[System]
Distinguishing Marks: The palms of both of her hands are scarred from all the bloodletting she's had to do for various spells over the years.
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Witch
Height: 5'7"
Personality: Naya's time alone in the forest has not had a positive affect on her social skills, leaving her reclusive and with a tendency to get aggressive when surprised by strangers. That being said, she is also extraordinarily curious about everything from outside the forest and will sometimes follow travelers and hunters just to study them more closely. The witch also harbors a deep affection for animals and respects them more than people most of the time.

Naya is very physically affectionate with those she cares about and can be overtly protective. She once put a curse on a man who kept pestering Meng so that every time he got within a quarter mile radius of the farmer he would break out in hideous hives. Living in the forest has also made her incredibly resourceful, but also less educated than most.

Bio: Naya was born to the Belladonna clan on the western edge of the Semarian Forest. The young witch grew up not knowing who her biological mother was and was instead raised by the tribe mothers, as is custom to their race. She stayed here amongst the mossy lean-tos and the hemlock trees until she reached the age of thirteen, when she was required to take a year-long solo pilgrimage into the forest. It was meant to be a rite of passage that would awaken the magic in her bloodstream and mark her as a full-fledged witch.

A miserable year came and went, with young Naya scrabbling to survive alongside the harsh creatures of the forest, but her magic never awoke.

Needless to say, Naya was distraught. For as far back as she could remember, all she had ever wanted was to be able to do magic, but it seemed like that was impossible now. The teen could have returned to the clan and taken up a position fitting her magicless self, like watching after the children or cooking, but her shame was so great that she decided not to go back to her coven. After reaching this conclusion, Naya traveled to the southern edge of the forest, which was less inhabited due to its closer proximity to the unforgiving desert. Now fourteen and having lived in the forest for an entire year on her own, Naya was in bad shape. She was malnourished, her clothes in tatters, and food was becoming increasingly scarce. The youth didn't have high hopes for making it through the winter.

This is when an old farmer, Feiyan Meng, happened upon the young girl at the edge of her property. Though hesitant at first to assist a witch, her conscious got the better of her and she ushered Naya back to her cottage, where she nursed the scrawny youth back to health. Meng and Naya formed a friendship based on gratitude and a mutual love of horticulture. The teen stayed on the farm through the winter, helping with the chores to earn her keep.

One spring morning while she was pruning the roses, Naya cut herself on a thorn and a few drops of blood landed on a bud below. She was overcome with a huge sense of vertigo and fainted, coming to a few moments later to find that the bud was now fully flowered. Ecstatic that her magic had finally awoken, Naya once again set off on her own into the forest, this time to make a permanent home for herself where she could practice her craft.

Naya set her sights on a grand old oak tree and began to work on making it her home. Eight years pass in relative peace and the young witch focuses on honing her magic, only interacting with other humans when she would stop by the farm to visit Meng. Her luck runs out when she returns from the old woman's house one afternoon to see a group of cloaked figures surrounding her home, using kerosene and torches to send the ancient tree up in smoke. Naya has no choice but to flee, heading on foot towards the desert wastes of the south.

Skills:
Adept Blood Magic User - Well versed in blood magic, but has no skills in more natural magics, like elemental.

Adept at Survival Skills - She can light a fire, build a shelter, set a trap, and skin an animal like nobody's business!

Adept Gardener - Even without using magic, Naya almost never has a problem getting something to grow.

Important Possessions:
Grimoire - Contains everything from minor spells like 'To Cure Split Ends' all the way to major ones like 'To Forcibly Bind a Heart'.

Dagger - While plain, Naya always keeps the blade sharp. Usually has it on her person at all times.

Relationships:
Meng - The farmer that took her in when she was a girl. Naya used to visit her every week before she was chased from her home. She never told the old woman goodbye for fear that she would be attacked by the group that chased her out of the forest.

Belladonna Tribe - Naya has not had contact with her coven for over twelve years, but still thinks of them as her family. She has no idea what has happened to them now.

[User]
As Amon finishes answering her question about the ringmail, Ormuzhd starts down a particularly steep sand dune and Naya shrieks in terror, because it feels like she's going to fly right off the front of the beast. Amon is unyielding though, not budging an inch as they tilt forward at a drastic incline, her hands clutching at him in a vice grip. Once they've conquered the hill the great salamander slows down, much to the witch's relief. "Thank you, my friend," the brunette exhales quietly, loosening her grasp on the other man as they return to a less horrifying speed and acclivity.

The man turns his head a little so she can hear him, explaining in his rumbling baritone, "We don't have covens in the traditional sense. Unlike everywhere else in the world mage-kind don't live hidden.......well that's the case if things are very intimate anyway, holding hands and the like isn't frowned upon, in high society it is encouraged'.

"I think you misunderstand the word, 'coven'," she tells him, squinting against the brightness of the sun and the sand that whips past them. "It means, um, how do you say...," Naya trails of, her brow wrinkling in concentration. "...fa-family?" Naya continues, finally getting the word out. "Yes, family. I was born to the Belladonna tribe, but then I left them when my magic failed to come to me. They are still my coven though, even though I have not seen them in many years," She clarifies, letting her eyes slide close against the memories. "I had a human friend in my forest. She and I were a coven, or a family as they call it," the witch finishes, her voice going soft as she speaks about Meng and their little coven of two.

"As for having children, that's a very private matter indeed......In the usual manner, no spells or anything."

"That's strange," Naya admits after a moment, trying to wrap her head around the concept of binding herself to someone, a man no less, forever. "Witches don't do that either. Love is for your coven. When we want to have our babies, we just pick the strongest, most intelligent human man creature we can find and bed him," she tells him, blinking an eye open cautiously before shutting it just as quickly to keep the dust at bay. If she was being honest with herself, the witch was a little disappointed that there wasn't a spell for knitting a baby together in a woman's belly. It would have been fun to add it to her grimoire. "Do you have a bond-mate then, Amon?"

He says something she can't make out over the wind, but then goes on to explain what will happen when the get to this City of White Marble. "Please take this," she finally hears him, cracking open her eyes to see that he's offering her the water again. "You'll need it more than me." Naya takes it and unscrews the top, taking a drink from it as carefully as possible so she doesn't spill any. Ormuzhd's lopping gait makes it harder than she had expected, but the brunette manages to not lose a single drop.

"Thank you," Naya sighs, pressing the canteen back into his grasp. "Are there trees in your hom--erm--city?" she asks, closing her eyes again and tucking her face behind his back, using his shoulder as a shield against the sand.

[Assistant]
Just as before Amon waits for Naya to ask all her questions before responding to them, a peculiarity of speech to her he thought, but the norm to those used to high culture.

'Ahh, you view coven as family…' he paused for a moment having said this, running the thought through his mind. 'In the library of the Pesegae I read an old tome on mage-kind of foreign lands, it described covens as secret gatherings. It did not make mention of any familial ties between coven-kin. For us in the city we have families, usually they consist of a bonded Sorcerer and Sorceress and their children. There are exceptions though, for example we Pesegae Knights are all family, not necessarily by blood, but by purpose. The Luminarks are the same, they have a common purpose and swear themselves to one another just like we Knights do.' He stopped talking as Ormuzhd came to the crest of dune that had a slight but steady incline.

Amon looked around him, noticing a trio of figures off in the distance, he turned Ormuzhd to face them and set off, maintaining the same pace as before so he could answer a few more of Naya's questions.

'As for having a bond mate, no I do not. Knights such as myself aren't permitted to take a bond mate until we have proven ourselves worthy. Those Knights that hold the title Corvidae, Raptora, Athenaen, Pavoni or Pyrae are allowed, but regular Knights such as myself are not. If I wish to attain one of those titles then I must prove myself in battle or study and there has yet to be a chance to do so. As for the trees of course there are, we have immense gardens and the roads are lined with plants and fountains to relieve the worst of the heat.'

As he finished speaking he looked out at the horizon again, he observed the three figures. Now that he was closer he could see that they were carrying spears, he drew Ra'Kes from its place at his side, holding the reigns in his other hand. He turned to his shoulder to see that Naya has pressed herself in behind his shoulder to shield herself from the sand and the wind. 'Trouble up ahead, we're going to go fast, hold onto me and when we stop stay on Ormuzhd whatever happens don't intervene just stay on Ormuzhd' he instructed.

Not waiting for a response he snapped Ormuzhd's reigns sharply and they shot forward at great speed. Ormuzhd skittered across the sand a cloud billowing up behind him as he shot forward, Amon leant forward as they shot forward holding Ra'Kes close against his leg. After a couple of minutes they arrived at the three figures, Ormuzhd slowed down as he closed in on the figures and Amon appraised each one of them.

They wore dirty leather armour with dirty bedraggled robes draped over the top, they each had backpacks and carried a long bladed spear in their right hands. One of the figures wore a hood with a scarlet band tied around the top, it was evident that he was the leader of the men.

'Greetings wanderers' called Amon as Ormuzhd loped closer, Ra'Kes was tightly gripped in his hand and could be seen by the three men. As he called out the figure with the scarlet band turned to face him.

[User]
Naya was relieved to hear that there would be trees in this new place, but slightly confused about the concept of someone preventing someone else from taking a bond mate. 'What funny witches,' she thought to herself, grinning under her shroud. They had so many odd customs and rules, like where it was okay to touch someone or when it was alright to bind yourself to another, and on top of it all they picked this wasteland to make their home. The brunette didn't understand it at all, but she had to admit that she was curious about their culture.

