[System]
Blood: PURE. BLOOD.
Age by appearance: 14
Immortal age: 169
Appearance:

House: Grangrel
Rank: Adjutant
Short bio (+personality):Igraine is the result of Amaury's fleeting interest in the pleasures of 'younger flesh', Igraine's mother having been turned at the age of 14 and kept as a sort of concubine. While no one would dare ridicule Amaury Grangrel to his face, having Igraine's mother around invited an awkward and silent judgment that became simply too inconvenient to maintain. Igraine's mother was dismissed from Amaury's side to become a low-ranking and clout-less member of House Grangrel. It is into this unusual disgrace that Igraine was born; however, she sought instead to rise in the ranks based on her own merit in spite of the stigma surrounding her.

Unable to physically age beyond 14, Igraine knew she would have a hard time putting herself to work in the brothel competing against the more well-endowed individuals. Of course, part of her also wanted to distance herself as much as possible from her mother's folly. Instead, she became something one would least expect of a girl who would perpetually be in her young teens, 'muscle'. Igraine started off learning how to fight in order to protect the house and its businesses, though soon she demonstrated a knack for management, allowing her to take on the heavy responsibility of managing the House's drug cartel as well as training House members in combat.

Strangely enough, she doesn't resent her father, admiring him for his strength and dominance. As Amaury's daughter, Igraine considers herself superior to the rest of the House, though no one takes her seriously and she doesn't have the support of Amaury to back up her arrogance. Where it counts, she keeps in line, but for the most part she is petulant and demanding, scathing and critical. Igraine absolutely despises Persephone for being Amaury's favorite. Igraine also considers humans as livestock and wouldn't be caught dead romancing one as her concept of pure-blooded-ness is restricted to children of vampire parents (both parents, of course), in other words: herself and those like her. Igraine's demeanor switches constantly between a coy, childish innocence, and a mature, sadistic tyrant. She's not above ingratiating herself to men with her nubile graces to get what she wants, but more often than not, she flies off the handle and resorts to violence instead, preferring force to guile. Anyone who calls her 'Iggy' or tells her that her full name is pretty hard to pronounce is punished instantly.

[User]
Willamar "Will" Shriver | 8:15PM | London Pub-Bloody Good Bar- Event
complex

One moment holding his glass of brandy, eyes scanning the contents of one of the papers set out before him…the next, pushing his chair back from the broken table, and the man who had crashed through it. Coming closer to check on the man, it seemed apparent that he was alright. Unconscious, coughing up blood and teeth onto one of the papers (dammit), but alright enough.

Brows rising slowly at seeing the small posse of men approach, Will stooped a moment to grab the papers where they had thankfully not scattered too wildly, and held a hand up as he folded them, stowing them away in his jacket pocket, "Stop, I have no quarrel with you." That worked to stop them for only a lone second, seeing him calm and speaking clearly, but they advanced all the same. He, on the other hand, had taken a quick sidelong glance.

The barman wasn't at his place before the counter…drats, the man always took care of his business. Eyes back to focusing on the group, seeing as there was some distance between them; Willamar took the moment to duck along the side and behind the counter. Ah, there he was…the barman was unconscious on the ground, broken bottle by his head. Taking a moment to check and make sure the man was alright...all the same, the man wasn't certain how the man would feel about having his firearms handled by even the most civil of patrons. Then again, his blooming headache was killing him.

Standing up behind the counter, Willamar held up the barman's scattergun up over his head with one hand, really feeling its weight before cupping his free hand to the side of his mouth. Speaking with a loud, clear, and very stern voice that commanded attention, "Take it outside." One of the disgruntled patrons took a step closer, and with a swift motion, the rifle was pointed his way, cool eyes not even locking onto him, "Now."

[Assistant]
---

-Under Priced-@Themerlinhawk@Nytem4re@BlackPanther@Neko Sensei@lovely complex
From the shadows of the stage, a familiar black figure steps forward. Lyla hears "them" approach, yet at the first sight of this thing, she faints right into their arms, collapsing from anxiety. No facial features can be made out in their heavy garb, and the foul stench of long dead corpses radiates their body. The host, startled, leaps backwards, a look of dread and perplexity on his face. "Hey! Get off the stage! You're not allowed up here!" the owner cries.

The Wraith takes one look at him, pulls an asymmetrical dagger from their cloak, and shoves it into the host's throat. The man clutches at his throat, blood squirting out from his carotid artery. He falls from the stage, and the audience panics, screams echoing through the hall. People start to flee, terrified by the appearance of this creature.

"250 pounds, my sweet Sir Craven? Don't make me laugh. This girl is priceless, considering what she is." the assassin called out, holding Lyla with one arm. A courtesan tries to be a hero, rushing the black garbed person with a broken beer bottle. With uncanny reflexes, the Wraith counters and twists her arm all the way around, completing severing it from the poor lady's shoulder. The would be savior collapses, bleeding out on the stage. "What... are you...?" the dying courtesan asks.

Tossing the severed arm onto her quickly fading body, the unidentifiable person laughs giddily. "A monster, of course."

The assassin stares at Lyla, running a single finger across her delicate face. "She is lovely, isn't she? So yummy and scrumptious..." A long tongue unfurls from the shrouded hood, winding down and caressing her ear lobe. "How wonderful she tastes... Like chocolate and nutmeg." its whispery, androgynous voice purrs. A moment later, the Wraith throws down a tiny, glass ball. An eruption of smoke fills the stage, and the creature starts to make its getaway, moving supernaturally fast out the back door.

As chaos reigns, the screams of the fleeing people of Cabaret Voltaire can be heard for miles. (@Major Ursa)

---

-Uninvited Guests-@Jangel13
As Lorenzo and his posse enter the dreary asylum, there is a sudden feeling that something isn't right. It's as if someone or something is watching them. The dhampir and his group only make it to the first cell block before an arrow flies overhead.

"Stay away from my territory." a female voice rings out, yet the woman is unseen in the darkness of the asylum. On both sides of the group, banging against the metal doors can be heard. The cries of the insane rise up, shouting at the vampires outside their cells. A young, lightly tanned woman, perhaps 16, saunters up to Lorenzo's gang before stopping at a safe distance. The raven haired lady wears torn clothing, as if she has seen many a battle. At her side, a curved scimitar waits to be drawn. She raises her bow, a glinting arrow poised to strike.

"Leave! I know why you're here. These are my people though. I will not let you harm them."

[Feel free to interact with her however you please.]

---

-Unfortunate Circumstances-@luclovers
Before Elizabeth knows it, screams can be heard outside her coach. People are yelling something about a monster in the Red Light District. The driver has trouble controlling the horses, who are spooked by the sudden swarms of people and loud noises. Taking off on a bumpy ride, the side of Elizabeth's carriage smacks into the side of building. The driver is thrown off, and suddenly the coach now without a pilot. Innocent civilians are trampled by the terrified horses, their hooves crashing down wildly. The vampiress doesn't get a chance to jump to safety as the carriage flips onto its side when the horses take a turn much too sharply.

A troupe of good Samaritans see the crash and quickly rush to assist the woman inside. While Elizabeth is able to help herself out before this ensemble of merry looking gentlemen get to her, one covers with a warm, wool blanket. "Miss, are you okay?" a brunette man asks. The other few merely stare at her, one in particular studying her very hard. A moment later, the studious one steps forward. "Wait. Gentlemen, I've seen her... She's a Grangel! She's not supposed to be in these parts. Get her!" the man shouts.

The man in charge of this party was average height and bald, yet he carried a fierce aura of leadership. While it wasn't stated, it was fairly obvious this man was also a Guardian. His band of merry gentlemen suddenly turned into quite a mob. Advancing on Elizabeth, one stated "Francois will be happy to have the bitch."

[Use your guile and cunning, Elizabeth, for there shall be a manhunt!]

[User]
The Chase

The door, the Wraith's back, several patrons and the door frame all took several four inch long needles. The motion had been blindingly fast from Sir Craven, as the shock and panic started to set in he vaulted the table in front of him and barreled through the smoke and out the back door. You won't escape so easily; who do you take me for? With another bound Thomas launched himself over the other patrons. The door splintered when his shoulder hit it at top speed and he continued his momentum up part of a wall. The brief wall run let him bypass the squatters in the back alley; though he doubted if they noticed.

The stench of corpse was still strong and he could hear the fucker; the training was finally paying off. All the years in the middle east, the orient. Years and years with secret sects learning rampantly, studying, consuming all the knowledge they had to offer. Finally a test. Tucking the cain under his left arm close to his body Thomas ran like a shadow on the moon. The wind whipping through his hair as he ran Thomas smiled. There was no reason to be chasing her but his curiosity had been piqued by the girl. Was was this creature after her? What did he mean priceless? Blood pounding in his ears the call of a knight in shining armor resounded in his head again. This was an odd feeling to have again.

With a flick Thomas unclasped his cloak and let it drop behind him into the night. Time to hunt.

