she whispered, dragging the words up her throat. "Neither of us are. Never. You didn't do anything, don't be sorry. C'mon, almost there."

Follen opened the door for them, lingered a moment. She fixed him with a glare that was too muddle to be as threatening as she wanted.

"Pilots and approved personnel only," she said.

He smirked. "These would certainly be extenuating circumstances. She is my patient, after all."

Cross that threshold and I'll fucking gut you.

If he could read her thoughts, he didn't admit it. But he did reach out and pat Quinn's head with perfectly manufactured affection. "Sleep well," he said, and then he left them. The doors shut and locked.

There wasn't time or effort to waste. Besca righted herself, and walked Quinn gently across the commons. She noticed Dahlia in the wrong room, which wasn't surprising, but figured the last thing she needed right now was a drunk bunkmate. She changed course for her own room instead. On the way she noticed Quinn's phone discarded on the ground, but decided to leave picking up for later.

"Here we go," she said, leading Quinn to the bed. "Made it, easy-peasy. Lets get you nice and comfortable."

As if she were handling an infant made from glass and pipebombs, Besca lowered Quinn onto the sheets, head to pillow, and then crouched down beside her. Tohoki Grill was moody, but this proper dark would do her good. She brushed fingers through Quinn's hair, traced them down her cheek and back up again.

"Look at that, you did great. I'm not goin' anywhere, so you just close your eyes and sleep. I'll make sure you're safe and sound, yeah? Be right here with you."

[User]
Lying down was nice. And the darkness was nice too. As the door to the pilot's dorms had closed behind them she'd flinched like she'd been struck, and that flinch seemed to reverberate around her body like a shiver. By the time she'd lay down, it had become a shiver, and tremor that ran through her. She felt the covers dip and turned to see what it was, even though it was dark and she couldn't see very good right now. But she was still coherent enough to realize after a few moments that it was Besca, that Besca was next to her, was stroking her hair, rubbing her hand on her cheek.

"Look at that, you did great. I'm not goin' anywhere, so you just close your eyes and sleep. I'll make sure you're safe and sound, yeah? Be right here with you."

That's right. Besca was there. Besca was there. Besca would make it all better.

Quinn curled in on herself, almost wrapping herself around Besca. She was still crying, and crying hard, in that deep, raw way that came with all restraint being torn away. Her eye stung like fire by now, and as she lay there, her quiet, disoriented slurring continued, growing more and more distressed as she went on.

"Beshca, why did they leave me? Why do they hate me? Ish it 'cause I was bad? Did I do shomethin' bad?"

She reached up and grabbed Besca's hand on her cheek, pulling it down to her chest and holding it in both hands as she wailed quietly, piteously:

"'M I a bad daughter?"

[Assistant]
Besca felt hot iron in her gut. The heat welled in her chest and made her throat ache and close. Unable to speak quite then, she shook her head to buy time and gripped Quinn's hand tightly. A bad daughter. The words were nonsense, they'd be lost quicker than it had taken to speak them, no doubt, but they stuck to Besca like paper-mâché. A bad daughter. Quinn knew a lot of things—more than she thought she did, about things no one ought to know about—but she had no idea what it mean to be a bad daughter. She never would. Just wasn't the kind of girl she was.

A sigh let the air back into her lungs. "No," she said as soon as she could. "No, hun, you're not. You're a great daughter."

It made her almost sick to say it. The Loughveins had done unspeakable things to this girl, and from day one Besca might have been absolutely certain they had no right having any children, and they certainly hadn't deserved Quinn.

But that didn't matter now—not right now, anyway. What mattered was getting Quinn to sleep, and making sure she survived the ridiculously terrible hangover waiting for her once she woke up.

"All you gotta do now is close your eyes, yeah? Just close your eyes and breathe, and it'll get better. You need a lil' rest, that's all." She let Quinn hold onto one hand, and brought the other up to keep brushing through her hair. "Go on, you're all safe now. I'll make sure."


[System]
Race: Earth Genasi
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Appearance:
Theme: Go the Distance
Level: 0
Proficiency: +1
Health: 4
Stats:
Strength - 16 (+3)
Dexterity - 14 (+2)
Constitution - 17 (+3)
Intelligence - 8 (-1)
Wisdom - 10 (+0)
Charisma - 8 (-1)

Proficient Skills: Athletics (+4), Survival (+1)
Proficient Tools: None
Traits:
Alignment - Neutral Good
Size - Medium (6 feet tall/182.88 cm, 200 lbs/90.7 kg)
Speed - 30 feet (6 squares)
Languages - Common, Primordial, Dwarven, Undercommon

Earth Walk - Racial Ability. Move across difficult terrain made of earth or stone without expending extra movement.

Merge with Stone - Racial Ability. Acts as the Pass without Trace spell once per long rest with no required material components. Constitution is the ability for this spell. "Each creature you choose has a +10 to Stealth checks and can't be tracked except by magical means. This effect only applies if a creature is within 30 feet of you, both at the time of casting and for the duration. You can choose yourself as well. A creature that receives this bonus leaves behind no traces of its passage."

Deep Miner - Background Ability. You are used to navigating the deep places of the earth. You never get lost in caves or mines if you have either seen an accurate map of them or have been through them before. Furthermore, you are able to scrounge fresh water and food for yourself and as many as five other people each day if you are in a mine or natural caves.

Abilities: None
Inventory: A shovel and a miner's pick, a block and tackle, a climber's kit, a set of common clothes, and a belt pouch containing 5 gp.

Background: Genasi seem, at first glance, to be virtually normal humans save for their coloration and perhaps a few features more closely tying them to their element, such as literally flaming hair or gem encrusted skin. A genasi can be born when one or both of their mortal parents are exposed to surges of elemental energy from planar phenomena, but far more commonly they are the result of mixed heritage between some variety of genie and a mortal humanoid, usually regular humans. Some genasi are born of mortal-genie unions, some have two genasi as parents, and a rare few have a genie further up their family tree, manifesting traits that have lain dormant for generations.

