[System]
Um... I'm nothing special, not really.
Theme Song: I Wanna Live in a World full of Heroes | Font Color: a0410d | Experiment No. 098
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Date of Birth: April 26
Physical Appearance:
Despite being short, Avril is a rather curvy young woman, much to her anxiety. She favours baggy, plain clothes, concealing as much of herself as she can. She wears blue jeans, a blue sweater twice her size (it covers her hands too), and has a surprisingly wide selection of beanies. She wears beanies whatever the weather, even under a hoodie.
She needs the glasses after an experiment done on her, though she can't remember what the experiment was or when it was done. They're the other thing she likes about her appearance. Her glasses remind her of one of the few happy memories of her life, when the whitecoats felt sorry enough for her that they treated her like a child for a grand total of three days; just long enough for her to get used to it. The withdrawal of that affection and care left her convinced that she didn't ever deserve it. She's been haunted by dark thoughts ever since.
Personality:
Avril has little self-confidence, and quickly quails under the slightest bit of bullying, or even a stern request. Her long quiet spells and lack of energy might mean she has depression, though the whitecoats are unconcerned as long as she keeps doing what she's told. Her dearest wish is to be left alone in her fantasies, and she flinches at the sound of her name and will hide from people looking for her, no matter their intentions.
On the other hand, she is wildly imaginative, her most prized possession being a book full of fantasy races and monsters she sometimes pretends are her friends or enemies. In her rare moments of defiance, she's called the whitecoats 'liches' or 'kytons'. She can make up stories off the top of her head, but needs a lot of encouragement to think that anyone is actually enjoying what she comes up with.
Strengths:
Her imagination makes her a skilled strategist.
Weaknesses:
As stated above, has no self-confidence. Any sort of attention scares her.
Mutant Powers:
Avril has a chemical in her bodily fluids that is a mild narcotic. Though she's unaffected by it, other people are flooded with good feelings upon touching or being touched by her. This makes the whitecoats harsher towards her, and as a result feeds her self-hatred.
Wing Appearance:
Plain, drab brown.
Background Story:
If Avril ever had parents, she's never heard from or seen them. Her earliest memories are of sitting in a small white room on a bed with a screen showing cartoons in front of her and a single stuffed toy. She can't remember what the toy was, or what happened to it, except as something she used to love. Her memories are full of experiments, with whitecoats of various temperments passing in and out of her life until they're all one blur of shouting and orders. She can't remember when she got her wings or her power, just another part of the experiments that she was subjected to.
Each symptom of growing up was met with the same resigned fear that every experiment result caused her, from burns to not being able to see properly. The incident that made her need glasses only sticks out for the brief period of care she was given; a new room, no tests, and a friendly whitecoat whose face became what Avril pictures when the word 'mother' is mentioned. When she disappeared too, leaving only the book and Avril's thick-rimmed glasses, Avril retreated further into her depression, where she stays to this day.

[User]
For a little over hundred years scientists and doctors alike have been trying to find ways to improve the human health. By either changing the formulas in medicines. Changing medical procedures. And the equipment that are for minor everyday uses or for the means of saving someone's life. A handful of people become to realize the never ending cycle of trial and error. Yes, things have defiantly improved greatly overtime. But the humans themselves aren't evolving like the materials around them. After much debate it was decided by a selected few to start a secret program to help humans evolve.

This group started out small. During the first years of World War 1. No more than thirty individuals working on the same goal. The war was a good excuse to improve the human performance. Such as strength, reflexes, stamina and healing factors. In other words super soldiers. Though the foundation of the idea worked. But it was short lived soon the method for achieving a super soldier was discovered.

The government kept these facts hidden from public ears and eyes. Though rumors about the super soldiers floated about. No real evidence could be found on the matter. The thirty individuals working on the project were disbanded. Those who spilled secrets or even attempted continuing their work were severally dealt with. Eventually a handful of the thirty managed to hide themselves from the government within different parts of the world.

They quietly continued their obsessed work, recruiting whoever they can, but carefully. Eventually funds were high in demand so they needed a way to gain the money needed. Causing an uprising of popular businesses. The scientists and doctors behind this use one to a few of their buildings as a front to what is really going on. Namely hospitals, clinics, along with something smaller scale. Like Wal-mart. The reason for these locations has to do with the public. People aren't always willing to be experimented on. And when human tests subjects are need of demand a person missing or two from hospitals and such are easy to come by. Especially when it is someone who would go unmissed.

This is how it all started out. The results weren't over the top. Like they had hoped. Until the day someone figured out why not use infants or unborn children as experiments rather than teens or adults. For they are either nearly developed or fully developed. And the results of using infants went through the roof. Especially when animal and human DNA are mixed with one another.

The School was created for this purpose. To house and experiment of children. Soon after a few more facilities like the school were built. The hospitals and clinics still provide much needed resources. But aren't the locations anymore for experiment housing and treatment. A few government officials were slowly introduced to the projects at hand. It was a carefully planned out introduction with paperwork and positive results involved. This way if their plan was ever exposed the government may or may not back them up. It was risky move. And yet it proved effective.

In the end, we have to be careful to who we trust. Friend or foe? Number one rule: Assume everyone is an enemy before you can learn to trust them. Even if they lived through the same situations as you did.... In the end just beware of possible betrayal. Or an everlasting friendship.
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Where►Facility #7, just outside of Aspen Colorado.
►Located deep inside a mountain face, so well hidden a skii resort sits right along side of it.
When►October 12th, 2017.
►Sometime around 8:00 am.
And so it begins...The long awaited day has come. Very few felt the excitement about what this day will bring. While others felt doubt and uncertainty. For a large order such as this one rarely ever happens for good reasons. Even with negative possibilities floating about no one questioned the director's decision. Especially someone with her personality.

Marian. Dr. Marian Janssen is her name. She is quite beautiful on the outside. And yet her unpredictable dark personality will scare a rabid dog back into a sane state of mind. Only her attendant, Morgan, knows how to deal with her calmly. Majority of the staff see him a saint sent by the heavens to help deal with the devil woman. Though no one dares tell her that to her face.

The began like any other in the past few days with Marian giving out orders. Watching with stern eyes to be sure everyone followed protocol. When she wasn't barking commands she focused a portion of her day going through five years worth of paperwork. It was safer for important documents were kept on paper. For computers nowadays can be hacked with a press of a button.

The preparations for the transfer were well on their way. Finding the right subjects to move wasn't going as smoothly as much as she had hoped. Marian had expected this. Compared to her own facility, facility #7 was low grade. Not of value. A waste of her time. And yet here she was. She had a goal. And in order to accomplish that goal she needs to pull resources from The School, this dump and among a few others. The selection process is a delicate one. She can't herself to trust of these inferior monkeys who consider themselves scientists. Chances are they'll end up giving her defects. Wasting precious time and money.

The sound of everyone scurrying about satisfied Marian. This told her that no one was slacking off. After spending nearly an hour forcing those tired souls to work Marian decided to look over a few more charts. Nothing promising has shown up. Despite the wave of files trailing in every hour.

She has read every note, every failed and successful experiments on all living subjects up to this point. She didn't want to leave anything out. Though having to deal with disappoint again and again. After five minutes Marian calm face turned sour within five seconds flat. "Unbelievable!!!" She fumed, tossing a stack of folders across the room. Papers scattered about as if a gust of wind suddenly blew on through. "These lousy scum! They have no talent what's so ever! All they can create are defects!"