[Assistant]
Vikas Helsing

Vikas watches the woman (lyla) as the two men argue he gives a heavy eye roll and softly makes his way toward the stage. His plan was to tell her to run. That he would meet up with her and help her, but she just had to run. He pickpockets one of te patrons that aren't paying attention this one paying off far more then the woman from earlier. His plan seemed quite solid.

That is...until the chaos started. The woman faints into a monster (whom he can tell is a vampire) and starts his large chaotic mess. He can't help but groan, now he has to rush about to his hide away to get his stuff and try to save her. Great. When the smoke fills the room he runs...making it seem as if he vanished. As he goes a knife in his ring shoots out as he stabs a alley squatter in the neck, gulping blood quickly he drains the man and drops the body, probably easy for anyone else to find but with the three other scents coming through who knows what they would think. He then proceeds in leaping onto a roof top. He can smell all three scents and follows the cinnamon one.

As he runs on rooftops with ease he stops at one rather abo denied looking house swinging into it through a window. He grabs a hooded cloak, his armor, crossbow, braces with knives, a belt with crossbow bolts for that self reloading crossbow, and some self made bombs. He had made all of this himself finding that others cannot make anything close. With a nod he pulls up his hood and swings back through the window, his coat left in a box and covered with strongly scented materials. His cloak covering his face as he runs back along rooftops, still quite fast all things considering.

He is unsure of which would be more dangerous, the monster he was following or the noble that had bid on the woman. Either way he would find out. He also can't help but wonder if those he left in there..but he was busy with this. His daggers still tucked hidden away, causing him to be armed to the t.

@Viciousmarrow

[User]
Igraine slowly blinked awake, but the moment she realized that she had been shackled, she instinctively struggled against her chains, causing quite a loud rattle. Igraine quickly realized that it was a futile attempt and looked around the room. The first thing to capture her attention was the powerful aura that reclined in front of her, a force on par with her father. She wondered if she was face-to-face with an Elder; after all, no human could have such an aura. Igraine also wondered if these were her last moments on Earth. The next thing she noticed was her pike at the man's feet. Turning, she could see the boy who she believes stole her coca; which in turn makes her notice that she cannot see the coca in this room, though she attempts to confirm its presence with her nose, though she first catches Ravnos' scent. The man smelled of waterfall mist, but instead of thinking of the gentle softness of dew suspended in air, Igraine thought instead of the rumbling power of the waterfall behind the mist, an endless cascading roar that cracked rocks, dashed bones, and cleaved mountains.

Looking at Elder Ravnos, Igraine attempts a smile and tries to play coy, if he wanted to kill her, he probably would have done so already. "It appears that I am at a disadvantage, my Lord," Igraine said, referring to the fact that she was tied up as well as to the fact that she had no idea who he was, though he likely knew who she was, considering what Madame Fortworth had said earlier. "The madame out front told me I'd be getting that back soon," Igraine motioned to her pike with her chin.


[System]
Age:

22

Appearance:

 Subject stands 160 cm (5'2") in height. Subject also has light hazel eyes with short hair to match.

Abilities:

 Subject possesses an unobserved form of  Affinity with Pain*  (*Suffering?): Record has the Subject breaking a door off its hinges when it was accidentally closed on and injured her fingers. While it was evident there was damage – multiple broken phalanxes and torn skin – the injury seemed to have never happened, suggesting a Regenerative Healing Factor. The strength which she gained to break the door was hypothesized to come from her injury.

 The extent to which the two abilities are able to reach is unknown. Further insight is needed.

History:

 Subject is of Gaelic origin, raised in The United Kingdom. Parents show no obvious signs of empowerment, and have therefore the hypothesis that the Subject's abilities are of a spontaneous mutation is further supported. Parents are a non-factor.

 Subject is a student of Department of Law in the  London School of Economics and Political Science  – top of her class, with multiple intern experiences with many important figures. Many people know her.

 Her current residence is in the central London area, alone, supported with her position of Paralegal in Yip Tse & Chiang, a Chinese-based law firm.

[User]
Part 1 - Chapter 1 - Conformity and The Weird

The window view to the office showed the side of a mountain – the Eastern face of a crater so impossibly high, or impossibly deep as a result of a meteorite crash aeons ago. The outpost provided suitable coverage from radio frequency and from plain-sight; they were practically invisible. A tunnel was bored from the South face of the crater, its road connecting to an intricate network of roads in the encampment within. A side-road – a vein, if you will – connected the office to the central headquarters – the heart of the facility. This sector was Logistics.

---

In the Central Headquarters Science, Research and Development Division

[Assistant] In the Central Headquarters Science, Research and Development Division

[Assistant]
---

Cody O'Niel set the glass down, and gave an almost shy smile to the the woman watching him, and resumed the lying position he had been in before asking for water. He closed his eyes, and slowed his breathing over a period of time, as if he was falling asleep. internal log, some damn time in the morning, who knows in here? They appear to want something from me, no doubt interested in what I can do. What can I do? Perhaps this would be a time to find out, but how can I do so, imprisoned like this.

Can I manage to trick them, to make it seem like I am willing? Already taking some steps in that direction, but how long will it take? Am I the only one here? Can I escape, and if so, can I find anyone else here? What exactly is happening, here? I should sleep, who knows what they will do to me after all. Got to keep my strength up, but it's just so damn noisy here.

I hope Moe is alright, poor courageous puppy.

---

[User]
Cell 29 - Central Headquarters Science, Research, and Development Division

Gershwin awoke in tears and sweat. Was all that real? What happened to those people? What kind of …thing could do that? What kind of thing would do that…?

Why was she seeing all this? Were these nightmares retelling her past lives? Was there even any truth to that? Pangs of guilt and shame came part and parcel after waking up from every horrific dream – but why is it that she could remember every single moment of inflicted and sustained pain but felt none of it when waking up, as if she actually lived it?

This was her fifth nightmare throughout the night. By now she accepted her current state; how is it that a top-honours law student is tied in a straitjacket in a padded room? She screamed for help but no one came – no one came before and she was afraid no one would now. She screamed until her throat hurt. Her voice grew louder and louder – almost unnaturally so. Hopeless, she laid staring at the ceiling. Quite frankly, she welcomed the isolation. Bounded and awake is better than going back to live another dream.

That was more terrifying than anything that awaited her in the real world.

---

 Observation Room

---

 In the Conference Room 2001

---

[Assistant]
Cell 30-Central Headquarters Science, Research, and Development Division

Cody did not sleep. He didn't seem able to let go, to sink into the darkness of restfulness, to his dreams of swirls. Only in dreams could he truly see colours. He kept on thinking he could hear screams. In the end, he resorted to humming, or singing under his breath, a mournful tune, sorrowful and heartfelt, it almost seemed like the tone seeped into the building itself, flowing through it, and echoing around. It was almost as if Cody was singing his soul, and it seemed heartbreaking that a man who could not see beauty truly could capture its essence so simply.

When morning came, and his music had finally died away, it still seemed like the building was echoing the music still, as if it was now embedded within it's bones, and Cody rose, standing to stretch out his body. what do they have in store for me, today? he wondered, narrowing his eyes as if he was in pain, and sighed heavily.

The screams he was sure he had heard during the night bounced around his mind, distressing him, and wondering what had drawn them from their owner. Whoever it was, he hoped they were alright.

---

Agent Caits found the findings the higher ups had bestowed upon their operations rather unfair. You could, after all, plan for many things-who would have thought that between the hours of last watching the subject and the operation that he would get a damn puppy? As the email came through, Agent Caits made her way to Subject 30's cell.

---

---

Cody still felt the effects of what was the testing. the swabs, the needle, the measurements, they all left a mark on him, and made him feel like his skin was irritated. When he was returned to the cell he had been on, there was a different guard. Cody sat, and managed to figure out that there was food for him. Well, at least they weren't going to starve him. he didn't particularly expect the food to taste well.

His first order of business was to sort out the irritation, and when he was sure the attendant was not watching him, he allowed a sheen of light to cover his skin, removing the irritation effectively that he felt better.

Cody was sure that his every move, and approach was being analysed, and he resolved to show nothing that he didn't have to, and to continue being cooperative. If they thought he was giving them what they wanted, would they give him privileges, freedom? He would find out. He just had to show he wasn't a threat to them.

---

---

[User]
Agent Dioxide's Office

Date and Time: 8/3/2016 – 1200

Agent Dioxide used to hope that Big Boss would grow some humanity rather than another five kilograms. He should probably consider the government expenses needed to cover for his expanding waistline, for crying out loud. He worked hard for a job on government salary risking his life and others'. Dioxide thought himself quite the altruist.

Agent Dioxide coordinated the capture and experimentation on nearly half of the previous 28 superpow- no, the term is Anomalies as higher-ups called it. They get rounded up, cut open, and they die before we can get anything out of that. Despite all attempts of unlocking the thing - be it defective gene or contamination of a foreign source, whatever – we still know nothing. This is why Gershwin May is so important for all this.

How else does someone just rise from the dead like the way Gershwin did?

---

Agent Dioxide and a team of five were ordered to administer the anaesthesia through inhalation. The set-up of the cells are such that they are air-tight and have a single, unique air-conditioning unit.