Perhaps on first impression, Antaeus could be seen as a normal, deeply tanned, tall and broad shouldered boy--but his skin has a slightly hard texture to the touch, as if his muscles exist in a constant state of tension or his bones are made from wrought iron, and that bronze tone to his skin remains no matter how long he spends in the mines and away from the sun. In direct light, one sometimes even catches the glint from his skin and hair as if it were well oiled, but he is perfectly dry. When he was born to Frontier Town settlers, Antaeus's parents were shocked at his appearance. For the first few years of his life, Antaeus's father treated the boy somewhat coldly--the family never went without, and his parents seemed to care for one another tremendously, but his father never could shake the suspicion that his mother had been unfaithful. If he ever pressed about it, she would only venture suspicions that there must have been a genie in their ancestry, or that his work in the Black Mines might have exposed him to some source of earthen magics. He couldn't stand it. That possibility he was raising another man--or possibly another being's--child. This wasn't helped by the fact that their second child, Antaeus's little sister, was completely human.

It also did not help that Antaeus soon grew taller, and broader of shoulder, than his father. Here, what had been a seemingly masculine indifference--hugs and kisses were from mother, food and shelter and discipline were from father--now became evident as disdain. Strangely enough, his father even seemed to have forgiven his mother--if there ever was anything to forgive--but now projected what was left of those feelings onto Antaeus, as well as favoring the girl child. At first, Antaeus didn't resent his sister for this, and only slowly began to grow embittered towards his father...but, all children learn their behavior from their parents. When his sister began to look down her nose at him from atop his father's shoulders, he could no longer stand being in the same household. He had grown old enough to work in the mines like his father, but here once more his strange blood surpassed his progenitor's, so he soon began delving into the deeper caves and tunnels. Despite his difficulties with his family, Antaeus got along well with everyone else, and was generally known and well-liked as an energetic, friendly, and upstanding young man.

He picked at rock and polished ore and pushed carts up winding ramps, whether night or day--whatever shift his father was on, he asked for the opposite. Whatever days his father was given off, he asked to work overtime. Only rarely did they see each other, and usually at meal times when it was easy to ignore the person at the opposite end of the table. His mother tried to smooth the issue, but at this point it had become a self-perpetuating cycle. Antaeus's avoidance was taken for disrespect, his work seen as an attempt to show his father up at the man's own career, his lack of confrontation as cowardice and aversion to authority. The more Antaeus tried to escape his father's eye, the angrier that glare became.

And yet it was not so simple. More than once Antaeus wondered why the man didn't just leave, back then when he had been born. Why had he stayed? Why had he bothered to raise Antaeus and teach him--in whatever fashion one could say he had--and why had he gone soft on Antaeus's mother, when it would have been her fault had any infidelity truly taken place? And if his father had poisoned his sister against him, why were there still moments when she treated him kindly--why did she still run to his bed when she had nightmares, why did she still ask him to play with her and then become sad when he had to work? And his mother, she had never truly done anything wrong to him, but...why hadn't she stood up more? Why hadn't she defended him more staunchly? Did his family hate him? Were they simply fulfilling their duty towards him, rather than kicking him out?

Maybe it was him. Maybe he needed to do something, change something, about himself. Maybe...maybe if he became someone, someone great, a real hero...

[User]
Cypher

The moon had dipped down on the horizon and soon the moon made its appearance in the twilight. He wasn't even halfway to the last town he needed to go to. A howl emanated from somewhere Ethan could not discern, it sounded almost like a wolf, but different enough for Ethan to know that it was not a wolf. The young man let out a shaky laugh at the thought of a cougar howling but a sense of dread soon followed as he reasoned out that there were far worse creatures that dwelt within the forests and woodlands.

It was then he saw the torchlight further up the path, two torches at least moving away from him with post haste. Squinting, he could discern that they were humanoid and moving further and further away. "Why in the nine hells are they running?" Whatever scared the two humanoids was somewhere near, and Ethan was in no condition to be running anymore. Snuffing out his torch, he goes fifteen feet into the brush beside the path and begins to sneak his way towards the town.

He hoped whatever manner of creature or thing that scared the two, would not take notice of his stealthy passage.

Perception check on the torch bearers: 11
Going into Stealth fifteen feet from the path and sneaking forward: 16

[Equipped Items]
-Traveler's Clothes x 1
-Fancy Hat x 1
-Walking Stick (Quarterstaff) x 1
-Torch x 1

[Items in Small Satchel]
[Items]
-Pouch containing 1 gp x 1
-Jeweled Ring (worth 10 gp) x 1
-Metal Flute x 1
-Poorly wrought maps of homeland x 1
-Corrected map x 1
-Torches x 2
-Tinderstick Bundle x 1
-Low quality folding knife x 1
[Key Items]
-None

[Items in Durable Pack]
[Items]
-None
[Key Items]
-Satchel of herbs and spices x 1
-Message Parcel for Sips x 1 [NEW!]

[Assistant]
Cypher

---

---

"...you seem to be quite well informed of recent events." Livia mused coolly, standing up and followed the others. Dangerous, this faceless Teifling was. Well informed and likely had more information where that came from. Not that it mattered in the short term. She had little choice if she were to complete these tasks for Maeda and gain access to those ruins. As well, those orcs really could be knocked down a peg after their behavior and she wasn't going to turn away a potential ally in that regard. "Indeed. They saw me as a villain trying to bully them. Unfortunate really. I was rather hoping to have their cooperation but I suppose I expected too much of their simple minds." Glancing over to Katherine to make sure she wasn't getting into trouble, Livia continued.

"If you can...convince the orcs to hand over the resin before tomorrow morning that would be most appreciated." She smiled. "And if you do it well, I perhaps might find myself in need of your services again later."