Morgan let out a quiet sigh removing a paper from his head. Letting it drop to the floor. He knows all too well when she is like this her logical thinking tends vanish. "Madam." He called out firmly while holding himself in a butler like stance.

"What!?" Marian snapped. Giving him a cold stare. The two others who were in the room with them flinched. Up to this point they remained quiet. Working at a slow pace hoping not to be noticed.

"Why not personally go see the experiments?" He began to say. Giving this question a few seconds for it sink in. "For the written word may have some truth, they don't always give you the full picture. After all seeing is believing."

Marian relaxed. Her face now beaming almost as if her little fit never happened. "Your right. Thank you Morgan. This is why I like having you around. Though I would appreciate it if don't always keep my temper in check. Sometimes a girl needs to let out a little steam once in a while." She said while adjusting her hair. Even though there was enough project in it to keep it in place. When she finished with that she then grabbed a pile of folders of possible candidates, tapped them twice on the desk before tucking them under an arm. "Now then let's going shopping."

[Assistant]
Phoenix glowered at the whitecoats who came to his cage. One of them was obviously new, for he stared in awe at the tall male with flaming, feathery hair that reached to below his shoulder blades, blue green eyes and golden skin. Phoenix's long limbs were graceful even as he scooted further back into his cage. He narrowed his eyes at the restraints they had in their hands and knew it was that time of day where they would try to get him to use his pyrokinesis so they could poke him with needles again. Fuck that. He couldn't command fire on purpose yet, but he could heat his hands up to a burning hot temperature.

He'd given more than two whitecoats burn scars. A smirk touched his lips at the memory, curving his full lips into a cruel smile. He concentrated on raising his body temp. The whitecoat who'd dealt with Nix before motioned to Nix's now steaming hand and issued a warning to the newbie.

"Careful with The Phoenix," he said. "He'll burn you, and it will leave scars. He's also very strong. He works out despite how small we make his containment unit." The newbie gulped visibly, looking at the thick plastic restraints in his hands with mistrust, then back at the avian hybrid in the cage. He was rewarded with a mockery of a smile.

"Try it, boyo."

---

With burns on both the newbie and the experienced whitecoat who lay on the ground next to the melted restraints, cupping themselves, Nix had his brilliant, flaming wings half unfurled, the tips of his feathers flickering with tongues of flame. He tilted his head in satisfied thought, hair falling to cover half of his beautifully sculpted face. Nix gives a satisfied hum and climbs up onto the top of cage, too tall for any of the whitecoats to reach him.

He sits and waits. He knows he can't find his way out of where he is being kept, so he makes it a game to see how long it takes for other whitecoats to come find out why he's not being poked and prodded yet.

[User]
"Azer, azer, salamander," Avril murmured in her cage, her arms folded around her book, tucked into a niche between her knees and body as she gently rocked back and forth, her glasses covered by the folded-down edge of her beanie. "Yuan-ti, yuan-ti, one, two, three." She wasn't crying, at all, which meant this was a good day. Instead, she was just sitting in the dark. The happy dark. The friendly dark.

She flinched when a flash of orange light appeared on her wall, but when the light faded and nobody had come to pull her from her cage, she slowly relaxed again. "Ogre, orc, share long pork." The darkness was comforting, even if she couldn't read in it. The white coats always had bright, white, piercing lights in their rooms, so if her room was dark, she was safe.

"Angel, unicorn, why was I born?" The rhyme made her freeze up again, and she started blinking so as not to let the tears start falling. She was stupid. Why did she have to ruin a good day with such a stupid little rhyme? It was her fault and she didn't deserve anything nice. Even her book and the beanie and her cage with room enough to stretch her legs. The first tear fell. It was joined by others.

Avril hugged her book closer, the rhymes replaced with gentle, shuddering sobs.


[System]
Age: 24
Physical Appearance: Valerie's appearance seems very well put-together, almost embodying her background of nobility with a soft delicateness offset by steadiness, confidence, and inner strength. She has fair, unblemished skin, pale blue eyes, and long, dark brown hair most often secured in a low bun with a moderate amount of loose strands flitting about her face. Her height is a few inches on the tall side, and her physical build is slim and lithe, with subtle muscling visible where her clothing hugs her body. Obviously not a powerhouse of strength, but capable and in excellent condition.

Armor/Clothing: Her light-weight gear functions well enough with her style of combat and of fashion, and indeed, she finds the blend of noble elegance with mercenary ruggedness somewhat appealing, and some part of her even desires to stand out clearly from common sellswords. The high quality tailoring and craftsmanship speaks volumes about her history, or at least gives away that she wears clothes and gear more expensive than a common mercenary and adventurer just starting out should be able to afford.

Starting with her upper body, Valerie wears a long-sleeved and thin undershirt close fit to the point of a second skin. Over this she wears some actual protection, in the form of a light but sturdy leather breastplate to protect her heart and lungs. It was custom tailored for her and fits extremely well, secured around her neck and lower back. It cuts off just below her ribs, sacrificing some protection for the sake of full flexibility and range of motion.

Her leggings are closely fitted and comfortable linen, with some extra layering of leather around her thighs, hips, and waist to better protect her upper legs. Buckled loosely around her waist is her sword belt, as well as a decorative sash of dark blue silk with golden floral patterns. The sash flutters down from her right hip, partially concealing the hilt of the long, thin dagger sheathed there. Her boots are made of soft leather, designed more to be comfortable than tough, and are buckled below the knee, and again at the ankles.

Under her clothing she wears a pendant with the snowflake emblem of her family, secured on a very thin golden chain.

Weapons: Valerie's primary weapon is a thin, extremely sharp sword, most suited for dueling engagements but functional enough in other styles. It packs a surprising bite, given how quickly Valerie can strike with it, either thrusting or slashing, and can pierce many armor types. It's not a fragile weapon, either, and can block or parry incoming strikes if she needs to. Valerie can wield it with either hand (technically right handed, but she's very ambidextrous) or with both for added strength.

Her sidearm is a long, thin knife at her right hip, which she can wield in either direction front or back, but will only do so in the event that she is somehow disarmed of her sword.

Combat Overview: Speed, decisiveness, grace, and fluidity define Valerie's style. She's very well trained in the use of her weapon, and knows well how to make the most of situations with skillful deflections that turn blows aside rather than stopping them cold, and open up holes in her opponent's defenses for her to exploit. Her offense is swift and precise, and rarely forces her to overextend on the attack and expose vulnerabilities. On the defensive, Valerie is light-footed and agile, able to dodge most attacks lacking swiftness, while parrying attacks strong in speed but lesser in strength. And while she prefers single combat, she's both swift and aware enough to handle multiple enemies of lesser skill simultaneously. At full strength, Valerie is a deadly enemy to fight, with the speed and precision to turn small mistakes from her opponents into lethal ones.

She still has significant weaknesses to overcome, most stemming from her overall lack of actual experience in battle as opposed to rigorous training. Underhanded tactics can catch her off guard, and fighting hand to hand or grappling are both particular weaknesses of hers. Her physical endurance has not often been tested, and her choice of extremely light armor doesn't help much when she ends up getting hit. Despite her determination, she can only endure a limited number of wounds.