There was a loud struggle, and six full-grown muscle man were delicate to holding her. Gershwin was pinned down, forced to inhale the numbing gas, and she went limp unconscious.

She was delivered to the SRD Building in 1230.

---

Another nightmare…

---

[Assistant]
---

Agent Caits sat in what was considered her office, not much more then a wide brook closet, and filed with files. She read through what was gathering in Subjects 30 and 29. They could not be more different, and as with previous tests there did not appear to truly be any annolmany as to their higher being state. Subject 29 appeared to be quite troubling, and they were no closer to figuring out how to deal with her then they had been upon capture. Subject 30 was willing, cooperative and had so far caused no problems. His test scores indicated that he was above average in a lot of things, besides being a higher being.

As she read the transcript between the attendant and the supervisor, Agent Caits frowned. Subject 30, humming and singing managed to effect an attendant. Was it an ability, or simply natural talent? The subject did display musical abilities, and had undertaken several appearances in musical events. Possibly natural talent, but nothing could be overlooked.

Drumming her fingers on the desk, Agent Caits made a decision.

[User]
Movies portray field agents and organization office men as these emotionless, apathetic computers designed to follow orders. The laymen don't realize that these figures are trained to be that way – 'emotion clouding your judgment' and what not. It is a job, after all – the numbers count, not the thought.

Well, Agent Dioxide still had his thoughts, hiding them well under a guise of efficiency and relentless professionalism. Every single Subject under his command had died from irrecoverable damage as a result of constant, invasive, unethical experimentation. Every time, he refused to show remorse and anger, to keep the job that's feeding his family of six and parents who are dangling precariously behind death's door.

There is a dark mysterious zeitgeist going on – a sort of obsessive intrigue for the Anomalies. A glorified, misjudged way of eliminating the outstanding, conforming away from … the Weird. This is more than just "research" - not with this way of operation.

Dioxide has a conscience. 15 of his captures had suffered in horrific ways and the guilt weighing down on his shoulders is becoming too much. The only comforting thought is that they had all died before suffering further. Subject 30 – Cody O'Niel – one of society's newest and best hopes… will probably die here as well. Subject 29, however… she won't die – she can't die – they quite literally cannot have her die or get hurt, but that could mean she would never, ever, leave this facility.

No more deaths, and no more suffering.

---

---

In Big Boss' Office

Dr. Baoning was called in to see Big Boss. The man himself barely moves unless on his way for some food, and even then that happens rarely. The office was pungent with greasy, takeaway food, and filthy and grimy with wastes, wrappers and empty soda cans. Eating is not allowed in the other offices – suppose the central office let him have that right out of necessity.


[System]
Known on the seas as: Vic, The Incubus
Age: Late 20s
Title: Captain of his ship, The Black Star
Appearance:
Brunette hair, often pulled up into a knot. Athletic build. He sports a simple overcoat normally only for battle or business, and other than that, he usually matches his crew: breeches to the knee with stockings to secure them, a loosely fitted white linen shirt. He doesn't believe in the way of his predecessors, how they had to distinguish themselves from the rest of the crew through fancy attire. He does, however, display a few rings he had stolen on his fingers. Dark tattoos can be found all over his body, aged by the sun. He has multiple scars to his torso, arms and legs, and has a single scar running down his face.

Personality: Life on the sea had hardened Vic. He had killed more than he can count, and he watched his men get impaled or bludgeoned with no second thought from their murderer. Although he had a definite sense of humor, Vic usually remained stone cold in his demeanor. To be a good captain, he thought, he needed to remain impartial and unemotional, often pushing his own feelings to better serve himself and his crew. He had an insatiable thirst for blood and wealth.

[User]
As Vic exited the room, he took a moment to stand at the edge and watch the dark water lapping at the sides of his ship. He sighed deeply and ran his fingers through his hair. There was a possibility that this plan wasn't going to work and that the Governor would blow the Black Star out of the water, but Vic would die a bloody and noble death before he let that happen. He loved the ship, almost as if it was a beautiful woman. It had been his for 3 years, and in captain's years, it was probably that he would die soon, whether it be in battle or disease. Vic had accepted the fact that he would die young a very long time ago.

He rubbed his face and sighed, and began to walk down into the stomach of the boat. "Aye, boys, would you like a little company?" he asked in the most feminine voice he could produce. His men went along, beginning to hoot and holler at Vic. He drank heavily and talked with the men for a few more hours into the night, squeezing himself into a corner where he could fit and finally nodding off the sleep.

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

"Aye, bloody hell," he mumbled to himself as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He immediately felt the rum from last night as he stood up from the corner he was sleeping in. His eyes scanned the room, his men still asleep on the floor, none looking alive. He began to rub his temples as he stepped over the snoring crew and made his way up to the deck. The sun instantly blinded him, and he loudly cursed as he stumbled across the deck to the Captain's quarters.

He swung open the doors and immediately remembered the presence of the woman in his room. "Aye! Alice," he said surprised as he saw the figure in his bed. "My apologies. I will only be a minute." He avoided making eye contact with her as he sat down at the desk in his room in front of the map that he had drawn himself. He used a quill to track the movements of the ship. He knew he looked rough and felt even rougher, and he didn't want to attract attention because of it. "You can get your rations," he spoke in a gravelly voice, "from Piney down in the galley. My men know of your skill and will begin to bring clothing to you." He cleared his throat and stood up, making eye contact with the girl. "You can borrow what you need if you want to change out of that," he offered as his eyes landed on the dress laying on the bed. "Once we hit land, you can buy something more...practical."

With that, Vic exited once again and made his way to the side of the ship. The water below them was crystal clear and a vibrant blue color which made him smile from ear to ear. He stripped down, but not without the whistles coming from his men. "Aye, enough, you savages," he yelled back with a smile as he dove head first into the water below. It felt exquisite, almost warm and cold at the same time. He loved the sea, and it loved him back.

[Assistant]
Alice barely slept, and what few winks she had were restless. It had been a while since the trip here, and she felt a little nauseous inbetween dark slumber. At one point, she panicked, unable to remember where she was and why - the reality of her situation did nothing to calm her nerves. She was finally awoken when the door was opened, and a soft shriek escaped her as she gathered the blankets around her. She hadn't been stupid enough to strip right down, of course - she was wearing her undergarments and petticoat. She watched him with wide green eyes, slightly perturbed as he had the audacity to sit down.

The girl watched him leave before relaxing once more. Rations... What were they meant to be? And she was supposed to just saunter along to the galley? Vic seemed to trust that she wouldn't throw herself overboard with a weight. Vic... It was probably short for Victor. Or Victoire. But he didn't sound French. Her gaze met the dress she'd laid carefully over the bottom of the bed - it was certainly impractical. But surely none of their clothes would fit her; and they were probably infested with all manner of diseases in any case. There was a fleeting thought - if she was to dress as a boy, would she be able to slip away? It would involve the cutting of her hair, but... no. They'd catch her. They'd kill her.

Slipping into the dress again, she fastened it with stiff fingers. Sudden shouting and a splash caught her attention, and she glanced out of the window. Was that... Vic? Slightly naked? Blushing despite herself, she turned suddenly away, and headed to the door. Her hand hovered over the handle, then she slowly opened it. Her jaw was set, head held high. Her father had invested in many lessons of propriety for her. One of the most important rules was dignity. She could feel as eyes turned to her, and she stepped out of the room. There were a couple of murmurs, a call or two. Ignoring them, she scanned the deck for the galley. It was generally the same on all ships, and she started across the deck.

[User]
Vic was floating in the water when he looked up to see all of his men's heads focused on the middle of the ship. "Ah!" he yelled. "Sleeping beauty had decided to grace us with her presence!" He swam toward a rope hanging down the side of the ship and he climbed up. He was wearing nothing but breeches, which seemed pretty decent to his standards, and he climbed on board and shook himself off. His guess was correct, the men had gathered around the woman, staring at her either curiously or with hunger.

"I must have forgotten my manners," said Vic in a loud, stern voice as he strolled up Alice, taking a spot next to her. "My noble and honorable men of The Black Star, I would like to introduce you to the Governor's daughter, Alice Rohan. Now, I despise her father as much as you do, boys. But he will not adhere to our demands if we don't return her as the lady she was when she arrived. With that said, no horseplay. Do not touch her, do not hurt her. God knows what you scoundrels have ravaging on your bodies," Vic said with a smile as the crew erupted with laughter. "She will be making herself useful while she is here, so please, bring her any garments that need repair. She will be staying in my quarters temporarily." He looked to her and nodded before continuing. "We will be arriving at Isla Imorda tomorrow. Let's do what we need to do before we arrive. Mop the decks, collect what we'll barter with, make room for more rations. Thank you, my fine gentlemen." The crew yelled back an "Aye!" and they dispersed.