-bottle of black ink
-quill
-small knife
-set of Fine Clothes
-signet ring
-scroll of pedigree
-Soul gem Dagger
-The book "Frothy Tales of Conquest"
-1lb Kafei seeds
- 1 Vial of Snake Venom
Money: 4gp & 4SP

Max carry weight: 135lbs

[User]
Katherine Lindall-Fiore

---

---

"Me? A tale to tell?" Katherine asked, somewhat surprised. "Well... I was abandoned as a child because of my tail supposedly. I was picked up by a wizard and we lived together for some years. He soon died but first pulled favors with a noble family he was friends with." She mentioned, motioning back to Livia. "Her family. Supposedly a better life, but I could never quite get that old man out of my mind." She mentioned looking a bit melancholic. It quickly passed though as she continued to follow along with the blonde. She felt that for now, it might be best not to mention the voice that guided her from time to time. "I just so happened to find myself following my sister out here." She stated. She didn't seem exactly like that was the reason but didn't seem like she'd budge on the subject.

"Why show such an interest in me? I might be a rare breed but I'm little more than a failure of a wizard with nothing but beautiful women on the mind." Katherine asked, curious in Selena's reasoning. "Unless you happen to swing that way and wanted a little 'night-time fun' with my sister and I... There's little else I can offer."

[Assistant]
𝕬 𝖓 𝖙 𝖆 𝖊 𝖚 𝖘

North Forest Clearing

---

Antaeus had no time to think, no time to plan nor consider, no time to do anything but act. Yet there was certainly a logic to his chosen action. Subconsciously, he knew this, and thus chose to do as he did. He had been in a few risky situations in the mines, after all, and had learned from his father--as he had in many other cases--that you had to prioritize. If you tried to help someone else, sometimes you just made things worse. Sometimes you wasted time that could have been spent solving the problem, and because you couldn't help someone else you ended up getting the both of you in even more trouble. Sometimes everyone died in the cave-in because you tried to hold up the support pillar with someone else instead of sounding the warning like they told you.

If he ran from the Stag, it could outrun him. It could kill him. He didn't have the time right now to try and save the Silver Haired girl; he could only hope that she would last just a few moments longer. But if he succeeded, then he could do it. Then they would be safe, at least for a moment.

For right now, he had to fight. It would do no good to try and save someone else if he couldn't save himself. He had to fight the Stag, and he had to win.

Sweat flying from his brow, eyes wide with both terror and adrenaline, he swung the pick with both hands at the White Stag's bleeding and battered form...

Antaeus attacks with Pickaxe (improv War Pick) in 2 Hands (1d8 damage per DM)
Antaeus Attacks White Stag w/Advantage!
1st Roll: 15
2nd Roll: 4
Damage Roll: 11

1 Quest Book - 5 lb
1 Shovel - 5 lb
1 Miner's Pick - 5 lb
1 Block and Tackle Set - 5 lb
--Pulleys
--Cable
--Hook
1 Climber's Kit - 12 lb
--Pitons
--Boot tips
--Gloves
--Harness
1 Set of Clothes, Common - 3 lb
--Roughspun Tunic
--Roughspun Pants
--Ragged Boots
1 Belt Pouch - 0 GP
1 Hunting Trap - 12 lb
1 Backpack - 5 lb - Holds 30 lb
1 Waterskin - 5 lb (full) - holds 4 pints
1 Tinderbox - 1 lb
1 Hempen Rope - 10 lb - 50 ft
2 Javelins - 2 lb Each
6 Darts - .25 lb Each

Total Encumberance: 71.5/240 lb (Light)
+Bookie has agreed to write a letter to Captain Ork at the Garrison. I should kill an animal in the forest and take it to Captain Ork to prove I'm adventuring material.
--The animal can be anything from the Forest. Bookie suggested a deer or a boar.

+Barthen has requested me to hunt a White Stag in the Forest, and has given me a free hunting trap for this purpose. If I don't succeed I should probably bring the trap back.
--I should try to find the Redchaser, she might be able to help me.

+Barthen is paying 1 GP per pound of Medicinal Herbs from the forest.


[System]
Lans the Ghukzoul
Age: 41
Race: Orc
HP: ❇❇❇
SP: ❇❇
Job: Terror Knight lvl 5 (knights purposed for lowering morale and efficiently...and almost theatrically brutally... killing their enemies)
Magical Affinity: Metal lvl 2
Curse: Curse of Kraxiel lvl 1

AppearanceTypical of Orcs, Lans is 6'5'', well built, and green-skinned. His thick hair resembles more the wool of sheep than the threads of weaving.

However, Lans stands straighter and more posed than most Orcs. His braided hair and well-kept armor defy preconceived notions of Orcish brutality and barbarism. His tusks appear to be filed down but with the precision of a woodcarver rather than the typical jagged wear from harsh bites from days past.

And, certainly unlike other Orcs, he is almost never seen without his upper garments on. But if you were to see him so, you would notice the tattoos that go down his back along his spine… and if you're lucky, you could make them out as some runes.

Lans' posture gives off the distinct feeling that he is challenging you… that he has something to prove. But his experience in physical combat also manifests in his composure and tends to keep him free of brawls and minor altercations. Perhaps due to this, he seems to lack the scars normally found all over the tough hide of Orc warriors. And considering his age, he should be littered with dozens.
PersonalityOften described as a gentleman, Lans demonstrates the best of aristocratic etiquette and mannerisms. As such, he is neither too forward nor too timid. He is courteous, kind, and listens intently to any and all conversation.

But those who know him well, know that this is just his upbringing. In a more private setting, his coarser language and fondness for crude jokes would reassure all that he is, in fact, an Orc. His appetite for direct dialogue and getting to the reason for every interaction would put off most dignitaries and guests.

