[System]
Hear the Devil callin'.
Well, I hear the Devil callin',
gotta pay him what he's due.
I can't stop the Dogs of War.

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L I L Y O A K L E Y
"ʀᴇᴅ"
34 | ♀
ᴍᴜɴᴅᴀɴᴇ ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ

♠ Ambidexterity
♠ Marksmanship
♠ Fighting
♠ Big game hunter
♠ Survival

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ꜱᴋɪʟʟꜱ

♥ Emotionless, except extremes and the 7 sins
♥ Supernatural aim, time slows as the adrenaline gets pumping

ᴇqᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ
♣ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴꜱ

♦ 2x Colt Single Action Army
 A pair of reliable single action revolvers, each holding 6 .45 Colt cartridges. These particular models are the models issued to cavalry units, coming with 7 1⁄2 inch barrels.

♦ Winchester Model 1866
 A rugged lever-action rifle chambered in .44 Henry. It's tube magazine holds 15 rounds. It's leather strap allows it to easily be carried over a shoulder.
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 ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ
Lily stands at 1.7m tall and is probably most easily recognized by a her dark red, almost crimson colored hair. Her eyes are a muddied brown and have an uncanny hardness to them, speaking volumes of the horrors she has witnessed. Her skin is fair, tanned by the many hours she has spend under the unforgiving glare of the sun.

There are a myriad of scars marring her body, from animal slashes to gunshot wounds. The most notable is a nasty gash that runs horizontally across her throat. She normally attempts to cover the latter one up with her iconic red scarf.

ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛᴏʀ
A cursed gunslinger seeking revenge against those who killed her.

ʜɪꜱᴛᴏʀʏ
The memories of before my death seem like a lifetime away now...

I used to have it good, y'know? My parents, my little brother and little sister; all living peacefully on our own little plot of land far away from civilization. The ground was good for crops and game aplenty. We worked the lands and were happy with the way things were. It's where my pa taught me how to shoot, hunt and survive. Ah, but we all know what this place does to a good thing, don't we?

They came riding in at dusk. Bandits, raiders, outlaws... Whatever you want to call them. A posse of twelve had entered our lands and were making a beeline for our home. My pa told us to hide in the barn as he tried to reason with them. I found myself a crack in the paneling I could peer through as my pa approached the gang, cocking his rifle. Now my pa was a big man, the kinda guy everybody had to look up at. But the leader of this gang towered over my pa! A hulking mass of muscle.

I was too far away to hear what was said, but you could tell things were rapidly going downhill by the gang's laughter. Things quickly went south as they ganged up on my pa, mercilessly beating him down into the dirt. I screamed in instinct, drawing the attention of the outlaws. Bearing down onto the barn like a pack of wild dogs, they dragged us out into the open.

Now I wish this all had a happy ending, but we both know better, don't we? I had hoped, prayed, that these men were here merely for money or food... But god has turned a blind eye to this part of the world, hasn't he?

I watched how they strung my little brother up into a tree and used him as target practice for their knifes... My dad was beaten until even I didn't recognize his face anymore. As for my little sister, mother and me. Well... I'm sure you're the imaginative kind. Let's just say their screams will haunt me till the day I die.

As the sun dipped below the hills, I began noticing weirder things. The outlaws had set up a large fire, bathing the area in an eerie orange glow. But it was their shadows that seemed off, hunched and deformed. More beast than man. Weirder still, was the shady figure darting between them. Perhaps it was the abuse I was receiving that day, my mind trying to concoct a reason as to why a human being could possibly be this cruel. But I swear there was a thirteenth member of the gang among them. His shape was a mere wisp of smoke, featureless like a shadow. It would move from man to man and whisper something into their eyes before they would enact yet another horrifying act.

Now, I could regale you with all the horrors they inflicted on me that evening, but I doubt you're here for that. No, I told you I died, didn't I?

When the first rays of sunlight broke over the hills, I was approached by their leader. The absolute giant of a man had stayed remarkably absent during his gang's festivities during the night. I still remember the words he spoke to me like he said them yesterday... "My my, you survived?" He told me with a noticeable glee in his voice. Grabbing me by my hair, he pulled me up as if I weighed nothing. "Tell him I said hello." He growled. Before I could even bother to form the question who he meant, he dragged a knife across my throat.

I collapsed to the ground, desperately clutching my throat as I quickly began choking on my own blood. The last thing I remember seeing before darkness overtook me was the man grinning down at me, his teeth awfully sharp for a human.

Now this is where I would tell you that I saw the white light, right? That my family was eagerly awaiting me with open arms. But that's just a load of bull. There was nothing. Blankness. Void. No warmth nor cold.

There was a light though, but it didn't come from some heavenly portal. I simply found myself opening my eyes and staring up at the clear blue sky. Sitting up with a start, I reached for my throat; finding nothing but caked blood and the charming scar I have today. I wasnt alone though. Before stood perhaps the oddest figure I've ever seen.

A small, spindly man in a dirty suit that looked more at home in a bank. His cheeks were gaunt and his skin awfully pale. But what I remember the most were his eyes. The bluest blue I'd ever seen. He simply said to me the following:

"Find him, bind him
Tie him to a pole and break
His fingers to splinters
Drag him to a hole until he
Wakes up, naked
Clawing at the ceiling
Of his grave"

And just like that, he was gone; vanished like smoke.

The homestead was razed. I buried my family, yet felt no remorse or sadness. It was as of a part of me died that evening. All I knew was that I would find this gang and kill them with my own two hands. Which is what brought me to Ulysses. See, ever since that night I've felt a pull. Like something guiding me towards this place. Whether this is just a stop in between or the end of my journey I don't know... But how about you pour me another whiskey and we'll see what the night bring? |
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[User]
Maintaining her smile, Uzume listened to the deputy's offer and waited for him to finish.

(Do all American men so casually compliment women? And the note-taking is...interesting. Perhaps it is how he remembers things?)

First responding with a nod, she continued to speak in her somewhat rough English, as she said, "I am here because I read that there are problems in area. I wish to help. If the cavalrymen were indication, I believe I will be of use. I am best with blade, which their leader also used."

After a brief pause to collect her thoughts and attempting to translate them, she continued, "What is happening at this farm? Are the attackers based there? Do you anticipate ambush? Also..."

Turning her attention towards the town, Uzume said, "Is there more work available once we return? I would prefer it not involve fighting, so that I might study other walks of life and improve."

[Assistant]
Meru & Gilead

---

As the huddled buildings and voices of Ulysses fell away behind him, the beautiful desolation of the American West opened up, seemingly endless stretches of inhospitable desert and untarnished blue sky. Plum rocked gently beneath Gilead's feet, sinewed pistons rippling beneath her shimmering pale coat as they tore across the horizon. Samuel was at his best here; perched expertly upon the saddle, legs absorbing the shock, body focused and balanced upon the mare as if they were the same entity.

The frontiersman turned his visage downward, meeting the wild eyes of Meru, the smaller beast keeping an uncannily natural pace with the powerful quarter horse. The mad grin plastered on the creature's muzzle sent a cold trickle of sweat run down Gilead's spine, the taste of copper filling his mouth, swirls of disjointed images cascading through mind's eye. Strange clouds threatened in the distance, as apprehension wriggled about in Gilead's mind, but it was not born of fear. It came from somewhere else. A place he could not reach. A place perhaps no one was meant to.

It seemed Ulysses was attracting the misplaced and the bold from every walk of life, like moths to flame. He stole another glance at Meru. Or were they lambs to the slaughter?

So enraptured by thought, he scarcely noticed the woman calling out to him before he was nearly on top of her. Plum skidded to a stop, whinnying bitterly at their abrupt change of pace. The mare was a demoness of speed trapped in an equine form, Gilead had often mused. Idly he stroked Plum's neck, fingers running over the punctuated circular scarring which ran down its length, cooing in the mare's ear as he circled the undertaker.

Gilead cast an ugly grin at the woman, tipping the edge of his hat and coming to a halt just far enough from her vision to force her gaze to follow him away from the town. Though the significance of this was as amorphous as the intentions of the Coyote which coolly considered Sophia from his spot, planted firmly at the opposite outskirts of her peripheral.

"Izzat so?" Samuel squawked, "Must be yer lucky day, as it be just as ya say, Ms. Wallace."

He craned across Plum's neck toward the undertaker, cupping his hand to his mouth. Gilead's voice slithered out in a ragged whisper. "Between yew and m'self, all money be green, but Meru & I 'ave suspicions yer got little interest in what ol' Johnny Law has ta think bout dem poor Jefferson Farm, eh?"

He tapped his hawkish nose with a finger, silver eyes twinkling keenly.