The sound of Amon pulling his weapon free jolts the witch from her thoughts, and then the sorcerer tells her, "Trouble up ahead, we're going to go fast, hold onto me and when we stop stay on Ormuzhd whatever happens don't intervene just stay on Ormuzhd." He warns right before Ormuzhd picks up his pace, carrying them at a breakneck speed towards some strangers in the distance.

Naya doesn't take well to being told what to do, but she likes this strange desert warlock, so she concedes without much of a fight. "Alright, friend, I will stay on Ormuzhdt," she agrees, stumbling over the salamander's name a little less than earlier, but still adding an unnecessary 't' sound to the end of it. At this alarming new speed of travel they make it to the group in no time, and Naya fights hard not to reach for the dagger stowed away in her boot. They looked like human creatures, and while Amon said some could be trusted, Naya was generally leery of any of them who weren't Meng.

"Greetings wanderers," her friend calls out, catching the attention of the scarlet hooded man. Naya's grip tightens around Amon even though Ormunzhd has come to a complete stop now. The witch catches sight of the hawk from earlier circling above them as this stranger takes them in.

Naya feels a wave of protectiveness wash over her, which is silly since she hadn't know Amon for very long at all. But he seemed to know so many different things and the brunette wanted to learn as much as he could teach her about this strange world outside her forest. But she had told the other that she would just stay in the saddle so instead of reaching for her blade she settles on glaring at the newcomers, warning them not to try anything funny with her eyes.


[System]
Gender: Female

Codename: Utah

Age: 23

Armor Ability: Super Agility

Implanted AI: Zeta, Known for causing nightmares, has a sadistic personality for instilling fear in others, incredibly easy to work with if you like causing psychological damage and can overcome personal fears and nightmares.

Before Freelancer

After Freelancer

Color Scheme = Steel Primary, Sage Secondary
Helmet = Mjolnir VI/S with HU/RS Attachment
Chest = Tactical/Recon
Shoulders = Recon
Knee Guards = FJ/Para

Out of Armor

Personality:

Jay is mostly uptight. Time is of the essence and should not be wasted to her as she is extremely efficient. She is stoic, composed and mostly keeps to herself. She avoids being competitive; rather, she gets sick thrills out of watching her enemies suffer in whatever way she sees fit. The objective of her mission always comes first to her, however, and will forgo her "Fun". Her mentality is highly cynical as she shares a very sarcastic view of the world, along with a twisted sense of humor that is rarely displayed towards others (It usually comes out in terms of bad puns).

--Jay Farraday on the night it went all wrong--

Jay Farraday was already part of the German Special Forces on Earth, and was then selected by Naval Special Warfare command as she fit the requirements needed for ODST assignment. She finished her training with above average performance, and went on to participate in otherwise classified UNSC operations against the insurrection.

She and her squad were then assigned as an asset to ONI in a reconnaissance mission on an insurrectionist stronghold. The mission went terribly sideways, and went loud relatively fast. Only she made it out alive, covered in blood and psychologically traumatized.

ONI, not wanting to let the dirty secrets of their operations leak out, threw Farraday under the bus and labeled her a traitor to the UNSC. She was then transferred to a UNSC Correctional Installation where she stayed waiting for her Court-Marshal, until Freelancer got her on their radar.

Weapon loadouts

M392 DMR (I'll just call it DMR in short)

M45 Tactical Shotgun

M6C/SOCOM (Also known as the M6 Silenced in ODST)

The Good ol' Combat Knife

Grenades:
2x Frag
2x Flash

Fighting Style: Jay Farraday likes taking her time with killing from range but she isn't scared to take the fight up close and personal with her previous ODST hand to hand training and weapon set. She also likes toying with her targets when she isn't pressed for time.

Theme Song

--Freelancer Tribute--

[User]
@GingerBoi123 @LetMeDoStuff

Washington chuckled. "Wash is fine."

Washington watched Ohio taking apart the droids it was like watching an expert engineer taking apart a car, so thorough.

"Problem is i'm much more close quarters with my rifle here, i'll show you".

Roaring in a battle cry he charged into the nearest robot stabbing the robot as hard as he could in the chest. The bayonet piercing the robot's chest and opening him as easily as a can opener. The bot grabbed for him wildly as Washington pulled the trigger filling it full of led. It arms went limp just as Washington reached the end of his mag. Grabbing his M363 he fired it at the bots moving towards California taking out two and clearing the way for him.

"Domo arigato, bitch." His sudden lapse of concentration rewarded him with a punch to the face knocking him off his feet and back onto the floor. "No more mister nice guy then".

Pulling out his M363 he fire it at the chest of the robot who had punched him in the face. Kicking the offending bot in the chest it stumbled backwards over some rubble as Washington rolled out of the way. Standing up he saw the bot recovering from the kick. Walking away from the robot he pressed the red button on the side of his M363 the bomb detonated blowing the robots torso clean off. "I'm going to call you the sticky launcher, not the best name but it's better then the M363 Remote Projectile Detonator."

As he was just getting to know his knew sticky buddy a body came flying out of nowhere sweeping him off his feet and sending him crashing to the floor. "Woah, bit yo gun ho there dude."

Standing up Washington surveyed the battlefield, he could only see a few of these robots left. A loud horn could be heard over the gunfire and agents shouts. The robots shut down and stood to attention on the spot. The Directors voice then sounded over the intercom.

"Alright Agents that enough, You are dismissed for today. Washington you are needed in the medical bay, as of this moment your armour abilities are now activated. Ensure you follow the rules any deviation will be punished harshly! Apart from this you are free to explore the installation, go to your room or mingle with the other agents. It's entirely up to you. However you will have a mission coming up soon so be prepared to move at a moments notice".

Washington reloaded his AR and placed it on the magnetic grip on his back. He did the same with his newly named sticky launcher which he placed instead on the back of his torso. "Well that was a bit nuts right? Those bots always manage to surprise me with their resilience to fire. Makes you wonder why they don't use them instead right?"

Washington did a double take. "Wait you all have A.I.? What the hell all you guys get the bells and whistles and i'm standing here with my dick in my hand looking like a jackass. Hope I get the good end of the stick with these A.I.s."

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

Leaving the training field he headed up to the medical bay. Before he was able to enter a female nurse said he would need to remove his armour and wear a surgical gown. "Already trying to get me out of my clothes cheeky girl".

His crude humor was met with silence. Feeling awkward he took the gown and got changed into it. Once he was changed he was told to lie down on a table. Washington never did like surgery rooms and he imagined that this would not be a pleasant experience. A mask was lowered round his face as surgeon gathered around him, after a few second he slept into unconsciousness and the surgeons began their work......

[Assistant]
The butt of Montana's shotgun met the face of another robot."Will you just die all ready!" he exclaimed as the lights in the machine finally sputtered off ",About damn time, no game over today." He zigged and zag to cover to get his bearings as several other bots focused their attention on him.

"The fight grows weary, eliminate them," a low gravely voice stated.
"Not now Omega I'm busy and I'm working on it," Montana replied back peaking over the wall only to duck when a shot bouced off the barrier.

"All right then how about a bit of a bang," he said unstrapping a grenade and quickly jumping up and tossing it. Time seem to briefly stop as the bots looked at the grenade and Montana celebrated early. His celebration lasted only shortly as the grenade sailed over the bots to beyond an unoccupied barrier.

"That throws trajectory was pathetic," Omega stated to which Montana cursed at before finding new cover. The battle ended shortly after.

"Damn wanted to crush some more tin cans," Montana said with disappointed exiting the simulation room with the other freelancers.

[User]
It was all a blur after he got thrown through the wall, his rifle tumbling out of his hands as he clutched his head. He looked up to the robot walking towards him, backing up slowly as he reached for his BMR. As the robot got closer Delta looked over to his left, shaking his head. "I would put your hands up."

"What?" Maine got confused, stopping his motion as his hands were up near his face now. Suddenly another freelancer rushed in, knocking over the robot going for him and throwing him his rifle, which he caught. Huh, so the freelancer wasn't totally worthless after all. However, he did see that he was getting pinballed between two robots.

As soon as he raised his rifle to fire, another freelancer, Washington, shot the two surrounding California. Well... shit. Now there were no robots. Maine got up, dusting himself off as he looked around to address the situation.

"Behind you." was all Maine heard from Delta as he turned around, practically getting slide tackled by agent Iowa. Maine slipped forward, falling chest first into the ground as he looked up to what shoved Iowa at him. Maine rapidly flipped his trigger finger, busting all the remaining bullets in his clip into the chest of the robot in mere seconds, scrap metal flying everywhere as the robot crumpled in a heap, several bullets speeding into god only knows where.

"Watch it, Freelancer." Maine said coldly, getting up once again and sticking his rifle to the magnet on his back as he watched all the robots shut themselves off. Keeping all his equipment on, he marched without a word out of the training room and straight to the firing range, wherever that may be. He wanted to know what the scores on the leaderboard were, but those didn't seem to be posted yet. He wanted to train with his new equipment in the mean time, not so much caring for the other agents at the moment.

"Agent Maine, it seems as though your equipment is online and fully functional. This should help us in spotting targets in smoke, through walls, at far distances, as well as predict enemy movement for more precise shots." Delta explained, standing on his shoulder like usual.

"I got it Delta. Let's practice with the equipment and test it out."

"Alright. Do you think you should converse with the other agents first?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Well you are a part of a squad and should be working together. Teamwork will help you perform missions more efficiently and help performance levels."

"I don't trust half those guys, and it's not like idol conversation will do much. I'm used to working on my own. Besides, I'm pretty sure half these assholes were rebels and insurgents, prisoners of war let out to fight here. My job as ODST was to assassinate, capture, do surveillance on guys like that."