Personality: On the outside Valerie is quiet, calm, composed, an excellent picture of nobility. Inwardly she feels very passionately about causes she puts herself behind, something that can sometimes show in the heat of a conflict. She's quite sociable and kind with the majority of those she encounters, and tends to be both understanding and forgiving of others. She does, however, retain some aspects of her upbringing, and is just a touch vain.

Her morals are quite strong, and indeed drive her to do things that have little benefit for her to offset the risk. She believes the position of power she was born into gave her a responsibility to help those beneath her, rather than a right to rule over them.

History: Valerie is the third child of four of the wealthy and powerful Winter family of the kingdom of Ardennia, and the only daughter. While not in line to rule the kingdom, her family watched over a large swath of diverse land with farms, towns, forests, rivers, and small mountains. Her kingdom, however, had an expansionist king with dreams of conquering their northern neighbor and expanding his domain. After years of military swelling and building of tension, war was declared following a loosely conceived insult against them, likely fabricated for an excuse to attack.

The Winter family was called, and answered. Valerie and her brothers had been trained among other things in the art of war, and were to serve as commanders of varying levels in the army. Valerie, however, refused the call, bringing some shame upon her family and soon forcing her to leave her home. She traveled far from her kingdom's borders, using her honed skills with the sword to pay her way in adventuring, which she took to naturally. Her experience thus far is limited, but it has served to build up her confidence, and reassure her that she made the correct choice in leaving her home behind.

[User]
They stocked up on their food rations until they had more than enough for the time they expected to be on their own, and Valerie made sure to purchase a modest length of rope as well. If they were going to be delving into tombs or ruins, it seemed likely to come in handy. She wasn't sure how she felt about the offer of coin for artifacts and trinkets from the ruins. The contract wasn't for treasure hunting, after all, and if the ruins were indeed haunted by something, taking artifacts along would probably just invite more danger. And everyone seemed so certain they wouldn't be coming back alive already. In any case, it was something to keep in mind, but Valerie was intent on putting their survival first. Coin was useless to them if they were killed, after all.

Once they were stocked there was little to do but get underway, as the daylight was going to waste. They made their way towards the gate side by side, where they found a woman flanked by a few personal guards waiting for them. As it turned out, the mayor of the little town herself had heard of their intent to take the contract, and came to wish them good fortune before they departed. Valerie found it comforting that at least someone was hopeful of their success other than themselves.

When they'd put the walls of the town behind them and had nothing but the wilds ahead, Valerie exhaled a deep breath. She was nervous, and not hiding it especially well, but she also felt a strange sort of excitement. She could only truly show her bravery when she felt fear, and she didn't have to do this alone. She glanced sideways at Markus.

"Ready for this?"

[Assistant]
It all seems to be going smoothly so far he told himself sarcastically. He almost chuckled as they left the gates, remembering what one of his old companions would say back after Markus' first big battle. 'Yeah, I was doing great before the fighting started.' That did bring a smile to his face. He missed traveling with Kenneth. But, he was fortunate to travel with Valerie, he knew. He trusted her, the Swordmage realized. Markus' own purchase from Edgar had been a torch, some rations, and a few throwing knives that caught his eye. He was okay with them, but he'd practice whenever they would stop, he told himself.

"Ready for this?" she asked him with a sideways glance. They had just set off on the road, which would soon be a road no longer. He knew she needed encouragement, and he needed a bit himself. But by the end of his response, he found he believed his own courage. He gave a boyish grin. "Hell yeah." His sword at his hip, his shield at his back, and his pack opposite the hip of his sword, he rested his hands on his hilt and his belt as they began.

From up at Hillglen, they had a great view of the frontier before them. A forest of sparse birch and elm trees were laid before them in a flowing blanket of leaves near as far as the eye could see. It very much looked like a sea, for the lowlands seemed to intermingle with the highlands, causing it to look akin to vast waves roiling up and down. Rocky crags were seen ubiquitously placed near the eastern edge of the huge valley, before they flowed into the foothills of a mountain range that blocked any view past them. To the north, a mountain range even further away loomed like the teeth of an ancient dragon. Between them, a (relatively) small pass led further east past the first mountains before them. North past that, before the mountains, the forest seemed to grow ominously thicker.

Now however, they had to make it down hill. The two adventurers went upon the road for an hour or two, simply enjoying the sounds of nature as the sun began to truly warm the day. Markus hummed an elvish tune, still content they were close enough to Hillglen's walls for him to feel content and safe enough to be a tad merry. Once, small birds fluttered past the two, and Markus allowed his hum to form into the flowing words of that particular part, to cause the birds to circle back around. One even fluttered and landed on Valerie's shoulder, which caused Markus' elvish song to falter as he chuckled, and just as suddenly the bird fluttered off in a furious flap of wings, no longer soothed by the melody.

It was just then, a few hours before noon, they had made it to the fork in the road. Left to the wilderness, right to Highmast. They started off, the gnarled trees with a few familiar birds, but other than that nothing seemed to stir. Then again, this was near the stop the Orcs had attacked them a day ago. Perhaps the violence still permeated the air. Thankfully no Orcs had lingered and there was no a danger yet, for soon they reached the slope that led downward into the wilderness proper. They'd need to help one another and grab ahold of a few trees that had clung to the slope. It was full of fallen leaves and upturned earth, when not bare with hard ground and rock.

[User]
Valerie had never really considered herself in tune with nature or anything like that. Her homeland was almost entirely settled, with stretches of farmland separating the towns in place of uninhabited wilderness. There were forests and mountains, yes, but nothing that approached the untouched wilds she found herself in now. And while she traveled a lot, and enjoyed seeing the sights of new places and locales, she'd never really thrown herself entirely into them before, until now. It was a bit daunting, and exhilarating at the same time.

She allowed herself to drift away a bit in the sounds of the forest, and in the pleasant song Markus hummed. It surprised her how comfortable she started to become after a time. She still had to consciously stop herself from reacting when a small bird suddenly landed on her shoulder, but it soon took enough anyway. The flapping of wings right next to her face left her a bit flustered for a moment, but she turned it into a good-humored laugh of embarrassment.

Her little moment out of a storybook was brought to an end when they came upon the place where they would leave the road. Something about it made it all real for Valerie again. The marks on the trees that even she could track, perhaps. Orcs had been through here, maybe not recently, but their presence was unmistakable. They would have come for the bodies of their dead, at the very least.

"If we can find their trail from the battle yesterday, we could follow them back to their hold," she speculated, unsure what exactly to call it. Their home made it sound a bit too personal. Hold helped remind her of the military nature of what was going on. "I don't know the most about tracking, but if they were carrying bodies they would have to leave a trail, on these trees at the very least." The going quickly became more difficult and slow, even for light travelers such as themselves. The orcs surely would do worse.

Wherever the orcs were, Valerie hoped they wouldn't come across them here, while the terrain was so difficult to manage. She relied heavily on her balance and footwork, and didn't fancy her chances on a surface as harsh as this.


[System]
Pilot Sheet
Appearance:

Personality: Alistar leans towards being carefree, though does not waste a second to assert who's in charge. Despite his rather lackluster physical traits, he's a quick and decisive mind. With sharp reflexes and a solid steady body, he shows precision that reminds most of a machine, a destroyer, hence his nickname "Annul". His mere gaze is described as piercing, though there is than meets the eye. Sometimes he'll put himself in a position to save someone he likes, despite his cold behavior. At times he can be rather foul-mouthed, his eternal sly smirk shifting to that of a distasteful frown.