Meru took a few cautious steps forward, wordlessly scrutinizing her features for a moment before trotting further down the road, stopping several paces ahead to look back at them.

Gilead squirmed in his saddle, "Says company'll crash our party afore long."

Another moment hung in the air, the ghoulish man staring towards the town as if it was no longer there, a look that seemed to reach beyond realms, before snapping back to attend Sophia.

"Can ye ride?" He didn't wait for a response, rearing Plum in a tight circle, the trio virtually disappearing in the cloud kicked up.

From the billowing folds his chalky voice erupted "Then show me!"

[User]
L i l y "R E D" O a k l e y
____________________________________________________________________________

Lily's eyes locked with the sheriff's as he looked her down. He seemed like the decent, honorable kind of man. His eyes showed experience. "I dont care how you feel about me, sheriff... I'm not here for you or your town." Lily spoke bluntly. "The farmstead, I want details. How many bodies? What condition were they in? Was anything stolen? What about the farm animals?" She fired off her questions in rapid succession, making it abundantly clear that she was had a potential link to this case.

If the assault on the farmstead was any similar to hers, the carnage probably wasn't much different. The gang that had raided her farmstead had left a bloody carnage, both in human and animal blood; yet hadn't bothered to actually steal anything. Not exactly typical behavior for a band of outlaws. it wasn't exactly the kind of scene one walked away from without losing a bit of themselves in the process.

For the first time in months, she felt an excitement rising. An itch running down her arms and into her trigger fingers. With any luck, her hunt for revenge would soon be sated.


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Amal and Emmaline ate together, but once the two had their quick fill of the strange edible, Amal decided they needed some more. With a slight modicum of his strength back, he decided to be an enterprising man and searched the beach until he found a particularly sharp rock. It made him lament losing his favored dagger in the wreck of the El Cargador, but it was no use dwelling on it now. The stone was weighty in the hand but fairly jagged, and he used it to poke into the next hard shelled treat until it was then pried open, and he and Emmaline ate some more until they felt the bottomless pits of their stomachs had grown slightly less chasmic.

Satisfied, with their asses coated in sand, the two made their way over to the wreckage of mottled wood that stood as a ruin along the beach. It was an old ship by the looks of it, but not ancient. If Amal had to guess, it was a Brettonian vessel judging by the writing on its side and the coloring of the outer planks. He had never left the Southlands, but he had seen many ships in his time. Before they looked, they both waded into the sea for a moment to clean themselves of the rocks and sand that caked their skin.

"Let's find some clothes," Emmaline said tiredly, lifting out of the ocean in water that tickled her hips. "If the Gods are merciful there will be some."

Amal grabbed her hand, and she turned to see him with a glint in his eye. "I agree, but since we have some of our strength back..." His eyes explored her body, and she snorted when her mind caught up to her.

"I think survival and then fun is the most responsible course of action, even a risk taker like you can appreciate that." Despite her words, she gave a little extra sway of her hips as she stepped out of the water. Amal couldn't help but grin, despite his disappointment. The two stepped out and found themselves under the torn canopy of a fallen mast, long years and constant exposure to bugs and the elements giving it window-like holes where the beating sun pierced into the sand.

Amal was afraid to press to hard on any of the fragile wooden structure that rose out of the sand, lest it all fall atop them. There were two chests that lay covered in sand with crags scuttling across them, and fallen cupboards sat prone besides skeletons of unfortunate lost souls. Emmaline could not sense anything magical in the area, though Lustria had a strange polymetric quality to how the winds of magic flowed, as if there were intensely powerful magics further inland like the astronomers described the fabled 'black holes' in space, with density greater than suns that drew all matter around it. It was faint, however, and unimportant next to her find of relatively clean (save a few cobwebs) set of clothes inside one of the cupboards.

Within minutes, Amal and Emmaline looked like two deckhands, brown breeches and lowcut, unimpressive cotton tops that had a simply string at the neckline to tie up and cover their chests. Their boots were hardened, having been wetted and dried numerous times throughout the years, but they were certainly better than nothing.

After days in the merciless sun, even Amal felt clothing on his body was welcoming feeling. Emmaline practically squee'd in glee, eyes brightened and hands shaking. The Arabyan thought if she had more strength back she would be leaping. As she spun to tell Amal how grateful she was, the sorceress saw Amal holding an aureate tricone hat with an extravagant plum atop it. It was so large it looked nearly ridiculous. With a light humor, he placed it atop Emmaline's head and gave an equally extortionate bow.

"Yoeu look sew a-beautiful, mademoiselle." He performed in his modestly bad Brettonian accent. "Now if you will ekesxuseme, I will check if zese chests 'ave any eh-treasure."

[Assistant]
"Mo oui, oue are so'gallant," Emmaline replied sweeping the hat off her head in an elaborate bow. Clothing offered a degree of protection to a civilized person that was beyond mere protection from the elements. Even so she gave Amal a playful pinch on the rump while he fiddled with the lock on the first chest using a rusted nail and a sliver of wood as improvised picks. The ship looked as though it had been reasonably well cleaned out, there was little in the way of tools and nothing in the way of supplies left, as though everything that the surviving crew could carry had been hauled out of the vessel. Emmaline could easily imagine the surviving crew gathering up everything they could for a march... somewhere. Unfortunately whatever navigational records or charts had guided the ship here were also long gone. It was clear that they were somewhere far to the west of Brettonia but where exactly that was, or whether there were any settlements here was beyond her knowledge. Perhaps the crew had merely been searching for a stretch of coast not ringed by shoals and rescue might be more likely. Or slightly less unlikely.

"Almost got it," Amal muttered as he fiddled with his lock picks. Emmaline drew back her foot and bought it down hard on the lock of the second chest, the hasp sprang free as the ageworn timber crumbled. Amal clicked the lock open on his own chest and looked at her critically.

"Well sure, but no points for style," he admonished. They both threw open their chests. Inside were an assortment of personal items, quills and paper, a leather bound book that looked to be the captains journal, an old hurricane lantern and some more clothing. More practically there were a pair of jeweled daggers and a short sword with a leather bound hilt. Emmaline's chest was less usefully stocked with several bottles of liquor a darning kit and some navigational equipment including an astrolade and sextant. These were of limited use without charts but Emmaline gathered them up and tucked them into a leather rucksack that lay neatly folded at the bottom. A further search of the ship revealed nothing much of use, though they did gather up some rope, some canvas and a few of the large metal decking nails before reluctantly wading back ashore.

The sun was already going down so they strung the rope between to palm trees to make a tent and Amal began to construct a fire. About halfway through he realised he didn't have anyway to light it, but Emmaline conjured a flame that set the kindling alight. She also was able to use a spell to stun some of the fish that ventured into the shallows and they prepared a meal of fish grilled on short sticks which seemed heavenly in comparison to days of hunger and the meager fare provided by the strange fruit. It might have been possible to fashion a pot from the metal they recovered using magic but such a feat was beyond Emmaline without proper preparation. Once they had eaten Emmaline tried to read the book by firelight. Her Brettonian was not really up to the challenge however and after divining that the name of the ship had been the Caroline and she was a merchant out of Bordeaux she had to give up the text as impenetrable.

"Well," she said at last as she lounged against a large log of driftwood beside Amal, walking her fingers up his chest absently.

"What do you think we should do?"

[User]
Amal's belly filled with food and water, for the first time in near a week he felt comfortable. Even in this strange land, where the night fell late and the air felt strange and humid. He had taken all three weapons to carry over to the area they had chosen for camp. Behind them the trees were thick and hard to navigate through, even for Amal, so an attack from there would be unlikely. In front of them was the wide open ocean, and the twin moons of the world stood tall, bearing their reflections down on the soft waves that slid over the sand with a calming rhythm.

As Emmaline had been reading the Brettonian letters, Amal had initially been throwing a roughly circular rock towards the sea, watching to see if the carpet could catch it before the stone hit the water. It managed to whisk away the stone close to a dozen times before it wasn't swift enough, the water 'plunking' into the surf as the carpet spasmed in a fit. It zipped over and huffed, flattening on the ground on the other side of the fire.

"Come now, it happens to everyone." Amal said, but it was unwilling to perk up again except for a perfunctory wave from its fluffed arms.

After that, Amal had examined the daggers. Some weapons were jeweled because they were mere ornament pieces, but he knew blades well. These daggers were sharp and combat ready, the blades being a hand and a half tall by his reckoning, two hands tall by Emmaline's he guessed. The short sword was nearly twice that length, though it didn't look as finely crafted. It would do in a pinch, made from good steel and likely castle crafted. Setting the sword down, the thief lay back, head resting upon the log as he took a small piece of driftwood and used one of the daggers to idly carve its length.