"Either way, agent Maine, basic conversation won't hurt."

"Fine... after training. Maybe." Maine grumbled, giving in to the AI. It seemed Delta was more sociable than he was, borededing on caring. Very talkative too. But he was right... getting to know his allies would help. Even if Maine thought he was better than half the people here. The one did help him. At the very least gaining some knowledge might have benefits in the future.

At the firing range, agent Maine layer down, setting up his tripod as he looked through the scope of his rifle. Targets appeared in the distance, human shaped ones, standing very far away as they started to move in random patterns at varying speeds.

"Tactical visor online, scanning targets... fire when ready Agent Maine."

After that, the only sounds that were heard were gun shots.

[Assistant]
As all the Freelancers started to leave the training area, Utah, on the other hand went unnoticed inside a tall building within the designated space.

"What was the point of this, Agent Utah? We haven't even fired a single shot."

Zeta asked in a low gravelly voice as Utah looked through her DMR's scope.

"I want to know what I'm dealing with, since I don't just want to get tangled up in the mix; besides, sneaking around is also something we're bound to do anyway."

"And what are we dealing with, Agent Utah?"

"Based on my experience… A bunch of fuckups given suits, AI, weapons, and armor thrown into a group and expected to work together; nothing like the ODSTs I used to work with."

Zeta then looked at her in his yellow floating form as Utah carefully surveyed each and every freelancer, not once taking her eyes off the scope.

"Do you think we'll have any fun with them instead of these emotionless robots?"

Utah looked at Zeta, then tilted her head to look at the exit where the Freelancers were going through.

"No… Not at all… fuckups aren't fun, in fact they're as fun as shit hitting the fan---which by the way isn't fun---besides, we need them although I hate to admit it; maybe when we're on a mission in a target rich environment though."

Her lips parted into a smirk, a giggle escaping from inside her helmet. She lifted her DMR over her shoulder with one hand, allowing the other to hang off the side.

"You're a "Fuckup" yourself, Agent Utah."

She looked at Zeta and said, "Well better being fucked up than staying a virgin, am I right?"

Zeta took a pause as he processed what he had just heard.

"Your sense of humor according to my analytics program is, quote, as stale as a five week- old loaf of moldy bread, end quote."

"Well damn, no need to be a stinker about it."

Zeta then made the better decision of shutting himself down, leaving Utah with no one to talk to.

"Am I right, Zeta? Eh, Eh? Zeta?.... Are you… "Turned Off"?"

Utah waited for a moment, then she decided to crack off another one of her genius puns.

"Fucking rude, I'm sexy aren't I?"

Utah laughed at herself for a while, reconsidered her poor life choices, then let out a deep sigh. "I'm a natural… I should get the hell out of here now though." She then proceeded towards the exit of the training area.

"Let's shake hands and make friends, shall we?"

She then proceeded to turn Zeta on again, her personality falling into a serious mind set, her demeanor completely changed.

"Have you stopped with your-"

Before Zeta could finish his sentence, Utah already knew what he was going to say.

"No more puns… We're going to meet our new compatriots."


[System]
Race: Orc

Appearance:

History:
Grox grew up on the North, in an out of sight village of Orcs. Wars against humans were only mere tales spoken at night to scare teh kids so they would go to bed. Savageness was unknown to his people. But it all changed when the fire nation Empire attacked a neighbouring village. They razed the houses to ashes, and killed all the orcs. From that point on, him and all the other younglings were taught the art of fighting. Using their trademark weapons, the spiked chain and the two handed axe, they quickly began taking up arms to defend themselves. The young Grox was very keen on learning to fight, as he never wanted to be a slave or a mindless murderer like the rest of his bretheren to the south. But all did not go well. More and more villagers got raided, and the speed at which the orcs armed themselves began troubling the elders. No longer a defensive solution, but rather an all out war like the Southern orcs wage, they wanted to stop. But those from the razed villages hushed the elders, not wanting to let anyone else die. They formed a squadron of noble orcs and set out on their trusty Quaggoth companions to find and destroy the human outpost to save the villages. The next time the humans came, they brought giant metal monsters adored with the expedition party's heads. they attacked the village of Grox, and burnt all the houses. With little to no time and only his weapons as belongings, Grox made his way to the barns. By the time he arrived, only one untamed Quaggoth was standing, but one big at that. A rare breed that could be found in the mountains, one that was strong enough to fend off waves after waves of human attackers. Grox didn't hesitate and climbed on tha back of the beast. Whilst it resisted at first, after a few hushing Orc words, and dead humans the Quaggoth realised that Grox wasn't it's enemy. Then they rode off into the sunset Soon the metal monsters came and the two escpaed the fiery demise of the other villagers with a hasty retreat.

Grox and his tame, now called Woggha after Grox's dad, made their way into the forest. Soon months of escaping would begin, the two hunting humans whernever they could as a retribution for their village. Starving and freezing was a common issue, but these hardships forged the two into something more, not as a tame and rider, rather companions for life. After seeing the whole mountain razed by humans, and the Northern Orcs retreating further into teh mountains where humans could not get them, Grox made his way South, to find other Demihumans to aid him in his quest for revenge. Along the way he gathered many friends and enemies, soon earning a reputation as teh Greenskin that rode a giant Quaggoth. He himself is lightly armored, but he managed to buy very expensive armor for Woggha, turning his companion into the most fearsome beast that the region has seen. nowadays the two wander the area, looking for more and more places where they could put a stop to the crazed murder spree of the humans.

Equipment:
Mighty Choppa - A two handed battleaxe capable of immense damage. Forged from Dark Iron, it is sturdy, sharp, and very lightweight, but it tends to get rusty in rain, and attracts predators.

Hook'd Chainz - A set of chains with deadly hooks on their end, they are wrapped around Grox's body, acting both as armor, and easely accessible weaponary. It can take teh strongest of blows without breaking, and can be a versatile tool in the hands of an experienced user. The hook on the end sometimes fails to attach to things, as the soft surface of the Dark Iron makes it slip if on very hard surfaces.

Woggha's Armor - Woggha, the clever yet monstrous companion of Grox wears incredibly tough armor that protects it from most blows. Forged of Dark Steel, a material even stronger than Steel, crafted from Dark Iron using magic, it is resilient to both magic and physical attacks. Grox also made sure that his companion reminds the enemy of who they are and where they come from, as he installed a harpoon gun into Woggha's right arm that fires hooked chains like his. Both him and Woggha can fire it, and it is usually for dealing with vehicles or fortifications by pulling them apart. However this armor doesn't cover a 100% of Woggha's body, and mostly focuses on vital points. Without enough funds, it will take a long time to have a fully protective armor.

Powers:
Orcish Strenght - The strongest race of human-like races, the Orcs have brutal strenght, able to wield weapons in one hand that a human couldn't lift with two. Their blows are immensely strong, able to bring down most foes with a single hit. This comes at the price of increased metabolism.

Woggha is the companion of Grox. A mighty beast, and a rare breed of it's kin, he is sure to get the job done. Thought he may look stupid and primitive at first sight, behind the killing pair of eyes lie a sharp mind, able to pick up the events of the battlefield. Sure he cannot talk, but he is just a bit behind an Orc's intelligence. Which isn't saying much to be honest. Not if he wasn't Grox's companion, who has more in his head than most Orcs. Woggha's strenght is perfectly matched with his rider's talent in fighting, and he gladly uses the harpoon gun Grox gave him. He finds amusement in dismantling vehicles, often toying with their parts after a battle is over, trying to make something of them. He can never quite make it. Another one of his hobbies is torturing humans in gruesome ways, as he reminds himself of the time when his flock was killed by them back in the mountains. That said, he doesn't have problems with other Demi-humans or even dwarves for that matter. Not keen, sure, but he doesn't hate them.

In battle, Woggha tries his best to make armored spots face his enemies, whilst keeping them in an arms reach. He doesn't have a weapon, but he can easely rip trees out of the ground and use them as basic clubs, or throw rocks at the enemy from far away.

[User]
As the Skeleton's fist came closer, inch by inch, to meet with the goblin's face, a borderline surreal turn of events came to pass. The drunken orc that the troublesome ossuary had paid little to no attention to had lunged at his target and began, for some strange reason the Skeleton was not too concerned about, to grapple with the iron-clad goblin. This was not all, however, since the mechanized git had activated an unknowable to the skeleton contraption. Maybe it was his long absence from anything civilized, or his refusal to care about current events, but the undead creature was left rather perplexed, and twice as enraged at the sight of the machine functioning. He was left with nothing to do but scream and shake his fist at the unlikely duo blasting off, and eventually being caught by the Orc's massive beast.

 The monster's frenzy still burning high, he began charging at the direction of both the orc and his mount, as well as as Bob, brandishing both fist weapons in a crazed manner. Leaping high in the air, he extended his right arm backwards, while stretching the digits of his left palm, as if he was preparing to grab on to an opponent during his landing. Yet, that landing was, oddly, taking far too long to come. He was, in fact, stuck right where he was, and so was every other creature around. Watching his right fist move slow enough to miss an ant served only to anger the deathless barbarian even further. Hovering there, he began screaming frantically, but even his jaw refused to open.

 Through the cacophony, however echoed a voice. A resonating, soothing, yet somehow strange voice. The moment the Skeleton heard it, its' bellowing died down and ceased. Soon after he fell flat on the ground, once the spell had ended, having somehow lost all momentum from his leap. Still on his knees and palms, it turned its' eyeless skull from left to right, remaining totally silent. It was apparent that the woman's voice had evoked some sort of memory buried deep within the tombs inside the skeleton's mind, forcing him to experience a flashback that would probably be long, droning and somewhat boring to describe and read.