Backstory: Born in southern Canada, near Mississauga, he lived the majority of his childhood near a United Empire base, watching the machines move around with fascination. He spent his life in schools as an unknown, not showing much care to anything other than history. Whenever HELIX Frames were brought up, his eyes glimmered with life and hope.

As soon as he turned 18, he went into the military and underwent the surgical procedure for the implant needed to even use a Frame. Whilst recovering from the surgery, a rebel group attacked the base, seeking to break the United Empire, many of his fellow soldiers were slaughtered in the coming onslaught, before they could even get their own Frames up and running. In a fury of vengeance, he left the infirmary and ran to the HELIX Frame hangar, climbing in one and taking control of it.

With his newfound weapon and mental strain from using one far too soon, he found himself weakened, but nonetheless he pressed on. With his plasma sword, he seeked slaughter, slaughter to the enemy. He approached a battered and damaged Frame from behind, then cut him down with one swift slice. Taking it's gun, he raised the barrel and fired upon another rebel, ripping it's shields apart from the sheer lane of fire. The machine swung around and dashed to him, slamming a mighty fist into the machine's torso, knocking him back and sending him skidding across the concrete floor. He brought up his gun and fired right into the Frame's torso, killing the pilot before he could slam right through the head of the machine. With another enemy on approach he ran behind cover, sending a kick right through the metal walls and into it's head before it fired. It then launched swarm missiles at Alistar, damaging his machine and plasma sword. He launched himself at the enemy, slamming heads together and a punch to the shoulder. With a returning punch from the enemy, he stumbled back, but kicked the enemy down, falling on it and replacing the machine's head with his fist. He won, if barely, but at what cost for him and the base?

Misc Info: He's 30, but looks to be in 20 due to anti-aging treatments. He prefers dark colors to bright ones, as they allow him to calm down.

---

HELIX Frame Sheet

Codename: EYE2

Appearance: 10 meters tall

Class: Medium

Role: General purpose brawler.

Equipment:
Plasma Lances (x2) - Arm - These plasma lances are used against machines close up or to quickly strip down Phalanx Shields, they can also be charged up to fire a beam of plasma a short distance, capable of piercing through a Frame at maximum charge. They cannot be used while holding weapons, otherwise it'll cut right through them.

Smoke Capsules (x6) - Torso - These smoke capsules are used to hide itself from machines up close, they allow EYE2 to have enough time to move into an advantageous position.

Anti Missile Laser (x2) - Shoulder - The AML allows EYE2 to destroy incoming missiles with pinpoint accuracy. Interestingly, they also kill infantry instantly, and can hit them. When fired for too long they must vent their heat, and inadvertently affects the sensor arrays on EYE2.

MOTORVIPER - Hand - The MOTORVIPER is a general purpose assault rifle, capable of being used by any similarly sized HF with normal hands. It has enough ammo to tough through standard operations thanks to extra mags being kept hidden on the hips of EYE2. Due to not being a specialized weapon, it is special in no way, though EYE2 hits further and more accurately than predicted specifications.

NIGHTLING - Hand - The NIGHTLING is a heavy shotgun produced specifically for EYE2, it has a heavy round load capable of shredding through lighter Frames up close, however due to the recoil, it cannot be fired in quick succession. The NIGHTLING has a somewhat long reload time, as it must be fed rounds by an autoloader contained in EYE2's left hip.

Vanguard - Torso - The Vanguard system is used to enhance dashes in all directions except vertically, this allows EYE2 to suddenly speed up and change direction, however use of it wastes Phalanx Shields.

Hugin - Head - Hugin is used to analyze any close structure or HELIX Frame, analyzing what it may contain and structural weaknesses, usage of Hugin temporarily disables other sensor packages.

Munin - Torso - Using information gathered from Hugin, Munin works in tandem with the main processor to figure out if new Frames spotted match previously recorded information, showing Alistar predicted armaments. This is incredibly useful as he knows what to expect. Modified weapon systems will sometimes not show up properly for Munin's analysis.

[User]
Henry gave another smile at Julian then looked forward as the pilot broadcast to them. He hums and peers out the porthole next to him. He peers out seeing the white of the Alaskan tundra. And down as they flew lower, he could see the outlines of large grey buildings. What looked like a Radar dish and accompanying instruments for it. Warehouses and communications installations. He nodded slowly and as they started to settle in he could see the HELIX frame hanger attached to the main command building. likely their first destination. Though he had other things he needed to do first. As they settled in he grabbed a heavy and thick jacket, made from hide by the look of it. With white wolf pelt around the neck. He also grabbed a kit bag that sat under his seat, and then as they crunched to the ground he stood, and pulled a large 3 meter long quarter of a foot wide pole of wood out of the overhead netting. And with it over his left shoulder and over his right his bag he turned to the way out. "I'll see you all at the command center. I have something I need to do." He gave a wink then trooped out of the lander.

His combat boots crunched in the snow as he made path towards the command building, but slightly to one side. To an open area that didn't seem to be used for much more then some old crates that hadn't been shipped out yet. A good place as any. Still took him a little to get there. He looked over his shoulder only once, to check if the others are moving yet. It really didn't matter in the end. They'd get there just like he would.

Finally he reached the spot, there he kneeled in the snow and from his kit bag, he brought a broad bladed tomahawk. A length of solid birth wood made the handle, gleaming silvered steel made the head which had various sigils and runes etched into it, ontop of the damascus steel foldings in the blade. At the very end of the handle a length of what looked like bone. Hefty and thick, the handle wrapped with yellow, white, blue and red silk lengths and finally tied to the handle just below the steel head is a quartete of eagle feathers, two of them golden eagle the other two bald eagle. It's a masterwork of some GUFNC craftsman truly. With the hatchet Henry chops one end of the pole down to a point, it's rough and isnt't fancy but it works. He gets to his feet and with a cry of strength he buries the pole 2 feet down and even into the concrete below. He nods sagely and draws a circle around the pole in the snow with the handle of the tomahawk. It's fast then as he swings the tomahawk up, and buries the blade of the hand axe to the handle in the wood of the pole.

A resounding war whoop rings out as Henry tilts his head back and whoops to the air. Once...then...another war whoop. Twice...and then finally a third war whoop pierces the air. The sound of the cries echoing off the walls nearby. He relaxes his body, and picks his kit bag back up, "The first step." Said mostly to himself but loud enough for anyone who was curious enough to follow along. Slinging his kit bag up over his shoulders again he makes for the command building again, calling out to anyone to hear, "Anyone who moves that pole or takes that tomahawk! I'll personally tan your hide! Respect the rituals!" He makes his way then to the nearest doors into the command building, figuring he may as well join the rest of the team inside.

The Sound of

youtube.com/watch?v=sv29DzgiXZA / youtube.com/watch?v=jM8dCGIm6yc

and

youtube.com/watch?v=-ML74J9Dq2U

[Assistant]
Rachel raised a brow at Garret when she heard his response. Now that wasn't a nice thing to say. She had only been giving some playful sass and instead received a verbal middle finger. Rachel shrugged and watched out of the window as the dropship approached the base. It all felt so similar to her, like she had just stepped off into a colder version of the base her previous squadron called home. When the craft touched down, Rachel stood up and slung her bag over her shoulder. She moved toward the back as the ramp began to open. "Thanks for the lift. Here's hoping for clear skies." Rachel said to the pilot, offering a fist bump to him as she passed.