And his appetite does not end there. Truly, if he were the incarnate of any sin, it would be Indulgence. Ever a champion of feasts, Lans would always enjoy the richest and most seasoned foods and drinks. Similarly, his appetite in games and entertainment reach decadent levels… within the limits of good taste, of course.

This intensity is also reinforced by his horrific temper. And perhaps it is the very fact that he attempts to resist this rage that he exhibits a far greater and unstoppable fury than even the most vicious of Orc fighters.
BackgroundNo one is sure exactly how or when Lord Hannery became accompanied by an orcling everywhere he went. Whispers, as usual, trailed in his wake and often surmised that he was the diplomatic hostage from a rogue Orc horde. Or maybe he was the son of an ally?

But Lord Hannery doted on Lans so much, that many soon forgot the fact that his skin more closely matched the Hannery Sigil's colors. And as the years went on, many of their own children would befriend or rival Lans in the schoolyard. And due to his being a Hannery, Lans enjoyed many happy days of protection and privilege.

It was not long, however, that Lans broke into a fight with a rival over who received more pleasantries from Emmalise duChesse and soundly broke all his teeth and left jawbone. This savagery was not unpunished and Lans learned quickly that such actions had no place in his world. He grew more distant and frustrated as he turned 9… losing friends and any kind of pleasantry whatsoever.

And then his life changed. Lord Hannery had hoped that his son would forget his Orcish tendencies if raised properly but was not foolish enough to trust in this. He had long sent for any mentor that would be willing to help train Lans to control himself and, at the same time, be able to express himself fully. And so, the arrival of Master Tlemich, a philosopher and court sword-dancer, would begin a new part of Lans' life.

Many years later, Lans ultimately chose to enlist with the fabled Terror Knights, the effective opposite side of the coin of Templars, and quickly rose through the ranks. His experience as a sword-dancer gave him many edges over the normally crude fighting styles of his peers and allowed him to be even more effective at ending entire battles with a single stroke of his blade. Though he never saw any real battle, the many tournaments and friendly war games honed his skills as a warrior and tactician.

Then, the Behemoth came.

Within days, Lans' many friends and comrades fell quickly to the monsters. Many more would succumb to madness. In that chaos, Lans was quickly made leader of a crack team of Terror Knights and dispatched to a coastal area near Pioneer's Breath to protect survivors and to survey the damage. After a few successful battles with the beasts, Lans lead his Knights towards the City of Light.

The night before they reached the City, Lans woke up knee-deep in the ocean, facing the direction of the Behemoth. He had no armor on and no weapons were present in his hands. And yet he was covered in blood. When he found his camp, he realized the horrific truth: he had torn all his allies to pieces by hand. But he did not remember any of it.

Broken in spirit, Lans entered the City of Light to find that there were no messages or envoys waiting from his garrison or home. Despite warnings, he attempted again and again to trek back to his father. The further he pushed himself, the more often he woke up in an unknown place with signs of his violent fury everywhere. Soon, he found that this rage began to overtake him even during his waking hours and decided to use it against the many Pathfinders and monsters that threatened the City. However, his rage ultimately proved too much a liability and the Guard imprisoned him. During those years in solitude, madness leaned on his wounds and would have overtaken him if it were not for Thokhruss, a shaman orc imprisoned near him. Through his counseling and lessons on Orc proving rituals, Lans learned to better control himself.

Thokhruss imparted runes onto his back to aid him in the spiritual quest that all young orcs go through. But even despite this, Lans continued to dread the cage he was in and how he could be no use to the screams and agony he heard every day and night. And on such a night, Thokhruss finally succumbed to madness. Lans ended the life of his mentor and swore that this would be the last time he ever raised a weapon against friends and allies. When the city's defenses suffered, they recruited Lans again, noting that he had not raged for quite some time. Now busy with fighting creatures once more, Lans wondered what the future held for him.

Lans, once the brave and terrible, now fears for much: the safety of his father and friends, the meaning of the Behemoth, and himself.
Coping MechanismLans never mastered his rage as all orclings do during their initiation and did not even start his spiritual quest at all until recently. After the Behemoth, Lans often had flashes of blackouts and would learn that he had raged during that time.

Mechanic: Whenever Lans reaches 0 SP, he can make a Orc Rage roll. If successful, Lans is protected from 0 SP penalties but cannot use magic, abilities, or his curse and MUST attack every turn until his rage subsides (if someone reads the runes off his back or is incapacitated), after which he regains full SP. Additionally, during Rage mode, Lans MUST attack the nearest target regardless of it being friend or foe.

[User]
Some part of Mort wants to speak, like regular, functional people do. The problem with chronic depression, Mort finds, is the inconveniently massive amounts of inertia required to do any action whatsoever. So Mort seats himself in Isra'fil's office, and takes a deep breath... and then another... and another...

Finally, after much chewing of his tongue and swatting at his comb, Mort speaks.

"I'm Mort ibn Hytham, of the Makhlab clan, of Al-Tahliq Industries. Sure, you've been holed up here, away from the homeland for whatever amount of time, but you must still know my family.

More silence, and rapid blinking, before he speaks.

"You must also know of the many other families. You must know that, under our custom, especially in the south, that power was, sure, centralized in the capital and doled out by some governor, but real power, real influence, the birds who really made things happen... well, that came down to the clans, dinnit? And things were fine. A tiff here or there, but it was good, under the peace, even you know that."

Mort licked the inside of his beak. Scratched the floor. Twitched. Then, as though suddenly remembering he was in the middle of a conversation,

"Well, now all this awful business has happened. All the birds I know are dead. If there's any trace of my clan left, they've been scattered into the wind, eh? And so are the other clans. Now," Mort picks his beak with a talon, "say we succeed, however damn improbable it is, at all this. Then what? I'm no heroin' type. I'm Makhlab. I know my place. And old habits die hard. If this all works out, and that's a big, honking 'if', then I'm gonna need to be guaranteed my clan's hegemony over the south. Don't tell me you're horrified that I'm still thinkin' about that. It's clan law. Blood first. And if there's a future out there, then it's a Makhlab future.

