[System]
Age:
62 moons

Gender:
Male

Clan:
MistClan

Rank:
Leader

Appearance:
A slender black tom with sharp green eyes.

Personality:
At first glance, Shadestar is an aloof cat that doesn't really make his emotions known. He is rather stoic, even with his own Clanmates. But deep inside, he cares deeply for his cats-- it's just that he's awkward and not sure how to show he cares. He's a bit quiet, but understanding and accepting of those who deserve it. Shadestar is also prone to drifting off into his thoughts, often staring into space when he does so. Despite appearing distant, he has a dangerous temper when it comes to cats that dare threaten his Clan. He's somewhat strict when it comes to rules and traditions; a no-nonsense cat, he won't allow others to push him around.

Biography:
Shadestar was born in the middle of a very warm greenleaf alongside two of his brothers, Robinkit and Riverkit. The three of them played and played and played, exploring MistClan's camp and getting into all sorts of trouble. That was, up until the three kits contracted greencough. Riverkit and Robinkit both died, and Shadekit was suddenly left without brothers. He became very withdrawn due to this, though the then-leader, Lightstar, believed it was a sign from StarClan. Lightstar took Shadepaw as her own apprentice, and because of her mentoring, he blazed through his apprenticeship and earned the name Shadefish.

Shadefish was able to successfully train two apprentices when MistClan's deputy, Deep-pool, was suddenly attacked and eaten by a crocodile the Clan had been dealing with for the entirety of newleaf. Lightstar, befuddled by many seasons of leading, took advantage of the situation and immediately promoted Shadefish to deputy. It didn't take him too long to take Lightstar's place-- she passed away due to an unknown illness in leaf-bare of the same year.

Shadestar has been the leader for approximately five seasons, and has seven lives left.

Apprentice?:
None at the moment.

Mate?:
None at the moment.

Kits?:
None at the moment.

[User]
Shadestar
MENTIONS: Eelpond

---

Shadestar desperately wanted Eelpond to stay in his den for a little bit longer, but there were responsibilities the both of them had to take care of. He nodded solemnly as Eelpond departed, and once again he was left alone within his den. The morning was soon turning into sunhigh. Hopefully it would be warmer as it got later. He gave his chest fur a few licks and got up to leave his den again. Now that the apprentice ceremony was over, he could grab something to eat from the freshkill pile. The black tom approached the small pile on the floor and pawed at a trout that had most certainly been pulled from the surrounding waters. Hopefully the hunting patrols would come back with more food that day.

He grabbed the trout and took it to a sunny spot in camp, settling down and beginning to remove some of the scales that covered its body. Maybe he could go hunting later as well... there was so many things to do that day. Though Eelpond's words sent a shiver up his spine; Irisstar was certainly not being friendly and it would be bad if he went and attacked his warriors. StarClan, I hope not.

[Assistant]
__________________________________________
Shadestar's Den ---> MistClan Medicine Cat Den

Mentions: @blindwoofer's Tinypaw

The medicine cat let out a little grateful purr of his own as he settled down on the other side of the fish, tucking his front paws against his chest for now so that he could lean down and bite into the prey, falling quiet for the moment as both cats focused on filling their bellies. Eelpond especially knew that they would need to eat well, they'd need their strength for the journey to the Moonpool. He'd done the trip so many times that admittedly, Eelpond hadn't really thought about using travelling herbs, he hadn't needed them for quite some time now. But he could see how they might help Tinypaw, so, after he had swallowed the next mouthful, he sat back slightly, swiped his tongue around his whiskers and nodded.

Eelpond flicked his tail as he looked back towards their den, then the calico she-cat, and dipped his head again.  "Yeah, I think some travelling herbs would be helpful, don't you? Do you remember how to make them up?" he didn't think that she would have done so already, they didn't have the time before the apprentice ceremony, so Eelpond figured now was as good a time as any to fit in another lesson and teach Tinypaw how to put together the herb wraps. "Finish up with that fish and join me back in the den, I'll go and start laying everything out so I can show you."

[User]
Tinypaw
Mentions: @The Elvenqueen

The little apprentice smiled happily as she ate. When Eelpond sat up she blinked and licked her whiskers. As he spoke she nodded some. She did think traveling herbs would be a good to have. "Well it is a long way to travel so I would think so." She said but paused and thought a moment before she shook her head. Tinypaw didn't think they'd had reason to make any since she'd become an apprentice so she hadn't learned them yet. Of course it hadn't even been a full moon since she'd been given her apprentice name so there was time to learn. Smiling again she nodded before leaning down and licking up the last few flakes of fish.

Once done she quickly groomed before trotting back into their den. "I think daisy leafs are in traveling herbs." She announced once she came into the den. It had taken her time to think it over but she did remember that since one day they'd picked some and Eelpond had told her that they were used to ease pain in joints and given to traveling cats. Sitting down in front of the spot he had the herbs lined up she'd wait excitedly for him to show her how to make the traveling bundle of herbs.

[Assistant]
__________________________________________
MistClan Medicine Cat Den

Mentions: @blindwoofer's Tinypaw
__________________________________________

When Tinypaw agreed that she thought the travelling herbs would be a good idea, the older tom nodded gently and left her to finish up the rest of the fish he'd left, getting to his paws and padding into the den to go to the herb store. As he waited for the little calico to join him once more, Eelpond's paws moved through each crevice with practised ease to select out piles of herbs he knew they would need for the mixture, he'd been a medicine cat for long enough now to know them off by heart. Tinypaw would get there too, one day, with his guidance. He set each pile of leaves out in front of him and waited patiently for the she-cat to return to the den.

When she did, he waved her across with his tail, beaming proudly as she already managed to recall one of the plants without him so much as prompting her. "Yes, exactly! Daisy leaves are one of the ingredients, well remembered!" he purred proudly, flicking his tail to indicate the other herbs he had laid out before them. "But that's only one of the herbs needed to make what the Clan calls "travelling herbs". There are three others that are mixed together with the daisy leaves that help to give cats who make long journeys strength, and to fill their bellies so they don't feel hungry as quickly, which means that they can cover more ground for a journey like the Moonpool without worrying about hunting on another Clan's territory, which would be against the Warrior Code. Now, do you recognise the names of any of the others, if you have a look at them here?" he would, of course, tell her if she didn't, but a quick test to see if she did remember any wouldn't do them any harm.

[User]
Interacting with: @skitts | @sassy1085

---

 It was a glorious day, at least. That was where the positives tended to end. Things along the borders were always quite iffy. Anything could happen. The next big war could be snowballed from a border incident, and most of them were. They were walls in which the clans were divided, entities of harsh justice that ensured there'd always be a contest to be had. Though, it wasn't an imperfect system. The clans could define their hunting grounds and could adapt to their own parts of the valley, differentiating them and creating an identity amongst the wild. A sense of order, contained in a small plot of land that rivalled the others. Those were the things to be glad of. Time and time again, Branchfall had wondered how life on the free market of preservation played out. Relying only on themselves was a hasty job, especially in the presence of four great clans and the dangers the valley had to offer. He pictured the rogues and the loners as being amongst the most headstrong and capable cats across the land, held back only by their stubbornness and lack of social wit.

 The perspective of borders was all too different from a cat who'd been on two sides of it. He'd seen one world and transitioned to another. That was a jarring experience. Life was different. The food was different. And whilst they all shared a conglomerate of ideas, religious beliefs and the all-encompassing Warrior Code, they were divided by a cultural significance and the great divider: thought. Branchfall had his own ideals pressed together into an ugly mess. And patrols like theirs were only the sharp reminders of the messes that had been made. The manifestations of an old world compared to the new; life before and the death of an old family member. He just hoped to StarClan that he wouldn't run into the cats he knew best. Whether they were family or just old friends, it was the last thing he needed.

 Because of this, Branch came across as rather hasty. He was at the front of the group, checking everything and sniffing around as if he were in a rush. At the least, he tried to be thorough but couldn't hold himself up to the standards of a careful and detailed patroller. The first fifty heartbeats seemed to go off quite nicely. There wasn't an issue nor anything more than the faint scents of old reports. The roughened familiarity of a wild creature that skirted their territory was barely noticeable anymore, and so Branch breathed easily knowing that it wasn't anything cumbersome. Eventually, he grew tired of the silence between the three. It was deafening, getting in the way of his anxiety. The last thing he wanted was to silently stumble into a BirchClan patrol in the dead of morn.

"Hey, Flamepelt," he began in a mumble, "can you just start talking about something? Anything at all? New rumours, news or things of interest? I'd really appreciate it."

[Assistant]
Mentions: @Ambra
Silverflight watched the patrols begin to disappear from the camp and follow out her given orders for the early part of the day. She let her eyes continue to trail lazily around camp as the daily routines began to pick up speed. Several of the other warriors who had been up earlier were settling down to rest and share tongues or find some other way to make themselves useful around camp. She already began planning out the evening patrols in her head, giving Tinypaw a nod as the apprentice pulled something from the pile for herself and presumably Eelpond. The sun had burned off the mist that hung across the camp and now there was a warm glow cast across the camp and warming her pelt. She closed her eyes briefly and allowed the warmth to scare away the lingering doubts and darker thoughts that plagued the valley.

She saw Eelpond slip from Shadestar's den and head back to the medicine cat den. Hopefully the two medicine cats would get something from Starclan. They had been uncomfortably silent given the terrible things that had stricken each and every clan. She watched Shadestar follow shortly after Eelpond, a contemplative look on his face slipping into worry. She hoped their leader wasn't taking too much onto his own shoulders with the killings. Starclan knew he couldn't do more than he already was. She hoped that the naming of a new apprentice and the show of clan unity would drive away at least some of his concerns.

"Morning Shadestar," she meowed as he approached, "Everything alright with the journey to Moonbrook?" Tensions were high and if there was something that might prevent them from communing with Starclan things would only get worse. "Nothing more we need to concern ourselves with I hope."