 Not a moment after, the lovable assortment of bones violently shook its' head and stood upright, returning to his everyday self, and back to normal levels of anger. Making the usual gesture of bashing his knuckle dusters together, he grunted, growled and grudgingly followed the priestess, paying no heed to anything else in sight, be it friend or foe. Though unwillingly, he was moving dangerously close behind the goblin.

[Assistant]
Just as Khri'zhatt had expected, there was a deafening detonation, followed by a whistling sound, some bellowing and plenty of smoke. However, and this was where his expectations and the turn of events began to diverge, no scraps of metal or smouldering tatters of goblin struck the corpse Thrik was holding. Flashes of unnatural light and an ominous crackling flared and resounded from behind the fleshly barriers, yet, again, no impact ensued. This was mighty odd indeed. Now more curious than alarmed, Khri'zhatt moved to peer from behind the elf's back, twisting his neck in a slightly sickening arch. It was a somewhat uncomfortable position, but he would only have to maintain it for a few moments...

...Or would he? Just as the top of his head emerged from behind the makeshift "shield", and the sight of the goblin, enveloped in a cloud of smoke, being held up by the orc's gigantic beast while being charged by the skeleton became open to him, he discovered with surprise that uncoiling himself was not as easy as he was accustomed to. In fact, he barely seemed able to move at all. Worse yet, his neck, already strained by the effort, was now being compelled by some preternatural force, evoked by someone screaming (for them?) to stop down the street, to twist in the opposite direction - all while being unable to straighten its original posture. The result was, to say the least, unpleasant. Not even the soothing tones of the enchanting voice assuaged it - in fact, Khri'zhatt was fairly irritated by what he perceived was adding insult to injury.

Hooded figures presently approached him and Thrik, releasing the mistreated elf's corpse from the claws of the umber hulk, who was too busy processing the fact he was surprised, or something similar enough, to resist, and leaving the two defenceless, with Khri'zhatt still trapped in his now outright painful position. Thankfully, the other monsters were likewise hampered in their movements, with the skeleton being oddly but safely contained in mid-air suspension. Then, all of a sudden, the spell was lifted, causing his tense muscles to instantaneously spring into concerted action, and thus his head to cartoonishly swivel to and fro before he recovered his bearings. Dizzy, with an aching neck and altogether far from pleased, Khri'zhatt heard the goblin addressing him in what did not appear to be altogether inimical tones.

"That's fairly obvious, isn't it? Bah. I suppose I shall take "tolerable" over what these people" he gestured toward the rest of the party, "have to offer. I'm up." With these words, motioning for Thrik to follow him, he set forth in the wizards' wake, thinking that, whoever they might be, they would probably have a clearer idea of what was supposed to be done than the assembled monsters collectively.

[User]
@Oraculum @Turbowraith @Pikmin Eye @KRIEEEG

 "......aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
A voice, deeper than any humans, screams as it crashes from the heavens. A large, lumpy, blue creature crashes into a near by house, most likely causing a ruckus. A woman yells, an elven woman, and soon the small blue man is seen backed up to a window.

 "I am so sorry ma'am, but..you do look ra-" He begins, before a pan clunks him upside the head, causing him to crash down. "..That could of gone much, much better." He grumbles, standing up, and looking around at the group. ".....Well....I've nowhere else better to go. Mind if I follow you all? My name is Horace. I'm an animator. I make stuff animated." The small blue thing declares, smiling, a large lump on his forehead, a goose egg welling up from the walop of the pan. He pushes it down, cartoonishly. "I myself, as well, am very animated!" He chuckles. He gives off a strange aura. A kind one, one that seeks fun, and friends, not the normal won-ton hate, or malice most monstrous creatures most likely give off, if the party was any example. Someone may think he was no monster at all.

 "That hurt like hell, I need to make sure my creations angle me better when they throw me..." Horace thinks to himself. He had just escaped a sticky situation involving a dwarven girl's father, a animated hammer, and some hard to rub off lipstick....and lots, and lots, of ale. This had lead him to create a large golem out of kegs, and had it toss him a few towns over. Thanks to his small size, and plot convenience, he landed safely...sorta, and was now free to travel again.

[Assistant] Grox just eccepted what happened. The lightning coming from the fog around the goblin, and the weird cult members suddenly appearing to take away stride. He tossed the head to one of the priests and signaled Woggha to follow. He was awfully calm, but that had to do a lot with his brain overloading from what was going on. Even the abomination falling from the sky didn't seem unrealistic at this point.


[System]
Age/Race/Gender: 27/ Human/ Male

Appearance: Maxi is a very unintimidating looking individual. Standing at about 5'5, he isn't the tallest, and from a glance you can tell he'd lose an arm wrestle against the majority of the crew. His constant time indoors has left him rather pale, but not to an unhealthy degree. Perhaps the most unintimidating thing about him is his glasses- he wears large swirly glasses, almost in a comedic fashion. They're white with a red swirl on them, and he never takes them off, leading to a rather goofy first impression. His hair looks like it was blown up one too many times- it's a light, near white colour, with a few burnt hairs here and there. He dyed the tips of his hair blue. It's very ruffled and messy, poking up at odd angles and reaching roughly to his chin. Attire wise, sans armor, he almost never changes out of his lab coat, and he wears a blue t shirt and jeans to match.

Occupation: Chemical Biologist / Medic

Weapons:
Simple handheld laser gun
Simple ballistic gun

Being a medic with minimal combat ability, Maxi only carries two simple pistols; guns that are easy enough for an ameteur to use, and two different kinds to deal with either type of armor. They aren't very fancy, and are more or less only for self defense. He hopes to get better with wielding weapons so he can upgrade to something that packs a bit more of a punch and won't just get him out of a pinch.

Armor: He uses powered armor, which is lightweight and rather durable. Since he needs to be able to work on the field, his armor only fully covers vital points- a helmet for the head and neck, and a chestplate for any internal organs. The rest of the armor is rather thin, so it's very easy to move in and allows him to work on mending injuries better but can't stand too many hits in contrast to what covers his vital organs.

Items: Maxi has a small, white cube robot that breaks into smaller cubes and floats around behind him. He didn't build it, though he can repair it if it breaks. It acts as an assistant to his work and stores anything he doesn't want looked at by others, as well as supplies for on the field. It's very durable, but has no real combat abilities for retaliation. Functions well on the field as a way for Maxi to have any medical supplies on hand in the heat of a battle.

Skills: Excellent with biological and chemical related subjects (medicine, viruses, and chemical influence on biological beings). Dabbles a little into robotics and physics as more of a hobby than anything, good problem solving skills. Ridiculously good liar.

Powers: Due to exposure to strange forces, Maxi gained a rather strange psiionic ability. It allows him to predict the approximate percent chance of a persons death if they complete an action. He can't tell how they would die, and percentages are still percentages (someone can still die at a 1 percent chance of death), but it does help to warn for dangers that are unknown and allows him to tread the path in which he can minimize the chance of casualties.

Other: He's in room 9 ;w;

[User]
Joe Gore: Mechanic Extraordinaire

 "God dammit Joe, you did it again." The man's voice echoed briefly across the holding cell. Not only had the rest of his, uh, potential allies suffered a case of hole through the skull, but he had found himself in a very familiar situation. Once again, some giant faceless conglomerate had managed to involve poor Joe in a mess that once again seemed inescapable. Smart bastards didn't even let him keep the toolbox. He could've gotten out in less than a jiffy if they hadn't taken the damn thing. Worst part, all of his gear was stored in a cargo unit no more than fifteen seconds away, probably in the very same corridor his impromptu cell was in. Pure torture.

 Now, Joe had never seen a rig quite like this before, but by the looks of it, it had great similarities with the significally weaker FT-68 models. As for the guys that ran it? Well. They didn't like humans, judging from his dead co-slaves. And, being far enough from the command deck, he had no clue what to-

 Combat sounds. Someone had broken into the cargo bay. Jack-fucking-pot. Without a second thought, not even to think about how obscenely lucky he got, Joe began to vigorously bang at the heavy steel door, and, sliding the small viewing slot open, screamed at the top of his lungs.

 "Over here! Over here! The bastards have me locked up! Get me out goddamit!"

[Assistant]
"On it! Hold on to something!"

After quickly tapping his cigar to rid it of the ash that was collecting on the tip, Tibulus grabbed the wheel with both of his hands and performed the ballsiest of maneuvers with the ship he was driving at the moment. He turned the ship around with some incredible prowess, making it take an almost complete 180, and aiming it directly at the mining rig. It was there that Tibulus noticed the mining laser was powering up, and preparing to unload a nasty shot at the Revenant. Was this going to happen? Not on his watch it wasn't!

Tibulus spoke back to Stryker as he aimed the ship, getting it into the optimal trajectory that would allow the crew manning the guns to barrage the rig and hopefully keep the laser from being able to fire at the ship. Key word there being "hopefully". "Gunning it now! Prepare to do the same!"

Once Tibulus finished his sentence, the ship lurched forward with sheer intensity, aiming at the side of the rig.

@Azereiah

[User]
So, the dagger Lataniva obviously thrust straight through the leg of the target. With the unnatural speed combined with a combat-knife's sharpness cracked in and fell the target, prohibiting continued escape. Lataniva ran after, absent-mindedly pulling the dagger out again with psionic powers, making it fly out of the wound and back into her hand to be pocketed again, blood and all. Then, the miner having dropped forward from the movement, Lataniva jumped and drove her knees into his back, keeping him in place by placing her halberd at his neck.