He turned to meet Alice's gaze. "Well, you may bathe if you wish," he said as he nodded to the ocean down below. "I need my quarters for mapping and to dry off," he said smiling, noticing her red cheeks, becoming aware of her eyes scanning his dark, scarred, and tattooed torso. She must have been very sheltered, he thought, as he recounted her actions since she'd been brought on the ship. Vic was used to only dealing with the drunken woman who were at the taverns, who were anything but innocent, or female pirates themselves. Seeing someone who seemed so pure and frightened was amusing, and it sparked a curiosity in him. She must have thought he was a monster. Maybe he was.

He bowed sarcastically to the woman and headed for his quarters. He removed the wet pants he was wearing and slipped on a dry pair, and he walked back out of his room momentarily to hang them. Upon returning, he plopped down at his desk and cracked his knuckles before picking up the feather and dipping it in a jar of black ink. When they arrived at Isla Imorda, he'd have a letter ready to be sent to the governor, demanding that he lift the ban on pirates accessing the island. The fact that the man could come and interrupt an unspoken agreement between the high class society and the pirates that had been held for a century infuriated Victor. The Pirates brought goods from other territories that those at the port greatly enjoyed, and the Vic and his crew would earn tremendously. They had tried to negotiate with the new governor to no avail, so Alice was his last resort. He sighed as he stared at he blank scroll before him, at a loss for how to word his ransom letter.

[Assistant]
Alice stopped in place, wincing slightly as the loud, arrogant voice of Vic blared out from below. He really was overconfident; strutting his stuff in front of his men. Precocious. That was the word. It curled around her tongue, whispered in her ear. She would love to insult him. But she couldn't risk that. So long as she was quiet and didn't draw too much attention to herself - he should leave her alone. In any case, she felt embarrassed around him. Vic was crass, and she wasn't used to his men leering at her. It wasn't like women were common on the high seas, and she was becoming acutely aware of her femininity amongst them.

The sight of his near-bare body did nothing to help her fluster when he came near. Clearing her throat softly, she found it was slightly difficult to look away from his torso. Apart from it being - well - fit, it was also tattooed and scarred and tanned. Even the stableboy hadn't looked like that - a mere boy in comparison to the man standing next to her. It was sort of like the sun. Only quick glances, and only then for a second. When the men dispersed, she breathed a small sigh. She shook her head at his suggestion; she certainly would not be going in there with all of these men milling around the deck. And when he bowed to her, she couldn't help it. Her anger with him was brewing, and she curtsied sarcastically back. How dare he hold her, Alice Rohan? The daughter of a governor, no less. A moment later, she regretted it - she'd probably pay. Who knew what could happen?

She made her way to what seemed to be the galley, descending the steps into half-light below. There was a young boy, no older than his 'teens - she asked him about Piney. After all, her stomach was starting to complain a bit. Although his mouth was vulgar and he stared at her chest for all of the conversation, he was obliging enough and set her in the correct direction. She arrived in what seemed to be a small kitchen, set up with pots and large barrels of food and water. Piney was a small, thickset man with a stomach that protruded over his breeches. He, too, let his eyes roam freely as he gathered together her rations for the morning meal. No lunch, and she'd have the stew with the crew for dinner. He seemed no-nonsense, someone who wouldn't be giving out food freely. He also supplied her with a full waterskin, telling her to come back in the evening for more.

She left the galley with a piece of bread, an apple and a flask. It was nothing compared to what she was used to. Nothing. But she was hungry, and it was food. Perhaps she'd have a nibble. Once again, she felt the glances as she passed over the exposed deck. One or two men called out something, but she ignored them. Coming to the door, she hesitated before calling through. "May I enter?"

[User]
The sound of the woman's voice shook him from his intense focus on the letter he was attempting to write. "Aye, it's fine." He rolled up the parchment and slid it to the side of the desk, and as he stood, he stretched and walked towards where a linen shirt was hanging. He grabbed it and slid it on, turning back around to her. "Hate to make the lady uncomfortable," he mumbled as he finished dressing. He held out his hand to signal for her to take a seat on the chair, and after she obliged, he sat on the bed across from her.

"First and foremost, I hope that you have found The Black Star to be accommodating. I take great pride in my ship and my men. I understand they are probably looking at you as a dog to meat, but I assure you, their bark is worse than their bite. Unless you are the enemy, then they are indeed adequate." He ran his fingers through his hair, and then leaned towards her, clasping his hands together. "My intentions are not to harm you during your stay, but I do need to know that you'll stay put and do as your told. You'll return to your fine silver and elegant parties as long as you do not try to do anything that would make me doubt your honesty. Your father," he paused, clearing his throat, "has decided to cross not only myself and my crew, but the rest of the brave men of the seas who have done nothing but respect your port. Taking you was purely business. You are a very important piece in the game I am playing." He straightened his posture before continuing. "Now, let us imagine that your father does not listen to my very reasonable requests. What is to become of you?" he questioned her rhetorically as he smirked. "Well, let's just hope Daddy loves his daughter enough to listen to the Ol' Captain, aye?"

He stood up and straightened his garments. "Now, I am no animal. I may not be a refined gentleman that I assume you're so very used to, but I am a man of my word, and if there is something that would make your stay more comfortable, within reason, I shall honor it." He stuck out his large, scarred hand for her to shake in agreement. "As long as you do not try to escape, I will be the perfect gentleman."


[System]
Gender: Female

Parent: Nuwa, the Chinese goddess who created mankind from yellow clay and repaired the pillar of heaven.

Age: 22

Appearance: A Chinese woman, fairly pretty with dark hair and eyes and skin the colour of clay. Tall for her ethnicity, and tends to roll up the sleeves and trouser legs on her project-issue clothes.

Serial Number for prison: 8268

Powers: Can reshape earth, stone, metal and flesh with a touch, moulding them like wet clay. Has also demonstrated the ability to consume such materials. Using these abilities on living creatures is not fatal, but is permanent until altered again.

Abilities: Moderately skilled at sculpture. Some training in environmental sciences. Speaks Chinese and English.

Job or Skill: Student of Environmental Science at Shanghai University.

Background: Mei's abilities first manifested themselves a few years ago, but she did her best to keep them hidden, while practicing in secret. Her secret was revealed when a fellow student was struck by a car, and she used her power to heal them in front of many witnesses. In resisting capture by Project Myth several operatives were altered in melee. Mei was 'convinced' to restore them before her transfer to th facility.

THREAT LEVEL: Medium. Subject has shown no indication of ranged powers. Important note: subject is to be allowed no earthen or metal objects. Specially treated cell is constructed from plastics and wood.

[User]
Thunder crashed and the wind blew as a storm roared over Mount Rushmore and the stone heads of the founding fathers. A black jeep followed by a black bus and tanks rolled up toward the base of the mountain. The windows tinted and the prisoners on the inside. Chained with titanium steel and shock collars that when a button is pressed a 10000 volts of electricity is fired from the collars into the wearer. Enough to kill a man, a normal man anyways. These arent normal prisoners. These were children of ancient myth gods and goddesses. The jeep honked twice as it rolled and the base of the National monument opened revealing a giant steel room with a very large steel platform elevator. It started to go down when all vehicles came to a stop. The tanks aimed at the bus ready to fire at any sudden moves. At last they reached their destination, the underground prison that was there to contain children of the gods. Its been around for many years since the first major children of gods showed up. A society trying to keep the One True God around. The warden greeted the new comers with a...foul catholic greeting...

the warden-"Welcome children of false gods. I am the warden/Father here at your new home, and even though your parents are...false in the creations of our Holy Father and his Blessed child Jesus Christ our lord and savior, I welcome you."

One of the prisoners wear a skull ring with gold teeth and dreadlocks smiled and chuckled. "Mon, what are you talking about. Your the one following under a "False God" even his son is a fake, he cried when they did that shit to him."

The prisoner that spoke against the Wardens beliefs was a Known Jamaican Kingpin and Voodoo Prince, two of the prisoners that arrived with him and stood near him were actually his bodyguard and enforcer a Jamaican son of a greek god Ares, and the bodyguard was a voodoo born son of Ogoun the god of iron.

[Assistant]
Mei ignores the warden and the kingpin's discussion. The way she sees it, no reason Jehovah or Yahweh or whatever you want to call him can't also be around. Alright, it's kind of arrogant of him to not acknowledge the other gods, but arrogance and omnipotence go hand in hand.

Unlike other prisoners, she isn't bound with metal. Wooden spheres encase her hands, and thick ropes keep her in place with the others. The shock collar is likewise mostly leather, save for the key components.

When the facility is secured and her cuffs have been removed, Mei rolls her shoulders, stretches her arms, and rolls up the arms and legs on her orange prison jumpsuit.

She gives the other new arrivals a look, but doesn't speak until the warden is done with his speech. She suspects the guards are all to eager to use their shock-batons.

[User]
Karlie Morgan
Hazel eyes stared straight ahead at the white walls that surrounded her. Karlie Morgan didn't know how many days had passed - it was hard to gain a concrete grasp on time when all the lights in her room were always open to make sure that she wasn't planning yet another escape. She wondered if it had been months or even years since she'd first been brought to this place - taken despite all her protesting. Abducted, was the better word. She remembered her arrival at the facility. She became good friends with the guard's shock-batons. She had to wear the shock collar for what felt like forever, feeling like she was lower than a dog. An animal to be caged.