The pilot bumped his fist to hers, their brief rivalry ending with a sort of kinship between pilots. Rachel stepped down the ramp and felt the cold wind whip at her face. The collar of her bomber coat flipped up in the wind, thankfully masking her jawline and some of her cheek to the chill. She was glad that she was wearing her sunglasses, as the clear skies allowed for the sunlight to reach the snow and bounce off unmolested. Everything was just... bright. Even with her sunglasses, Rachel found herself squinting somewhat. She was used to the perpetual cloudiness of Great Britain. Rachel didn't move much further from the dropship though. She turned and waited for the other HELIX pilots to dismount and join her. If they were to be a unit, it was best for them to get into the habit of sticking together now, even if one of them was quickly becoming unlikable to Rachel. "Let's get a move on, pilots! I don't want this cold creeping any further up my spine."

[User]
IT WAS TIME. As Henry and Julian ceased their conversing and prepared to brace the bitter cold--both of nature and their future missions--the latter held back his breath, trying to drown an anxious sigh. Julian returned to his seat, thinking about the pilot's words. He retrieved a large black overcoat that he'd taken off during their flight; It kept him warm, perhaps too warm, but now it was the only comfort item that would steady his nerves. Julian worried incessantly, a variety of dark thoughts plaguing his mind.

Rachel's call to her comrades cause him to snap back from the brink. It anchored him, and he silently thanked her for it. As the transport door opened, Julian growled under his breath and held his bowler hat tightly with his right hand, his carry-on in his left hand. He marched straight into the whiteness, keeping pace with Rachel and Henry--he wasn't about to be left behind. Like Rachel, he also felt that they should stick together, for better or for worse. This entire ordeal felt strangely like the starting events of a wedding ceremony, not that Julian had any idea of what a wedding was like, nor the after-effect of marriage. Regardless, he was determined to care about his comrades even if he had to embrace his deepest fears a thousand times over.

'At least Henry and Rachel seem to care,' Julian mused, eyeing the motto in the distance. He could barely read it, but as he squinted in vain to clutch at clarity, he noticed that Henry began breaking off from the group.

Glancing between Rachel and the others and the brave (he was truly brave, Julian felt), he decided to stay on track with the group. His pace did start to slow though, and he licked his lips as he watched Henry do whatever it was that he was doing. He really couldn't make out the thing in the ground, but the war whooping outright startled Julian. He even chuckled a little in spite of his fear, trying to feign confidence. As Henry returned, his words of warning presented a logical conundrum to Julian. But he dismissed it just as quickly as he had thought of it--in short, that the wind and snow would bury the ritual marker and render it effectively lost to them. He then changed his mind and would ask him anyway.

Deciding to trust Henry would not look at him stupidly, Julian asked, "Well, uh, Henry, what about the wind? A-And the snow? Won't it bury the--oh."

Julian could see more clearly now, the marker was taller than it had appeared at first to him. Chuckling and muttering 'never mind', he emphasized his dismissal of his question with a hand wave and head shake. Turning back towards the group and joining them, Julian chided himself. 'Stupid!'

[Assistant]
When they reach the door it automatically slides open, revealing an airlock. After everyone enters the door slams shut behind them, the interior door opening with a soft welcome from the PA system, "New pilots have arrived. Please report immediately to the mess hall." The inside of the base is surprisingly homely, with proper flooring and decorations. Seems these guys can afford to spend a bit on luxury, a welcome change in the military. The walls are white, for the most part, gray at the bottom. This base is certainly odd, but nonetheless it's time to move.

When they enter the cafeteria there's one person clad in a dark blue suit, with pink hair and emerald green eyes. He rests with a relaxed yet firm posture, like he's the boss and he knows it. He looks nothing special, not muscular or visibly strong, yet his hand moves with an almost assassin-like grace, lifting his fork and taking a bite from his mac and cheese. After swallowing he looks over at the new pilots, speaking before they even have a chance to say something. "So you're the people I've been waiting for! Welcome to the snowbirds, grab something to eat and come over here, you've been ferried around quite a bit I can assume, best to eat a proper meal before talking. Hunger makes you angry after all!"


[System]
General Information

---

---
Nickname/Alias:

N/A

Age:

15, January 21st

Gender:
Female

Home Country:
France

Appearance:

Dominique stands about 1.55 metres tall and weighs in at around 120 pounds. She has long ginger hair that reaches down to her shoulder blades and pale blue eyes that seem to match the ocean. Her body is toned and lean from many years in competitive swimming and training in mixed martial arts. Visible down most of her right arm is a rather abstract tattoo, obtained in a shady parlour without the permission of her parents.

---

---

Personal Information

---

---

Personality:

Dominique is a rather rebellious individual. She doesn't like adhering to rules and regulations, nor does she enjoy being ordered around by others. Almost a nightmare for her parents to deal with. Not overtly mean however, she is a rather kind individual to those close with her. Her heart, while not worn on her sleeve, is large and welcoming. She will warm up to most people rather quickly and is loyal to a fault.

Energetic and forward-thinking, quick-witted and a bit of a smart ass. She's been known to start fights in her own defense and the defense of others and tries to vouch for the underdogs. Under pressure she can be a bit hot-headed and her temper is legendary, but underneath all of that reveals a level headed spitfire that wants to help her team.

Biography:

Dominique grew up oblivious of her parents true images. For the first ten years of her life she was pushed through so many different extra-curricular activities that she didn't really have time to do anything besides school and train. At first it was mixed martial arts, which her parents claimed was to improve her self confidence and to defend herself at school. Then, it was swimming lessons, lifeguarding and competitive swimming. By the time she was twelve, she was fed up with the constant lessons and meetings. Through the following years, Dominique started to run off into the city at night, often meeting her friends that she rarely had had time to see apart from at school.

It was only when she was fourteen, a year before her enrollment at S.P.I.G.A, that she learned the true nature of her life. Her parents, both agents for the DGSE (Directorate Générale de la Sécurité Externale), had recommended her for the youth program without her knowledge. When the letter arrived with the S.P.I.G.A branding, she was confused as to why she of all people had received the letter. That's when it clicked in her mind. The constant lack of at least one of her parents on any given day, the harsh physical training, the numerous languages she'd learned. It all made sense to her now.

Her parents were conveniently both home the day Dominique had received the letter and explained to her the circumstances of the recommendation. Her rebelliousness was to only be expected for her age, but they had also seen her potential.

She was off to the airport in the following months for her flight to the Wardshire Castle, her new home for the years to come.

---

---

Spy Information

---

---

Talents:

* Excellent Athlete: With cardio like a horse and the muscle to show, Dominique is in peak physical form for her age thanks to her extensive time training for her competitive swim team and martial arts tournaments. She has great endurance and while her pure strength may fall a bit shorter compared to someone who solely strength trained, she is lean and agile and her strikes hit like missiles.
* Master of Blades: Alright, she isn't quite a master, but Dominique knows her way around knives. She's learned how to both use one in MMA and disarm an opponent with one, and through specialty training on the side, knows how to throw one quite accurately as well.
* Medical Knowledge: Dominique isn't a surgeon by any means, but she knows enough to potentially save a life if the situation calls. Through her lifeguard training she was introduced to advanced first aid both in the water and out, and has maintained a higher than average level of first-aid knowledge.
* Languages:  Speaks French natively. Speaks English, German and Spanish semi-fluently.