'Keep still.'She unhelpfully told the injured being as she placed a hand on his head and started doing her thing.

Now, a crash-course in how Dalentian mind-reading works. Memory is signals from very specific atoms in the mind, and Dalentians can turn that into a picture for their own viewing in their own head. However, they need somewhere to start from, or the mind is just a tangled mess. The keyword this time was pretty easy.

Helsin Station

Immediately upon imbuing the word, the memories associated with the station lighted up in the victim's head. A mental picture of the station appeared, and Lataniva could sense the sparks of memory lighting up. Then… first things first, she cross-checked the memory of Helsin Station with Federation Outpost, and oversaw what came up. Memories associated with both would come up, and Lataniva would learn if there was a connection… if the miner knew, obviously. She couldn't read a connection that the miner didn't have.

She then went ahead and read for a cross-check between Helsin Station and Secrets, forcing the miner to recall any secrets they were trying to keep here. Also, she made him recall the people in charge, as well as the location of any control-rooms and otherwise the geography of the station as the miner knew it, and where those miners were currently fleeing. Perhaps also a little about what kind of security they had here, and if he had any passwords in his mind that she would have use of.

Of course, there was the possibility the miner didn't know anything. Then this was a waste of time.

Then… she heard the call about Federation troops. Depending on what she might have leached out of the miner's head, this may or may not have surprised her. Regardless, she smirked, for these definitely knew more than the miner did.

'Troops. I can handle such.'Not even bothering to finish off the miner bleeding out underneath her, Lataniva dashed at the doorway with halberd prepared. It didn't even matter to her if they aimed for her. She could dodge their fire, shifting her weight back and forth in ways that would make one ask why she was wearing armor, her psionic awareness making her aware of where they were aiming. Even if she found that there were any blasts she couldn't avoid, she'd simply use her psionic telekinesis to push their weapon-arms aside, making them aim at walls or even their allies.

If the full-body armor had any weak points in the slightest, some place that wasn't entirely protected where limbs were to move, Lataniva would see it and slice or stab at it with her halberd. Close combat did not mean loss of awareness of surrounding enemies to her as it did to others, chaos and confusion would be her ally as she charged right in at them.

[Assistant]
Maxi was very, very useless in all the fighting. His first instinct had been to take cover behind the first thing he could, which were a few boxes of something or another he didn't plan on checking. It looked to him like the majority of the enemies were firing upon Grayson and co., or the ones actually doing the shooting. Lucky him. He kept his head low and his bot to his chest as all the fire whizzed around him, and he didn't poke his head out until it was absolutely safe. Damn, these people knew how to clear a room.

 He whistled as he sat back up from where he was hiding, carrying his cube over to the now gathered together group. "Geez, you guys demolished those bots. Nice" he said, though mostly to himself. It looked like no one was injured, which made his job about ten times easier. He listened when Stryker announced the plan through the comms, and Grayson asked how they'd split. Someone he hadn't has the (mis)pleasure of meeting spoke before him, and headed off before anyone else put in input. Rude. He pouted a little bit and hoped to pipe up in suggestion, but he didn't have the chance. The next thing he knew, men armed to the teeth and wearing a very unmistakable uniform came charging into the room. Grayson spelled it out verbally, but by that time he was already well aware of the danger he was in.

 The second he saw the threat he kicked into motion, hiding back behind the boxes he was at before. These were troops, not just regular bots; push come to shove, he'd have to try fighting. He put his bot under one arm (the fact that it was broken and he had to carry it in such a dangerous situation made him twice as angry at the dense moron who broke it) and took out the laser gun Grayson had lent him. It would be impossible for him to reload the ballistic at all while he had to carry his bot, so the laser seemed the best choice. There was no way in hell he'd leave his cover to start firing, however; only if someone came to him and he had no choice. He'd die if he started firing like some of these people.


[System]
Amaterasu* Reina Saotome, Vongola Storm Guardian Candidate

ChronoBovino* Sanji Fugimoto, Vongola Lightning Guardian Candidate

Demon Shinobi* Yoshiaki Sugihara, Vongola XIII Candidate

Grey* Ayumu Tomoe, Vongola Mist Guardian Candidate

Kitsune* Yuki Volkov, Vongola Sun Guardian Candidate
* Shiso Volkov, Fluffy Tailed Tutor

Sho Minazuki* Hisaki Kawaguchi, Vongola Rain Guardian Candidate

Suku* Sachiko (Sachi) Kanno, Vongola Cloud Guardian Candidate

Vongola_Hasayo*

Character Sheet
Basic DataName: Yoshiaki Sugihara
Aliases: Vongola XIII
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Appearance: Obviously, he isn't Xanxus and he doesn't dress like Xanxus. However, given his connection to Ricardo, Vongola Secondo, and the similar look, it thought this was more appropriate. Special thanks to Grey for helping find some pictures.

Combat DataFaction: Vongola Famiglia
Position: Vongola Boss Candidate
Flame: Sky
Equipment: While not having any particularly Mafia related equipment, Yoshiaki typically carries around:
* Smart Phone - Black with red trim
* Nintendo 3DS w/ games
* Wallet - Contains money, School ID, Emergency Credit Card from mom

Fighting Style: Yoshiaki isn't really skilled in any true sense of the word. He is a brawler and runs primarily on instinct. Currently, he is known to be capable of taking on up three normal thugs by himself.
Techniques: As of now,he has no true techniques.
Special Characteristics:
Vongola Hyper Intuition - Though not truly awakened, Yoshiaki demonstrates fair skill in judging individuals. However,due to his biases he rarely ever goes based on simple instincts.
Flames of Wrath (Sky+Storm) - Though he doesn't know it, Yoshiaki inherited the special flames of his ancestor, Ricardo. If he can learn to utilize these "Flames of Wrath" as they are known he may make a powerful leader yet.
Personal DataBackground: Yoshiaki and his sister Ami are essentially descendants of Ricardo, Vongola's second boss, like tsuna and his dad are descendants of Giotto. This is pretty much so we don't need to establish a full on family tree and it will still make sense. Ricardo's family line stems down until it reaches ami and yoshiaki's mom, them as well of course, who is protected by the family but isn't given much information or anything else otherwise. They are blood and there for taken care of.

Regardless, at some point the parents were divorced and the children were separated for a few years. While there mother was okay, having made the decision, the father didn't take things so well. He fought for both kids, but only got yoshiaki. This the son was with the father and the daughter with the mother. It started off well with Yoshiaki and his dad, but already disappointed with the divorce his father spiraled. Eventually he would lose his job and turn to drinking. This was around the time he was 8 and went well into middle school.

It was also around this time that Yoshiaki would begin getting into trouble at school. He closed himself off to the teachers and began getting into fights. However, he got into fights for what he saw as proper reasons. He often used bullying and other such acts as reasons to fight and let out the anger he felt for his father. He got his ass kicked a lot at first, but over time he got better. The detention he got also helped him stay further away from his father for longer periods of time. It was also here that he would meet his future best friend.

Yoshiaki wasn't very social even at his younger age. He'd gotten in trouble often and into many fights, but by this time he was about 11 or so. He was stuck in detention cleaning with other kids. However, one of the days he was stuck cleaning with a girl named Reina. Being who he was he didn't try to end the awkward silence. She did. But he didn't give her much to go on or really talk too much himself.

Still, their meeting went on like this until one day around the time he was 12 he saw her while he was walking down the street to the arcade. He had started spending a lot of time their when he wasn't in detention or was just skipping class. She was being hassled by two guys, much larger than her, no doubt due to the idiotic "gang war" that had been going on. Of course, being the kind of person he was, he just had to step in. He helped her fight the two guys off and once things calmed down he went on his way. He wouldn't see Reina again until a few weeks later when a new challenger appeared while he was playing his favorite fighting game. It was her and from then on the two actually became friends. To this day Rei is probably his only real friend, though he does interact more.

In the midst of all this, and him trying to get his life a little more together, things remained more or less the same with his father. Whenever Ami came to visit he would act normal and cheery, but when they were alone he was kind of a dick. He would say he loved yoshi, but still pretty much beat him saying he was helping him, toughening him up, teaching him. It is because of this he buried himself in video games and got into fights often usually with bullies and idiots though he never aligned himself with any real delinquent group. Which cause more fights. In turn Yoshiaki would usually have bruises and other injuries from dad AND fights when he visited mom and ami. because of this, his mother's obliviousness, granted he lied when asked about it due to fear, and a general notice of problems he developed his distrust of most of humanity. During one visit to his mother's, there was somebody else there, a close friend and member of the vongola family who was checking in.

He noticed yoshi's injuries and reported what he'd observed so there was an investigation and the father's actions were discovered. Obviously it wasn't tolerated and a certain baby was called in to take care of a the target. Soon after the hit was put out the father met with an "unfortunate accident" and yoshi went back to live with his mother and sister. This was halfway through his final year of middle school and here he is now.

Yoshi is a bit more sociable although he can be a bit of a sarcastic jerk and rarely pays much attention to anything that isn't someone he actually likes or a video games. He can typically be found on the school roof, like in manga or games or hiding out in other places if he isn't going to class. While he has told Rei about certain parts of his life, like his parent's divorce, the visits and his father's death, he never really told her about the abuse, or anything else of that nature, keeping it to himself. Even Ami and his mother don't know since he put the blame on school fights and other things of that nature. Only he knows about that, along with a relatively small group of Vongola members.