"So, yes, I'm going to want to find surviving relatives and soldiers. I want to re-establish some semblance of order. There. I'm honest. And I'd rather do it sooner than later. What sort of stuff do you know about liberating our land could be beneficial to my hodge-podge party?"

[Assistant]
Res watched with barely bridled annoyance as her escort scuttled out of the room, she despised manipulative people, even over stupid little incidents like this. Looking back at Gudrun, she wasted no time in getting to the point, "I'm sure everyone feels the same way about their city."

The fact that the appointed escort was a liar, and how opportunely the Dwarven councilor decided to take advantage of the situation made Rehsif wary of the Dwarf's agenda, however it was true she had little to no opinion on who she wanted to help first. So she took a seat in front of Gudrun's desk and made sure to tuck her bag by her feet, her coin wasn't leaving her sight again if she had any say in it.

"I'd also like to put in a formal request to have my missing money returned. It was ten silvers I had that went missing."

Res scratched at the scars on her chin, such a long stay in the dungeon left her feeling very itchy, "And as to why, or who, or what I need to do. Just give me a list and I'll do my best, or tell you if I can't. I don't need any other explanations."

[User]
Lans had been deeply shaken by the events that transpired. And even as his newfound safety net of being around the other chosen was slowly separating from him, he only had the thought of what all this meant. He always dreamed of making a difference... of rising to the highest ranks of the Corps and earning the right to carry on the Hannery name. But this was much more than he ever dreamed.

And now he not only had a chance to find his father as well as redeem himself for his rage kills, he seemed to have been granted a chance at reaching immortality... the stuff of dreams of every boy at the Academy.

But he shuddered at the thought of facing each city and attempting to liberate each one. He had not thought himself fit to even control himself anymore.

And with that thought, Lans turns to his escort and asks if he could meet with the Orc Councilor. He has some spiritual inquiries to pursue.


[System]
I R L
Age - 18
Place of Origin - Japan
Occupation - High School Student

A V A T A R

Character's Name - Kazuki
Pathos Affiliation - Queon
Role - Healer
Profession - Wandering Minstrel
Weapon of Choice - Book
Domains - Wind, Restoration + Protection

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P E R S O N A L I T Y

Stoic
Good news, bad news, confusing news--Kazuki seems to have the emotional range of a teaspoon. He doesn't seem all that bothered with anything and doesn't react much. If it weren't for the lack of monotone, most people would probably assume he's a robot. One would think even his passion would get him to emote, but aside from a vague focused expression, he otherwise is the same as always.

Driven
He doesn't let anything get in the way of accomplishing his goals: everything in life is part of a problem that leads to a solution one way or another. He is relentless when it comes to accomplishing a goal, often pushing himself past what's healthy. For a majority of his life it's been seen as a virtue of sorts and he hasn't had any reason to slow down.

Observant
Despite having little care for the people he engages with, he finds it useful to pick up on a few cues to keep in mind for later if need be.

B E N C H M A R K S

Piano Man
By far and away Kazuki's most cultivated skill, to the point he has gotten several server first records on unlocking the next tier with thousands of hours put into piano playing. Of course, aside from entertainment value and unlocking a few other skills, it doesn't have much use otherwise.

Healing Touch
His second best and probably most relevant skill. Originally toting around without a weapon, Kazuki's healing can be strengthened if he makes contact with whoever needs healing; best used for greater injuries at the risk of putting himself in action.

Song of the Wind
The ability to have his music gain effects depending on the song he's playing. Different songs have different effects, ranging from a variety of buffs and healing over time. Some come at the conclusion of a song, others are persisting so long as the melody is continuously played.

With Hammer in Hand
Smithery has become a great side hobby to Kazuki, who genuinely enjoys making armor and weapons whenever he gets his hands on materials. While he has made a few commissions, it became clear that making and selling instruments quickly became his specialty and source of income--that said, he can make a majority of weapons and armor if need be.
 | Physical Description
Standing at five feet ten inches, Kazuki is a lanky young man that usually towers over his classmates. At a first glance there isn't much home to write about, his face still plenty boyish and more youthful looking than he'd like. The most notable feature he has is probably his green eyes, usually hidden under the mess of brown hair he sports. His expressions are often heavily muted or outright nonexistent, making it difficult to know if he's paying attention or not. Whenever he does look at people, it's noted that it seems more like he's looking through them, not at them.
Character Conceptualization
Kazuki Hoshizawa is a serious kid who takes his passions to their fullest at the expense of most of his social skills. After taking the emotional brunt of his parents' divorce, for all intents and purposes he has shut down. While it's hardly noticeable due to stellar grades and his talent at music, his social life is nonexistent for the most part. As a result, he has a tendency to be overly blunt and cold with little care about the effects of what he says. His personality seems to be the inverse of most healers in media and makes it clear he helps people out of expectation, not out of obligation.

As a noob who doesn't really play games, he was hesitant to even join Pariah Online. He doesn't know much of RPGs in general but has enjoyed the nonsensical side of the game; aside from the appeal of getting to play and learn several instruments, he doesn't really find adventuring appealing. He ended up choosing healing as it seemed easier to stay in the back and support his younger brother. While he doesn't discern himself from who he is outside of the game, he outright refuses to speak of personal matters, with Kazuma barely being an exception and only because Kazuki keeps slipping up and calling him by his real name.