Perhaps it was because he missed home, or perhaps because he couldn't take his mind off of Settra's curse that stranded them here, but he began to carve a Sphynx. Deftly maneuvering the knife along the soft wood, a rough shape began to form as the minutes passed. Despite his lack of education, he was skilled in more ways than looting and violence, with a quick mind and an attention to detail. He wondered if this was how the elders felt when they had retired from their duties. To sit by a fire calmly and whittle away at something trivial but fulfilling to give the long hours meaning.

These musings flew away when Emmaline turned and leaned against him, her book closed and her fingers walking along his bare chest. Amal's eyes ran along her jawline and her lips, immediately feeling a stirring below the belt. He leaned in to kiss her, only to stop and perk up, looking back behind them like a hound. He had heard nothing, but he needed to make sure. Long years alert told him to check, but also the fact that the boat collapsed last time before they could cuddle irked him.

A long moment passed before he relaxed his posture again, not giving Emmaline time to question it.

"One another," He answered, cupping her chin and kissing her greedily, having been nearly as famished sexually as he had been in other areas.


[System]
Persona: Mortella

Appearance:

Age: 19

Archetype: Alien

Power set: Petrifying gaze- A thin-blooded Gorgon, Madeline has the power to stun her enemies, in a much milder version of the stony gaze that Pure blooded Gorgon's are infamous for. Usually this will only last for a few seconds, and for the petrification to last any longer will drain Madeline of her powers for the rest of the day.

Snake Hair- Madeline's writhing mass of sacley tresses have a life of their own, and will defend their mistress to the end.

Origin Story: Born on the distant planet of Euraylion, Mortella was raised on the verges of the monstrous Gorgon empire. Beneath the tyrannical rule of Meduliss the terrible, the Gorgon Empire had become a massively advanced dominion, utilizing a dark combination of alchemical magics and twisted technologies.

As a thin-blooded gorgon, Mortella was an outcast from the rest of Gorgon society, living amongst a band of outcasts in the harsh wildernesses beyond the walls of Euralion's great cities. Her upbringing was harsh and unloving, instilling a sense of bleak principles into the young girl, as she grew up knowing nothing but survival.

Mortella realized that her people's constant raids upon the Empire were complete folly. Realising that there was no way Meduliss would ever be dethroned by such a small rabble of rebels, Mortella commandeered a supply shuttle, and ran as far away as she could from the reach of the Gorgon Empire.

After spending some time working as a pirate in deep space, her travels eventually took her to Earth. Assuming the identity "Madeline Moncroix", Mortella is ready to rise to prominence as a supervillian.

[User]
As strange as it might have sounded, the appreance of a blue woman with snake eyes, horns and a tail at his 'clinic' hadn't actually been that surprising for Thule; The world was a very strange place by default after all.

Still, as he sat and looked at the jobs that she was offering him alongside a sizeable crew of strange and unique people under the mask of Desperation, the 'Plague Doctor' of the group had to consider his options. Truthfully, it wasn't a hard decision.

While attacking an establishment run by a mafia family was a good way to wind up dead, the resulting slaughter would provide him with plenty of parts that he could make good use off in his trade while also helping to 'send a message' while merely clearing out a base would grant him very little. Either way, his talents as a healer would not doubt be called upon by someone after all was said and done.

Standing up and walking to stand on Blueberry's left and side before giving a respectful nod of his head as he took off his hat for a moment like a gentleman of old before turning to look at the group and speaking with a voice that was clearly artificial to disguise who the speaker truly was. "Anyone interested in visiting a casino, would you mind joining me?"

[Assistant]
Harvey hadn't even spend a full month on earth and now this. The blue Lady looked so funny. Well all humans looked kind of funny. But that was besides the point. Harvey had realized he would not become the Overlord of this planet, so he had to start from the bottom. And this blue Daemon Lady might just be his ticket to rise in rank. Also it sounded like some fun and adventure.

The other freaks who were standing next to him seemed just as funny, a bunch of weird humans in different costumes. This would be one heck of a mission. Or two missions actually.

"I am going to be a part of the attack on the lair. I sleep in a garbage bin at the moment, this seems like a step up.", Harvey had no idea why he said the second part. Did he make a fool out of himself? Did anyone even care? Human social behavior was weird.
The Man who wanted to be a part of the Mafia hit (Whatever a Mafia was?) was wearing all black and a bird mask. Or was it even a human? How was Harvey supposed to know?

This would be so weird. But at least Earth was not boring.

[User]
Eric was in a fifteen game winning streak when that blue women found him. Now he was in some warehouse surrounded by people he didn't know. At least with the money gained from previously stated winning streak he managed to buy some decent clothes.

The hellish women spoke in a downright insulting manner, but she had connections. Pann made sure to remind Eric just how much they needed work, and how working with other demons might just springboard them into greater things. With, not for, Pann made sure to elaborate. One figure stepped up, guy wearing a rather creepy bird mask saying that he was going after the gambling joint, then the space man saying he wanted to take the secret base.

"I love gambling, I think I'll be going with you mister..." Eric said as the voice in his head told him something and Eric finished his sentience, "doctor."

Eric would then take a step towards the scary doctor, standing at his side.

[Assistant]
Couscous smiled her friendly smile. She was already planning how to mess with people. It was her favorite pastime. Being a villian is just a perk. Tussling her white hair. Her outfit was lacking in any pass she looked lifted off the street. Would it not be the devious intent in her eyes. Wondering if any of the ones here were week in mind. She had to test it amounts her new 'friends'. Listening to the rude blue lady only log enough she wanted a lair.
Directing her thoughts to the alien next to her.

Narrator
How about introducing your self. Im sure they want to know.

She said keeping her vision at the blue skinned insulting lady who said her daddy was interested in them. Who ever her 'Daddy' was must have inforced that name because why would a grown woman call her father daddy.

Father father She would have to find her's. Make him apologize. Oh well Villains disappear all the time.
" I would like to have a lair and robots are fun." She said muttering " To mess with" under her breath. " Ill go for that one. "

[User]
He had to admit, Oscar had been more than a little startled when the blue-skinned demonette had appeared behind him as he was taking care of business in a public urinal. "Hey, Thug," she'd announced. "Daddy's got a job for you."

For his part, Oscar remembered rolling his eyes at the moniker. Apparently it was tradition among supercriminals to take for yourself some ridiculous second name. The first time he appeared in the police blotter for an altercation with a cop, the text had referred to him as a 'thug' - and when it came out that he displayed 'slightly superhuman abilities', the news ran with the name (in the two or three sentences they'd devoted to him since, of course).

"Wish everybody'd stop feckin' callin' me that..." he'd grumbled, but by the time he'd turned around, she was gone, leaving behind a slip of paper with a time and a place.

And now here he was, seated at the crossroads of weirdness and stupidity. Lounging back in his chair, the criminal cast his gaze around the room. Some white-suit, cardshark type. A bloody alien. Cute blonde chick. Spider-robot. Medusa. Some creepy fuck in a bird mask. Several more. Not for the first time, Oscar wondered what he was doing here - after all, he'd sworn off evil minion work after that bastard Ne'erdowell had tried to lobotomize him. This is different, he told himself. This is climbing the ladder.

Clearing his throat, Oscar raised his hand casually. "Had some experience with mad-scientist lairs. Didn't much like it. I'll take the casino, with birdbrains and white-suit." He rose from his chair and stepped over to the two, hands in his pockets.

[Assistant]
Everything about Earth was strange and surreal. The idea that worlds beyond the Gorgon Empire, populated by pink-skinned bipedal creatures, even existed had been a mind blowing notion to a younger Mortella, but now she was standing in a room full of vastly different life forms, on a planet vastly different from her home.

Whereas the other arrivals stood on two legs or sat in tacky plastic chairs, Mortella was coiled across the cold stone floor, her scaley green tail spread out behind her. She was a well-built young girl, with a thick waist and broad shoulders. A writhing mass of hissing serpents thrashed about in the tangled mess above her head, and her greenish flesh shone dimly beneath the flickering warehouse lights.

Mortella waited wordlessly whilst the blue creature sassed the group, keeping her thoughts strictly within her own head. It was only when the time to choose a mission emerged that she finally spoke up.

"I'm in the mood to sample some terran hedonism. I'll go for the Casino."