Just the thought of that day - the day when these monsters took everything away from her - was enough to bring forth her anger. She felt it escaping her body, the icy tendrils forming on the wall she had her back on. Within a second, the room's temperature raised enough to bring a burning sensation on the parts of Karlie's body that touched the walls and floor. She jumped up, standing and staring at the ceiling where she assumed they were watching her from. She was wrong, of course. Hidden cameras littered the walls of her chamber, ever watchful eyes on her day in and day out.

"Dammit, I'm calm!" she shouted, forcing the ice to subside. As soon as the remnants of her power dissipated, the temperature dropped back to normal. Grimacing, Karlie wiped her forehead causing several drops of sweat to fall on the floor. "I told you people I'm behaving. No need to bring the heat," she muttered before she settled back on the now cool surfaces. She heard that new prisoners would be arriving that day. She bit back a laugh thinking about how they were being subjected to the Warden's usual garble about them being the children of false gods. She certainly didn't miss that.

She settled on the floor, tucking her arms underneath her head. "Hey," she called out to no one in particular, "Have I been really good? Maybe you should finally let me out of this cage. I'd even wear that fucking collar. I'm going insane here."

[Assistant] Sothe's grey eyes wandered across the other inmates entering. Not a bad bunch of kids, but as the warden said, they're all kids of "false" deities. Rolling his eyes at the one guy who decided to speak. Does nobody else watch TV? I know the best way to get out is the play nice for a while until we find a rat-hole to leave through. Geez. Little did he wish to admit to himself, but the Voo-Dude has a point. A few... well, a while has gone by since day one, and everyone else seems so uncomfortable. Sothe himself couldn't find a decent bit of darkness to be able to calm himself down, except at lights out. Seemed like people were on edge, maybe kept on edge purposefully. None of them knew why, but it is what it is. The longer all of them were here, the less they tried to escape. There's gotta be a blind spot in those cameras. Somewhere. Even a square foot would be enough to set everything into motion... Continuously trying to spot any spot where a camera couldn't see anything was Sothe's number one goal.

[User] Staring down the warden the Druglord didnt even flinch when the guards took a step forward. It was time for them to get their cells, the guards shoved the new prisoners to get them moving. Each placed in a cell that felt like home but still wasnt. For the drug lord, a desk with a computer and phone. So he can run hos operations from there. Under watch of course. All the guards were wearing gas masks. If it got to our of control the defence system would kick in and gas the prison. Seevah now in his cell looked at the guards. "I would like my suit and cane back if im to feel like im conducting my operations." The guards looked at each other and radioed the warden. The warden denied the suit but let him have his cane. The Jamaican grabbed the can and popped open the skull and pulled out a pinch of home grown herb, and he rolled it and looked at the guards. "Got a lighter i can use, mon?"

[Assistant]
Mei pauses in the entrance to her new home. This earns her a rifle-butt to the small of the back, and she falls to the bamboo-mat floor as the heavy wood door is closed behind her, and sealed with a heavy bar on the other side.

Almost everything in the cell is made of wood, or some form of plant matter. Everything that isn't is made of plastic. A camera in a plastic bubble watches her pace the room. The bed is a mat on the floor - no room to hide anything under it.

For the first time since her capture, Mei has time to herself. In Shanghai, she was under constant supervision, right up until she was loaded into the van. Then again, there's that camera... At least she can't see whoever is watching her.

So, what does she have... An empty bookcase, empty wicker basket, presumably for clothes, bed and a big door.

Nothing to be done. Mei closes her eyes, and does her best to sleep.


[System]
Age: 24
Gender: Female

Bio:
Celty grew up with her brother. Together they played 'War', a game where they joined together to battle mystical creatures and other people to save the world. It was their own form of house. She grew up as a tomboy with her brother until he was drafted into the war on her 19th birthday. Following in his footsteps Celty joined the US Air Force and became a pilot. She flew various missions: dangerous ones, easy ones, ones that almost got her blown out of the sky.

She then left service a couple years before everything went down and moved to a more rural area. Hunting for fun, she learned quickly how to use a bow and butcher animals for food. Celty stayed mostly to herself in a cabin, but did go to towns on occasion when she wanted something different to eat or needed anything in particular.

When things went down and the world went to hell Celty quickly packed what she needed into a backpack and began to travel. She feared large cities so she kept her distance from them. Being smart about her moves, she never stayed in one place for too long. Surviving meant hunting and scavenging while also being smart when it came to trusting other people.

While traveling with a small group she heard rumors of a group called the Blood Army. Choosing to stay away from them she broke away from the small group and went back on her own, where she felt safest at the moment.

Personality:
Shy around new people but daring. Not one for long, drawn out conversations. Celty is a social antisocial person. Pretty ironic, but when she gets to know someone and trust them, she will do whatever she can for them, but until she knows them she is weary and cautious around them. Celty is also polite and soft spoken, often useful when breaking up an argument or settling a dispute. Great negotiator, and no quick to make snap judgments. Patient and calm in stressful or intense situations.
Also very caring and almost acts like a sister to hose she's close with.

Gear: What you travel with. I'd like it to be set up like this:
-Weapon 1 (optional): Tactical bow, with place for arrows

-Weapon 2 (optional): Sniper rifle, with silencer

-Clothing: Ripped jeans, black tank top with a loose shirt over, sweater tied around her waist, moccasin style boots
-Items: In her backpack she has a flashlight, lighter, small rock and hardwood to make new arrows, a couple bottles for water, small rations of food, cloth scavenged from bodies, and a switchblade she keeps on her hip

Role:
Celty is a survivor who lives off the land, never staying in one place too long. Due to her shyness, she keeps to herself mostly, but will interact with other survivors that she trusts enough to.

[User]
Jake woke up a little bit later, obviously having an uncomfortable slumber. He stood up and stretched, walking to where he heard Quinn and Celty talking.

"Good morning." He said groggily. Jake looked like it was hard to move, almost like he was hurt. In reality, he was sore, never having to run as much as he did yesterday. He was visibly dirty, dirt and dust collected on his gritty face. He had stubble growing in and looked rough. He leaned on a wall, clearing his throat as he looked at the two.

"Making friends, Quinn?" He asked in a joking tone, wanting to lighten the mood from the heat from last night. He was still internally conflicted, not knowing if keeping Quinn around was truly a good idea. He knew the group needed the manpower, but were Alyssa's emotions and her psyche more important than combat strength? He couldn't really make up his mind.

[Assistant]
Despite himself, he managed the shadow of a smile, which he immediately hid by bowing his head.
"I could use one or two, I guess. Not as badly as I need to piss."
He felt very small and childish for having to ask, but it was easier for everybody than the alternative. From now until the unforeseeable future he was essentially a prisoner.
Can't risk letting him go, can't risk ignoring his past. He'd put them between a rock and an extremely hard place. The only way out was to prove he was a reformed man or die somewhere along the way.
Such was life.
"Do you mind?" He asked, pointing to the front door.

[User]
Celty smiled and looked over to Jake. "Morning, tough night too? Massages help, but then again there isn't any spas open nowadays." she joked a little. She knew how to give a good massage but didn't want to push her limits of her own trust. Didn't seem like the right time, just yet at least.

When Quinn asked to use the bathroom Celty hid a slight chuckle and sarcastically answered, "No. You have to piss yourself like a POW." she gave him a slight smirk and looked back at Jake. "If we're taking away freedoms, can I claim my right to pee in peace now?" she knew it probably wasn't the best time to joke, but she wanted to lighten up the mood. Making friends with these people may be ccrucial to her survival.

Like always she would keep one eye open at all times, but trust was something they partly earned when they let her in and didn't kill her in her sleep. That she was very greatful for.

[Assistant]
Jake chuckled a bit. "You have no idea how bad I want a massage. And I guess you can have some freedom" He said, joking with Celty on his last sentence. He looked around, noticing how early it was. Jake knew it had to be at least seven or eight o'clock. He then turned to Quinn to answer his question. Jake was a bit confused as to why Quinn felt as if he needed permission to do things. He slowly nodded. "Yeah. Go ahead. No need to ask, man." Jake said with a small smile.

Jake didn't know the full story to Quinn. Did Quinn really do something terrible? He wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but everything told so far was slightly disturbing him. Jake was yet again deep in thought before shrugging it off. He then turned to Celty again and smiled.

[User]
Quinn excused himself with a frown, and stepped outside.
The cool morning air was a relief against his musty flesh, and he took a moment to savour it's gentle caress. He slipped his bandage off from around his face and let the breeze loosen up his scars a little. He could almost forget it all here and now, in this fleeting moment of peace.
You had to take them when they came, if you weren't paying attention those moments wouldn't stop and wait for you.
After about thirty seconds, he opened his eyes again and replaced his bandages, before relieving himself and going back inside.