Personality: Cautious, crude, informal, and somewhat lazy are all words that could be used to describe this young man. Though intelligent he barely focuses on anything that doesn't interest him. He is a gamer, and a bit of a delinquent, often skipping class to either play games or get into the occasional scrape. He also ha a bit of a knack for tinkering with tech whether his own or arcade games or whatever he takes an interest in if he learns enough about it. More important, or rather more notable, Yoshiaki has a strong distrust and disdain regarding humanity.

He doesn't really care for it, save for a few individuals and often finds it tedious and boring. He buries himself in his games fairly often, even though he continues to maintain a relative 'B' average. Still, despite his biases towards people, he still has a bit of a hero complex and a soft spot for the weak. Couple that with a skewed idea of justice and you've got a fighter willing to stick his neck out for people he doesn't know.

Yoshiaki doesn't typically use the word love for just about anything, with the only exception being his sister, whom he is very protective of. The only other people he is even slightly protective over are his mother and his friend Rei. When he sets his mind on something he can get be pretty stubborn and typically doesn't stray from his decision.

Relationships: {TBA}
Miscellaneous DataNationality: Japanese (With Italian Descent)
Birthdate: August 16
Blood Type: O+
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 149 lbs
Likes: Video games, Fighting, Ami, Rei, Food, working with his hands and tech
Dislikes: Bullies, Most people, Losing.
Hobbies: Yoshiaki's only real hobbies are fighting and gaming, although he can cook.
Talents: Yoshiaki has a knack for fighting, quick on the uptake and able to learn much quicker than most would expect. He's also an amazing gamer. He is a pretty good tinkerer too.
Family: Ami Sugihara (Sister), Vongola Secondo Ricardo (Ancestor), (Unnamed Mother)
Character Theme:
Other: Possible Additions in the Future.

[User]
Sachiko Kanno

"Understood thank you honored instructors" Sachiko said with a slight bow of her head before she left to follow the rest. Her thoughts though was racing a mile a minute. Not only was her sister admitted to a hospital but there was also people watching to make she was ok this was beyond what she hoped for. For once perhaps she was going to be able to move on with her sister being cared for she was able to focus on her tasks at hand. Without really noticing a smile graced her lips things was finally looking up but one thought plagued her mind she wanted freedom from her past. Something she thought she torn at the seams separating herself from her present and past though here she was taking a plunge promising to use her past skills to get help for her sister.

No she thought to herself her choice was was a good one if she had to kill again than she would do so if it meant the safety of her sister. With that thought in mind she walked forward the group of her "peers" was meeting at the shopping district to buy the needed equipment but something told her that she might be walking into a metaphorical mine field that might end up with her being in closer contact with the odd one known as Ayumu. No matter how much thought and time she put into thinking about it she could never figure out what he gained from contact with her. "Though what would happen if he knew all along about the whole situation and used that as a way to get closer to a future peer?" She muttered to herself as finally found the group. Continuing with her thoughts though "If that is the case than his earlier attempts would make perfect sense. Either way I will need to keep my guard up more often around him just in case." She muttered to her self once more. "I hope I am not to late I had some final clarifications I needed to clear up." Sachiko said outloud as jogged lightly to the group.

[Assistant]
As the odd squad continued on their quest for 'treasure' he decided to strike up a little convo. Hisaki nice choice. "Yo Hisaki right? Well tell me something about yourself, I'm kind of in the dark and if we're gonna be a team you're gonna need your strongest member to be your friend." As he said this he was doing keepy upies with the bats band ball, he was obviously sarcastic, but maybe he shouldn't have been some people don't take sarcasm well if he was lucky Hisaki would be fine.......

Wouldn't he.....

Maybe it was the fact that he only REALLY knew Rei and everyone else was new but, things were different. Usually it'd be Sanji being shouted over by his friends, but here with them it would be different just another guy people not, seeking his attention trying to make him laugh even if it wasn't funny. Sanji liked it

Is? Is that werid?

[User]
More or Less Yoshi was okay with the turnout. Even if Rei was the only one he really trusted. It showed too when he watched the small group form and stayed away. "More like I'm glad to have you with me. Would have sucked if I was in the mafia and my best bud was nowhere to be found." He laughed a bit before glancing towards the group. Crap, he needed a shopping bag... But... Ayumu... He wanted to stay away from him... And his questions. Why does he ask so many? What does he get out of it? He always wondered. Especially when Ayumu tried to sneak in little tidbits that he assumed the upperclassman just wanted to hold over the apparent mafia boss. Out of everyone else, he could have done without that pretty bastard.

"Still, I'm pretty interested. Camping huh? There's gotta be more to it than that." It was something of video game mentality. Somehow he felt there had to be more to it than simple bonding. "Gonna need to buy a sleeping bag. Old one's messed up to hell." He smirked and glanced at Rei. "Wanna race? Not sure how everyone else plans to do this, but the quicker we get through this shopping thing the better." Was what he said, though there was more to it than that. It was sort of a way to excuse separating himself from the group. A little competition. Out of everyone surely only Hisai would join right? Even then that wasn't a guarantee. He seemed more interested in games than anything else. But who knew how far that rivalry would spread.

Yoshiaki shook his head when he realized the somewhat competitive glare he was giving one upperclassman after enough. "Welp! I'm not waiting for you Rei! I'm gonna beat you there for sure!" He said before running off. "Usual bet! Loser's treating the winner to food and games!" He added loudly to his friend. Best to get things out of the way quickly. They had one night left. Tomorrow at 8AM The group was diving into the mafia world. Sure camping seemed like a silly start, but he was ready for this little challenge.

---

"You should relax Shiso. It will come to you. As of now, you are doing quite well in your work. You can only stand to get in your own way with such worries." Fon said simply as he watch things play out further, even offering a chuckle at the boss's actions. "He certainly is different. I'm curious as to how this'll pay out." He then spoke before turning to Shiso once more. "Shall we be off? There are still some preparations needed for this little trip." He spoke simply before leaping from the roof, heading off, assuming Shiso would folow.


[System]
"Do you mind? Unlike you I have to make my tools, not just flick my wrist."

 Jaklo Wright, The Wolf's Legacy

The most apt description of Jaklo's normal state
Age: Twenty one.

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Appearance: Jaklo is 6' 2" and around two hundred pounds.He has thick dark brown hair that is kept three or four inches long. He cares more that is is out of the way than how it looks. Most of the time it doesn't matter as he'll keep it under a cap. Jaklo has cold amber eyes. The irises glow when he uses his night vision. Jaklo has overall sharp features on his face.

As for his build Jaklo is rather lean, but not scrawny in the slightest. If anything he has some trouble building up fat, and he always has plenty of muscle from work.

Jaklo prefer efficiency to fashion. He grades clothes by pockets rather than people's names. He typically will wear regular shirts with simple solid colors, cargo pants, a solid pair of hiking boots and a long trench coat. He wears hats almost constantly. It's just a thing he does. Caps, wide brim hats, beanies, anything he can wear comfortably.

His only exception is at the office where he understands that they have to keep up professional appearances. here it's white shirts, a vest, and slacks.

Background: Jaklo came into the business of magic through the work of an old hunter named Wulfegang Shelt. Jaklo was always a troublesome kid. Even in preschool he was highly aggressive and would fight the other children over even little things. He wasn't cruel or evil, but his parents couldn't channel his aggression through anything. This is where Wulfegang presented himself. The older man was known throughout the neighborhood. He was a retired park ranger as well as a big part of the community. He offered to homeschool Jaklo and try his best to help the kid. He remarked that "I was just like that at his age." From there the story somewhat tells itself. Wulfegang did teach him all things he would be expected to learn in school, but he wasn't just a park ranger. Wulfegang was a Hunter.

Everyday, even weekends, Jaklo got to see just why he was so different. Hunters can come in all kinds of forms, but Jaklo had access to a powerful primal side of himself. With training and practice he could be an apex predator. Left alone he would likely tear himself apart. Training started simple of course. You don't normally hand a five year old a sword and drop them in the woods to fight monsters. Jaklo stuck it out with Wolf, a simple nickname for his gray haired teacher, until he was eighteen when he struck out to really test himself. He used the cover of attending college to let himself explore around the U.S. and see what he was capable of.

It was only a year later that he returned home for a break. He hurried to see Wolf, but found his house surrounded with people and an ambulance. Jaklo rushed in to find his teacher dead. He rushed to his side. Jaklo shook and shook Wolf grabbing onto his shirt. He was about to start doing chest compressions when an EMT pulled him back.

"He's already been dead awhile. He died in his sleep last night." The EMT tried to console Jaklo.

"What'd he die of? He's been perfectly healthy. Just last week he was hiking the trails." Jaklo growled, but there was far more pain than anger in his voice.

"He's also ninety seven. When you get to be that age you sometimes just pass away." The EMT said in flat honesty

"That's bullshit." Jaklo shouted before turning back to his mentor, "Wolf! God damnit Wolf! You can't just do this to me. I'm not ready yet. Wolf!"

Jaklo fell to his knees every emotion boiling up: rage, agony, despair. He could feel a void in his being opening up. The funeral went on a few days later. Wulfegang was unmarried, had no children, and no contact with other family. Everything in his will went to Jaklo who was labeled as "student and the damn near closest thing I have to a son.". Jaklo spent a good few months sorting through his mentor's belongings as well as his own feelings. It was in the many collections Wulfegang had that Jaklo discovered a little group called Wells and Raick. Wulfegang was meticulous with journals and had a fair few photos. One that stood out was Wolf in his prime with a motley crew of men, women, and even some magical beings. They were all outside of a brick building with a big wooden sign that read "Wells and Raick Private Investigations". The back of the old Polaroid also had a note. "The gang from W&R after the big hunt." It took a bit more searching, but Jaklo eventually found a phone number and a new path.