Gadgetry:

* Beretta M9A1 Pistol: While not one for firearms, Dominique recognized the need for a sidearm while in the field and has chosen to arm herself with the trusty 9mm and is trained to use it effectively.
* Modified Arm Bracers: To compliment her skill in hand to hand combat, Dominique designed a system that integrates into a set of archery forearm braces. They are capable of delivering up to 50,000 volts through contacts on the palms and blocking most melee weapons with lightweight titanium plates running along the top. They also integrate two slender blades on the insides of the forearms to be easily accessed in an emergency.
* Knives, knives and more knives: Some may call it an obsession, but to her its a necessity. Dominique carries anywhere from two to six blades on her person at any given time. Two of them are integrated into the soles of her boots and two mounted to sheaths that attach to her vest just below the ribcage. The remaining two are the aforementioned wrist mounted panic knives. All of her knives are balanced to enable accurate throwing.
* Contact Lens Camera: Mounted to her dominant eye, the camera is almost invisible at a glance and even upon close inspection, one would be hard pressed to see it. High resolution 24MP photographs sent directly to her phone and laptop in the literal blink of an eye.

Other Items:

* Laptop, mainly for leisure during off times or taking notes in class.
* Picture of her mother and father, tucked in her wallet.
* Wireless headphones, almost invisible when inserted for stealthy music.

[User]
Quickly, the dorm room was flooded by several more people, each one with their own unique quirks. The topic then randomly changed to french toast. Shiro closed his eyes and took a mental note of the area. Each of these people were unique in their own way, and it would be interesting, to say the very least. After a deep breath to help take in this new experience, Shiro opened his eyes back to the light and swiftly buckled his blade to his belt.

"On the subject of french toast, I'm going to go check out the kitchen," Shiro said nonchalantly, in an attempt to cool down the rather heated environment. "Hopefully they gave us something to work with. Feel free to join me," he said to the group, giving an exaggerated wink to Sunny, for he had felt her scootch towards him on the couch before. With that, he turned and strode into the kitchen.

There, he found a fantastically well-kept kitchen, with plenty of kitchen space and a large white table for eating with several house plants. A fragrant scent traveled through the room. Shiro smiled. "Really starting to like this place," he said dreamily, looking up at the cream ceiling.

[Assistant]
47

"Excellent!"  Chris slapped his thighs and rose. "You do know how to make French toast right? I'll find the eggs."  he entered the kitchen and stared "Where do they even get eggs on this island?"  He chuckled "This is rather like that spy game from the USSR... wheres an egg? " He moved over to one of the fridges, opened it and there sat a dozen chicken eggs. "Ding!"  They suspiciously lacked the UK date stamp which he observed silently. After testing them in a bowl of water he started cracking them into a glass bowl. "Twelve people? Twelve eggs?"  His brow furrowed. He looked up at Shiro. They shared a silence.

[User]
Garrett glanced at Jackson, pointing a finger at him and saying, "Amen to that, my good fellow." Rule number one: don't mess with Mom. Ever. Even if you were a super spy and she wasn't. Garrett had learned that from an early age. He wondered for a moment if there was a school for becoming a badass mother, or if it just came natural to some women...

Garrett glanced around, and noticed AJ sitting off, removed from the cluster near the door. Being that she was quiet enough to have not introduced herself, and also hadn't picked any fights, she was probably worth talking to. Or sitting in silence with, at the very least. He stood up, and walked over. He extended a hand in greeting and said, "Hey. I'm..uh...Garrett."

[Assistant]
Oh, the drama... AJ marveled at the way the other students were reacting to each other not even half an hour after meeting. The hostility and straightforwardness indicated some of them were impulsive, and that was never a good sign, especially when she knew she'd have to eventually rely on some of them in various life or death scenarios.

Just then, one of the students walked over and introduced himself. AJ didn't notice him fighting with the others like he had something to prove. That was good, maybe he had better self-control than most. Or maybe he just hadn't been pushed to that point yet. Either way, it didn't hurt to find out.

"Hi Garret, I'm Ava," she said, standing up to return his handshake with a half smile of her own. "You can call me AJ if you'd like, it's short for Ava Jade," she continued with a shrug of her shoulders. "Quite the first day we're having, huh? It's like that bad American show The Real World. I mean, they had one season back at home I think, but it was still quite dramatic."

[User]
Garrett sat down near Ava's perch, gesturing that she could sit back down. A small part of him hated that she'd gone to the trouble of standing up. Oh well. Hazards of being polite. He chuckled quietly at her mention of the TV show, however, and said, "I'm afraid I've never seen it. Though I blame being a boring sod who prefers the company of books to TV." He glanced at the rest of the group for a moment, then said, "But yes, I suppose today has been interesting. Lovely campus we've got here. Nothing against the dorms, but I sense I will be spending time locked away in my own room, more often than not." He gave AJ a knowing sideways glance and said, "No tellin' why."

He cracked a wry grin, and reached up to scratch the back of his neck. He realized that he was out of his element here, and his usual small-talk topics were...mundane to say the least. Hell, it was easy enough when you could follow a script, but he had a feeling everyone present was worried about more than weather and sports. Especially not American Football. But, if small talk ever failed, just get em talking about themselves. "So, what'd they get you in here for?"

[Assistant]
Sunny breathed a sigh of relief. Looks like everyone's getting along just fine now, which is great since they all need one another to survive in this academy. She's really greatful for Dominique for defending her but Sunny doesn't like anybody getting in trouble because of her. Even so, she feels like they can become best friends, and who wouldn't want to have a bestfriend who has a very cool French accent?

What Sunny seemed surprised to is that most of the group is talking about french toast. Although when you think about it now, most of them including Sunny, if not all, are really hungry right now. Sure, Sunny ate a lot at the yacht during the trip but that was hours ago. A girl needs to keep on living after all.

Speaking of french toast, Sunny felt like melting butter on a warm bread with she saw Shiro winked at him. She giggled a bit, then she remembered the sword buckled on his belt. "No way, is he actually a samurai spy? Now that's what you call the best of both worlds", Sunny thought to herself. At least they have another thing in common: aside from both being Asians, they also work with sharp metal blades. "But can you really consider needles as blades? A rapier is kinda like a long needle too, so is that also called a blade?", she pondered. She shrugged. She'll think about that later.

Sunny joined Shiro in the kitchen, which is beautiful just like the rest of this place, and also saw Chris already beating eggs. Since she likes to cook, she considered asking them if she could be of any help but she thought that too many hands in the kitchen, especially when they're only making easy and simple food like french toast, is quite uneccesary to say the least.

Having heard Chris ask about the number of eggs, Sunny opened the fridge full of ingredients and reached out for the milk. Then she opened one cabinet and found a measuring cup they could use. "It's usually two to four eggs per cup of milk, though it usually depends on the person eating on how much eggs and milk they would like to put on their french toast", she said to Shiro and Chris with a smile. "Here Chris, you forgot the milk", she said as she put the milk and the measuring cup beside him.