 Mentions: @skitts
Nightpaw nodded at Dawnpelt's suggestion, "Sounds good to me," he trotted behind her and Froststorm as they began to head out of camp; shaking the water droplets off of his pelt as they dripped off the reeds, "If Irisstar decides to start something it would be good for us to be nearby." He kept his ears pricked as they padded past the quiet bubbling of the streams that weaved their way into the nearby lake. He saw a faint flash of scales underneath the water, but he didn't leap after it. If they were going to be out for some time he'd rather keep his paws dry of the cold water. Maybe he'd try to catch fish on the way back if they were still swimming about. The thought of getting mud caked in between his toes wasn't the most pleasing, but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity for their return journey.

"Are we allowed to hunt on our way to the Oak Dens?" he asked towards Dawnpelt.

He hoped to hear the quiet scuffle of small paws on the dirt or the ruffle of feathers indicating birds pecking around for seeds on the ground, but the nearby area was fairly silent. The slowly rising sun warmed his dark pelt and would hopefully lure the underground dwelling critters out into the light. He could feel the uncertain tension that ran through camp and tried to not let it get to him too much, but when the older warriors were nervous it made it difficult not to feel the same. He shook his head to clear out the thoughts and focus on what they were doing. The clan needed food and there was no way that they were going to come back empty pawed.

[User]
Shadestar
MENTIONS: Silverflight

---

Shadestar glanced upwards at the new approach, slowly chewing his trout. Silverflight was an admirable deputy, and there was a lot that he liked about her. For one, she was capable enough to carry out deputy duties, which seemed simple enough, but he's heard stories of deputies being rather snobby and lazy. Luckily for him, and the rest of MistClan, Silverflight was showing that she had great potential to be leader one day. "Oh hello, Silver," he settled for using her nickname for now, mostly because his mouth was half-full.

Her next words brought only more dread upon him, and he struggled to keep his tail from lashing. "I'm sure that Eelpond and Tinypaw will be fine. If there's a reason why StarClan's upset with us, then they should be able to reach out to Tinypaw, instead."


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Appearance:

Rank: Private
Class: Lancer

Weapons and Equipment: Lancaar-SH M01 and an old, far eastern sword

Personality: A peace-loving, flirtatious woman with a fierce sense of justice. She carries with her mannerisms from a foreign land, though her heart embraces the peaceful land of Gallia.
Bio: Regan emigrated from her home to Gallia some years ago, her family seeking to escape involvement in the war. Their home country was one that had decided to take a side in the war. Regan agreed with the move, but for her own reasons. Her father was originally a Gallian citizen, smoothing over their immigration into the country. It's where she obtained her mortar lance.

RP Sample: Fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh. A young woman stood in her yard, swinging a wooden sword overhead and shuffle-stepping forward and back as she did. She'd been at it for ten minutes now, and with a final step forward and swing, she took a deep breath while resting her sword against the ground, her hands laying over each other on the end of the hilt. "Huff... huff... whew." She takes a moment to gaze out over the grassy fields that surround her home now. The change of scenery was really pleasant, but at the same time, it was strange to be in a foreign land. Well... she supposed it wasn't foreign anymore. She was a citizen of Gallia now, this was her home. Though, the foreign martial clothing she wore would have most people fooled. Now that she's done with her morning practice, perhaps she should change and go into town? Bathing might be good, too, before she goes.

"Mama, I'm going to town!" The young lady calls as she slips her shoes on at the door and steps out of her home. They didn't live far, and the walk was very pleasant. She wondered who she'd find out and about today... though she should probably go with some purpose in mind, instead of just aimlessly wandering. She'd start by going to the bakery and purchasing herself something to eat, after her workout. From there... eeeeh... something would probably happen? She'd figure it out, but she had something to start with.

As the young lady walks, she gazes at the river along the road, admiring the clear waters and the fish within. Such a beautiful, peaceful place...

[User]
Celeste
A last second addition before they set off. Except she was apparently drunk and had no weapon or kit. The sergeant had given the drunk mess an order to take Kyo's SMG, and scrounge up a kit from the dead Imps. But sobering her up? Celeste could only hope the patrol would do the trick. As she hadn't had the chance to grind up what coffee beans she had brought. "Well, you're going to be sobering up with a patrol. No arguments here, place ain't safe for you to take a nap. Not during the day anyway." Celeste placed a hand on her hip, looking at the woman, waiting for anything she had to say, along with responses from others. She still needed to know if the others assigned to her knew what a wedge was.

Brenna
The vista was beautiful. It was shame she hadn't brought a sketchpad. But oh well, she'd enjoy this little picnic for one. A few birds chirped from the nearby tree. And Brenna could see a family of ducks relaxing in a nearby pond. She also could have swore she saw a fawn in the distance.

A nice mid-day picnic by herself. She was happy. The sounds of war couldn't reach this place. She didn't know where this place was, but it was great. But she did wonder if she'd ever see Lilly or the others at some point. Admittedly, she did miss them.

"Huh? That's odd." Brenna looked up at the sky, it looked like a crack had spread all across the sky. She also noticed the birds had gone quiet. Everything about the world had been silenced for no reason. The crack suddenly started to widen. A hellish red sky seen through the crack. Scared, she looked around quickly, the ducks were gone, in fact, all life besides her had disappeared. Trees were dead, and the crack had quickly opened, turning the sky a hellish red. The ground mimicked the colors, along with fires in a distant forest. "Why? Valks why?!"

Then everything crashed, and she sprung awake in a cold sweat. Brenna looked terrified, and stared at a wall for a few seconds before realizing where she was. Turning her gaze to see the Sergeant and a new Darcsen in a room with her, and also saw Lilly leave the room.

Skye
Skye was getting ready to go with the patrol when the sergeant pulled her off to the side and asked for her help. Not arguing with his decision, she went with him. They had some injured it seemed, and arriving in the room, it seemed like the ragnaid had helped with any major injuries. But the order to check on one of the injured was new one for her. She apparently got a nasty hit on the head at some point during the fight. She knelt in front of the woman, and placed the back of her hand on Durandal's forehead, felt about normal. Though it was hard to tell how the brain inside was fairing. She snapped her fingers a couple of times near her face to wake her, knowing that slapping her face and shaking her would be no better, if not, worse than the hit she received.

[Assistant]
Well, apparently, he was supposed to help one of the other female soldiers (geez, the Sergeant must be swimming in pussy), but she had already finished up with most of everything, pretty much invalidating Harald's orders. With a shrug, Zeal complied with the other set of orders instead, that of simply…patrolling. Patrolling with yet another female, a lancer by the name of Celeste, apparently, as well as YET ANOTHER FEMALE, who had came in drunk with no equipment. Lots of pretty names, all things considered, and he was quite a fan of the dark-haired beauty thing that both of them had going on.

Of course, the stench of alcohol from Cecilia was less than endearing, but at least she was a fellow shocktrooper! She looked like the tough sort, so if any Imps do pop out of the woodwork, hopefully this Cecilia would be drunk enough to cover up for Zeal's own inadequacies. Ah, he really wasn't looking forward to a firefight this early on, and hopefully it won't be a thing at all.

Following the two of them to the tank (probably destroyed by Celestine and her big, thick rocket lance, Zeal paid close attention as she detailed the route of the patrol, not even disappointed at how repetitive she made it sound. He'd have plenty of time for sightseeing anyways. Probably ask some questions concerning the establishments and all that. Get nice and chummy with the blue-eyed Lancer. Maybe score a few hits on the drunk shocktrooper as well.

"Well then," Zeal said, his Mags MXX slung over his chest, "Mind giving a tour of the place during the patrol, Coporal? I've only been here for five minutes and all, so it'd be nice if you could point to me where everything is during our walk."

"And you have any specific ideas on how we'll position ourselves wedgely? Or is it fine just to get into that shape?"

[User]
Alex Glaive

"Footsteps... Harald and the others"

Alex muttered out a few words as she awoke from her slumber, her keen senses having picked up on the fact that her fellow troopers were now awake as well. With a groan she gripped the edges of the rather comfy chair she had discovered in the rooms and shifted herself up a little to peer out of the window. She had set up the chair in such a way that she would have been ready the moment that something happened but luckly it was really unneeded, no counter attack or anything.

"New people?"

She questioned as she heard some unfamiliar steps from down below, it was both worrying and happy that they may have gained some backup. Reaching up to the roots of her hair she flowed a strained of her hair down in front of her face, it had started to lose the color of the black white and return to its platinum blonde roots, this would be bothersome on the battlefield where she would be unable to redye it. Grabbing her cap she placed it on her head to hide her imperial features before standing up from the chair, making sure to grab her rifle on the way to the door.

Food is what she craved for right now and that is what she would hunt, or just go downstairs where someone was sure done cooking by this point. On the way she encountered Harald and Skye, she made sure to give a greeting before she continued on "Sergeant." After arriving downstairs she noticed one of their number was a little more dazed than normal, though not many were not morning people she was sure that this was something more? "Lilly, are you ok?" Shifting from behind the girl she made her way to one of the chairs as she awaited a answer.

[Assistant]
Sergeant Harald, Gallian Militia

A dozen concerns ran through Harald's mind as he checked over Sykora's unconscious form. Her pupils were dilating properly, heartbeat was alright... Unfortunately his rudimentary medical training didn't go much further than that. Not for the first time did he curse the lack of a trained medic on the team. His brow furrowed as he agonised over what to do if they didn't awaken. However the sound of rustling sheets from behind was a hopeful sign and he turned to find a dazed-looking Jatmoore rising from the bed. 'Good morning, Private. You're a sight for sore eyes. We're still at Le Haye Sainte, although we'll be pushing on tonight.' He paused uncertainly as Lilly's expression fell, then quickly averted his eyes as the girl turned about. Who the hell stripped her off..? Hunt..? No, surely not... Regardless of who the culprit was, Harald was sure that it had been done with the best of intentions. Still, putting a near naked young woman before a lonely man was a dick move if ever there was one. He focussed furiously on a knot in the wooden wall, determined not to try sneaking a peak. But by the Valks, was it hard... Once the rustling of clothes had been replaced with the clanking of armour and boots, he ventured a look back over his shoulder, just in time to see Lilly descend the staircase to the kitchen. '... take it easy now. And eat some stew.', he added after some thought.