Current Life: Jaklo moved to Maine over a year ago and has been working for W&R since then. He has a tiny home that houses just him. It's a simple little place basically a rustic but modern log cabin. Jaklo does prefer to spend his time working on his weapons and such, but even he has to get out sometimes. His usual haunts are a pub on main street close by to the office called The Tavern and the waterfront. The Tavern isn't exactly a fantastic place, but the beer is cold and the company doesn't drive him insane. Jaklo grew up near Great Lakes so he's always been used to seeing big bodies of water and something about being there does make him think of home…and chips.

Personality: Jaklo has grown out of his overly aggressive childhood and become reasonably well adjusted adult. Wulfegang was right though Jaklo is not normal mentally. His mana is used to fuel his predatory skills and instincts. He seeks challenges and fights by nature. Age and wisdom lets him pick only fights that matter. Of course wisdom tends to go out the window when he gets really pissed.

Jaklo is a largely positive person who lives for his job and gains great satisfaction from it. He's glad he can help people and knows his mentor would be proud of his choices. This positivity does not mean he is outwardly so. He looks solemn, and He can appear a bit gruff with first encounters, but that's just him not being in a social mood.He can be a good friend but only when he wants to. He just has a lot of weight on his shoulders. He's the soul student of his mentor feels personally responsible to carry on.

Jaklo is driven by a strong sense of duty to his mentor. He could have had a really miserable life, and instead he gets to fight monsters for a living. He has plenty to be thankful for and never forgets what Wolf did for him. He would rather die than dishonor his master.

Nothing disgusts Jaklo more than people with no regard for the natural world. Now he won't punch a guy for littering, but there are serious troubles going on these days because of moronic actions of rich people.

Jaklo has no extreme fears, but isn't a fan of dying or anything horrible like that. At most he doesn't want to let people down, and especially doesn't want to fail his mentor. He wants to keep that legacy going strong.

Schools of Study: Alchemology and Beastiology.

Specialization: Arcane Firearms, Metallurgy, Brewing, Smithing, and Enchanting

Spells: Jaklo has only one spell. It's a spell that lets him gain night vision.

Abilities: Tracker: Jaklo has been taught how to pick up on tiny details and follow trails made by his quarries.

Crack Shot: Jaklo has been working with firearms since he was young and is deathly proficient.

Ammo Assembler: Jaklo knows how to make magical ammo that will cause various effects when fired. His primary ammunition types are: Dragon's breath (a variation on the normal ammo type using greek fire as the base for the flame), Buckshot (if it bleeds this will kill it), Silver Flechette (twenty or so silver slivers ready to make any magical creature wish for death), 5.56 NATO (For those blade runner moments. You know like That gun), and Wolf Fang (an alchemoarcane ammo that produces white fang like bolts when fired. The shot has the magical energy to pierce and the stopping power of physical ammo.)

Toxic Concoctions: Jaklo has been trained to use venoms and make poisons.

Hunter's Hand Grenades: Jaklo knows recipes for: firebombs, freezing catalysts, and smoke bombs.

Back to basics: Jaklo has a solid education with the most common weapons and improvised weapons very well.

Weapons not required: even with his bare hands Jaklo is a capable fighter.

Custom Engineered: Jaklo builds all of his own gear specifically for himself. He can make all kinds of bladed weapons, firearms, and armor.

The secret ingredient? MAAAAGIC: Jaklo can imbue his weapons and tools with magical properties. He can only get one or two simple enchantments to be stable on a tool right now.

Thrill of the Hunt: Jaklo has a deep rooted need to hunt. He has an extra sense akin to instincts that give him a little extra insight into beasts and monsters. As well as a deep seeded rage which can either fuel or destroy him.

Equipment:

Arcane Justice: A quad-barreled shotgun/blunderbuss made of metal as black as the abyss. The barrels are engraved with alchemical patterns, but also have some inlaid silver for certain sigils. It has a full stock made out of white ironwood. Each barrel can be shot individually and loaded with either shells or literally anything that fits. Despite its status as a shotgun Arcane Justice can be highly accurate when loaded with rifle ammo. Jaklo refers to it as the firearm equivalent of a swiss army knife.

Ammunition Pouch of Holding: While true bags of holding are very very hard to make bags made to hold a lot of one thing or a lot of very similar things are much easier. The ammo pouch is about the size of brick and made out of dark red demonhide. Jaklo can reach into it and pull out whatever ammo he wanted to pull out so long as he put it in.

Legacy: A magical blade that can take on the shape of for different weapons. A large hunting knife for butchering kills, a short sword, a longsword, a falchion. The blade was a gift from Wolf and the start of Jaklo's carrying on of Wolf's legacy. The blade has basic magical properties and as such can hurt those resistant to normal weaponry. As well the weapon itself is expertly made and can even cut into some soft metals

Visage: A long dark brown trench coat in appearance, but in truth it is a heavily enchanted piece of armor that protects every part of Jaklo even those not covered by the coat. There is a small barrier all around Jaklo when it is active. It is hardly indestructible and breaks easily to four or five good hits. The shield recharges in around a minute, but also slightly regenerates up to full power when not being his.

Other:

[User]
"That went about as I expected," Max muttered to himself. Truth be told, he felt a little shaky. He never got used to dealing with shades, and even that brief encounter had drained him somewhat.

Still, he had a job to do. Max pulled out his phone once again and dialed Mithias. "Hey, so, I might've, uh, gotten the attention of the demon that was backing that kid. But on the plus side, they've removed their sponsorship so the spell should be collapsing. How are things going over on your end?"

[Assistant]
Mithias had dashed to the right as the back of the golem spewed up sharp spikes of ice. Keeping a hold with one hand on the hilt of his right sword, he swung to the side. The left sword came tumbling down to the ground in a burst of ice shards, lost to his reach for the time being. Mithias held onto the remaining sword that was still deeply lodged into the ice golem, finding footholds on the giant's shoulder as the final attack was made. There was a big explosion, and the orb compartment was breached, exposing the body of the mage inside. As the defeated construct came tumbling forward, Mithias touched down to the safety of the ground. The scent of blood did not escape him, of course, and he knew Jaklo had been hurt. To what degree, he did not know, but Cassandra had rushed instinctively to his side. Mithias stood observing curiously for a moment, then turned to recover his blades.

Mithias caught Baron's eye as he entered Cassandra's circle while wiping off his blades with a dry cloth. Baron had just convinced Drake to drop the shivering mage. The vampire's eyes had a touch of a red glow in them, famed by dark brows and snowy skin. "It's alright. I've fed." He holstered the sword, taking note of the seemingly injured wolf creature. He looked back to Baron. "I'm sorry about your fox and weasel."

Drake asked about Jaklo, a question everyone was thinking, so rather than repeat the question, Mithias simply awaited a response to it. Meanwhile, he could address the issue of the wannabe Evangelion. "One must always remember to ask questions, THEN kill, not kill, then try to ask questions." he said this mostly for his own amusement. "The young man is no longer a threat. We should take him back to the office. Speaking of which, does anyone have a portal out of this cold, damp place?"

[User]
The man's eyes dilated as though he had just seen something shocking. He gasped and his eyes glazed over. The golem disintegrated entirely now and all the snowing ceased. There was a shrill caw as Kelvin landed near the combat team. Markiel's familiar raised its wings and a portal opened before it. Instead of the warlock, Seph arrived through it moments later. He took in the area and moved silently to the dead mage.

"Markiel sent Kelvin as soon as he got word. Seems even then it's too late. The investigations team has a name. I'll handle things here. You should all get inside or you'll get frostbite. Kelvin go rendezvous with the investigations team I'll get home the old fashion way." Seph didn't seem to waver in emotion not proud of the victory or depressed by the death he'd seen far too much to be swayed by so little.

=======================================================

After about twenty minutes Kelvin arrived at the investigations team. The hellbeak had to awkwardly shuffle along inside to reach the group in the basement. He scowled unamused at the circumstances when he reached them. Here he was a terrifying demon raptor reduced to waddling because the staircase was too narrow.

Once again he raised his wings to allow a portal to be opened. This time Markiel was the one to travel through.

"Alright we've gotten the all clear from the combat team. I've already put the kettle on so let's get back you deserve a break and a hot drink. Just need to pick up what's left around here." The warlock said before going over to the workbench and collecting some tomes and mystical materials, "We can save the debriefing for after everyone has taken a breath."


[System]
Age: 42 [Although he doesn't seem to age beyond when he transformed into a yokai]

Race: Yokai - Bakeneko

Personality: Most people would already shiver at the sound of a Bakeneko entering their household. Now multiply that fear thricefold for Akira. The cat-turned-yokai is a very mischievous character, often playing pranks and casting illusions to throw humans off just so he can laugh. Tricking and scaring humans must be his favorite past time. However, while he does like doing all of those, he doesn't cross the line and try to actually kill a human. That's beyond him. So he tends to avoid old people, and even if he hangs around them, he wouldn't even dare to scare them. Trick them, maybe, but they're usually wise so they sometimes know if he's fake or not. Sometimes. Rarely.

Although when he isn't in mischievous mode, he's actually pretty lax about almost everything. He would often be seen relaxing in some place. When he feels like it, he sometimes helps out humans. Transforming into their loved ones can be both terrifying and can be their closure; he does both. He is well-known around the yokai world thanks to his mischievous acts that sometimes victims yokai. But almost every yokai knows that even if he is a handful, he's most of the time fun to be around. With all his stories and his jovial nature, he can approach anyone without any problems. He is passive about many things, not taking too many things to heart.