Other Information
* Has regularly placed in several national competitions
* Big fan of strawberries
* Toolkit
* Theme
 |

[User]
Location: City Streets - City of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Rael's shouting brought him to a halt. Before he'd turned around he knew she wanted to catch up to him. Couldn't say why- she'd shown a remarkable ability to not care about other people. "Don't follow me!" Graves yelled back as he spun around. He wasn't in the mood. Wasn't in the mood to talk, or be talked at, or chewed out for his lack of manners. Anger still flowed through his veins, burning and raging like a wildfire. If he'd thought removing himself from the situation would cool him down, he'd been wrong.

But Rael didn't listen- typical- and came trapezing out of the tavern's second floor to run after him. Graves had half a mind to just keep walking. He didn't. He stood there, letting his choler rise with the volume of his voice.

"Are you deaf or do you just enjoy pissin' me off?"

"What's your frickin' problem, tank-for-brains?"

He'd spun back around before she had two words out and kept walking. Walking with long, purposeful strides in the vague direction he knew his destination to be. It was a place he'd walked by a handful of times, maybe, but Graves rarely got lost. Tracking people down was how he'd made a name for himself, after all.

"I leave you for five minutes and Benkei starts shit with you? What the hell?"

Her questions went unanswered for more than a minute. They just went on walking together through the crowded city streets, with Graves barreling his way through anyone stupid enough to not move aside. He still wasn't calming down. His blood pressure was through the roof. "I started the shit. S'what I do." Graves snarled. "His arrogant, self-righteous, hypocrite-of-a-brother was talkin' out one side of his mouth about teamwork n' unity n' all this other shit, and outta the other he was talkin' about abandoning Kalie 'cause she's- she's normal."

Just verbalizing everything that was banging around inside his skull was enough to reheat the fire. He wasn't even trying to keep it under control at this point; he didn't care who heard him yelling. He didn't care that people were looking at him like some kinda freak. It'd all been too much. Everything. All of it was just building and building on top of each other like a tower of misery up to the heavens and Graves couldn't take it anymore.

"'Cause all this scares her. 'Cause everything that's goin' on is too much. 'Cause unlike most'a our gang of losers, fuck-ups and loners, she actually has somethin' to lose." He turned his head to look at Rael over his shoulder. "Same reason you yelled at her, really."

"I yelled at her because..." She paused, looking at the ground for a moment. "...because she was being annoying. Don't even know why. I snapped."

"Can't stand her either. That RP shit's for kids and dorks."

She sighed audibly as she rose her hand to her face as if she had a migraine.

"It was... I dunno. Maybe Alja is right about me. Whatever. Not like I'd abandon anyone because they are annoying. Does Kazuki really want to ditch the weak members like that?"

He echoed Rael's sigh and slowed in his walk. "I dunno. I dunno what he wants, and I didn't give him time to explain. Said a lot of shit I shouldn't have and now the group's...done. Ain't something you come back from. Better off on my own, anyway."

"How lame. Giving up that easily."

"Didn't take you for the kumbaya type."

She rolled her eyes as she moved her hand from her face, "Never took you for the coward type."

That hit a nerve.

"What's going to happen to those morons without us?"

And that drove it home.

"God, you sound just like-" He threw up his hands and gave a frustrated groan. "-They're probably gonna charge off the nearest cliff like a pack of lemmings."

She smiled, "People like us aren't supposed to be the likeable ones. If you weren't busy being so upset you'd see that. We've got a different job."

They stopped walking. "You're a pain in my ass, I hope you know that."

"Yeah." She moved closer looking up at him as she did so, forcing absolute eye contact. "So what're you gonna do about it?"

Not one to back down from a challenge, Graves held his ground, bending his knees to get down to her level. After a beat of glaring at her he stood back up. "Still not over the ale thing- Imma get you back for it later. For now, there's work to be done."

[Assistant]
Location: City Streets -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Seele tried to size him up, get a read, but the man was a sphynx. A sphynx with a dour look permanently carved into his silly, symmetrical face. Frankly, it felt a lot like dealing with Rael, only this time she had the benefit of already having dealt with someone like Rael. Brick walls they were, just different flavors of brick.

"Well, you certainly seem to know him better than I do, so if you think he's alright…" she said, flapping a hand at her face and airing out the collar of her robe. The witchy look had always worked for her, but Thorinn wasn't making it easy anymore. The humidity wasn't so much the problem, she was used to that, but the sun was just dreadful. Suddenly, her dearly departed hat didn't seem so silly anymore.

Kazuki still had a little sass left in him, it seemed, but she waved it off. "I'm here because it's not safe for a young man to go wandering around the city alone, clearly. The place is a playground on Halloween, just swap out the sugar for mass panic, and the children for…well, bigger children, I suppose," she said, gesturing around at the unprecedented bustle that had seized her patron city. Distantly she could hear more raucous shouting, likely from other wayfarers finding themselves in similarly tense situations. "And you know, at this point it feels like getting the full story would be like playing Telephone. It's probably all garbled and twisted up and not at all like what actually happened, I don't think."

She finally straightened up, took a deep breath of her own, and like that she was smiling again. "But you're welcomed to tell it to me, if you like. Or we could just talk. You might have noticed I like talking maybe a bit too much, but I'm also good at listening. So, if you want me to zip up, you'll just have to give me something to listen to."

[User]
Kazuki definitely agreed with Seele's last sentence. He could also disagree with a lot of what she said--it was definitely more dangerous for a young lady to be alone. He didn't know why he mistook her for the quiet type, an odd discomfort bubbling up as he continued the walk to his home. Had he been too quick to assume she would be someone safe to be around? She was coming from a place of concern and hadn't done anything to prove otherwise, but it still made him uneasy. No, he shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. At the very least she came to him to get the truth unfiltered, so he couldn't really turn her away without making himself look worse. Not that the truth would be doing him any favors but he supposed it was easier to get things over with.