'Well...' Harald gave Skye an awkward smile. 'That was... entertaining.' He looked down at Brenna, suddenly keenly aware that someone had stripped her too... and that her eyes were wide open. 'Whoa, whoa there... Just sit back, Sykora. You're safe.' Another set of footsteps came down the stairs and Harald turned to give Glaive a morning wave. 'Could you keep an eye on Jatmoore? Think she still needs watching for a while.' Once she had left, Harald turned his attention back to the stricken soldier before him. Brenna had been sweating profusely, most likely all night. He still didn't know what her injuries had been, but Harald theorised that it had been some kind of head injury. There was a lot of that going around. 'Just take it easy, no rush to get up. And uh...' He paused, looking away awkwardly. 'Might want to keep yourself covered.' Whoever had stripped the girls had done a very thorough job of it. He hoped that it had been Celeste, for decency's sake.

[User]
Private First Class Cecilia Rousseau

Been told that someone named "Stichler" was in charge of her, without a chance to get some rest, and being handed a spare weapon while being told to scourage for equipment from Imperials, Cecilia smiled, half hung over, half drunk and a whole lot of "Oh my fucking god! I am so screwed! What the fuck happened!?". Been given an old SMG and a kit from a few Imperials, Cecilia looked at the one named Stichler. A female Corporal.  "Well, you're going to be sobering up with a patrol. No arguments here, place ain't safe for you to take a nap. Not during the day anyway." Corporal Celeste ordered her. "Yes Ma'am" she replied, with her hand half holding her head as she saluted.

It appeared she was to patrol with the Corporal and one of the new male recruits who were recruited in a more suitable fashion than drunk and sleeping in the APC. The Corporal was a lancer, and a young woman with straight black hair like her own who had a surname, indicating that she wasn't a Darscen. The male recruit, looking at his uniform, was a private shocktrooper, who was just a tad shorter than herself. While on patrol, her steps were clearly not steady, due to still being half hung over and half drunk. Probably a couple of hours before sobering up.

Her stomach grumbled. "Uh... So hungry. This is what happens when you get drunk and then decide to sleep in one of the vehicles to hide from the senior officers the next morning. You get recruited, with a hangover and with no food. Ain't that a wonderful deal! Should do it more often." Cecilia sarcastically jested, laughing a little at her own little bit of misfortune. Nonetheless, she was out in the field, and could soon serve some "justice". She turned to the private, introducing herself, "Hello there private! I'm Private First Class Cecilia Rousseau. Nice to meet you." She continued to follow the Corporal for the patrol, slowly sobering up.

[Assistant]
Private Durandal
The young guard laid on the side of the hill, basking in the sun with her sword on the ground next to her. Birds chirped in the trees, she could hear the water trickling down the stream from the nearby river, and it was peaceful. The villagers at the bottom of the hill went about their business in their quiet little village, and all was well. It was very sudden when the clank of armor caught her ear, and she lifted her head to gaze down at an advancing column of soldiers, walking straight toward the village. Stunned for a moment by disbelief, the warrior grabbed her sword and ran down the hill, toward the advancing column.

The following battle was fierce. The warrior, though she fought valiantly, was knocked out by an explosion. She heard snapping, as though someone were trying to rouse her...

Durandal gave a groan, before her eyes fluttered open to see Skye over her. "... G'morning..." She blinks at the woman, a Darcsen, and then at her armor. Armor? And this wasn't her house. Where was she? And, wait, where- there. Her sword. That was a small comfort, but that didn't answer her question. "So, I have a question. Aah... where am I?"


[System]
Age : 92

Gender : Male

Appearance/Looks :

His eyes, once you move the bangs out the way to actually see his eyes, are a bright orange.
The back of his hands are covered in red scales that come up to his elbow on both hands, but due to his love for gloves that isnt visible either. Similar it is with his feet up to his knees, as well there are some red scales along his spine.
His height is 186 cm or 6′1″.

At first glance he looks human.

Species :
Dragon kin

Sexual Preference :
Bisexual

Likes :
-Sugar
-Making sweets
-Fancy clothing
-Comfortable gloves and hats
-Musicals
-Laughing
-The tale Alice in wonderland
-Slavic fairy tales
-Weddings

Dislikes :
-The rain
-Smell of fish
-Being called names, or mad
-Having to fight
-Having his brothers and sisters over
-Missing a appointment
Bio :

Danilo was the forth child from five, his parents loved each of their children very much as much as they cared for each other. Danilo never felt short on being loved by his parents. His mother studied history and facts while his father studied the tales and myths of the past just like the folklore of the the world. Both of them had several hundredth years under the belt and preferred to live with their family away from anyone. The father passion for his work made him love telling his children those same tales as bedtime stories. Making sure they would start dreaming about the world with bright eyes. Some of them loved it more some did less and enjoyed more the facts that their mother would speak off.

Danilo fail in love with the tales how ever dark and sad they became at the end some form of happiness would be reached if you do not give up.

Regardless how much he was loved by his parents his siblings were a different story altogether. Well they were united in disliking him. He was often called the weird one or the parents favorite. Often teasing Danilo that he wasnt able to fight for himself, but has to go crying to their mother and rant the other siblings out. It was just how they made the rank who was stronger, but Danilo didnt want any of it. Yes he was compared to his siblings even the youngest was much stronger than him but he was more interested in everything else than proving his dragon strength.

It didnt help that the siblings were full of energy and liked to get in trouble, to help them out, Danilo would tell their parents what the others did. It would only fuel the sibling dislike for their meek brother, because they would end up getting grounded and he wouldnt.

Once he grow old enough to attend a school, which are a few decades for his kind, he did exactly that. Moving to a dorm and trying to find what he is good at. He tried many things along the way and a lot of time it didnt end up well. Chemistry was one of his worst experience as he set his dorm room on fire. Flammable chemicals do not mix well with sneezing fire. No one got hurt, luckily. The dorm leader gave him a second chance but punished him with kitchen duty for the rest of his academic stay.

Being always encouraged to find himself, and try to find a positive in any negative Danilo discovered his talent with cooking. Especially making sweets. Around the same time Danilo saw his first musical, and fall in love with the art expression and even the style of clothing. He stopped carrying what his siblings were thinking of him, and he even less cared what other peoples thought of him. He will do what makes him happy. He sewed his first clothing and wore them with pride. It took a while before his sewing got good enough. He starved for more and more receipts when it came to cooking, he wanted to experiment. The next school year he transferred into the confectioner class.

Danilo counted as a bit of a eccentric guy, but with a big and sweet heart. His classmates after a while befriended him and were his true friends. He would help them how ever he could, and occasionally he would even be going over the top. It didnt matter to Danilo, as he felt as happy as one could be. He liked to go with them at night and drink and sing till the early hours. Well he liked the singing part more than drinking and it stayed a habit to prefer to be taken somewhere than to go to a bar himself. He loved the songs about love and even the more simple things. He graduated on top of his class, and to his dislike his siblings arrived to congratulate him. Their parents urged them to do so.

The tension was making the air heavy. They all wore forced smiles for their parents sake, it was clear to the young dragon that he grown even more apart from his siblings. It was start of a silent competition of a different kind. He was again reminded that his parents were especially prideful of Danilo, that they often hold his example to his siblings. A example how they should try to find something and work hard to be the master of it. So they started doing it. Danilo ignored them all and moved away. He traveled across the world, by ship, by feet, by train, starting to make a name of himself.

He is far from being a world known pastry creator, but he did got a few chances to work under the very best. He still has a lot to learn, and he is eager to learn it. Today he is working at a luxurious hotel as chief confectioner. Often being tasked to make wedding cakes to the wishes of the couples, just as well as spoiling them all with great sweets. But there is another dream he has, one that he keeps to himself and that is to be part of a Broadway theater. Grinning he wonders where his way will end him up.

Occupation : Confectioner

Country of Origin : Montenegro

Feelings about meeting their soul mate :
 For many years he was looking at the wrist day dreaming what his soulmate may look like. What they would think of his life and way he looked at the world. With each passing day he would play conversations in his head, of what he or she may say what Danilo would answer to them. His heart flatter with both eagerness and nervousness.

He planned to take a vacation around his date, so he could be truly free to get his soulmate to know. As the day is coming close Danilo starts pulling his glove off so he could make sure the date and name is still there on his wrist. Fearing if he looked away the name would vanish. A silly fear, but still there.
Getting in his best cloths he is spending time in the most beautifully places he could find around. The park surrounded with flowers, or the museum in front of beautifully painting. Even a lovely cafe in the morning, as Danilo wishes more than anything the first moment they meet to be as dreamlike and unforgettable as in a fairy tale of his father.

 He hopes they like sweets.

SOULMATE: Adam

Name: Manu Franco

Age: 20 Birthday on 1st June

Gender: (flips a coin, if its tails it is a man) Its a tail! I mean he is a man.

Appearance/Looks:

Species: Were maned wolf.
( The maned wolf (Chrysocyon brachyurus) is the largest canid of South America. Its markings resemble those of foxes, but it is not a fox, nor is it a wolf, as it is not closely related to other canids. It is the only species in the genus Chrysocyon (meaning "golden dog"). )

Sexual Preference: gay

Likes : Football
 Costumes
 reading romantic books
 popular movies and tv shows
 Meeting people

Dislikes: Being ignored
 silence
 slow music
 chilly and too spicy food

Bio: "Well I was normal with shitty grades and nice chill life until a year ago. I meet up with a good pal again after two years of only having internet contact with each other, and well I told him how I felt about him. I was awaiting a response along the lines of I dont swing that way. But he answered me with Sorry that cannot happen. I felt a bit angry especially because he run off somewhere. So as sneaky as I can be, I managed to follow him. He went to his private woods. A place I knew and a few times visited.