She sat on one of the chairs at the table and watched them, especially Shiro. "A samurai spy who knows how to cook who's both adorable and handsome at the same time? Yes please", she thought dreamily to herself with a sigh.

47@Banzai Tracers

[User]
 As Dominique was about to take things a bit further, intimidation-wise, the Filipina girl stepped between the pair and broke up the confrontation. She smirked as Sunny gave her a look that could only be read as one thing, before looking back to Randall with the same cold look she'd given him before. "Typical." She spat the word like venom before sending a warm smile in Sunny's direction, following her into the kitchen. After hearing the mention of food, she couldn't possibly turn down the prospect of a meal. In her excitement that morning Dominique had only eaten a bagel and coffee before departing and her stomach's current mood reflected that poor decision. She needed food and soon.

Walking in behind the group while trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous, Dominique paced over to the bar-like table and hopped up onto a stool. Looking over to Shiro, she cocked her head and called out to him playfully.

"So, monsieur le chef, what dish are you preparing for us? Would you like some help?"

Dominique propped her head up with her arms and waited patiently, glancing to the other occupants of the room with curiosity. It was certainly going to be an interesting year at the academy with such a diverse group of people. She looked over to Sunny with curious eyes, feeling bad for making such a scene on the first day.

"I am sorry for making a scene back there. Ca me rend fou quand-- It makes me crazy when people think they can just say whatever they want like that."


[System]
Sheets
(Pic here. Please no anime.)
Gen:
Allegiance:
Nature/demeanor: (optional)

Strength:
Dexterity:
Stamina:

Charisma:
Manipulation:
Appearance:

Perception:
Wits:
Intelligence:

Abilities: (I'm not listing them, just fill in what you have at what)

Backgrounds: (don't bother with Gen, I get it)

Disciplines:

Humanity:

History:

Plans for the Apocalypse:

(Pics here human and apocalyptic. Please no anime.)

Name:
House:
Faction:
Visage:
Nature/demeanor: (optional)

Strength:
Dexterity:
Stamina:

Charisma:
Manipulation:
Appearance:

Perception:
Wits:
Intelligence:

Abilities: (I'm not listing them, just fill in what you have at what)

Backgrounds: (don't bother with Gen, I get it)

Lore:

Torment:

History(human and demon):

Plans for the Apocalypse:
(Pic here. Please no anime.)
Name:
Allegiance:
Nature/demeanor: (optional)

Strength:
Dexterity:
Stamina:

Charisma:
Manipulation:
Appearance:

Perception:
Wits:
Intelligence:

Abilities: (I'm not listing them, just fill in what you have at what)

Backgrounds:

Humanity:

History:

Plans for the Apocalypse:

[User]
James redirected himself on the road, heading for a place called Stover. James hadn't operated in the back country much, especially not that of the Midwest, and he was still a bit on-edge from the Giovanni case, and the news spectacle from L.A. He was also worried about Lauren, and desperate to talk to him, especially given the recent...memories transpiring in James' head. Akiel... This name reverberated through the whole of James' being, causing a nagging feeling that something else was with him. Something...ancient. There was also a spiritual feeling, one of an entity that felt both new and familiar to James, the presence of something powerful and Holy. These thoughts wrapped themselves around James' mind as he drove, and would not cease for another hour.

Pulling into the town of Stover, James located the center of town, looking over the various businesses and houses in the small town. Locating a bar, James pulled into the parking lot, stepped out of his car, and walked in. The bar was rather full given the time of day, but James supposed it was natural given the events that had recently transpired. Ignoring the looks parted on him by the townsfolk, he stepped up to the bar and took a seat at a stool, waiting quietly for the bartender to approach him. "Whiskey, on the rocks, with a water back." He said to the bartender, who walked of to prepare his drink. Gently tapping his fingers against the bar, James would simply watch the muted news broadcast on TV waiting for his drink to arrive.

When the bartender returned, James thanked him, but spoke to him before he could walk off. "James Odeman, private investigator. I'm in town as part of a case, and in need of some information. Recent events have brought me here, and I was wondering if you could help me. See, I'm looking for a carnival supposed to be in this area. Would you happen to know anything about that, or know anyone who might?" As he waited for the bartender's reply, James sipped at his drink, watching the person carefully.

[Assistant]
The bartender gave a soft grin, but the answer did not come from him. Instead, it came from the man sitting next to James at the bar. He looked like he maybe 21, his blonde hair spiked straight up. He wore a long red leather trench coat, and through it seemed to be shredded and covered in holes in some places, it was hard to tell if the wet places on it were blood or some other liquid due to the red of the coat.

"Bud, you're lookin at it." His voice came, amused but somehow tired. The man shifted to face James, the coat moving in telling ways the investigator would likely be used to looking for. There were long solid places along the back of the coat suggesting swords. The coat also made exaggerated shifts near his hips suggesting guns, but if they were, they were damn big ones.

Even inside the bar, the man wore rose colored shades, but as she moved towards James, he slid them down his nose slightly to look at the investigator with bright yellow eyes. "Question is, does the Carnival want to know you?"

Looking around the room, James would be able to notice many of the patrons were concealing weapons, and some weren't bothering to conceal them. Likely ones with jobs or permits to allow them to open carry. Something inside James seemed to roll over in recognition when he looked at a couple of them. Not something visible, as they looked human enough, but something inside him knew they were not what they seemed.

[User]
James noted the clear display of force given off by the various bar patrons, and knew not to test their patience. brushing his hand along his suit coat to make it clear he himself was armed, and would not go down easy. Taking another sip of his whiskey, and staring the young man directly in the eye, James spoke. "Quite the eye color you've got there. Myths and legends say that yellow eyes are the most notable traits of a shapeshifter. But what would a shapeshifter need with armed backup, and his own concealed weapons, I wonder. No, I think there's something different about you. Something similar to recent events." As James spoke, his own eyes did something without his knowledge, flashing a glint of the being hidden deep inside him, of the one known as Akiel.

"Now, I'm sure you're aware of the events transpiring in Los Angeles. My job is to investigate such events, generally without the consent of more...mundane authorities. I'm aware of such entities like those seen in Los Angeles, and that's why I'm here. Your 'carnival' is said to be home to some of these less-known denizens of Earth, and I need to know what you're up to, if anything. I'm here as a concerned third party. A..representative of the more overlooked citizens of this world. I have no intentions of causing trouble, I and my more paranormal allies simply need to be assured that things are under control, and that there are no upcoming troubles for those of us that are more mundane in our endeavors."

[Assistant]
The man chuckled softly, though let James finish. He was satisfies that the man knew enough to be open, and though lacking in some areas, was generally exposed enough not to generally freak out. "You're close, bud. But the eyes are fae, not shifter. As for what we are up to..."

"We are up to nothing at the moment." This voice was a stark contrast to the youthful energetic one of the Fae in front of him. It came from a man that was slowly walking down the stairs from the top office. He was dressed in black slacks and a black button up shirt that looked a size too big as it hung unbuttoned from his shoulders. He had long unkempt blonde hair, though red streaks stained several places. He was not buff, or all that intimidating at all, and the sad expression on his face didn't seem to be one he wore often. He looked middle age, though he carried himself like the weight of centuries rested on his back. "I appreciate you not wanting any trouble, and I assure you, you will not have any as long as you remain Civil."