He only stopped once they were at the door to his small home, digging around his pockets for his keys before unlocking it. The miniscule kitchen looked like it had been shoved into the right corner closest to the door as an after thought, the entrance bearing a rug and a makeshift rack that held a pair of boots already there. A set of stairs lead to the sole bedroom, its door seen from even where they were. The rest of the home was plainly decorated, with a couch and chair placed around a coffee table and a small dining table with a pair of chairs close to the kitchen. At the far corner was a pair of doors and a piano whose quality far exceeded any other piece of furniture. It was homely, but noticeably spotless.

Slipping out of his shoes, he placed them respectfully on the rack before placing his bag on the coffee table. He gestured for Seele to have a seat, wandering into the kitchen and rummaging through the cabinets until he pulled out a kettle and a pair of cups. It had been a while since he had played the part of host, but he supposed he could put something together quickly. The hearth wasn't lit, but it roared back to life after a few snaps of the spark stones Kazuki clashed together. Pulling out a jug filled with water, he poured some into the kettle and placed it on the metal hanging over the fire. After pulling out a slice of what looked like a strawberry pastry from a pantry box, he carefully sliced it into four parts.

Even though he worked in silence, it wasn't uncomfortable. He was clearly focused on the task at hand, fingers working on the leaves in the cup before plucking the kettle from the hearth and pouring the water over it. No tray, but he brought everything by hand, placing a cup and plate of sweets before Seele and only taking a seat after he had his own cup in hand.

"I'll be upfront about what happened: it was my fault," Kazuki decided to get that much out of the way. "It's telling to talk about unity one moment and immediately speak of excluding someone in the next. I won't deny it, I thought solely in my own interest. Graves called me out on it and things escalated. Having trust in others isn't my strong suit and I let my bias get the best of me, resulting in the group...fracturing." Not that he thought they were together or anything, but that was what he figured.


[System]
Appearance: Standing at a little over 5'11" (though he'll snap at you if you claim he's any less than 6 feet) and weighing in at about 140 pounds, Max has a lean, but not quite physically ideal, build. His face still looks relatively boyish for his age, accentuated by the implied immaturity of his persistently messy ash brown hair. His eyes might've once been a lively and piercing blue, but now they're subdued by the empty blankness of his stare; as if passion had been drained out of him entirely aside from the occasional glint of anger or sadness. He typically adorns his attire with some form of metal, if not outright armor, due to the nature of his magical affinity, and favors catalysts or casting implements that that cling to his person without fear of being disarmed or stolen in a fight.

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Element: Metal

Personality: In a word: bitter. Bitter at vampires for forcing him into what he sees as slavery. Bitter at humanity for allowing themselves to be collectively held hostage in order to control mages. Bitter at other mages for not rising up against their vampiric masters in spite of the cost. He maintains an air of cool politeness when decorum demands such, but can be quite irritable otherwise and rarely hesitates to take verbal jabs at others. When regarding vampires, his demeanor ranges from guarded, but amiable, to as outright hostile as he can feasibly act in such a scenario; depending on the attitude of the vampire in question. In general, however, he's rather sullen and resigned to his fate; any outrage he may have once felt is now dulled a quiet seething. As such, his bark is generally worse than his bite, and though he may complain, he's still willing to play the role of obediant vampire slave for lack of another option. Ironically enough, his detest for weakness pushes him to excel in that role as much as possible, despite it benefitting his oppressors.

Bio: Max grew up an only child within the territory of a highly traditionalist vampire noble, and as such spent his childhood in fear of being drunk like a juice pouch in the night. He'd witnessed the brutal exsanguination of people in his hometown written off as an unfortunate accident many times throughout his life, with the ruling count and his vassals rarely facing any sort of formal punishment for their sport hunting. In his hotheaded teenage years, once he was old enough to understand what was happening, Max was utterly appalled by the state of society and frequently argued with his parents' assertions of "That's just the way things are". Gradually, he grew to resent what he perceived as their weakness for not taking a stand; an animosity that eventually extended to almost the entire human race. Upon his Awakening, he was elated; magic was a power that could oppose and even kill vampires. Naturally, this delusion of grandeur was ended quickly by the reality of being a mage - a glorified piece of cattle for some upstart vampire to order around and drink from. Recently, he set his sights on Noila Academy in pursuit of magical instruction, believing that the accumulation of power is paramount if he's to cling to any hope of having freedom.

Sexual Orientation: Homosexual

Likes: Long walks in the sunlight (if only out of spite), Advancing his magical abilities, Bluntness, Defiance of authority, Sleeping

Dislikes: Weakness in himself or others, Vampires (as a whole - his opinions on individuals are subject to case-by-case decisions), Overly-fake people, Restrictions on his actions

Habits:
* Has a tendency to be rude whenever he can get away with it (and when he can't, albeit the rudeness is usually veiled a bit in those cases), even to people that would generally be undeserving of such an attitude.
* Generally punctual and attentive, despite a feigned dismissive demeanor.
* Avoids eye contact with vampires on principle, out of fear of hypnotism rather than submission or awkwardness.

Other:
Text Color: 8585ad

[User]
---

---

So she was on her own? Well, it wasn't like Lilie was expecting anything to really happen. She had to admit as corny as his words sounded, they did squash down any pre-party jitters she had. All she really had to worry about was the one song and then she'd get to watch everyone else. Invigorated by the thought, Lilie nodded in understanding, pausing as the earrings hit her neck. She thought her every day pendant was fancy, but everything Ben was giving her was putting even that to shame.

"I'll do my best, then! I mean, I'm actually feeling really good tonight," She replied. "I thought I'd be nervous but I'm really looking forward to hanging out with my friends." And if her performance wasn't good enough, it wasn't like she'd be offended. It was just a new found hobby, not anything she actually wanted to do for the rest of her life.

All her thoughts went flying out the window as Ben looped what looked like a solid chunk of diamond around her neck. Where in the world did he get all this jewelry? If she was going to be nervous about anything, it was potentially getting mugged in the walk from dorm to dorm. She'd have to take special care of everything, it all looked so expensive! Honestly she was more worried about scratching or losing any of it.