Oh, didnt I mention he was kinda rich, well he is, his pops is really good at smelling what brings money in the house. All future puns are intended. Anyway. I managed to sneak in and... it was a blur. In the morning I had the most massive headache that one can imagine and was explained that I was turned into a werewolf by a mistake as I went directly into a hunting grounds, during a hunt event. Stupid I know, but lucky as I wasnt killed, just became a wolf. Well not a were wolf by say, more of a were golden dog... I dont get it either. I look freaking sweet, though.

Back on truck, my friend Jose well he and his family are all were maned wolfs. Reason I was instantly shot down when I declared my feelings towards him. I know I should have been angry or scared or anything but instead of it all I asked my pal if I could date him now. Seeing we are both now weres, so nothing to hide between us. No need to lie either.

Awesome. ... Fine its more like best friends with benefits, but I still have a crash on my pal.

 He helped me with everything were related teaching me from the baby steps to actually do things right. There are still some things I have troubles with, but with time I will get them sorted out. As the date was coming closer I must have started to feel more nervous, or something. So Jose took me on one of his whims to see America, the big apple from all places. And nothing can ruin our trip!

We have to report to the werewolf pack in New York about our stay but that shouldnt be a problem."

Jose is 24 and born a were, from both parents being were.
On his wrist is one name crossed out in color that tells that his soulmate died before he meet them. That happened 3 years ago, after which he by chance went into contact with Manu.
No new name has appeared yet on his wrist.
Manu was there for him when he felt on his lowest and he pulled him out of his depression. In opposite to Manu he still believes that maybe there will be a soulmate for him. Hoping one day a name appear on his wrist.

Occupation:
 Searching for a job. He is truly attempting the search! He swears.

Country of Origin: Brasil

Feelings about meeting their soul mate:

"Nah who would believe such a silly thing. The chick who has my name on her wrist will be sooo disappointing when she sees me, nothing more than a loser, so all is coolio~"

Soul mate: Abel

[User]
Pretty Lies
Abel looks back at her a kind of sadness in his eyes at how short this meeting was. Then worry since he feels like maybe he did something wrong, maybe he pushed her away. "oh...right" he hands her the book then rubs his neck awkwardly. "I" He takes a deep breath as if trying to get his courage back. "I'd like to buy those for you. He gives a small nervous smile then with a small amount of blush he pulls a purple sharpie out of his pocket and gently writes his number on her wrist right under his name. "I'd...id really like to see you again. So, here's my cell." another slightly embarrassed, nervous smile.

[Assistant]
Adam

When the lips of Adam's soul mate touched his hand, Adam found his face glowing a little more with the colour of pink. When Danilo looked back at Adam, he found it hard to keep eye contact and his face glowed even more before it was explained to him that dragons typically didn't die of old age. His heart sped up a little, before it was killed by a thought from his other side.
"If age doesn't kill him, I will."
Adam felt something inside, like he suddenly needed to pipe Will down and protect Dan. Like this was the last straw with Will showing up today. His glow dulled, and his eyes hardened a little.
"You'll have to try very hard to do that," Adam remarked in his thoughts.
Adam noticed as Dan leaned in a little closer, and Adam found himself brought back to reality. His face began to glow once more, as well as his eyes shining. Dan's smile made him smile too, just a little, and even let out a small child's giggle.
"D-drama class?" he stuttered for a moment, surprised by his own voice. He quickly found himself rambling.
"Yeah. I absolutely love acting, and seeing people act. Movies, broadway, school plays, you name it. I think it's really powerful, how you can just become a whole different character just through analyzing them and relating to them. That's why I teach it; because it's an amazing...skill...to have...."
Adam stopped himself in realization of his rambling and he seemed to trail off a little at the end. "S-sorry," he stumbled on his own words once more.
"I was rambling, wasn't I? Uh, w-what about you? I-I mean what do you...uh...," he trailed off once more as he looked at Danilo.
For some reason, he just really wanted to laugh all of the sudden and he didn't know why. It was so bizarre to sit in a cafe with a soul mate again. Adam was happy for once in a long, long time. He began to smile like a big goof.

[User]
Danilo found himself in a daze. He could feel the passion off his soulmate radiate as he started to get all in explaining about his passion for acting and drama. How silly Dan felt for ever fearing and doubting fate wouldnt match him with his perfect soulmate.He could have listened till the end of days like that. He was at the perfect calm, just if he would be laying under the sun absorbing the warm... no this felt even better. All too soon Adam stopped himself suddenly all shying away.

 "S-sorry. I was rambling, wasn't I? Uh, w-what about you? I-I mean what do you...uh...,"

Danilo blinked and shock his head. He briefly noticed their orders were placed on the table. He must have completely ignored anything but Adam. Moving the sundae out the harms way, he spoke.

''My dashing Adam, you looked breath taking when you were rambling. Please do it more often. Especially about things that warm up your heart. ''

Picking the spoon, Danilo took a spoonful of the sundae and took a bite of it. A visible shiver passed him as he reached for his cup of steaming hot chocolate and took a sip of the warm, to contract the freeze.

''It took me a while to find what I enjoyed the most. I tried a lot of things. '' He chuckled at the memories of his younger days in the city across the ocean. One time he wanted to share them with his soulmate. He wanted to share everything with Adam....well maybe not his siblings. Those better to avoid. '' I discovered that I am in love with musicals, and theater in general. While my mistress is creating confectionery of all sorts. I work at a luxury hotel as a chief for sweets, the card I gave you is from that place.''

His gloved hand went to his bangs and moved them out of the way to expose his red orange eyes. ''I became quite skilled with wedding cakes.'' Dan winked for the effect, letting his hair fall down hiding his eyes away again. The hints of a blush covered the cheek of the dragon, just imaging it with him and his soulmate was... nearly too much.

He took another spoonful of the cold sweet and played with it while wondering what to ask. '' Want to see where I live? '' He offered the spoonful of the sundae towards his soulmate. The question on the tip of his tongue just slipped out on his own.


[System]
Age:
41 yo

Appearance:

Bjørn Ulfrikson, 6'2" tall and padded with muscle, is a tough looking creature. His brown manes - which includes his beard - show the first traces of grey, much against his liking. His eerily cold eye, its colour best described as colourless or pale, is often fixated on either ale or an attractive individual - most probably ale, while his other eye lays hidden beneath a thick, ugly scar which was the result of a dispute with the local guardsmen.

The sides of his skull are shaved and decorated with black - slightly faded - ink which creeps down his neck where it continues to flow over his shoulders, down his arms and towards his hands. The lines often interrupted by thick scars and scrapes from battle and brawls.

Class:
Berserker;

The Berserker is a character who throws himself into a fight with such reckless abandon, it almost seems a death wish. It could be over-enthusiasm, overconfidence, or an unstoppable, blinding rage that fuels him. Berserkers are equally capable of being good or evil, but almost always chaotic in their ways. They regularly have to be reminded by their teammates to control themselves after a particularly close call.

The berserkr of Viking-age Scandinavia: Warriors who are said to have thrown themselves into battle wearing only animal hides for armour and with no regard for their own safety. Their 'battle-madness', whose exact nature is presently unknown (some say it came from eating weird mushrooms before a battle) is said to have been a gift from the Gods. The word "berserkr" means "Bear-shirt" in Old Norse, referring to either their going into battle with the ferocity of bears or for wearing bear pelts into battle. Their effectiveness in battle is up for debate, but they were an imposing and terrifying nightmare to the continental Europeans — and, if The Icelandic Sagas are to be trusted, to their own civilization.

'His men rushed forwards without armour, were as mad as dogs or wolves, bit their shields, and were strong as bears or wild oxen, and killed people at a blow, but neither fire nor iron told upon them.'

Snorri Sturluson (1179–1241) Ynglinga saga

Alignment:
Chaotically Neutral

Weapon(s):
He'll carry with him his beloved axe, also used to chop wood whenever in need of a campfire, which he forged himself at the beginning of his journey. Found in his other hand - when not an ale - or on his back, he has a wooden, round shield which has seen better days and is in dire need of a repair or replacement. Hanging from his belt he'll also have a sharp, dagger-like knife which he uses to skin animals with, or - whenever needed - serves as a useful weapon against his enemies.

Armor/Clothing:
For battle, or quests, during colder months, he wears a sleeveless mail shirt formed of interlinked, riveted rings. It's mostly covered by thick furs and skins to make Bjørn look even broader than he already is. He'll have a bear-skin draped over his shoulder, its head sown on wolf-pelt to create a warm hood and rather disturbing sight.

During the warmer months, however, he wears a loin-cloth'like piece of dark fabric, underneath which - when not too warm - a tight pair of pants with leather boots and around his waist a massive gut belt, also functioning as armour to protect some of his vital organs.

He'll always dress to impress, having to seem intimidating in a way. So he'll most likely carry furs or animal bones with him to create such illusion.

Personal trinkets:

* Personal

	+ Father's ring; given to him by his uncle after the fire.
	+ Grizzly claw; hanging from his neck he displays the claws of a massive beast, the same creature once owned the thick fur that now hangs from Bjørn's shoulder.
* Functional

	+ Knife (Weapon + Tool)
	+ Axe (Weapon + Tool)
	+ Whetstone
	+ Flint and Steel
	+ Tinder
	+ Waterskin; most probably filled with an alcoholic beverage

Short History:
Bjørn was born and raised in a mountainous township which was well-known for mining. His parents had raised him in a strict way and hoped he'd one day would take over his father's mining company, but after years they gave up on that idea. Young Bjørn just wasn't great student and had no interest in maths or economy. His interest laid beyond the safe walls of his home. He had always dreamt of being an adventurer, or a soldier serving the crown. He wanted to explore and help people out, but his parents didn't approve.