[System]
* Age: 228
* Gender: Female
* Race: Sentient Undead (Human)
* Appearance:
 Though at one time as shiny and luminescent as pictured, Tyaethe's armour has lost much of its lustre due to a combination of two hundred years of constant use and an inability to perfectly clean it whilst in use. The result is a blurring of the intricate detailing on the paladin's shield and armour, and the shining metal is now a dull grey verging on black—when not coated in blood. It got cleaned. The scarf obscures how the throat is heavily armoured, beyond what one would expect of such an ensemble.
Though none still in the knights can say for certain what she looks like underneath all the armour, her eyes are clearly an unusually brilliant red and her hair white. Since the armour's on the intentionally bulky side and doesn't come off, it's not quite clear what Tyaethe's height is... though probably over six feet. Currently, she seems to be trapped in appearance as a child... though her armour's size doesn't quite mesh with the old paintings.
* Personality: If there's one thing that all her instructors tried to do, it was to cure Tyaethe of her temper. Fervour and determination in a battle is all well and good but carrying that attitude over to your everyday life? Despite their efforts, it was a fruitless endeavour and the tall paladin is as irascible as ever, though with enough self-control to avoid the worst outcomes.
At heart, Tyaethe is a dutiful knight and a good person. So despite her frequent anger, she has never once backed down on her duties or struck out at a child or someone truly innocent, even if rather aggressive verbally. Her unfaltering devotion to her duty—or anything else, as she seems too stubborn to ever back down—is best exemplified by her continued presence in the Iron Rose Knights, despite the drift from being a religious order.
Something more familiar to the newer recruits than the veterans is her sullenness and risk-taking. Not a behaviour always evident but at the same time a concerning trend, as if her patience for something is running out.
One trait carried over from her normal life is a dislike of being seen out of her armour. Since Elionne's death, this has exacerbated into a full refusal to remove it for any reason short of their first captain's return. Partly, at least, this is to prevent anyone from learning of her undeath and to preserve the idea of an immortal knight.
* Brief Backstory: Tyaethe was born to a minor noble family and, as the only child, was expected to carry on the family's duty as knights. To this end, at the age of seven, her education was entrusted to an important but highly religious duke that owed her father his life. It was for this reason that instead of continuing on to be a squire, the young Tyaethe pledged her service to the church and became a paladin.
As an adult, her strength and steadfast service was admirable, even though her hot-headed attitude caused friction with some of those she had to work with. It was for this reason that she was granted the honour of protecting the High Priestess and, when reports of an incoming force surfaced, left Falthir in order to conduct the fighting when she wouldn't be at risk. Naturally, this backfired and it was only Elionne's intervention that prevented the deception from being successful due to the diversion of the guards.
Owing the maiden for fulfilling her duty where she could not, Tyaethe swore to serve her in life and in death, second only to the goddesses. Part of the Iron Rose Knights since their inception, Tyaethe's death came in a pitched battle where their foes managed to split herself, Elionne, and some less experienced knights from the majority of their comrades.
The reason for her survival has never been perfectly explained. Some of the knights assumed it was just sheer luck and the high level of mana in the region and the more religious assigned it to divine intervention. Some of her detractors have even accused Tyaethe of dabbling in necromancy. As for the paladin herself, she cites her oath and willpower, as well as a refusal to go down whilst Elionne was still in danger. The fact of her undeath has been kept a secret within the knights, to cultivate a reputation as an immortal holy warrior, though doubtless people have guessed the truth.
Tyaethe has been unsurprisingly steadily more bitter since the original captain left, wanting to know why and find out what happened. Despite this, she has faithfully explained new captains their duties and guided them through it, even as the knights have drifted further and further from the religious unit she joined.
* Equipment: Forged nearly two hundred years before, the styling of Tyaethe's armour is antiquated to say the least—though the decorations, obscured as they are, resemble the current pieces made on the behalf of the church. Few people can move efficiently in such weighty protection, let alone adjust to how it restricts movement in order to fight but even going for its vulnerabilities leads to a difficult time in scoring a fatal injury. Of particular note is the one addition made before Elionne left: a reinforced gorget, to make even accidental decapitation even less likely.
Her other armament consists of a sword that most refuse to treat as one and an immense shield. Both are as long as she is tall and the sword itself unreasonably broad and tough; it crushes as much as it actually cuts. The shield, scratched though the design is over the years, contains a wolf rampant in its design—a lesser-used Mayonite symbol.
All three pieces were blessed and enchanted to regenerate under moonlight, since even before Tyaethe's death they took vast amounts of punishment and repairing them manually was prohibitively costly.
* Skills: Raised as a member of the nobility and intended to become a far more ordinary knight, Tyaethe knows falconry, board games, how to ride, and the social graces needed for polite company. All of these skills, save the riding—and that relies on draught horses in her case—are incredibly rusty skills due to neglect. Her literacy and ability to recite scripture on a whim, due to her training as a paladin, are as strong as ever.
In combat, Tyaethe's immense strength and armour leads to an approach best likened to an oncoming tide: she's not the most agile or that hard to hit but actually stopping her or resisting the offence is futile. Her speed can also be deceptive; she chooses to adopt a slow approach for psychological reasons and is more than capable of surging forwards to strike down a threat. Though a shield might seem redundant with such armour, she happily uses it as a second weapon or to force an opening from someone hoping to budge her defence.
With over a century of experience on her side and an initial training in the arts of warfare, Tyaethe is also a valuable tactical and strategic source—provided that you ask her opinion when she's not agitated in some manner and ensure that the reason Tyaethe suggests she be put in the thick of it is due to needing an immovable obstacle.

[User]
Fanilly's attention was once again ripped away by Tyaethe's speech. Oh... certainly, she had already known, but the sight of the armored knight forcing a spear through her own body made her flinch, cringe briefly in a way unlike the similar injuries that had been inflicted on no small amount of the dead bandits. After a few moments, she found herself slowly nodding towards the ice mage, Tiral, before stepping forward. Yes... many of the knights were asking her for the next course of action. As disgusted as she was by the unnecessary brutality several men had died in, there was no time to dwell upon the matter.

She took a deep breath before turning to face them.

"The bandit camp is not far ahead," she began, "The smoke from their fires is on the air, I am certain I am not the only one who can smell it."

She sheathed her sword at her side.

"So we must act quickly. While we do not have the numbers to completely encircle their camp, I feel a simultaneous strike from four directions will ultimately be our path to victory," she continued, "We will be splitting into four groups, to take up positions around their camp and move inward. I shall lead the first, who will take position ahead of their camp."

She turned to regard the heavily-armored undead knight.

"Sir Tyaethe, you shall lead the second, to take position to their left."

She turned to face the older man who had approached her. He was a venerable figure, and Fanilly had this in mind as she made her next decision. "Sir Aethelmund, you shall lead the third, and take position to the camp's right."

Fanilly glanced between her next choices had hesitated. She had to admit she did not have someone immediately in mind to lead the fourth group. The first two choices had come to her easily, but the next... She wanted to place faith in the newer knights, as well as the old. Surely there were those among their number who held tactical knowledge to this purpose, wasn't there? A group of armsmen had already proceeded ahead as well...

"... Sir Tiral, you will lead the fourth, which will advance from behind," she said, finally, after some hesitation, "We will move in on my signal. Shields in front, to defend the others from arrows. I'll give you time in order to get into position, but as we are in a forest it will be difficult to signal to one another in a way that will not alert the bandits."

[Assistant]
Tiral nodded his head in response to the captain's affirmation. Thankfully, these bandits had been complete idiots in trying to run straight back to their base after being captured, else his reaffirmation might have made himself look a bit foolish. In the end, it was a matter of perspective, but... Well, at least it had pulled the captain out of her anger. A clouded mind in combat was suicidal; even he, young as he was, knew that well.

The captain continued, detailing her strategy for the assault on the camp, which Tiral himself wasn't all too surprised by. A four-pronged attack was quite workable, but it did still spread their forces a bit thin. Granted, if the enemy was anything like the bandits that had just been dispatched, then...

Well, if anything, it'd get the job done faster.

Tiral closed his eyes and nodded his head as the captain directed the leaders of each group. The captain, as expected, would take the front. Fitting, but not all too unexpected.

The side flanks would be taken by the two veterans, which gave Tiral a chance to relax a bit. Regardless of the immortal knight's current state of affairs, it would be hard to argue that she wasn't among the most venerable of them all. The other, Sir Aethelmund, was also someone that the mage had predicted would be chosen; after all, his own actions weren't the least bit unknown to the Order. A small smile crept its way onto the mage's face; at this rate, the bandits would probably be dispatched posthaste.

It took a moment, though, for him to remember that this was supposed to be a four-pronged attack and that the captain had only dictated three leaders. But then who was the fourth...?

"... Sir Tiral, you will lead the fourth, which will advance from behind."

...
Oh.

A few beads of sweat seemed to form on Tiral's brow as he processed the captain's words.

He was to lead the fourth squadron.
Him.
Why him?! If there was anyone he had expected to lead the final group, it was probably Sir Garrett! At least the man had more experience! Was this what the mercenaries of his youth called 'a trial by fire'? Because it sure as hell seemed like one.