But there wasn't time to dwell on the way-too-pricey things she wore as Ben complimented her and said it was time to go. She only looked nice because of everything he gave her, but she still felt a little giddy. Maybe Aaron would think she looked nice, too? Hopefully it wasn't too flashy for him. She followed Ben out of the room, making sure to grab the bag holding her blood--which still kinda freaked her out and made her queasy if she looked at it for too long--and met him at the entrance. Carefully putting on the white heels, she slipped into her cloak and gave him a thumbs up with her free hand.

"I feel like it's gonna be a good night," Lilie told Ben.

---

Gettin' glammed up with @Bert Macklin

[Assistant]
---

Max turned to actually address Eris himself instead of the asshole in the mirror, having grown tired of looking at himself already. Not that he looked bad - actually, the fact that he didn't made the whole sight worse - it was just an annoying thing to look at. The flat look he turned on the vampire was hardly any better, though. Seriously? All this work just to tell Count Bemdalin or whatever the fuck his name was that he was a loser? Should've spent all the party decoration money on hiring Max to do it for him. Hell, Max would've done it for free.

"And we're invited because...? Don't answer that, I know why. Still, you assert he has a plan for every one of the guests except yourself. He couldn't get away with inviting all the nobles except one, that'd be insulting. But you? You're nobody. You can be excluded." He knew he'd be getting an earful about the 'nobody' comment but the point stood; Varis didn't need Eris to be there, and in light of their recent line of investigation, Max couldn't help but assume this was less a 'keep your friends close' and more an 'and your enemies closer' type of party.

"You may not be the star of the show," Another earful for that one, "but I'd be shocked if he didn't have some plan in mind. I know you lie through your teeth everytime you open your mouth so I'll spare you the 'be careful' spiel, but if Aaron gets too nosy I'll try to let you know something's up anyway." He definitely didn't feel like playing word games tonight, at any rate. No gambling unless the deck was stacked in his favor, otherwise his only job was to put on a show like a trained seal and tell anyone who tried to get him to exert himself beyond that to go fuck themselves.

---

[User]
---

---

Eris thought Max didn't learn as he had already opened his mouth to respond to his first question, shutting it as he moved on. He couldn't really stop himself from rolling his eyes as he went on and on about how he didn't understand the intricacies of court politics and had little idea why Varis did the things he did and had set up the get together as such. Well, those weren't his exact words or what he had said, but he may as well have. Ignorance was such a dreadful thing to suffer from.

"Yeah, the guy whose face is plastered on about a hundred thousand products is really 'nobody'. Sometimes you worry me, Wells," Eris sighed.

He did, however, let out a tiny gasp of offense at one thing. "Do you think I do nothing but lie to you?" He asked. "That's so hurtful, must you think so little of me, Wells? You're practically my right hand man right now, if I do nothing but 'lie through my teeth every time I open my mouth', it would really bite me in the ass when I need you to listen." He shook his head in disappointment, though he paused as he really thought about it. "...not that I don't see why you'd think that, but I'm serious, I avoid lying to you as much as I possibly can."

"Either way, we're going because despite my nouveau riche ways, I run through plenty of noble circles so it's good practice for your future. as...whatever Ismene puts you in, we haven't ironed out those details just yet, but if you're ever attending me at one of those things this'll be your first taste at it," Eris said as he double checked his own reflection. "Also helps that I love watching Varis at work. I hate that stupid Count Benniton and watching him go against all his mage-loving ideals as he tries to gain the favor of a Sinnenodel is better than anything else that's on TV tonight." He had no trouble admitting that much, his disdain for the count way too obvious. "He apparently doesn't understand his place. It isn't enough that the princess threw some scraps from the bottom of the barrel in the form of that horrid-looking mage at him because he still thinks he's somebody, so Cuunt Sinnenodel will be reminding him where he belongs on the bottom of the totem pole."

And tonight he had just the little tidbit to prove it. Taking a glance at his watch, Eris grimaced as he figured they should get going. "Not that you care about anything I've said, I don't know why I bother explaining myself sometimes," He shook his head, taking Max by the shoulders and guiding him out. "Grab the bottle and let's go, we're already running ten minutes early which means we're late in Sinnenodel time."

---

Styling up @Scribe of Thoth against his will

[Assistant]
Like clockwork. The only part of that Eris heard was 'nobody'. Yeah, some actor's face on a bottle of cologne was certainly on par with being in line for a seat on the council. And look at that, he opened his mouth and then he lied! The leech definitely didn't 'avoid lying as much as he possibly could'. Hell, he didn't have to lie at all! Vampires must have a hard time understanding that honesty was an option or something.

It brought Max a small degree of petty satisfaction that Eris still had no idea what do with him. Even better, it was apparently delegated to Ismene to decide now - he'd made the right move endearing herself to her. Or... whatever the hell he did back there. Though it was a bit ironic that Eris wanted to him to practice at playing high society when Eris didn't seem to be evaluating the situation himself. He just wanted to watch Benji flop. Not that Max really blamed him, but was anticipating problems in advance really that much of a hassle?

Of course it was, the leech lied everytime he opened his mouth; this party was business as usual, hardly even worth a move on Eris' corny chessboard.

"I listen and care more than you might think, Eric, it's how I know you're a liar," Max offhandedly commented as he brushed past the vampire and picked up a briefcase full of the stupid iron rods Eris wanted him to turn into something pretty from the kitchen counter. Maybe he could shape it into a giant dick and get politely asked to leave the party. With his magic bearing most of the weight, he gripped the neck of the bottle with his free hand and rested the base on the top of his otherwise-occupied hand. Because carrying a bottle with one hand is classless or something, apparently. Vampires just didn't know how to drink, honestly.

"And what happened to fashionably late? I thought that was your whole gimmick."