One day when Bjørn was fifteen years of age, the king's men came to inspect his father's mining business, like they did often. There was always trouble between the king and his dad. The crown demanded a lower price, but his father had declined. They had lowered the price three times already that year. But his refusal had been the last straw.

The young Bjørn was helping out at the mines when he saw the flames arising from his home. He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, but when he arrived his home had already been devoured by flames and his parents buried beneath the embers. Bjørn grew a hatred towards the men who carried with them the king's sigil. He had realised that day that there was nothing lawful about them.

His uncle let him live with him and his wife, they raised him like he was one of their own. His uncle had been a worker in the mines and took his father's position while teaching Bjørn the ropes of mining itself. He grew older and stronger in the dark, picking stone until his muscles ached, day-after-day. Then one morning he said his goodbyes, leaving his home to seek the men who had taken his parents from him.

Of course, too many years had passed for him to find them. Their faces had faded from his memory and their traces disappeared over time. He wasn't in peace, but he decided that helping others out would at least ease the still aching pain. Now traveling the land, he helps out wherever he can; keeping trade-routes safe, farmers who need an extra hand during the harvest, and more. These days, while being in the area, he spends his hours drinking and brawling with the local louts at 'The Retired Sword'.

Personality:
Bjørn Ulfrikson lives up to his name; he's a musclebound goliath of great proportions. He's large, a little hairy and richly decorated with ink.. - Did I mention that he's large? With his axe in one hand and a mug of ale in the other, he's often found causing havoc in taverns and other places of merriment. This bulky character is easily the brains of the group due to his vast knowledge of shapes and colours. - Okay, he's clearly the muscle and not one to be trusted with difficult decision making. His intelligence has proven problematic in the past; Violence is his preferred approach. Quick and easy.

But don't get fooled by those bulky arms and intimidating gaze. This ale-loving man could easily become your best friend. He's as loyal as a dog and would never leave someone behind. This (surprisingly huggable) giant's laughter could warm the coldest of hearts and he has proven himself to be more compassionate than people, and he himself, expect him to be. He has a good sense of right and wrong and serves justice as he deems fit, which might not always be the lawful way.

[User]
Aelrath was making his way through town avoiding areas with large amounts of people. He knew how elves were treated and also knew that being half-human didn't make a difference as far as most people were concerned. Even with his hood there was a possibility it would shift in a way that would reveal his pointed ears. He needed a place to stay while he looked for the mage who was supposed to be in town, learning new mid to high difficulty spells took more than a day or two.

He came to a stop outside a blacksmith's shop, he had not had a chance to temper and repair swords in over a week and fighting bandits on the way didn't help their condition. "Sorry to disturb you at this late hour but I was wondering if I could use your forge. I am willing to compensate you for your trouble," Aelrath said to the shop owner as he spoke he pulled out a handful of coins and laid them on the counter. "Yae ken use ma forge jus don burn da place down, eh mate?" The large man behind the counter said with a smile. Aelrath went to the back and was quickly absorbed in his work.

Aelrath was polishing his swords when he heard the sound of the guards rushing through the streets. He considered staying put or looking for a place to stay but his curiosity won over. Plus, he figured that if there was a battle the mage he had come to seek out would appear. He quickly sheathed his swords and ran after the guards, he stuck to the shadows and used a wind element spell to lighten his footsteps so as to draw less attention.

@SmileyJaws@Mesonyx@XenoCyanide

[Assistant]
---

There was something comforting and hypnotic in sharpening blades. The constant, rhythmic sssshhk of the whetstone as it glided across the edge of his dirks sang him a lullaby. He found no sleep that night for the raucous in the main lobby was something of a bother. He wasn't overly worried about it, however, as he appreciated the time to sit and think. It had been a while since he had the respite of a warm bed within four walls. When you expected a cloaked figure to place a blade across your throat in the middle of the night, a deep and peaceful sleep is hard to come by in the wilderness. He had just looked at his maps, deciding where his next destination would be. So deep within his own mind he was that he barely noticed that the noise below had subsided.

Lifting his head, he listened more intently. He could make out the scratching of plate and leather as they rubbed up against each other in a rhythm. The sound men made as they hurried in arms to wherever they were needed. He tried to discern how many of them there were but the noise was so chaotic, it was hard to tell. This intrigued him, as such a show of force was only necessary against a real threat and not some thief in the night. Rubbing the length of the blade on his dirks, he placed them back into the makeshift scabbards embedded in his waist sash. He then reached over and grasped his longsword, drawing the cords around his midsection and tightening it expertly. He thought a moment, deciding whether it was the most prudent move to grab his crossbow. If his past experience has taught him anything, is that there is never a wrong time for a ranged weapon and so he slung the bolts over his shoulder, letting the case rest at his mid-back and at a slight angle. The crossbow itself dangled in what appeared to be a three-point sling, and slid neatly back near his latissimus dorsi.

He had taken off his regular clothing in favor of his armor after seeing several more guards rushing with what appeared to be purpose. Something was definitely wrong, and he would take no chances here. No way in hell he was dying in some backwater township. Strapping on his gambeson, mail and leather, and light-weight plates at his shoulders and forearms, he proceeded out of the tavern. Instead of following the road, however, he found an easy access to the wooden roofs of the town, making note of which were thatched and not to guide his footing. His hand hovered over his crossbow as he peered into the distance where the guards were running, his other hand resting gently on the hilt of his sword, lifting it so as to not scrape any surface with the tip. He kept his profile low and his stride was deadly quiet. As he skulked through the rooftops of the town, making his way towards the commotion, his mind could not help but wander to the possibilities.

Had he finally found the dreaded beasts?

[User]
 With a tankard in his hand and his feet almost in the fire of the hearth in an attempt to dry his boots, Bjørn found himself satisfied for the day. He allowed a sigh to pass his lips before gulping down some ale, licking the remains out of his moustache. - Yes. These were the things he really appreciated after a long day of work. His arms had longed stopped aching from having gotten used to hard work, and his hands had gotten accustomed to the sting of wooden splinters from carrying around wooden logs all day. Still, it was work that had to be done and he was happy to help out and earn himself a drink and a warm plate at the end of the day.

Slowly the sound of laughing, shouting, and singing had died down within the tavern as a group of armed men rushed by. Interested, some around him had gotten up to get to the window, trying to peer through it to see what was going on outside. Soon enough the mumbling started as people were beginning to assume things. One said something about bandits, another spoke of wolves, until everyone had another vague story about what was happening. More than once, however, beasts were mentioned.
Easily drawn to battle, the idea that something was going on somewhere in or around town had Bjørn strangely excited. He had been looking over the rim of his drinking cup, staring out of the window where the last guard now quickly passed by, trying to keep up with his mates. Had it not been for the ale that now spilled past his lips, quickly dripping down his beard and onto his lap, he would've still been staring at that very same spot, waiting for something else to happen. Instead it made him snap out of it, cursing under his breath as he quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

Having decided that he wouldn't sit here while elsewhere there was chaos, so he rose to his full height, gulping down the remaining ale while his other hand was already resting on his axe. He ached for battle. He ached for danger. Slamming the tankard down, he then quickly made his way outside, pushing through the crowd and probably causing one or two patrons to get knocked off of their chairs. Not on purpose, might I say.

As Bjørn left the warmth of the tavern behind, stepping out into the night, he could see some others leaving the building. He could just catch the glimpse of a man, whose face was hidden beneath his hood, pass by him. There was little attention paid to him as there were other matters on Ulfrikson's mind. He had to catch up with those guards. Though disliking it very much - which was still an understatement - he started to march down the road, following the path which he assumed the guards had taken. His heavy steps could be heard from a mile away as he continued his way through the labyrinth that was Galloway. Luckily he wasn't the only one who seemed to be tracking the men, for he soon decided to follow yet another cloaked figure. - What was it with these cloaks, though? Bjørn couldn't imagine a comfortable situation while running around with a hood pulled over your head which had to be sliding up and down, or wherever it decided to go, obstructing the wearer's sight. Or he just didn't know how to properly wear a cloak.


[System]
Age: 23

Race: Tieflings

Chosen School of Magic:
Swordmage; Shielding/Assault
Pacting
Invocation; Destrucion
Conjuration

Alignment: Lawful Evil

 Kyvir is an Enormous man, standing at 6'7, and weighing about 235 lbs. He has a patch of thick scars over his mouth, though these are the only ones commonly visible. His back, torso, and legs however are covered in scars of varying length and thickness, and have come from whips, fights, and abuses too numerous to count. He isn't often deemed attractive, however he is seen as powerful, or intimidating at the least. His black eyes, combined with his harsh and scarred appearance often prevent people from approaching him, however few would dare call him ugly. His facial features are rough, just as his horns, and are both a deep, bloody red in tone.

 He can be found wearing Leather armour, or combat armour almost exclusively, and always carries his Sword and dagger. Beneath his layers of armour are layers of scars, splattered almost lazily over his muscular form. He walks with a sense of readiness, as if he is constantly waiting for someone to jump from the shadows and slay him where he stood. However, despite his size, he is surprisingly agile, and his movements do carry a sense of purpose.
Magical Talents:

Evocation - As with most Tieflings, Kyvir has a resistance to heat that allows him to use flame oriented magic in close combat. More often than not, he will set his own sword on fire during battle. He has also managed to set people entirely on fire during trials organized by Slavers

Abjuration - As Kyvir was intended to become a Slave Ward, he was required to learn how to create and maintain protective spells while fighting. He is capable, however he has found he uses evocation far more regularly.

Physical Talents:

 Born and Raised a fighting Slave, Kyvir is very familiar with pain. Whether it be a whip, a sword, or a staff, Kyvir has suffered through it multiple times. Because of this, Kyvir is able to fight in a very tank-like manner, and short of killing or amputating him, he's very difficult to hurt badly enough that he'll accept defeat.

 In addition to his tolerance for pain, Kyvir is a powerful fighter, his survival through each of his trials as a slave is testament to such. Kyvir learned the ways of killing at a very young age, and took his first life at nine during his initiation trials.