Though the battle just now had felt like nothing but a warm-up to Tiral, his initial plan to use the whole ordeal as a test to himself was now thrown completely out the window. Had the Captain picked up on his musings earlier? If that was the case, then maybe he'd have to learn to keep his thoughts to himself in the future. Rather than testing his own strength, it was more like the captain was testing him now. Her eyes were on him, which meant that everyone else's would be, too.

Before he could protest and offer up the one who he thought was a more fitting leader, the Captain had already taken to sending everyone off to their respective posts. Tiral stopped himself from letting out a defeated sigh, though just barely; there was no point in arguing now, after all.

"Understood," Tiral said, nodding in response before turning to the knights who had grouped up behind him. Their gazes seemed to look upon him with uncertainty, to which the mage could only respond with a nervous smile.

Damn, even if this was only a fraction of what the Captain faced... Something like this would surely unnerve him. She certainly had it rough, didn't she...? He would keep this in mind for the future. But he had no time to settle his thoughts; as the order was, he had to get into position. Fast.

"As the captain has stated, I shall lead the engagement from behind the enemy encampment. Quickly, now, so our mission can be completed without issue."

With that brief statement, Tiral quickly saluted the captain and the other two leaders before beginning to move through the brush towards their destination, the knights behind him following close behind.

This sort of responsibility... Certainly wasn't what he was used to. At all.

[User]
Tyaethe was very much displeased at being separated from the captain, though you wouldn't have been able to tell it from looking at her; the only clue was a shifting of her eyes that indicated a suppressed frown. The undead knight hated being separated from captains. After all, none had ever been fatally injured whilst Tyaethe had been beside them. There was something to be said about the protection someone nigh impossible to kill could provide, particularly one as imposing as her.

She wasn't going to outright disobey the captain. Not today. Her other choices were good ones--Eadwig knew what he was doing and now was the best time to start giving newcomers a little leadership experience. Crucially, Fanilly's choice wasn't someone already questioning her actions. It would be a terrible idea to start giving their opinions legitimacy as there were too few knights to permit internal divisions.

The undead pulled her blade free from the earth and set forwards, following Tiral towards the left. They may as well keep roughly together until she was in position, in case bandits came out in this direction for any possible reason.

"Anyone with a shield, hold it in your right hand and get on the right. If they somehow spot us coming and send out archers, I don't want our whole flank to be wide open," Tyaethe ordered, lifting her own arm as an indication. Of course, that was where her shield was normally, but it was actually relevant if circling clockwise.

The spear, of course, was still firmly lodged through her stomach. Removing it would just leave a pair of holes in her armour until nightfall... and you never knew when a thrown weapon could come in handy.


[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]
Viccar threw away the plastic packet of his third biscuit. It was approaching the third hour since he started his investigation and duty-assignment. He had a lot of power bestowed onto you that Maria did not have the time for, but it's not like he was going to get the credit for all the work he did, nor could he complain. It's too late to quit, not when he knew too much - too many dark secrets that would most likely force him into a permanent position within the UN. Some would view that as an amazing feat, but it was laborious, piteous, and even dangerous work. It looked like he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight.

He keyed in several hot keywords, hoping to find something, but it was hard to sift through so much data when anything true could be deemed useless by the next second. Furthermore, he looked at the location of the dragon crash site, and generalized feasible paths of traverse and escape that the three most wanted beings in the world right now could go through and end up.

He had authorized undercover spies who operated under the table, off the books by the UN. What organization did not have these? Viccar hypothesized that China and Russia were the two most realistic places the trio could go to, but would not leave Kazakhstan out of the question. There were already multiple spies stationed in the two world powers, but barely any in the frozen tundras where they could be. It would take a while for the spies to find them. In that time, they could be gone.

---

Andjela Ivanović was a typical housewife heavily wrapped in garments, shielding herself from the cold winds, trudging through the snow with thick boots. She was also fluent in 8 languages, and an exceptional liar and artist in mimicking body movement. She turned to an insignificant alleyway that saw frequent traffic with many locals. She pulled the gate and walked in, walking to a payphone which looked like it hadn't been touched since the 50's - archaic in tech, but dependable - barely. She moved her lips but did not speak, nodding her head to orders being passed on to her.

She knew what to look out for.

[Assistant]
After a while, Cody glanced to Caits, drumming his fingers against the side of his leg. He watched her for a moment, before he spoke.

"How much longer do we stay in this place? They'll find us here eventually, and we cannot put the owners in anymore danger then we already have"

Caits gave a heavy sigh, looking over to Cody, she then let her hands drop into her hands, the pain a constant to her, that she no longer noticed it.

"I know, Cody. I've been trying to figure out how we can get out of here, without being seen, I can get a wheelchair no probelm, but we are known to those looking for us, how can we escape without being seen?"

Cody rested his head against the wall, letting his mind wander. He continued to tap his leg, as if he were playing a piano. He was silent for a while longer, letting his thoughts connect and working through an argument in his head.

"I can try and wrap light about us in an illusion"

---

Maria paced her office, waiting for a breakthrough, anything, that might save her own butt. The former agent had information, they knew this, taken from the now destroyed facility. The question was, why hadn't she released it yet? What was she waiting for.Or was it too much to hope that thee Agent had died from her injuries?

Maria knew they couldn't expect that. So she sighed, and returned to her desk once more beginning to write out what could be the next statement. There was so much that she had to try and fix, and yet she didn't have the ability to do so.

[User]
The scene was hazy and the details were missing, but it was a memory familiar to Gershwin. It was the prompt story she wrote for Dr. Jiang-Ping. She remembered that it was supposed to have a dilemma with a dog between his stick and his life. The story went on as usual; the dog struggled to get his stick while the bird warned him otherwise. Insisting that the dog could do it, he persisted. He then fell into the raging river, as expected.

Except... the bird never rescued the dog. In fact, the bird laughed at its misery. Up and down did the dog's head bob, his vision blurred with the water hurting his eyes and rushing into his noses and throat. The water was cold and it froze his lung muscles. Air was rushing out and the dog could not breathe any more air in. In turn, his panic gasps for air made him swallow water, and it was now worsening for him. He was deep in the rushing waters, and his vision had black dots from oxygen deprivation. He was dying, but the rapids would not allow him the luxury of a peaceful death. The water fell downwards, and sharp jagged rocks littered the waterbed. The first rock broke his left front leg, and the second one sliced his underside. His entrails spooled out of him, and the waters were dyed a dark brick red.

The dog kept bleeding, so much so that the water no longer had its clear transparency, and was now a river of blood so thick and hot it seemed to boil. The dog's head emerged one last time, and next to him, another dog's head, then another. Soon, every bit of surface had a bobbing dog's head at the top. There must have been millions.

Then the scene became clear, and it was not a dog after all.

It was her.

---

Out from her coma, Gershwin sprung upwards, screaming into the air. She fell to the floor, ice cold to the touch, and rushed to the door, banging it hard with her fists. It started to hurt her.

[Assistant]
"Gerswhin!"

Cody's voice was sharp as a whip, the order within it fueled by his panic. He knew that if she pummeled herself too much, she would have a pain fueled...transformation. Rising, he held a hand out to stop Caits from rushing forwards, instead he closed the distance between himself and Gerswhin.

"Stop. You're safe"

His voice was now soft, comforting, as he very carefully reached out to touch Gerswhin on the shoulder, to try and guide her away from the door, away from hurting herself anymore then she already had. His hand was still the bright pink of new flesh, his nails were all but absent, the slow regrowth of them from his...supernova attack even now happening.

"its okay, Gerswhin. I'm here"

Cody smiled, trying to be comforting, his teeth where bright, shiney. New. That had been the most painful regrowth, teething in a matter of hours after the escape, the pain had been quite unbearable, new teeth piercing already tender gums in what should have been months, if not a years, process. His own light had seared his skin, practically melted his teeth, burned away his nails and hair, leaving him smooth, pink, and as soft as the day of his birth. Cody had stolen clothes from the corpse of a solider, and stumbled towards Agent Caits, even as she had stumbled towards him.

"I told you we'd get out. And we did. And the world knows something happened"

[User]
"We... escaped?" Gershwin barely managed to utter through her panic shocks and the drastic change in weather she was used to... when she could remember.

"What... happened? Where are we? Where's Agent Dioxide? What happened to you, Agent Caits?"

She took in the decrepit room and it was no longer the UNARM rooms of immaculate condition. The ambient temperature was terribly cold, and it felt like even the shivering was starting to hurt her, cause her great discomfort. She did not feel like her normal self - and that wasn't from her dream; her being bare-clothed was getting to her.