History: Akira, like all Bakenekos, started off as a normal cat. He was adopted by the Igarashi family when he was just a kid and was given the name 'Akira'. He enjoyed his time there as he was well taken care of. However, his master's husband had died from old age. The family continued on fine but Akira admits that he missed the guy. The next tragedy that befell the Igarashi family was when his master's son died because of some sort of lover's rivalry, the killer being part of the Ueda family. Akira was sad, but it wasn't really much of a problem to him. Humans tend to die easily, just like him.

But the mother had spiralled into depression and kept talking to Akira, pouring all the sadness, hatred and other negative feelings on the cat. Akira had turned fourteen years old when his master committed suicide. He turned into a yokai, a Bakeneko, after licking his master's blood. He began haunting the Ueda household, bringing misfortune and confusing them greatly. They had become a cursed household and they died out. This is also the time when Akira adopted his master's son's appearance as his default human form.

Finding no purpose in the world, Akira began travelling all over the country, bringing misfortune on the family that deserves it. He never had a master after the Igarashi family so he was a simply yokai stray, not that many would appreciate having such a cat-yokai in their home.

One time, however, someone had approached him. An agent of the nine-tailed fox named Anjou. Akira had heard about the guy, but couldn't care less. He brought a message about wanting Akira to help with Anjou's plan, inviting him into the group. Akira refused to join, mostly because he wants no master besides his human one. The guy didn't respond too kindly to the rejection and fought with Akira.

He managed to hold out, but the guy was stronger than him. His necromancy power was taken from him, along with his dignity, and left. This angered Akira greatly. Having the power only to lose it didn't sit well with him. But even so, this wasn't enough to anger Akira completely. Another year passed by and he went back to the Igarashi family grave. Then he found out that the grave has been desecrated and the obvious answer was Anjou or his minions. This snapped something in Akira.

And so he yearns revenge, to both take back his pride, his power and to take out his anger at them for ruining his family's grave. This happened years ago and that's why he trained with weapons so he can hold his own against Anjou.

Skills: Akira rarely fights, mostly because he prefers running to fighting. However, when he does, he mostly uses his ghost fire to fight. Hurling it at the enemy is one way to do it, and also surrounding his enemy with fire to prevent escape. When it comes to hand-to-hand combat, he tends to jump around quickly and then attack and retreat as quickly as possible. Given his cat-like agility, speed and control of body, he makes an excellent hit and run person. His claws also hurt. A lot. Like a cat's.

However, he has great accuracy. While hurling ghost fire at people is one way to use it, he learned how to use human weaponry. He mostly uses bows and arrows, and coats the tip of the arrow with his ghost fire. Then he will shoot the arrow towards the enemy, If it hits, the ghost fire spreads on the person. If it doesn't hit, then it will spread around them. He likes this method very much but if he doesn't have a bow, then he'll just resort back to hurling fireballs. He knows how to use the sword and occasionally coats that with ghost fire when he fights. While it can't spread to other weaponry (that are made of steel), if it reaches your clothing, then it can spread.

Powers: Bakenekos are famous for their ability to shapeshift into other cats or humans. This gives them the ability to take the place of another human. This is how Akira turns into a human, a half-cat half-human, and a cat. Although sometimes his human form differs when he is tricking someone, he has a default human form [The picture above without the cat ears and tail].

He can also summon 'ghost fires' or blue-red flames that can and will put things on fire when willed, but can disappear as quickly as it appeared. Touching his tail would result in a burning sensation, and when his tail brushes onto some flammable thing… well, let's just say that it would burst into flames.

Note that these flames act like normal fire, and thus is easy to put out with fire. But it tends to spread quickly so you have to hurry.

He can eat poisonous food without a problem, loves it even.

[Sealed] After a particular encounter, his ability to raise the dead and use them as puppets was sealed. He can't even use a bit of that power.

Equipment:

This is a katana that actually belonged to the Igarashi family. Seeing that no one else would be able to inherit it, Akira had taken it for himself. He claims that he can still feel his masters in it, hearing some of their voices.

A bow that he stole from a grave robber. He had met this particular grave robber while he was resting in a graveyard. Pissed off when he saw him playing with corpses (when Akira couldn't), he began stealing his equipment in his sleep and then disappearing. Wonderfully crafted and fits him perfectly, he feels that the bow is perfect for him.

[User]
Fujioka Mitsuyo, still clad only in his fundoshi loincloth and dripping near-freezing water, stood slightly nonplussed as eight seemingly disparate people appeared from out of nowhere in the span of seconds and immediately proceeded to make a ruckus in the shrine. Unlike all of these people, he had neither magically teleported to the place nor did he instantly know of its name. He had simply walked into the shrine while strolling around looking for a place to purify himself, having heard of a temple in the area. He did not think it fitting to start his quest before tidying himself up physically and spiritually.

The ronin had been there for quite a while now, out of sight. He had painstakingly shaved himself and cut his hair down to a manageable length, and had cleansed and purified himself by standing for an hour under the shrine's waterfall in a ritual known as misogi. Clothes, he had procured before heading off. And now this seemingly rail-thin man, soaked to the bones and almost completely naked with a bundle of cloth under his arm, knelt on the shrine's steps in front of the crowd. "Excuse me, but you should really show proper respect in a place of worship", he said in a manner reminiscent of a parent educating a child on common courtesy.

At first sight he might seem sickly, but proper inspection by anyone martially inclined would notice that his body was corded steel and showed the wear and tear of a warrior. Clearly not someone one should mess with. Still, his expression seemed meek and he spoke in a soft tone as he undid the bundle and produced both his clothing and a something to dry himself with. "I'm afraid you've caught me after misogi, please pardon my appearance. I am Hongo, a masseuse", he said with a smile. It was fairly common to see both men and women half naked performing such a ritual. "But who might you all be? And what brings you all to wherever this is?"

[Assistant]
One by one, the "others" that the little fox had mentioned appeared, some with friendly greetings, some less so, and what a colorful collection of people -- if you could call a walking, talking pumpkin a person -- they were. Luo Dai gave each of the visitors a pleasant nod as they approached, but decided to follow the fox's example and wait until everyone was here to make an introduction. Well, that was until the young woman wielding a shockingly large axe appeared. He responded to her aggression with a pleasant smile. "I'm not sure who you are or where you're from," he said, "But I'm fairly certain you're making a mistake. If you're referring to the fox I think you're referring to, then we will likely be allies rather than enemies."

The little fox trotted out into the middle of the group, once again conveying raw meaning into the minds the travelers. Perhaps they would perceive it as a child's voice echoing in their heads speaking the language and dialect that was most clear to them. But, any who observed the fox would clearly see that he was not "speaking" per se. "He's right, young dragon. Nobody here is a friend of Anjou. In fact, I brought you all here for a very simple reason: you all want to kill Anjou. Besides, violence is not allowed in this place. If you drew your weapon I'd have to take it away."

The fox then turned to Hongo, the ronin who had been paying his respects at the shrine. "Please forgive them for their lack of formality. I'm sure most of them are confused and have many questions. I guess I'll start by answering the easiest one." He then hopped up on top of the fox statue in the center of the shrine and looked at all of the visitors. "My name is Ichiru, and this is Kado Shrine, a place between the mortal and spiritual planes. It is protected by the gods and Anjou has no influence here. I saw that your fates are all headed in the same direction, so I took the liberty of weaving them together by bringing you here. Maybe if you guys work together you won't all die when the time comes for you to storm Anjou's castle. But, there's a lot you'll have to do before that... For now, why don't you all take a moment to introduce yourselves. Then I'll answer any questions you may have and send you on your way."

Ichiru was then as still as the statue he stood upon as he waited for his guests to introduce themselves and then pose any questions. Luo Dai looked around and his new companions with a pleasant expression. "Well, it seems like Anjou has made quite an assortment of enemies. Perhaps karma will finally catch up to him. I am Luo Dai, and anyone who wants to bring the fox's rule to an end is a friend of mine." He took a moment to assess the people that had gathered here. There were two human men, both of which appeared to be very strong, and if the girl could actually wield that ax that she was holding, then she would be an asset as well. There were also a number of youkai that had joined them, including a kitsune. Apparently Anjou treated his own kind no better.

[User]
Akira had laid down and closed his eyes, intending to rest for a while. Yokai he may be, he still gets tired. However, more and more people had arrived and he even sensed another yokai, but most were either human or a holy being. However, he made no move to stand up or sit down. He did not respond to any of them, but is mildly interested in the kitsune that had arrived. Not because of her heritage, but because she looked like she fell on the way here... multiple times. New names, new faces... who were these people? What is happening? Groaning, he sat up and then looked at the group that had assembled.

A bird yokai, a kitsune, a hybrid creature, a yurei, and four (?) humans, not ordinary at all. Well, this was certainly an odd meeting. His eyes were drawn to the human that had appeared moments ago; now wielding a rather large axe. Upon mentioning that they were 'flunkies of the fox', Akira frowned. He'd rather lose all remnant of 'life' than bow down to that fox. But he did not speak but another did. His eyes trained on the little fox who began speaking, how, he was not sure.

He looked at Luo Dai who had been the first to introduce himself after Ichiru. Akira let out a very happy laugh sitting cross legged on the ground, both hands on his legs. "Other people who wants Anjou's head on a pike? On fire? Ha! Then nice to meet you all!" He exclaimed, his happy tune certainly covering up the morbid image of the words he spoke. "The name's Akira Igarashi! Bakeneko at your service! " Truly, it was a good thing that he was brought here. He was planning on finding other companions but everyone he came across with were hesitant or pro-Anjou.

He then looked at the others as they would introduce themselves.