Weaknesses:

 Due to Kyvir's environment, he has abilities in particular fields almost exclusively, with little rounding of edges. While he is extremely talented at close to mid-range fighting, he is nearly useless at range; While he can create powerful protective spells, he can only maintain one at a time. All in all, Kyvir's capabilities are very specific, as he was bred to fill a very specific role, and he has little room for flexibility due to the harsh nature of his training. He was bred to become a ward, a guardian for a single person, not a soldier or city-guard.

Personality:

 While Kyvir could likely become an intellectual mastermind, he had any curiosity beaten out of him as a child. As such, his only interest in life has become subservience. He doesn't wish to lead, advice, strategize, or do anything but what he knows; obey and fight. He truly follows the archetype of "strong but silent," as he blatantly will not speak unless spoken to. Even then, he may not respond depending on whether or not he views them as an authority.

 Kyvir often carries a blank expression on his face, almost as if he is meditating. However, he simply prefers to avoid meaningless thoughts, and instead focusing on the task(s) at hand.

Character Flaws:

 Kyvir is a solemn, stoic man of unquestionable loyalty. However, he is not sided with a cause, nor a war, nor a party; but an individual. Whoever is placed under his Ward, he will obey and defend this person regardless of the circumstances. He will respond just the same regardless of the task at hand, whether escorting someone or burning a town into dirt and ash. He will obey, always.

Character History:

 Kyvir was bred and raised in the Eastern slave nation of Thay, a dark and foreboding land of windswept mountains and badlands. Being born into slavery, he had never known or craved another life, largely because he was a slave-ward. When Kyvir became of age, he would partake in the 10th and final trial in full view of numerous prospective buyers. Because of his status as a ward, Kyvir wasn't left to flock with the other multitudes of slaves, but would rather be isolated to his instructors and his slave kin. Because of their race, only one of the prospective Wards would survive the Final Trial, which consisted of all remaining slaves of a season being forced to battle until only one was left standing.

 Upon his birth, Kyvir's mother was executed and Kyvir was taken to where he would spend the first Twenty-Two years of his life, the House of Shields in the castle of Surthay, an elven region known as a Tharc, ruled by Homen Odesseiron. The first five years of his life were uneventful, as soon as he could walk he was tasked to assist the Castle's squires until the age of 7, when he would begin his initiation trials. At the age of Nine, he had taken his first life, one of dozens upon dozens.

 Throughout his life, he has passed through Ten trials, making him available to purchase. At the age of Twenty-Two, he was purchased by a High-Elf known to him as Lady Mornelis, who became his ward. As such, he began to accompany her to the arcanium she attended, as a student himself to avoid suspicion.

[User]
Garanin Stonehewer

Garanin was sleeping like a rock when he felt a disturbance on his face. The first poke startled him out of sleep. It wasn't until the third that he moved, a beefy hand swinging lazily at the interloper, only to hit into a piece of paper. "Uh whuzzat...?" Groaning, the dwarf sat up in his bed and looked down at the paper in his hand as it unraveled into a message. A quick read indicated that it showed which teacher he was going to be meeting with this morning. The Grand Enchanter Rovi, he was apparently called. That was certainly appropriate, since Enchanting was one of the only types of magic he could access with any regularity. Most other magics either fizzled out after a moment or were of...poor quality at best, though he'd seen some small successes with Restoration magic.

Taking his time to get dressed and armored, this time donning his full set of armor, Garanin looked about his room before taking stock. Breastplate, gauntlets, greaves, pauldrons, all accounted for. Making sure to grab his shield and hammer as well, Garanin stopped for just another moment, thinking to himself. He was at a school for mages, dressed like a soldier. He'd stick out like a sore thumb, but he'd stick out as soon as anybody asked him what magic he could use, anyway. He was certain "None, really" was a common response here.

Wondering how the few students he'd spoken to the previous day were doing, Garanin made his way to Grand Enchanter Rovi's room (being sure to avoid angering any otters on his way), solidly knocking on the door once he arrived. This was it. He was going to become a mage. Of some sort, at least.

[Assistant]
Isilfarrel Mornelis

---

"And here I was told High Elves were to be proud and noble,"

Isil was brought temporarily out of her thoughts by a sudden presence next to her.

"Yet here you stand looking like a child who was denied dessert before dinner. I take it you also have an issue with your assigned mentor?"

"C-childish?" Isil stuttered, remembering that she was in public and should at least not appear so impatient. She turned towards the man in question and gave him a slightly surprised look. "O-oh, uhm. Haha, I guess I am behaving rather childishly, aren't I? Having a bird peck at your cheek until you wake up tends to be rather grating on the nerves, especially if you're not much of a morning person and spent all night studying." She gave him a soft smile, laughing lightly as she held her hands together sheepishly. "Perhaps I should have had breakfast and taken a warm bath before speaking with the headmistress."

So she wasn't the only one who had an issue with their teacher, then? Curious, though she assumed she wouldn't be a unique case. There were always bound to be some people who were dissatisfied with their assigned mentors. That was just the way it was. Though, she didn't think she was behaving that childishly. Annoyed? Yes. Rightfully so in her opinion, but no need to advertise that.

"I am Isilfarrel Mornelis, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and yes well, I have something I wish to speak with the headmistress about."

[User]
Silias Aeson

---

"I am Isilfarrel Mornelis, pleasure to make your acquaintance, and yes well, I have something I wish to speak with the headmistress about."

"And I am Silias Aeson," he replied. "I look forward to learning more with you." Silias glanced again at the mentor assignments. By my father's blood, now I'm really curious... he thought. He glanced back up at Isilfarrel. "Truth be told, it's another interesting break from the typical High Elf routine. Not wanting to learn restoration magic, I mean."

Silias glanced back at the list of mentors. "So which one were you hoping to learn? Enchantment? Runes? Destruction?"

[Assistant]
Isilfarrel Mornelis

---

"Mhm. Destruction, actually, and I dabble a little in Alteration." Isil replied in a friendly tone. "Which...is not exactly something that I could easily learn in the Isles. Or was...a very popular subject to speak of." She didn't elaborate further on that - there was no need for him to know the details. It would have been clear from the slight frown she gave though, she at least wasn't telling the entire story to Silias. "Although, I fear I may have made a tiiiiny mistake on my application. Truthfully I have only been interested in learning magical arts for little over a year or so. While I am confident in my application and theory, I was a bit unsure what to classify it as at the time when I applied." She laughed lightly.

"And what of you, then?" She asked. "I actually don't recall reading your name on the list."

[User]
 After the feast, Kyvir had escorted his Mistress to her room and made way to his own, a steely glare ever-present on his scarred, red face. After arriving at his room, he stood at the door for a moment, staring at it intensely, thinking things he would never admit to. He shook the thoughts from his head and entered the room, casting a small spell on the lantern placed meticulously on a desk that, causing light to gently illuminate the entirety of his small quarters. After closing and locking the door behind him, he undressed to his undergarments, his scarred, leathery red skin seeming to almost glow in the soft light of the fire he had made. He neatly folded his clothing and placed it atop the only dresser his room had space to contain, and then proceeded to sit down in his desk, producing a small book from the top drawer of his desk. A Beginner's History to the Eastern Nations. The book's cover read in intricate, and excessive calligraphy. He didn't know ever word, but Tieflings weren't known for being stupid, and he was able to effectively understand some of the phrases his 'mentor' hadn't read aloud based upon the context of the sentences.

---

 Kyvir's eyes opened suddenly to the sound of peeking on his desk, and he found himself sitting with a straight back at the desk he had apparently fallen asleep at. The first thing Kyvir noticed was the book opened before him, and to his personal surprise he found that he had read his way through significantly more of the tome's contents than he had expected. Glancing at the top of the page, he found that he had read through to page 768 of the 974 page book, and with the closest thing to a smile he had made in a long time rise over his lips, he marked the page and closed the book, then placed it back in to the top drawer of his desk.

 With that taken care of, Kyvir turned his attention back to the pecking sound produced by another beautiful creature made of magic and dead wood. The tiefling and the bird made eye-contact, and Kyvir opened his hand for the bird to climb onto, and he waited for it's magic to unfold, and as it did, he let out a small sigh. Perhaps one day, you'll stay with me, he thought to himself as he unraveled the parchment and stared at the words gently scrawled across it. Understanding it's meaning, he quickly rose and dressed himself, and within moments, he was standing patiently outside the door of his Mistress's dorm, awaiting her return. He was not pleased that she had left for whatever task she was attending to, but the Arcanium was a safe enough place for her to do so without fear of attack.


[System]
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Species: Human?

Occupation: Professional exorcist and cleanser

Personality: He's a bit of a strange little guy. Lucas is very peculiar about who he interacts with and how. He doesn't like crowds, being photographed, cameras, or being asked questions. Any of these things will have him become frustrated and he'll probably storm off in a huff. He can be a bit childish. If irritated, he will quickly resort to lashing out physically to get his point across. Seeing as he can't yell, one might think that this is his alternative.

If one gets on his good side, he's typically a mild, friendly man. Once he decides he trusts someone, he doesn't seem as stand offish anymore.

Appearance: Lucas can easily be described as a bean pole: tall and lanky. He's been told often that he's too thin and needs to gain weight. Lucas has a PEG tube that sticks out of his abdominal wall; it's basically a port straight to his stomach where liquid food and nutrition can be pumped. Due to the all liquid diet, he stays just above underweight.

He's pretty unassuming looking: hidden under oversized clothes with his face tucked into a scarf. He has a head of messy black hair, usually worn short due to his tendency to not take care of it. He has a natural olive tone of his skin, hinting at a possible Italian heritage. His eyes tend to catch people's attention. Some say he has the eyes of a feral animal, dark and a bit wild. Others say they see the eyes of a sad hound dog. Either way, his eyes are dark brown, the color almost indistinguishable from his pupils.