---

Viccar knocked on the door of Miss. Jordan's office. From what he observed, the lady never left the room ever since they got started. She really was a machine when it came to getting what she wanted. Any kink or malfunction in her moving of her gears and the progress of her work, and she will brute-force her way through them. He was about to give her a loose gear:

'Miss Jordan. Uhm. Just got a call... 3 pm Video conference with the political advisers of the US, China, France, and Russia. Computer channel feed 15... About 10 minutes before then.

Uhm... do you need anything?"

---

The twins, ដរា កែវ and ទី កែវ (Dara Keo and Thy Keo) woke up abruptly to the sound of dad slamming the house door hard. They did not own a clock other than the watch on their dad's wrist and his old mobile phone. They did not own any fans so they had the windows open to let the wind - and insects - in. The window shut hard when the door hit the rickety stability of their poor house. Dara, the older one of the two, flipped out of their thin quilt - careful not to wake her little brother Thy up - and slipped into her worn-out slippers. The twins share these two slippers, though Thy always did prefer walking barefoot. These slippers are perhaps the last bit of memory that they have of their mother. She thought back to that day when they were returning back home late at night, a whole family for once. Dad had been saving up money working as a tuk-tuk driver, bringing tourists to places for an average of 3 US dollars. They were planning a night together and that night had come. It was a joyous night, and they did some late night shopping though it was just the one pair of slippers. It was the same night a gang had decided to rob them. Dad thought he could fend them all off... and simply put, the family was never the same afterwards.

Dara snapped out of her lapse, and walked out of the room. The bedroom door never really swung so Dara lifted it up and placed it aside. It was amazing how she lifted it up anyway - Thy usually did all the heavy lifting, and Dara was the more malnourished of the two. The door opened out immediately to the biggest room of their ill-maintained house, kitchen, living room, and bathroom all at once. The Cambodian moonlight was shining through the spaces in the roof. The light illuminated her father's frame, sat upon his big chair.

Dara placed her hand on her knee and said emphatically:

"ខុសឪពុកជាអ្វី?" | What's wrong, father?

"វាជាការខូច។ តុតុរបស់ខូច" | It's broken. The tuk-tuk's broken.

Dara knew this was bad news. Dara and Thy were barely twelves years of age and were in an expensive school for the gifted. They were able to make ends meet when mom was alive. After she was gone, dad had been able to catch up but his depression spawned bad habits of illegal gambling, drinking, and working shifty jobs that did not pay back on time, if at all.

"ងដរមិនគួរឱ្យជឿ" | Unbelievable assholes, the father said.

He almost never swore. This really was a devastating thing to them all.

"វានឹងក្លាយទៅជាមិនអីទេ" | It's going to be okay.

Dad doesn't say anything because they both knew. Repairing the tuk-tuk was going to be as expensive as buying a new one, and with the school fees coming up, they were never going to make it.

Dara tried to pull her dad back to his room, to the large bed that used to keep the happily-wedded couple comfortable and warm, but he would not move. It was late at night, and they both needed sleep.

She told herself she wouldn't do this, but she had to, for the sake of both of them. Dara focused, and soon enough the dad got up and walked to his room, laying still in his bed and was in deep sleep almost instantly.

Dara forgot when was the first time she and her brother realize they were gifted with gifts from the Gods. The twins could do so many things, but fixing this... this was... she didn't know.

She went back to bed, and cried to sleep.


[System]
Age: 24

Special Abilities: She has a way of staying calm when most people panic.

Occupation: Alyssa works two jobs. One, and the one that brings in the most money, is a Pediactric nurse for a children's hospital. The other is her volunteer work for the local animal hospital she does in her spare time.

Personality Traits Alyssa tends to be on the kinder side with most people. She's generally quiet, and very good under pressure. But don't let that calm exterior delude you. This red head has a temper even an Irishman would flinch at when she's angry enough.

A little history: Born in Ireland, Alyssa moved to the states after doing a summer of college there. Her accent is still very much Irish, but understandable at least. She loves two things; kids, and animals. At least, unless and until she ever meets the right man. Born the youngest of four children, her elder brothers sometimes visit her in the states, and they generally tend to get very protective of their little sister. Both her parents died shortly after she moved to the states, and it's still a touchy subject for her to talk about. Mostly, because she feels responsible.

[User]
He was definitely an odd one. She watched him curiously again for a time. Unless she'd been seeing things, some of the dogs had seemed to get better somehow. That serious expression crossed her face again as she watched him. Something just felt...strange. It wasn't one of those things that gave her a bad feeling, though, so she dismissed it. When he asked how long she had worked there, she laughed a little.

"Me? I don't actually work here. I just volunteer. I work at a hospital in pediatric care taking care of sick kids." She explained. Her eyes moved around the dog kennels. So he wanted a companion dog who liked to cuddle and had at least a little energy, huh? But nothing small. Grooming requirements didn't seem to be a big issue, so that was good. Once again, that serious look crossed her expression as she watched the dogs. It seemed to be what happened when she got to thinking on something.

They had a few dogs that met his requirements. Puppies were easier to get out with adoptions, so she wanted to try and get out one of the older dogs. But which one? Too big a dog and he wouldn't have the cuddling aspect. But it needed to be one with a good temperament. This guy didn't seem the type to be able to assert too much dominance over a dog, so she had to make sure it wasn't too headstrong, either. But which one?

Her eyes landed on one of the cages and she suddenly smiled. Either one of those two would be perfect. One of them wasn't as old as she'd have liked, but the little guy had been through hell already. So had the other. "I think I have just the ones." She said lightly, moving down the hall to the kennel. Inside was a boxer puppy about eight months old, and an Australian Shepherd they pegged at four. "The little one there is Juna. We found her and Kima there in a raid. They're the only ones left that made it." She sighed, shaking the bad memories from her mind. "Juna was only about eight weeks old when we got her, and we can't figure out why she hasn't been adopted out yet. Usually puppies go fast, but she didn't. They're both cuddle bugs. Juna will get a bit bigger though when she's full grown. Kima's just like her. He loves to cuddle, and both have a medium amount of energy to spare. He won't get any bigger, though. At four years old, he's about as big as he's going to get. Would you like to go in and say hi?"

[Assistant]
"So you work with animals and kids, caring for those in need. You sound like quite a king person. The world could use more people like you." Curt responded with an honest smile and a friendly nod. His aura radiated with friendliness and welcome-ness as if drawing both people and animals to him with the inviting and warm atmosphere. She didn't seem too interested in talking with him and to that he was disappointed, and kind of impressed. Most of the time he could get people to forget what they were doing and focus only on him. Except for her. She seemed much more interested in selling him a dog then she did learning about him.

Nodding, he entered the kennel only to be greeted with the 4 year old bounding to him. Bounce Bounce Bounce THUD, the dog kicked off his legs and smacked into Curt, "Whoa!" He called out in surprise followed by intense laughter as Kima began to lick his face. Juna seemed just as excited as she bounce to him and began to find her way smelling and licking his thick brown hair. It had been a long long time since Curt had laughed as hard as he was now. He gently pushed the dogs away/off of him and they began to settle down.

"Well, I see why Juna's never been adopted," He stated as he patted the little puppy on her head. "She doesn't want to leave her best friend." His chocolate gazed moved to the Shepherd whose tail was banging against the floor. "And you don't want to leave her either huh?" His voice was playful and happy as he nuzzled his face against Kima's nose who proceeded to lick him in response. "Are you sure they aren't on anyone's adopting list as a pair? Can you adopt a pair?" Turning his gaze up to her, he gave her a questioning innocent look; a look a child would give a teacher when they were excited to learn something new.

[User]
She found herself blushing a little when he said there needed to be more people like her. Still, though, she only gave him a light smile and a quiet "Thank you" before turning her attention to the kennel. What surprised her was the dogs. Not once had she ever seen them that excited over someone. Usually they were pretty mellow, and Juna tended to be a little nervous with new people. The fact they were both excited and happily wagging their tails was surprising in itself. Still, she couldn't help but giggle a little as the man laughed.

And then he asked about both of them and her heart nearly leaped from her chest. She stared at him, her breath literally catching in her chest as she watched him. Did she dare to hope? Would he really take both of them and keep them together? It took a moment before she finally caught her wits and nodded her head almost way too enthusiastically.

"Adopting both is totally an option!" She beamed. It was like seeing a kid who just got told that if they were really good they'd get the toy they'd always wanted. "Oh, you have no idea how happy that would make us! Er... I mean them. If those two could get adopted out to the same home...Ah, who am I kidding? All three of us would be jumping for joy!" She laughed. Okay, so she got excited about the animals when something really good might happen. Sue her.