"Sooner we make tracks, the better," he said to Jake, regaining some of yesterday's confidence. He couldn't change the past, but he could damn sure slam his fist down on the future and keep these motley bunch of misfits alive for as long as possible.
If he knew the Blood Army - and he considered himself something of an authority on them - then he knew they'd come looking for their missing scouts soon.
Quinn hoisted his pack onto one shoulder and awaited Jake's response.

[Assistant]
Jess sat on the back of a tall light brown stallion, a thick coil of rope wrapped tightly about her throat; its end secured to a rather thick branch. Three men standing about the tree each armed with guns of their own, along with her silver plated revolvers; her hands bound behind her back by the wrists with rope as well a small two inch knife sliding across the rope slowly cutting into it. Her lips lifted up into an unworried smirk, a fourth unarmed man standing to the left of the large horse had his hands over his head being held at gunpoint by one of the three would be hangers; the leader of the tiny band raising his voice up while staring at Jess.

"You won't be getting away this time, any last words?"

She turned her head squinting softly into the suns setting rays, looking as if she was in deep thought; looking back towards the man to her left then at the leader of the group. Raising her own voice her southern accent obvious and well fitting her appearance, wearing simple steel toed boots, a pair of brown pants, a white button up dotted with muck and a leather sleeveless vest which buttoned in the center.

"Well shit, Jose I never was much of a poet."

The man unamused by her calm demeanor and lack of fear began to count down from three, his unoccupied second raising his hand just over the hind quarters of the horse ready to send it running off and Jess to a short drop and her death, but as soon as he got to three the man with the gun to his head suddenly burst into action. Grasping the barrel of the pistol against his head and twisting it towards the holder, his instinct to pull the trigger leading to his own death; exactly as she managed to slice through her bonds. The man to her left tossing the pistol quickly into her open hand, with a single pull of the trigger the leader of the group hit the ground; his blood spraying from the wound in a light mist. The final captor firing two rounds into Jess' accomplice the stallion bolting from beneath her causing the rope to constrict around her throat, body swinging wide straight into the final man; Jess rapidly wrapped her legs around his upper torso pressing the pistol into his skull and reliving him of his brain.

Her body of course still hung from the tree, dropping the gun and grasping at the extended rope trying to slice through the thick rope with the tiny blade; grunting and kicking her feet around in an attempt to catch the tree trunk, her motions getting slower and slower as her face went red. The knife slipping from her grasp as her arms dropped, head slouching as she lost consciousness; swinging slowly in the breeze before the rope gave way its fibers unable to hold her full weight as she had sliced almost half way through the rope. Jess' body hitting the ground with a solid thud, the noose still coiled around her throat though no longer choking her; her lungs expanding to welcome the air eyes bolting open as she sat up looking around at the bodies around her. Standing slowly, leaning against the tree as she pulled the rope off her neck its tightness having left rope burn all the way around her neck; Lily walked over to the former leader and pulled both her revolvers from his gun belt. The silver plating glinting in the sun as she tucked them under her arms, grasping her Winchester from where it balanced against the tree; sitting down with her back pressed to its thick trunk closing her eyes for a moment the rifle cradled in her arms.

[User]
Celty grabbed her rifle, popping the clip out first just so everyone would feel safer, and shouldered her gun. "He's right. We're sitting ducks if we stay here. No one was on my trail that I know of, but by the looks of it you guys had a bit of fun."

She gave a quick smirk then placed the clip back into her gun. "I'm ready. It's your call officer." Celty joked a little with a slight smile. Standing there she was the shortest of all three of them. It made her feel almost like a kid, so she stood on her toes for a moment. "Damn, you guys are tall."

[Assistant]
Jake nodded and called for everyone to gather around him. After everyone was listening, he pointed behind him. Behind him was the unexplored area of the field that eventually led to the next city, the city's faint outline visible as daylight shined. Jake smiled a bit, trying to stay positive.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen. We need to get moving. I suggest we head to Gainsville and scavenge around and possibly stay the night there if it gets to that. Any objections or suggestions?" He asked, waiting for a response before looking to Quinn for his input.

[User]
Quinn nodded approval of the plan.
"If it gets to that. The key now is distance. We left a lot of bodies back in town. The blood army won't just let that go."
Gainsville wasn't a terribly large town, but it was close, if they could reach it before nightfall they would have to get indoors as quickly as possible. Otherwise they'd have to take their chances roughing it in the field. The night shamblers didn't really do much outside of the cities or other populated areas, which was something.
Quinn frowned, anxious for the group to be on their way. He knew they Blood Army would begin closing in soon, and he had no desire to see them again.

****

The squad of soldiers stood before the still burning ruins in the city. Colonel Vex stood expressionless as he gazed down at the shredded bodies of the dead. His troops stood passively behind him, tensely waiting for his next order.
In a sudden blur of motion, Vex charged forward with a roar, grabbing a mutilated cadaver with one hand and hurling it effortlessly into the rubble where it splattered sickeningly, and blood sizzled as it hit the fires.
"I'm not letting you get away again, Quinn!" He roared to the empty streets of the city.
He stomped away, back to their convoy, "Fall in! We're going hunting!"
The Blood Army soldiers piled into their vehicles and thundered through the city streets. Vex looked on ahead through a veil of crimson rage.

[Assistant]
Celty looked at Quinn with a slight bit of surprise. "You guys actually ran into the Blood Army? I've only heard stories. By the sounds of it, I'm fortunate." she shook her head slightly thinking of the others she had been with who had run ins with the Blood Army. They didn't make the army sound fantastic at all. "They must be a real joy, huh?" Celty said sarcastically smirking slightly.

She had her back on her shoulder ready to go, already by the door, when everyone else was. She was anxious to get moving. Staying in one spot too long, or longer than a day, bugged her. She felt uneasy every time she did so. But it made her happy to be moving on from this place, with a group!

Being with other people did make her feel safer to an extent, but also made her more aware of her surroundings and who she was with. Getting to know the group would be a priority if she was going to stay with them.


[System]
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Nationality: Polish
Description: Growing up in a family of middling means in Krakow, Stanislaw was an avid fan of gaming, spending as much time as he could on his computer when he wasn't studying. Strategy games and MMOs were his vice of choice, and his childhood was spent playing most of the big name ones. However, he soon discovered that he was actually rather good at RTSes in particular, rising up through the ladder during his early teenage years until he found himself qualifying for his first LAN tournament at fifteen.

From there, Stanislaw saw a string of dizzying successes in the RTS world under the tag "Acturus", placing well in several LAN tournaments across Europe and even winning a few. Over the next decade, he made a name for himself as he continued to compete, being picked up by an esports sponsor and traveling across the globe to compete. Still, all good things had to come to an end. Faced with dwindling results and worsening reflexes in comparison to 17 year old Koreans at the top of their game, Stanislaw made the decision to retire from professional gaming at the age of 25. Most of his money from his winnings and sponsorships had gone into investments, and he found himself able to live rather comfortably when he returned to his native Poland.

For the past three years, Stanislaw has still had somewhat of a presence online, maintaining an active Youtube and livestream profile both for the hell of it and for a bit of extra money. Still, he spends most of his time these days working on finally going back and getting his college degree. After three years of studying and getting a business degree out of it, Stanislaw decided to delve back into online gaming, having heard of Cacophony Concord's rising popularity. Now that he'd graduated, he found himself with enough time to just outright mainline a MMO again when not making the occasional Youtube video. The sheer versatility of the game system impressed him, and he set out to create his desired build: emulating his RTS glory days by summoning minions and directing them how he pleased.

Username: Amulak al Acturus
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 190 cm
Weight: 77 kg
Voice Pitching: -60
Decorations: None
Appearance: Wears unadorned, hooded black robes.You start with 80 points. When applied to HP, MP, or SP, each point consumed grants 10.
HP – 150
MP – 200
SP – 50
STR – 5
AGI – 10
END – 10
DEX – 5
LUC – 10Classes: NonePerception: Fantastic
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 15%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Off
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual

[User]
HP: 320/320 | MP: 336/336 | SP: 352/352

---

Raymond managed to arrive at the train station in just under ten minutes, a new personal record if he bothered to record it, but irrelevant to the task at hand. Though, he was quite glad that it was off-season and the station hadn't as many tourists or visitors arriving or leaving the town. Made maneuvering through the alleys and sidestreets far easier and there were fewer people that would have known his screw-up. It didn't take an expert psychologist to know that Raymond was nervous about seeing his significant other that he accidentally wronged, but he was determined to make things right...or at least as of right as an apology, flowers, and sweets could. Hopefully, that would be enough.

He really didn't want to do the puppy eyes in public.

But, if worse comes to worst, he wouldn't hold back. He knew that Charlie couldn't stay mad at him while making a fool of himself. It was a tried and tested maneuver whenever she was sad or upset...but what if doesn't work this time around? A dozen 'what if' questions popped up inside his head. He began thinking about it in a similar manner to a logistical problem in the kitchen. Attempting to find efficient workarounds and making the best of a situation.