Lucas's most predominant feature by far is his face. He sort of doesn't have one. While his forehead and eyes appear normal, Lucas's face below the bridge of his nose is malformed. His nose appears to be incomplete, like someone cut the fleshy end off of it. And he completely lacks a mouth. His chin is narrow and pointed, his features almost elfish in appearance. If not for the deformities of his face, Lucas might be considered handsome.

Other:

Lucas has a very unique skill set. He has a 'gift'. Lucas can draw energy from surrounding sources, fire, sunlight, heat, electricity, and produce his own light. This light burns monsters that get too close to it, namely demons and vampires. While his light in ineffective towards werewolves, witches, and most other foul creatures, most are unable to touch his skin as if it were made of silver.

His gift of light is accompanied by an ability to defeat demons in a way that even the most experienced of priests have yet to figure out. When he comes into contact with the creatures, he seems to absorb them. If he is performing an exorcism, he draws the demon from the victim and into himself. This usually results in a short inner battle before the demon is completely eradicated. So far, Lucas himself has never been possessed.

weaknesses: Because of his deformity, Lucas is mute.

When tackling more powerful demons, there is a chance that they may escape, weakened, rather than be destroyed. After dealing with demons of high power, Lucas usually has to take time to recover.

Biography:

Where Lucas came from isn't entirely clear. He showed up in LA during a string of violent possessions at the hands of demons. He had been only just a boy, no older than 9, when he proved his worth by banishing demons that even the most experienced priests couldn't. The boy was a gifted exorcist.

It didn't take long for a local priest to take the young boy in. He allowed Lucas to live at the church, very interested by the boy and his mysterious heritage. Even as he has grown, not much is known of how Lucas came to be, or even what exactly he is. It seems to be a touchy subject, and he becomes impatient and irritable if asked about it. He, himself, doesn't even seem to know the entire story.

Lucas has remained at the church, being called on for particularly difficult demon cases. Some people have come to avoid taking his help, as the process in which he removes demons from their victims seems to have a 10% chance of killing the victim. While these deaths seem completely accidental, some the patrons of the church and demonology world have labeled the strange man as a murderer.

Supporting Characters:

Father Walter: The priest that serves as Lucas's main caregiver. He watches over the odd ward and allows him to live at the church for free. Father Walter is in his middle ages, and has been an exorcist for many years now. Priests of his experience level are becoming a rare breed. As the years go by, less and less people believe in possession, and mental illness tends to be blamed for the culprit. He took Lucas in because he saw the boy as a valuable asset, and he didn't want him to fall into the wrong hands.

See No Evil: He is a man around Lucas's age, cleverly named Seymour. He, like Lucas, is deformed. He has no eyes. Seymour also has powers similar to Lucas. He lives in Louisiana and is sort of a penpal to Lucas after having heard about him from an acquaintance. It's still yet to be discovered if there is a third "Hear No Evil".

[User]
It was in an interlude between two songs that the Society started their attack, and Bobby snarled as he barely moved out of the way of an oncoming bullet. This wasn't the first time that the trio had dealt with Hunters, so it's not like they were unprepared. He and the other two weaved backstage, where they had counter-measures waiting for them. Sammy grabbed a duffel bag, opening it and throwing an assault rifle each to Bobby and Jake. They weren't going to shift unless they had to. "Alright boys, be careful of civilians, head straight to the exit, and straight to the car." The trio nodded to each other, taking a moment to prepare before moving back out of the backstage green room.

Bobby held the front, assault rifle in hand, dodging between any pieces of cover he could find. He wasn't the best shot, but he was capable, squeezing the trigger whenever his crosshairs fell over a Hunter. Jake watched the rear, staying low. He was a better shot than Bobby, though he definitely excelled in close combat, the butt of his rifle meeting the skulls on any hunter stupid enough to get close. Sammy was much quicker, wielding two pistols instead. As a Ragabash, he was naturally agile, dodging and weaving as he put bullet after bullet into oncoming hunters with pretty decent aim. Hopefully their combined skills were enough to get them out of there.

[Assistant]
Hector Sea

 The cultists started to surround Hector. They demanded that they put their leader down. Hector obliged. Hector opened up his mouth out of it came a horrific, murky darkness pouring out like vomit. It flew into the air and into the orifices of the cultists, they began to shake violently as their blood started pouring out of their eyes, mouths, nose and etc. They writhed in pain on the ground as they squirmed, the blood from their bodies being drained. The blood raised into the air as it all came into Hector, restoring his Blood Pool. Hector looked at the dead cultists, scoffed and headed back to Ventrue tower.

 The lights came out in Lacroix's office again. Lacroix knew who it was, and looked behind his shoulders as the lights came back on.

 "So I'm assuming you've made some progress into the Cult?" Lacroix asked.

 "Yes, they're hiding out in a beach house in Santa Monica." Hector said.

 "Good, I've arranged for your own personal transportation. Here is a driver's license. Now go to Santa Monica" Lacroix said.

 Hector took the license and disappeared back into the shadows.

 Tony Lee

Tony ducked and dived between tables and to the exit. Some Society members were blocking the exit. Tony opted to not shift into his war form and shift into his Near-Man form instead. With a few swift punches Tony knocked out the two Society members blocking the exit and headed out the door. As Tony headed out into the parking lot, Yukie spotted the 7 feet tall Tiger man and assumed it was Tony. She drove up to him and Tony entered the car.

 "We follow that girl, she has strange powers!" Yukie said. Yukie slammed on the gas and started to follow Simone.

[User]
"I wish I had healing powers," spoke Priscilla as she used more telekinetic force to sever the bonds holding Lucas, before taking out her phone and calling an ambulance. She would then lead the young man outside, after giving him a new scarf, and then wait. Once the ambulance came, the Female Priest would say:

"I remember you now; you're the ward of 'the competition'," by that she meant Father William. "I don't want to meet that guy, so, I'll be leaving you alone to the paramedics for now."

And with that, the paramedics would pick Lucas up, begin administering first aid, and drive off.

@Metronome@Grec

[Assistant]
As Priscilla left, Lucas held up his good arm, his hand outstretched. He didn't want to be left alone; even if his only other option was a woman he didn't really care much for. She had still saved his life. But once she was gone, he couldn't stop her. Lucas huddled on the doorstep of the church. He shivered, somehow still cold even with a scarf and sweater, and mostly just scared. He jumped when the lights of the ambulance pulled into the parking lot. Instinctively, he burrowed his face into the scarf he was given.

"We found our guy; he's alone. Bringing him to the truck," One of the EMTs said into a walkie talkie as he got out and approached. "Hey buddy. What happened?" He referred the question to Lucas, who did nothing but stare at him wide eyed. The EMT approached him and pointed to his wrist. "Can I look at that?"

Lucas hesitated, then offered up his swollen wrist. "Looks broken," The EMT said, mostly to himself and to his partner. The other one, an older woman, seemed to gather that Lucas was too nervous to follow them without some coaxing. She approached and knelt down by him.

"Hey hun," She said softly, "We're going to take you to the hospital; you'll be safe there. Did you call PD?" She turned her head back towards the man to ask the question. The man nodded.

"They'll be waiting at the hospital."

The woman turned back to Lucas. "Come on with us, sweetheart." Lucas shakily stood, his willowy frame being held up in part by the woman taking him under his good arm. "What happened to you?" When Lucas didn't answer, she moved to pull down his scarf. Naturally, he jerked away, but the woman got her fingers under it and pulled. "Oh my god," She gasped. Her partner, who had started to head back towards the truck, turned back and stopped in his tracks.

"Uh...hey Tuck, what exactly was this call for again?" He asked into his talkie.

"Assault, why?" The third man, still in the truck, replied.

"I think there might be something else going on here."

____________________________________________________

The ride to the hospital was too long and too odd. The EMTs kept giving him quick side glances. He kept his scarf on, and had done his best to re-situate it with one hand. Upon arriving at the hospital, he was quickly overwhelmed by nurses. No one had seen anything like him before. Someone just born without a mouth? No scars, no burns, just the way he was born? They started asking him questions about where he was hurt, and really it was only his wrist that he cared about. Once the initial check in process was over, a police officer walked in to ask him question about who had attacked him and why. Lucas just sank further and further into the thin mattress of the stretcher. Finally, he was given a blanket to cling to and was asked for any phone numbers that they could call.

Lucas quickly wrote down Father Walter's cell phone number. He refused to let them do anything else until the priest arrived. Any time a nurse tried to come in to start and IV on him, he would grab the kit and launch it across the room. This earned him a scolding by the hospital security, who said that if he kept throwing things, they would have to restrain him. Luckily, around that time, Father Walter showed up.

His face showed deep concern. He hadn't even realized that Lucas had left the church; it wasn't like he'd let anyone know. And now, Lucas just turned up beaten? Who would do such a thing?

"Lucas," Father Walter said in a stern voice. "Let them do what they need to do."

The thin young man looked up, and quickly held out his good arm towards the priest. Father Walter approached and took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I'm glad you're okay. I just got a call that you were in the emergency room; I almost had a heart attack."

Lucas looked away from him, the guilt starting to set in. Father Walter pulled up a plastic chair and sat by the stretcher. He held onto Lucas's bony hand, which was surprisingly cold, and kept him calm while the nurses came in to finally get their job done. Father Walter answered what questions he could about Lucas's medical history, but he really didn't know a whole lot. He had found Lucas as an odd little boy, about nine years old, and took him in. Father Walter, having become a priest after his wife died, had never had children. And when he found Lucas, he knew what God needed him to do. Although his ward was could be very difficult at times, he was a gifted young man. And Father Walter had come to think of Lucas as if he were his own son. It certainly frightened him to think that Lucas was out making enemies with the types of people to do this sort of thing.

Once his arm was re-set and placed in a cast, Lucas was sent home a bit doped up and a little more relaxed. Father Walter drove him back to the church in silence, letting him fall asleep against the door of the passenger side.