[Assistant]
She stopped breathing?! OH NO! What did he do?! He stared up at her, his expression changing to one of concern as she stared down at him. Did he do something weird? Did he make her comfortable!? Did she think he was a weirdo for asking such a question? Was she going to throw him out? Many questions went through his head when he knew that he desperately needed to talk to her about something that was just as important as adopting the dogs!

When she started to nod he let out the breath he had been holding in and her smile seemed to lighten the room. He couldn't help but grin in return. "Well I'm glad all three of you are jumping for joy because it's myself included. But it looks like I'll need another leash." He said with a chuckle as he rose to his feet. "Can I trust with your help for gathering the essentials I need in order to care for these lovely guys? I'd like to think you have most of these things in the store. And any tips you have would be wonderful."

"In fact." He said as he rose from the floor and dusted off his pants, the dogs tails banging against the floor. "I do have some other questions I'd love to ask you Miss Alyssa that do not involve the animals. I don't wish to take up your time while you're here but is there any way I could meet you after you're done with your volunteer work?" His voice was soft, inviting and warm. The bright smile on his face gave off nothing but positivity. "What do you say?"

[User]
She blinked a little. "Hm? Oh! Um.." She paused as she moved to a small closet and got out a few tags. "Well.. See, the thing is, there's one final stage to the adoption. I have to do a home inspection first, to see if you have the right kind of home for the dogs." She took the tags back to the kennel, placing red tags that had the words "Home Inspection" written on them on the kennel door. She put two, so that the others would know both dogs were being considered, one with each dog's name.

Once that was done, she turned to look at him. "But if you pass the home inspection, I can help you pick out the supplies afterward. So if you want to have that talk on the way to your place, we can. Did you drive here or should we take my car?" She smiled easily at him. Home inspections were something she'd done plenty of times before, so she wasn't too worried about it. Besides, she always had her gun in her purse when she went to home inspections anyway, just in case some sicko tried something. She felt fairly relaxed around this guy, though, so she didn't think she would need it. But better safe than sorry.

[Assistant]
Home inspection? The words buzzed through Curt's head in surprise. Well, maybe this wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe this was a good route to use to talk to her. He never believed in a 'shock tactic' like some of the other gods. He would always prefer to approach someone calmly and collectively. These were humans; humans can't handle something as surprising as 'hey I'm a god and I need your help'. That's not an everyday experience for a human.

"Okay sure. I, I kind of just ended up here on a whim so I think taking your car would be best." At that the two left and place once the other front desk girl came back and they walked out of the building. Running a large hand through his hair he climbed into the passenger's seat of her car and buckled in, doing his best to hide his excitement for being in a human vehicle. Boy! The things humans can do without magic is truly remarkable. "So I answered a bunch of questions from you and you're willing to answer some of mine," He asked playfully, his voice filled with excitement, "Great, so my first question is… On a scale from 1-10 how would you rate your willingness to help those in need. I'd obviously give you a ten because you're helping me get not one but two new additions to my life! But… I'd like to hear your own personal opinion."

[User]
Once Ann had gotten back to the front desk, she asked him where he lived and informed her that she was off to a home inspection. The car she drove wasn't really anything fancy. Just a decent looking little four-door car in light blue. She punched the address into the GPS system in her car and began following it as he spoke. She laughed a little when he began asking her questions, keeping her eyes on the road. Except for a surprised glance when he asked her how helpful she thought she was. Her expression grew serious again as she watched the road, considering his question.

"That's kind of a tough question." She spoke honestly after a while. "I mean... I try to help when I can, but sometimes there's nothing I can do. Though I thank you for the volunteered ten, I can't really rate myself that high. There's always someone who needs help. Kids at the hospital need to be saved, but all I can do is try to help ease the pain and occasionally make them smile. Animals are always getting hurt. People go hungry and homeless. I'd put myself more at a six than a ten. I help when I can, but sometimes there just isn't enough time, or money, or resources, to help the way I wish I could. Most of the time I just feel helpless, really."

[Assistant]
Was this a bad way to approach this? Curt couldn't help but question his tactics. Simply because he thought it was the smartest way to begin presenting exactly what he would be asking from her. However, after the long silence she finally spoke. Her answer was surprisingly honest and clear. Sure there were times when there's nothing you can do about a situation and limitations can cause problems but even so; a six seems a bit too low.

"On that same note, another question." He said with a nod as he ran a large hand through his hair before stroking his chin. "If a problem arises and there was a solution that would require effort to figure, would you be more apt to continue the hunt for the solution? Or would you left the problem for someone else to take care of?"

[User]
Well, he was a curious sort, wasn't he? She couldn't help but laugh a little at the question, though. That one was easier for her to figure out than the other one. "Well, I'm not one to give up on things to be honest. Truthfully? I'm probably a bit too stubborn sometimes when it comes to that." She stopped at a red light and patted her thigh on her right leg. "I have a scar here because of not giving up on problems. We had a dog come into the shelter once that was extremely aggressive toward people, but I could tell it was only because he was afraid." She started to drive again. "So I climbed into the kennel with him. He bit me, of course, but I just sat there and let him growl and bite until he let go despite Anna screaming her head off. Cost me about thirty stitches, but it was worth it when he got adopted."

She smiled at the memory. She'd done what she felt was right. "And you wanna know a secret? That dog that bit me? He's a local hero. Turns out, he stopped the woman he got adopted by from getting mugged by chasing off the attackers." She giggled at that. "It's kinda funny, isn't it? Going through all that pain just for a dog? But the way I see it, if a problem is worth my time to fix, then I'm going to find the solution no matter what happens. Of course the last time I said that I ended up with a hole in my leg." She laughed again.


[System]
Appearance:
Alias: "Warp Spider"

Gender: Male

Age: 27

Alignment: Antihero

Personality:
Cold and determined, Shiro is prepared to achieve his goals by any means necessary. He will sacrifice innocents and even destroy entire cities, all for the greater good. As long as the threat is big enough, he will readily justify anything.

Powers:
[Absolute Teleportation]
Shiro was born with the ability to warp space, teleporting him instantly to any location he could picture in his mind's eye. Over the years, he has perfected this ability. He can teleport anything he can see, create stable portals, and even move between different dimensions at will. This has lead to him developing a number of techniques that vastly increase the combat potential of his ability.

[Limits]
The essence of life, or 'soul', disrupts Shiro's power. As such, he cannot teleport anything that's 'alive' or inhabited by a 'soul', such as undead. Certain highly advanced technology is also protected against his powers, as forcefields and certain specific protective measures negate his power. Any sentient play character robot is assumed to have such a defensive method, preventing Shiro from instantly killing them. Magically imbued objects can also be resistant or immune.

[Absolute Eye]
Using portals over his eye, Shiro is able to expand his vision greatly. He uses his left eye to see through walls, from multiple angles at once, and to gain great insight into the world around him. He effectively has 360 degree vision while active, as well as being able to perceive details impossible to see from afar, and to watch situations from afar. He's trained to be able to see in this way, allowing his brain to keep up with the amount of information he receives.

[Arsenal]
There's a certain dimension where time moves so slowly that it nearly stands still. Ten years here is one second there. In this location Shiro keeps a variety of weapons, as well as projectiles mid-movement and useful toys. He can call upon these weapons in combat, instantly switching them out for whatever is useful for the situation. He further uses the sudden appearance of projectiles to surprise foes from unexpected angles.

[Shatter]
Using his powers, Shiro can remove part of an object. Using this, he can instantly destroy almost any inanimate object, no matter how tough or resilient. The weaknesses stated above are the only exceptions to this power. He further must be able to see the material in order to destroy it.

Ability:
Peak human physical condition combined with expertise in several martial arts makes Shiro a dangerous close combat fighter even without his powers. He's an expert marksman and swordsman, incredibly resilient, and capable of resisting pain.

Gear:
His main weapon of choice is a katana built from nanotube glass, a material stronger than steel and lighter than titanium. It's also sharp enough to cut through steel, and capable of resisting incredibly high temperatures. This blade is equipped with a high-powered battery and electrodes, allowing it to electrocute anyone it strikes with the press of a button.

His armour is Dragonscale, a prototype armour suit developed to completely replace Kevlar. It uses tiny fibers and nanotube design to become far more sturdy than kevlar, and uses a 'scale' design to absorb the impact of bullets. Standard weapons can't pierce it, and even grenades won't kill him unless pressed to his face. Only heavy AT rifles can pierce the armour outright, although it offers significantly reduced protection against melee weaponry.

He further has a variety of guns, weapons and gadgets stored in the Arsenal. Any weapon he has ever acquired can be accessed at any time, giving him an almost limitless variety in weaponry.