In the process, he hadn't realized that he had stopped in his tracks while making his way through the station to the waiting area. His mind working hard in its attempts to produce a proper course of action if the whole 'act like a dumbass' didn't do the job well enough. This hadn't gone unnoticed by the passerbys, giving the man looks. Varying from looks of open confusion to slightly amused ones.

That is until a flick to the forehead brought Raymond back to reality.

There stood before him was none other than Charlotte with a bemused smirk on her face.

His mind went blank as he didn't account for her interacting with him first. "Uhh...I-I got you some stuff." He says as he holds up the peace offerings.

---

Username: Raime Braun
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Height: 189 cm
Weight: 90 kg
Voice Pitching: 0
Decorations: None notable.
Appearance: Splitting image of his own physical appearance. Wearing a full set of traveler's clothes.
=Points when applied to HP, MP, or SP, each point consumed grants 10.=
HP – 320
[Determines how much damage you can take before death.]

MP – 320 + 5% = 336
[Used for spellcasting. Affects magical damage.]

SP – 320 + 10% = 352
[Used for techniques and skills. Affects physical damage.]

STR – 20
[General physical strength.]

AGI – 60 + 10% = 66
[Affects perception of time in combat. Partially affects physical speed.]

END –25
[General toughness and physical defense. Affects SP regeneration.]

DEX – 60 + 5% = 63
[General skill and accuracy of movements. Affects weapons and tool usage.]

LUC – 11
[Affects item drop rates.]
Classes:
Scout Lvl.25 - [+5% MP | +10% SP | +10% AGI | +5% DEX]

* [Ranged Proficiency Lvl.1] = Increase Proficiency with Ranged Weapons.
* [First In, First Out] - Passive. Increase movement speed by 15% when engaging and disengaging enemies.
* [Dive N Strike] - Active. 10% SP cost. Dive in any direction and roll, increasing evasion. If evasion is successful, increase the damage of the next attack.
* [Zoned In] - Increase AGI by 20%. Passively Consumes 10 SP Per-Turn while Active.
* [Asess] - Active skill that consumes 50 SP. Observe a single target and determine whether they are stronger or weaker than you. Has a chance of gleaning further statistical information.

Perception: Realistic
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 100%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Off
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual

Helmet: [N/A]
Armor: Traveller's Clothes (Gray)
Arm Equipment: [N/A]
Main Hand: Light Crossbow
Offhand: Wargtooth Dagger
Leg Equipment: Traveller's Shorts (Gray)
Footwear: Traveller's Geta

Accessory # 1:
Accessory # 2:
Accessory # 3:
Accessory # 4:

Money: 14 Silver Pieces
Inventory Type: Common Pouch
Inventory Capacity: 05/20 Items

---

List:* Standard Bolts x ∞
* Pearl Clover x 16
* Night's Ward x 8
* Frostgrass x 12
* Tripiste x 10

---

[Assistant]
Lv. 29
HP: 341/341 SP: 300/300 MP: 30/30

(300) + 10 + 10%

(300) + 0 + 0%

(30) + 0 + 0%

STR – 121
(100) + 5 + 15%
 | AGI – 55
(50) + 10%
 | END – 42
(40) + 5%
 | DEX – 40
(40)
 | LUC – 11
(11)

Star-Studded Rebellion, Pentozali
Weapons
Pickaxe - Uncommon
Shovel - Uncommon
Equipment:
No Helmet
Beasthide Gown - Common Armor
Beasthide Bracers - Common Arm Equipment
No Leg Equipment
Thornspike Boots - Common Shoes
Accessories:
Wrestler's Loincloth - Common Accessory - +10 HP, +5 STR

Well, fuck it. If the dude was gonna be a dick about things, Mags would just not care about forfeiting her life to possible PK. If it was some sort of tabletop RPG, she'd have to roll some substat or something for being intimidated. This wasn't a tabletop RPG. This was another person trying to intimidate another person in a world where pain was dulled for all except morons and death just meant you lost some time. Even if she was technically a noob by the standards of everyone else, she still had her ego. She wasn't about to let some random walk all over her.

"Yea, like I said, we meandered in." Mags said, still technically being right about it. "Don't know where they are. Maybe we're just too much of fuckin' noobs to see them." A steep bitterness came out with the delivery. Still, she was telling the truth. Mags wasn't actually following where they went. She was too busy relishing in how fucking cool Rashasta was. "Try being less of an ass? Probably help you find what you're looking for." Again, a third truth.

If shit went south, Mags would die as she lived: being a gremlin.

[User]
Amulak al Acturus (Stanislaw)
HP:865/950 MP:1075/1150 SP: 130/130

HP – 800 (+150)
MP – 1100 (+50)
SP – 100 (+30)
STR – 40
AGI – 50
END – 53 (+5)
DEX – 40 (+4)
LUC – 50 (+7)
Classes: Mage
Perception: Fantastic
Gore: On
Pain Setting: 15%
Clothing Damage: On
Nudity Censor: Off
Profanity Censor: Off
Combat Action: Manual
Spell Incantations: Manual
Funds: 1983.33333 rishi
Items:
Bonerattler's Staff
Uncommon Weapon
+30 HP, +30 SP, +30 MP
10% chance of Disrupting enemy spellcasting when attacking.

Bulwark Boneplate
Rare Armor
+100 HP
Reduce physical damage taken by 20.
Recover 2 SP for every hit taken.

Shamanic Beads
Common Accessory
+20 MP

Raider's Wargtag
Common Accessory
+4 DEX, +4 LCK

Thunderstruck Amulet
Uncommon Accessory
+20 HP, +5 END, +3 LUC
Reduce lightning damage taken by 20.

HP potions: 1 uncommon, 2 common

Ah, yes. Patches. Real trustworthy name. Thankfully, they couldn't exactly kill each other while in the same party, and dropping party immediately would at least tip Amulak off and give him enough time to react.

Though currently, that point was moot. Trash mobs. Great. Literally only a hundred meters to the exit, and they get stuck with a massive wave of these fucks. Even with AoE spells, there were so many that he doubted either he or Patches had enough juice to take them all out in a stand-up fight. Of course, the passage ahead being sealed now seriously didn't help.

...Fuck it. They were steps away from the goal. And it didn't matter what condition they made it in, so long as they got there. Amulak grit his teeth, adjusting his grip on Raime's corpse with one hand while raising his staff in the other.

"Very close to end. Get cocksucker ghosts off us, clear blockade after. We go big dick, yes? I gather them up. You knock them down." He said, conjuring a Magical Mine at the base of the rubble blocking the way before starting a ten-word chant as he prepared an Arcane Vortex. A Mana Control boosted the magical storm as he aimed it at the center of the largest concentration of mobs he saw. Of course, he had a Plan B, but hopefully he wouldn't need to enact it. Hopefully.


[System]
Fixedx2
Height: 5'9
Weight: 120
Specialty: Magical Gunslinger
Gender:Male

[User] Odum, still strangely quiet, went around the village, set on one goal. Enta.

[Assistant]
"Oho? That's a Fine needle too! Not often I see anyone who can afford something so small yet so strong. Most settle for cheaper, more easily replaceable bone or wood."

Enta seemed equally interested in both Naomi's textiles and equipment. Notably the thread; dyes were rare where she came from and she just happened to have a few small spools. The school she mentioned was also strange as Enta has never heard of it before.

"Something tells me you're not just a traveling tailor however. I can tell from looking at you, there's much more then meets the eye! Not often I find highly skilled women in this world."

Enta pulled a chair next to Naomi and took out her own sewing kit, though it lacked the same level of intricacy as Naomi. Most of the thred was pale grey or a touch brown, however the needles were just as good if not better then Naomi's own. Strong enough to puncture through leather and hide even.

"I normally work leather instead of thread but knowing how to do both is essential to making something strong and sturdy. Now what did you mention before about that stitching? I'm sure I speak for all of us when I ask if you could show us how it's done."

[User]
Donny stopped them at a little village, and Tawny nodded in acknowledgement at the elderly man who came up to greet them. While a couple of her companions stepped off to explore the place, Lance got her attention with a tap on her shoulder, suggesting that they do so as well. She could only guess from that gesture that he was inviting her to go with him, but it did not matter, for she would be glad to keep his company regardless. Pocketing a handful of coins herself, she left the wagon with Lance and Ash.

Many continued to keep their distances from them as they walked through the village, and Tawny understood why as she became aware of how they must have looked like to the locals. The fact that she had a traditionally ferocious animal at her heel was probably intimidating enough, with her spear and Lance's sword making it all the more so. It was not like she actually knew how to use the weapon slung over her back, or did she? It might be possible that she had not yet explored the entire set of her newfound abilities.

[Assistant]
At the town hall Donny spoke to Elder Namara about his situation. The elder seemed sadden but said nothing to disaude Donny from his path. A lot of the older men were now leaving the village to find their futures elsewhere, some returning, others not. Donny made it clear that he didn't really intend to return of his own accord, and the Elder accepted this. Donny will be paid for his lands and goods, a hefty and rather generous amount thanks to the quality of his lands and the services he and his family have provided for the village.