[System]
Archetype: Vigilante
Alias: Gunrat

Age: 25

Powers:
-Superhuman reflexes and flexibility
-Individually focusing eyes
-Pain resistance
-Metal plating under her scalp, forearms, and shins.
-The ability to dislocate any body part/joint at will.
-Mastery of Chinese martial arts

 -Note: A great deal of her power comes not from her physical ability, but from her connections to weapon-smugglers, anarchist groups, and other various factions. Her origins in China, and illegal immigration to America, means that there is no public record of her existence. As far as the government is concerned, she's a ghost.

Weaknesses: Bullets, knives, drowning, fire, explosions

Alignment: Walking the line

Personality: Traumatized, Logical, Trigger-happy, Prideful, Loyal

Appearance:

 Xiu is Chinese-American, 5'4", with a round, flat face, sickly pale skin, wide eyes, thin eyebrows, and a large forehead. Her head is shaved down the middle, with amber-died ponytails on either side. Her build is slim, but also very fit. She wears steel-toed boots, work jeans, and a thick leather jacket.

BRIEF Bio:
Storylines: Xiu was born the daughter of two Taiwanese political activists, who made it their goal in life to delegitimize the Chinese government, and incite civil war. When pro-Taiwan protests began breaking out around China in the 1990's, her parents were at the very front of the movement. Fearing that this civil unrest could spread, the government used military force to break up the protests, sending citizens fleeing to their homes. That night, police operatives broke into the homes of those involved in inciting the protests, including Xiu's parents. They were imprisoned, interrogated, and eventually killed, leaving her as a child of the state. Needless to say, no media sources were allowed to cover this, and the world went on completely unaware.
 From early childhood, Xiu was raised by various agents of the Chinese Ministry of State Security. Their goal was to create an assassin to infiltrate the governments of Taiwan, Japan, and America giving China direct leverage over the life and death of any state officials who might stand in the country's way. Training included various mental and physical experiments and surgeries, in an attempt to make her more agile and durable than a normal human. This also necessitated that she be fluent in Chinese, Japanese, and English. Chemical and surgical treatments overclocked her brain, reinforced her muscle fibers, and replaced her joints, boosting her agility, intelligence, and flexibility beyond normal human means, but left her nervous system fried and numbed, and her personality a neurotic mess. In spite of these setbacks, her resourcefulness surpassed their expectations. As a teen, she was able to hack into the ministry's computer network, and review all of the ministry's data, including her own file. Learning of her parent's cause in full detail, and how expendable she was to the state that killed them, she decided that she owed nothing to the government that raised her. Distraught, she became uncooperative to her handlers and teachers. Before too long, it was decided that she was a lost cause, and was scheduled for execution. Learning of this, she subdued her guards, and escaped the facility.
 Xiu traveled to Shanghai, where she survived for over a year by robbing street vendors and convenience stores. Eventually, she made it onto a freighter on its way to America. There she found a new purpose, modeling herself off of America's many superheroes. With the help of a couple anti-government hacker groups, she began monitoring and capturing low-level criminals, wannabe supervillains, and corrupt politicians. Unbound by the moral compass that leads most heroes, she sees herself as superior to them, and hopes to replace more traditional super-groups with her own vigilante, paramilitary organization.

Note: Will be operating not just by herself, but with her non-powered minions/sidekicks (mostly hackers and smugglers, almost always on the sidelines).

Storylines: Will initially be trying to smuggle weapons into the city, and supplant the local police force (through peaceful, but sneaky means). If interfered with, rivalries might form with either heros or villains. She's also looking for recruits into her organization.

[User]
And with last jump spinning back-kick, Stuart knocked out the last thug before him and the man tumbled to ground. Stuart was breathing heavily, his adrenaline was going almost full blast and he felt almost relieved to have the battle over. While it was exciting, it still meant going through the dangers of potentially dying and Stuart wasn't a man without fear. He then turned to head back towards where Paul had finished off his share of the criminals and as he came upon the larger hero, Paul asked him if he had any food.

"I don't have honey if that's what you're asking. You'll have to make a stop by a fast food place I guess" he replied to the bigger hero. Stuart didn't know much about Paul Bunyan, the stories say that the hero is the creator of America in the flesh and is over two hundred years old. The power that the hero possessed seemed awesome compared to his and Stuart wasn't one for bragging about his abilities.

In truth two of them seemed to be exact opposites. Paul was big and strong, while Stuart was small and quick. He was smart and Paul was kind of slow. Some say that opposites can sometimes the complimentary in terms of teamwork. Maybe this whole fight was so that they could meet and team up. The Yellow Jacket and The Builder of America, that would be an interesting team.

[Assistant]
Polaris

Stardate 2116055.7 - May 05th, 2016 // 1900 Hours

Luxe was sitting back with her feet on the control panel, munching on a frozen blue substance from Karth. She enjoyed the different cold delicacies the galaxy had to offer.

The warning lights came on and the computer informed her that she was fast approaching her newest destination, a planet called Earth. She had come to seek out a weapon left behind by an ancient civilization, still undiscovered by the primitive inhabitants that lived there at present. Her father would no doubt be sending scouts to find the weapon as well. It was one of the missions he had prepared to send his daughter on to help ensure his continuation as the current head of power in the Cabal. Luxe put her feet back on the floorboard of the Star-Breaker and began flipping switches and pushing buttons as the ship descended into the Earth's atmosphere. "Terrestrial Camouflage on, S.B." she said aloud to the ship's A.I. "Cloaking on, Captain. Currently looking for a suitable place to land near New Athens."

"It's alright, put 'er on manual. I got this," said Luxe as she expertly guided the ship down from the clouds and into a Valley that was mostly empty pasture. She let down the landing arms with a hydraulic hiss. (pffsssshhhhht) "Can you locate the weapon?" she asked Star-Breaker. "Currently, it seems as if there is a cloaking device on the weapon, Captain. I am finding no traces of it in the New Athens area. Do you want me to expand the search? It could take a few hours to include the whole continent."

Luxe thought about this for a second, and then jumped up out of her chair. "Yeah, go ahead and expand the search, I have never had a chance to explore this planet before. Maybe I can find something good to eat. Besides, I've been stuck in that chair for too long." The ship chirped approval and the computer monitors began showing data and locations in ribbons across the screens. She wished she had commandeered a bigger ship with a wardrobe unit that could outfit her with the planet's attire. She had no idea what the current fashion was here. She put on her duster and combed down her hair, after a second thought she left her pulse rifle on board- worried that it might draw unwanted attention.

"Hello world," she said as she pushed the button for the airlock and squinted against the incoming sunlight.

[User]
May 3rd, 3:34 am, Downtown New Athens

 Gunrat and her accomplice, Jiao, had been searching the area for over an hour, with no sign of their target. Letting out a sigh of frustration, Gunrat leaned against a wall and put her fingers to her right ear.

 "Zhang", she grunted.

 "Yes ma'am?", a timid voice responded.

 "The damn thing got away. Any sign on police comms?"

 "Just the corpses she reanimated, ma'am, and it sounds like they've all been taken care of by now."

 "Alright", Xiu grumbled conclusively. "Guess we're heading home for the night. Tell the cops the area's clear, and they can start cleaning up."

 "Yes ma'am".

 With that, the two vigilantes made their way out of the building, and down an alley to Jiao's parked van. Hopping in, they began their drive back to HQ. Xiu crouched in the back and began undressing, checking over her body for damage. She found minor scrapes and scratches along her arms and shins, as well as a sizeable purple splotch under her left arm. With enough time, Xiu knew her ribs would heal on their own. Taking a quick look at her jacket, it was almost entirely undamaged. Clearly, most of the shock had been transferred straight into her.

 "Hey Jaio." she called to the driver

 "Wei shima?" the slender Chinese man responded.

 "Tell Qing to make the next jacket with thicker padding."

 "Wo hui." he confirmed.

 A few moments later, the van screeched to a halt in an inconspicuous garage, at the base of a weathered three-story building. Past the broken elevator, up the staircase to the third floor, Xiu entered the suite, brushed past Zhang with a lazy wave, and collapsed on her bed in the next room.

May 3rd, 2:17 pm

 Xiu sat on the side of her bed, rag in one hand, an unloaded revolver in the other. The Ghoul had gotten blood on her gun, and she hoped to fully clean and re-oil it. As she scrubbed away, she heard Zhang shout from the other room.

 "Ma'am!"

 "What is it, Zhang?" she shouted back.

 "We've got another hit. NABC HQ! Police comms are going wild!"

 "Ghoul?" she inquired.

 "No ma'am. They're not sure what this is. Reports of civilians being flung through windows. Looks like they've already called the SWAT team."

 "Tian'a!" Gunrat exlaimed. "Jiao, start the van! We're moving!"

 From across the suite, Gunrat heard thumping as her driver bounded to the stairs. Putting her uniform on, holstering her pistols, and slinging her rifle across her shoulder, Xiu was out the door right behind Jiao.

Across Town

 The van pulled into a junk-filled alley, just beneith a fire escape. Gunrat hopped from the roof of the van to the fire escape, and made her way up the building. Taking position at the top, across the street from the NABC building, Gunrat peered through her rifle's scope. Jiao stayed below, guarding the van, assault rifle in hand. Through the window she could see a great deal of commotion. Gunshots were going off right and left, and the lower floors were littered with bodies.

 "Any word on the target?" Gunrat asked.

 "Yes ma'am" Zhang responded through her earpiece. "Security footage shows blue hair, black clothes, mask covering her lower face."

 "And how is she surviving all these gunshots I'm hearing?"

 "Can't confirm, ma'am, but looks like psychokinetics of some sort."

 "Well," Gunrat whispered into her earpiece. "time to say hello."

 "Ma'am?"

 Gunrat locked her sights on a sprinkler head, protruding from the building's ceiling, just barely visible from her vantage point. At once, the offices of the NABC began showering themselves with water.

 "Zhang. I want you to cut the power to that building. Kill as much of the grid as you have to. I want my target to be wandering in the dark."

 "Yes ma'am."