History:
When he was merely a child, Shiro's parents were murdered by a supervillain known as Scourge. When Shiro's powers manifested, he was taken in by a military organization that wanted to turn him into a human weapon. Upon reaching the age of 18, however, Shiro decided the organization was corrupt. Nobody knows what he saw that sparked his hatred for the organization, but he hunted down and killed every single member he could find. He then proceeded to kill the Scourge. But his hatred of 'evil' could never be purged, even with his vengeance sated. He continued to slaughter villains and evildoers. A criminal caught by the Warp Spider will never see the inside of a jail cell. Currently, Shiro is hunting down Cataclysm.

[User] Even as Zarr's scythe flew towards Lucy, she was already shooting foward. Flying aroudn teh swing of the scythe she crashed into Zarr, who had not been expecting the sudden attack. She would then proceed to attempt to savage him, her entire body transforming into a ball of rending claws and blades that ripped at his flesh. Should he teleport away (like he can apparently do), she would chase after him until he had taken quite some distance. Attacking from behind was the same as the front, she saw in 360 degrees. Her armour would further protect her from most harm. Her only weakness was her inexperience, her furious assault was one without skill or strategy. She was relentless, but clumsy in her constant strikes.

[Assistant]
Cinia smiled at what Alice could do, though at the same time she was a bit jealouse, if only she could master the other summoning she had been working on. "Right then." Cinia said with a smile as she held out her hand as portal appeared summoning Greg. "I have to say I'm jealous all I can do is summon chickens." Cinia said as jumped infront of Cinia. "Anyways, let me show you what I can do, mostly cause I have been needing to do this." Cinia said as she held her hand, multiple magic circles surrounded Greg, who then started to grow, and grow untill he was the same size as a nearby barn. "Good job Greg!" Cinia said as Greg started to peck at the ground while each of his steps seemed to shake it. "Now one more thing." Cinia said as she held out both hands again creating a slightly larger magic circle on the ground. As she continued her concentration she was just barely able to summon and entire cow. "I need to be able to summon more than one of these." Cinia said as she panted while letting go of the magic circle. The Cow was still there, just eating some of the grass.

Linia meanwhile watched as the demonic creature started to fight a man who was using portals. She jumped towards them a bit showing her increased agility as she jumped from building to building. She herself had wanted to go after the creature. She lunged at the two, her body started glowing, then it flashed a huge amount of light would blind those who were in the area momentarily. When they were blinded Linia was inbetween them. "Hold on, your more intelligent than the average demon." Linia said as she pointed at the demon with her sword, light seemed to be vibrating from it. "And you need to be more careful, that bullet of yours could have brought down the entire building, we don't need any more property damage." Linia said to the portal man.

Calamity meanwhile walked towards Guilt. "I'm already helping one, I can't afford to help more, if I happen to see her in a battle I have no guarantee I well let her live. If you really want to join me then your sister is your own responsibility." Calamity said as he walked towards Guilt. Calamity was indeed a very large and muscular man and towered over Guilt.

Zehlan meanwhile was just now starting to enter the city from the port side of the city. And sirens could be heard going off near them. There was what looked like a large wave behind him, however following him was large number of human like sea creatures. Some of them were like him, but for the most part many of them had other fishy forms. Each one of them were fearsome and carrying weapons, some even carrying guns.

[User]
Both of his attacks had missed, and Abaddon quickly discovered that this metahuman's power was rapid teleportation. Wonderful! Looks like this battle wasn't ending as soon as he had hoped, so his meeting with Thasseldar would have to wait. Shiro had quickly spawned two automatic weapons and began firing away, much to Abadddon's annoyance and minor amusement. Seriously, if a shot to the head from that rifle hadn't worked, did Shiro honestly expect those of lesser weapons to do so? Deciding to humor him, he allowed the initial barrage of bullets to hit their mark, but to no obvious effect. Some passed through him, while others seemed to just melt into his body.

"Silver," Abaddon chuckled as he held out said bullets towards Shiro, "Do I look like a werewolf to you?!"

Tossing them aside, Abaddon began his retaliation by dodging and deflecting the following barrages with magic. He also started to fire lone orbs of darkness towards his foe, doing so in a way that made it seem he was just hoping to eventually hit him. There was a strategy behind the wild shots though: Abaddon was attempting to discover a pattern in Shiro's portings as well as any other latent abilities being used in his fighting style. It worked.

Shiro would mainly appear at angles that would exploit the "blind spot" such as directly or diagonally behind him, or even right above him to avoid being hit on the ground. Abaddon also took notice of his glowing eyes and linked them to Shiro's apparent sense of premonition. Having fought teleporters in the past, he decided Shiro belonged to the rare bunch of those able to see in all directions.

"Hmph, two can play at that game," he thought. Focusing his senses, Abaddon began to better predict and avoid future attacks. With Drevenon's vision, he would also be able to see in multiple directions, as well as take notice of any developing distortions in the energy spaces around him. These would be the perfect indicator to where Shiro would reappear!

A few more evasions and deflections, and Abaddon moved in for his more coordinated strikes. As the space on his right began to distort, Abaddon whipped himself in its direction and in one lightning fast movement-

A flash of light appeared in between him and his foe. Abaddon sprang backwards, landing on all fours and on guard. Was this his foe's backup? Now he was just getting pissed and was on the verge of just exposing the entire area to a much stronger variant of the Devourer's Wrath (which would essentially draw everything save for Abaddon towards itself to obliterate them in a chaotic vortex).

"You're more intelligent than the average demon," the glowing girl had said to him before turning to Shiro. She was holding both of them back, so perhaps she wasn't the teleporter's backup. A friend perhaps...

"Do you know this metahuman?" He asked her.

[Assistant]
None of the materials in question had worked, so it was clear this particular type of demon wasn't vulnerable to a specific material. His next choice would be to move through a series of religious artifacts, pagan symbols, and other such weapons. If these failed, he had multiple other methods of containment in mind. However, it was clear that Abbadon was the more powerful foe. In speed, strength, and sheer explosive power Abbadon was more capable. The only reason Shiro was able to hold his own was his immense skill and proficiency with his power, allowing him to project the Absolute Eye and use his Arsenal to his advantage. His opponent was uninventive in his application of power, however, preferring simple brute force and attacks.

Eventually, Abbadon seemed to be able to guess where Shiro would move instants before he moved there. He had lost the element of surprise in his attacks. This attested to his opponent's capability to adapt their strategy, a dangerous trait. However, if he could get in close, and use his blade... if he was able to sever the limbs, and then introduce a material that kept them seperated, he might be able to prevent the demon from reforming. Regeneration could be prevented through the permanent introduction of matter. It was a risk, but it was a risk worth taking.

It was a mistake, of course. Even as Shiro appeared, blade in hand, he knew it had been a mistake. His opponent was already facing him, even as the tendrils shot towards his face. Within moments, he would have been killed. And yet, a bright white light seemed to explode from some point in between the two combatants.

"You're smarter than the average demon"

A newcomer. A wild card had been thrown into the fight. This timely intervention had saved Shiro, as well as giving him a chance to collect his thoughts. The demon had backed off, questioning the woman. Not as aggressive as he had originally believed, but it was clearly still just an animal. "Intelligent or not, it remains a demon. It has already tasted human blood, and undoubtedly will take more. We must contain it before it spreads chaos to the rest of the city." From the powers Shiro had observed so far, and from what he knew of the heroes that generally operated in this city, it was clear that this demon was a level above what the locals could handle. Even if it was eventually defeated, there would be many casualties. His success here was imperative.

In the distance, sirens could be heard. With a slight grunt, Shiro projected the Absolute Eye to the other side of the city. Seeing through a portal far above the commotion, he had the perfect point of view to see the army of fish-men invade the city. Heavily armed, they ripped through the law enforcement. Superhuman in speed and strength, if not in technology. A large and devastating force that even now was fighting to claim the central infrastructure.

"You, try and contain the demon. I will support you from a distance. However, there is another matter I must address." With those words, Shiro disappeared, reappearing on a skyscraper above the carnage. It seemed like it was time to use a more powerful technique. A power that many had thought to be seperate from his teleportation, and yet was secretly merely the advanced application of it. Shiro stretched out his right hand, the palm thrust out towards the forces far below. He would decimate their numbers from here.

A wave of wind and force washed over the forces. An explosion of air moving at almost supersonic speed, ripping apart flesh, bone and even stone. Like a tank shell made of wind, it crushed anything in it's way. Shcokwaves with lethal force, each one in a different location, the source of the attack unknown. A large quantity of air, drained away from the atmosphere, and then suddenly reintroduced to it in a single point. The supercrompressed material rapidly expanded in a deadly explosion. Burst, the final offensive hidden technique developed by Shiro.

Although it rapidly drained him, this move would with equal speed decimate the forces below.