But there were other matters. Personal matters. The two spoke in hush and somber tones. A few times Donny raised his voice. "I haven't forgotten what I believe in. But there's only so much I can do cooped up in a farm. I can talk a lot but I gotta do something. This would be the first step into making that happen." The tension in Donny's voice was palpable. But the Elder said something that deflated Donny. He sat down looking uncertain and scared.

Soon Donny walked out with more coin and a dour mood. One problem after another, but he'll figure something out. He always has. For now he should say his goodbyes to the rest of the villagers, gather the other supplies, and then meet up with the others.

[User]
Naomi laughed softly disarming most people around her before she began explaining six new types of stitches meant to make the edges hold their form without bunching, layer in a seam for pants so that they don't bust as a man or woman moves in them, and so on.

She even allows the women to examine her odd assortment of needles explaining their functions and even displaying a small master piece of needlepoint she is working on using threads that catch the light and cast it back. (The Art is the Hufflepuff Shield)

I love sewing while I read or do research if I am not writing; I am well known for my need to keep notes.

My family life afforded me the ability and access to pursue anything I was interested in because my dad is a well known composer back home even performing two of his works as Crown Command Performances.

I am 17 years old and was emancipated by my father when I was 15 years old because he wanted me to have the chance to steer my life in a way he was never able to.

I was free to live where I wanted, attend whatever school or course I wanted to….to be a fool if I wanted

The blonde looks the gathered women over smiling in mock innosense laughing silently before saying in an Oh so proper and posh tone But of course I was a sober and practical girl so father never worried

[Assistant] Lucas noticed Naomi talking to the woman who came with Odum and wandered over to them. "Hey Naomi, what're you up to?" he asked, noticing what she was doing.

[User]
"Ah, a rich girl aren't you? Going to school, being an independent woman, ah I'm sure you've had plenty of men try to earn your favor. Your family certainly sounds like a wealthy one. Makes me a bit jealous!"

Enta emulated Naomi's stitching with the rest of the women and was learning quick. Needles were passed around and Enta made a quick coin selling iron needles to the womenfolk. Enta was very curious however; she's never heard about this family (based off the design Naomi stitched) or school Naomi came from. She wondered if she was lying.

"Where did you come from? It's rare to find a nice woman like you who's given so much freedom and privilege. Me, I had to scrap by with what I got."

[Assistant] As Lance walked through the village with Tawny the way villagers were avoiding them was becoming steadily more apparent. It wasn't as though he could convince them that the wolf was no threat to them, heck he didn't even believe that himself. "We need to find something... something that will help everyone be not so on edge with each other. I don't know if it's fear, excitement or a mixture of the two, but everyone seems to be so different." Lance stops and turns towards Tawny. "Even if it's not on the surface. So, what made you pick the spear?" Lance wasn't even sure why he was asking, there might not of even been an answer to that question.

[User]
Tawny snapped out of her thoughts when Lance spoke again. It seemed that she was not the only one who had noticed the strange change in the behaviors of some of their friends. Lance had realized it too, and it appeared that he was still concerned about the matter. Something that could help alleviate the edginess, let's see... Looking around, she spotted a vendor that seemed to be selling sweets. That might help a little.

Her companion then said something else that caught her attention. What did he mean by 'Even if it's not on the surface' when he turned to her? Was he implying that there was something different about her too and she had not shown it yet? She hoped not, for Lance still seemed like himself and she wanted to remain in her right mind as well. Some of them still had to be, at least. She did not have the time to think about it for long, as he suddenly asked a question.

"It cut me while I was rummaging around in that crate, so I picked it up for a better look and then decided to keep it. It actually is quite pretty," she replied as she took a look at her fingers where she had gotten cut, finding that the wound had started to heal. She then gestured to the vendor she had seen earlier. "It's been said that sweets like chocolate and honey tend to cheer people up. Shall we bring some back for the rest?"

[Assistant] Reina blinked and tilted her head as she looked around wondering if she could find someone or something to help her out with her magic.

[User]
Donny was walking through town to check on everyone when he spotted an odd sight. A handful of druids were in town; normally they stayed away in their own conclaves, coming only during emergencies and even then, not in such big numbers like this. Something must be going on. Donny, along with the Elder, approached the group. "Wiress Lumeria. What brings you into Wayward?"

An older women dressed in ragged furs adorned with feathers, bones, and berry-based pigments turned to Donny with a grim look. "We have sensed new winds on the horizon. It's flow disrupts the natural order... Or rather, it comes to change the stagnant air that has permeated for so long." Always with the riddles, though Donny had a good idea of what this woman was talking about. Surely it was no coincidence that there is a "new wind" around the same time he's escorting these strangers somewhere.

"I see. Though I take it that since you're here with your coven, that's ain't a good thing?" The women nodded her head. She looked towards the others who brought forth the mangled remains of a deer. Except it wasn't mangled as if it was torn away by monsters, but some sort of sickening, grotesque fetish of flesh and bones. Donny wondered why they brought it here. "A dark effigy. Flesh Horrors. A maligned influence from the fey has come to investigate, balance, and interfere with this new influence. Something far greater than what I can stop. You, young man... Hmm... Yes, I can sense that you're more involved than the others here. I will not ask further, but I have a request. Please, take these." The old woman then handed Donny a bag. Inside of the bags were stiff leafs.

"Your fate is intertwined with the tides of change. Even though you are but a leaf in the wind, you will go further than anyone else. Take these Snapleafs. You know what they are, and what you must do with them. They may help you on your journey." Donny looked at the woman wide-eyed. These were magical objects; snapping one of these leafs made one into the wind itself, allowing them to fall from a great height without danger as well as turning invisible for a short duration. Just one of these was expensive enough to support a farm like Donny for years. And how he had a bag full. He carefully closed it and put it away, bowing his head to the druid. "Thank you, Wiress Lumaria. I understand... But what will you do now?"

The elderly woman turned to her coven and with a wave of her hand, they dispersed. "These are dangerous times. Not only due to the greed of men, but this eldritch influence as well. Neither the village of Wayward, nor my clan, will survive the coming times on our own. So we must work together, for just a chance to survive." Donny wasn't so sure about that. The village and the druids were able to work so well together because they were often separate; the lifestyle of Wayward was outright blasphemous to the Druids, and the druids themselves have showed no issues using their magic powers to enforce their point. While he could understand the necessity of working together for survival, Donny wondered who exactly will they be protecting themselves from?

Didn't really matter to Donny. As much as he liked Wayward, soon this place was just going to be a memory to him. He doesn't have the time to stick around and try to fix everything, or else he'd be an old man before he'd ever reach the city. Without another word he bowed his head to the Wiress and left to find the others. It's about time they all left anyways.

[Assistant] "Who's your new friend?" he asked, smiling at both of them. "I'm Lucas, by the way."

[User]
"Ah, have I not introduced myself yet? Terribly rude of me! My name is Enta, I just arrived into town on my way towards the city."

Bowing her head towards the other two Enta stood up and stretched her back. She let out a yawn and walked a little bit away.

"It was nice meeting you, but I really should finish my shopping before it gets too late into the day. It's dangerous out on these roads! You never know when you're meet some crazed, murderous hobo."

[Assistant]
"Quite the bizarre method for making a choice." Lance chuckles as Tawny reveals her reason for picking a spear. "Won't be so pretty if you need to use it though." When Tawny gestured towards the stall Lance glances over as he listens to her comment. "Well I guess we can. I got this covered, back in a sec. Uh... maybe you should hold this for a sec, seems to be making people uneasy." Lance removes the sheathed weapon which he'd had slung over his shoulder resting its tip against the ground before leaning it toward Tawny.

Lance then made his way over to the vendor stand wearing a smile on his face as he gathered an assortment of the sweets on offer before swinging the coin purse into his hand opening it up. He peeps inside as he fetches a few of the coins from its contents before placing them down on the stall. Little surprise but he wasn't really sure of the value of the currency he'd tried to hand over. "Eh... enough?" He asks as he looks to the vendor, who simply shook his head. "More."
"Well alright..." Lance stated before handing over more of the coin. Although he had no comprehension of the currency the amount of coin he was handing over felt a little like he was being ripped off. "There you go."

Lance goes to take the goods and leave when the vendor reaches over and grabs his cuff shaking his head. "More." Was this vendor serious. Lance smiles as he leans forward toward the vendor. "Look, hehe..." Lance spoke softly as he looked back to Tawny still wearing a smile. He turned back to the vendor. "I may not understand the currency, but I do understand when someones trying to rip me off.
 So here's the thing." Lance's voice got quieter with each word. "You're gonna take your coin, and I'm gonna take what I purchased. You'll let go, or I'll snap your arm in two." Upon finishing Lance yanked his arm free as he took his purchase. "Thank you and good day." He walked over to Tawny still wearing his smile. "So should we head back?"

[User] "It was good meeting you Enta." Lucas said, bowing to her as she left. "I hope you have a wonderful evening."

[Assistant] Odum had dozed off during the ride, but as soon as it stopped, he got up, quickly, and walked around the town.