The young man next to James turned, taking his own drink and leaving to free a seat for the newcomer. The older man sat next to James, extending his hand. "Anthous. I own this bar, and lead the Carnival you seek."


[System]
"And I get up because it is the only thing I can do."

---

---
Nickname:
Rose, because it is a shorten version of his name and because of his occupation. Although Ambrose prefers if only close friends referred to him this way, as the nickname has been used in a mean-spirited manner many times

Date of Birth:
October 31st 1995

Age:
21

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Homosexual

Relationship Status:
Single

Hometown:
Detroit, Michigan

Ethnicity:
Biracial - white father and African American mother

In Depth Appearance:
Ambrose has a slender figure, and stands at a mere 5'5'' and has a sort of a baby face. However everything on him is a lean muscle, toned from years of track team and regular running. His skin is a tawny brown, with deep gold undertones. He doesn't have the best posture though, and is often slouched in attempt appear smaller and be less noticeable in general. Ambrose has a pair of deep hazel eyes, framed with dark thick lashes. His hair is a deep black with soft curls that rest on his forehead. His skin splattered with dark freckles, across his cheeks and back, and he has several small scars on his upper thighs as well as a couple deep, ugly scars on his torso.

The young man has no tattoos, although he has a couple in mind he wants to get someday. But he does sport a small septum piercing, other then that, Ambrose is pretty bare in terms of body modifications. He tends to wear monotone clothes, mostly black and grey with only pastel colors like mint green occasionally. The clothing pieces are usually loose and comfortable, although Ambrose is always seen wearing his favorite pair of high tops sneakers.

Hobbies:
◘ Painting
◘ Photography
◘ Film Reviewing
◘ Running in the early morning for exercise

Magical Affinity:
A new-comer to the magic scene, Ambrose is inexperienced and unsure of his abilities. But he is still a natural and a fast learner for the art. He seems to showing an affinity towards the natural and physical magics.

Habits:
◘ Pulls all-nighters to finish a particular painting, messes up his sleep schedule for a week and barely functions on coffee the entire time
◘ Extremely fidgety, especially when anxious
◘ Doodling on every piece of paper he gets his hands on
◘ Smoking (Although this is a rare thing to witness as he only indulges when he is particularly stressed)

Likes:
◘ Confusing art films
◘ Plants
◘ Dancing
◘ Rain and Thunderstorms
◘ Snails
◘ Indie/Alternative music

Dislikes:
◘ Crowded Rooms
◘ High-pressure situations or high-expectations
◘ Airplanes/Airports
◘ Elitist Attitudes
◘ Bigotry in general
◘ People flaking on plans/promises. It's a real pet peeve of his

Fears:
◘ Fear of heights
◘ Fear of tight/small spaces
◘ Fear of running into the law

Personality:
The first impression Ambrose makes on people, is a small guy who seems timid and socially uncomfortable. And this is true for the most part. Ambrose naturally shies away from the spot-light and likes instead to observe people from a distance (one of his favorite past times is people watching). He is a naturally anxious and cautious person, leading him to be un-trusting and suspicious of other people's motives. Most people who speak to him for the first time are met a with a guarded and tense conversation. Yet despite this Ambrose is more a follower and is easily pressured into activities he would't have otherwise done himself. He is truly a fish out of water in the academy life, an outsider, so he hasn't made any new friends yet.

Because of his introversion, Ambrose is more focused on his own pursuits instead of relationships, like painting and photography. Both of which are passions he hopes to turn into a career someday. He is incredibly invested in the arts, but he is too afraid to quit his day job for a full-time career as an artist. He spends almost all of his free time painting, and has even had a couple successful art shows. Yet overall, Ambrose is still naive and unsure of how to further his skills and network successfully to make his break into the industry.

Despite his initial prickly exterior, Ambrose is quite affectionate to the ones who have earned his trust. A little emotionally needy, he is eager to please those have captured his affections. Ambrose has the habit of putting others before him, often neglecting himself for days on end. Yet romantic partners of Ambrose are disappointed with someone who is afraid of both emotional intimacy and commitment.

Ambrose also has an unexpected wild side, this is something he tries to hide the most as it has gotten him into many sticky situations. It really only comes out with drinking or anything else like that. When he is like this, he is more willing to take risks and tell people how he really feels. This is probably when he is at his funniest, sarcastic and even a bit flirty.

Background:
Ambrose grew up in a cramped apartment, in the inner city that was wracked with poverty and crime. It was a daily part of his environment, to be unsure of if he would get dinner, and if he would even be safe considering the criminal activity. An only child with neglectful parents with a father who took his anger out on his family and a mother who drowned her sorrows with alcohol. They weren't really completely evil people, but they shouldn't have been parents. Ambrose had to grow up on his own, and his only escape from reality was through the arts.

 But as he grew to adolescence, he became painfully aware of the expectations around him. To have a reliable job, to be tough and masculine, and so on. This, combined with involvement with the "bad kids", Ambrose fell down a slippery slope of petty crime. Eager to prove himself among his peers, the teenager began to deal drugs and even took part in a few (unarmed) robberies. He never had the intention to hurt people, and viewed it as a way to get cash for food and other basic essentials. But Ambrose also began nursing a drug addiction, thanks to easy access and pressure from his "friends".

Ambrose barely graduated from high school, and with rapidly deteriorating health, he soon realized he needed to take a good hard look at himself. He was a shell of the person he used to be, malnourished and a lost purpose in life. Ambrose knew he didn't want this life, and he knew he didn't want this life. So one day, he just got up and left. He forced himself to go cold turkey, he forced himself to face horrible withdrawals and cut ties with everyone from his old life. To them, Ambrose was now dead. He moved to a small town in Michigan and landed a job in a entry-level position in a florist shop. The owner noticed his hard-work and eye for design and with training, Ambrose was promoted to a florist. He has now worked there for a year, and has also been sober for a year.

Up to this point, Ambrose was ignorant of his abilities and of the magic world. His life seemed to be back on track until he was swept into the world by accidentally witnessing a magical act late one night. Bewildered, he was hauled off to Blackbrick academy to have his memory erased of the incident. At the mercy of the Magicians, Ambrose was given a test of his magic skill on a mere whim of the headmaster. To everyone's astonishment, he passed, demonstrating an innate ability just now awakened. With that, Ambrose was accepted into the college. Amrbose decided to attend, a promise of free higher education and access to an entire magical world was too good a deal to pass up. Ambrose is still unsure how to register everything that has happened, but he is excited for what the future holds.

Miscellaneous:
N/A

[User]
Ambrose stared at Morgan in disbelief, and even took a step forward as if he was going to throw a punch. Jeremy thankfully held him back, grabbing his shoulders to keep him from advancing. "Listen, you all don't need to be so sour about this. It's not blackmail! It's a trade and we can both come out happy." Morgan smiled at all the angry glares from the people in the room. Ambrose couldn't help but be reminded of Codal by Morgan's proposal. Ambrose was tired of trades.

"Forget it. We'll find it without your help." He spat at Morgan, who's smile faltered. A couple of the group protested at Ambrose's statement, chiming in.

"We need that last knife!"

"We have to think about the sake of everyone else, we don't want what happened at Sam's party to happen again...."

Ambrose glanced around the room, looking for some kind of back up but finding none. But even had to admit, they needed the information and as soon as possible. His own personal feelings had to be put aside. Ambrose huffed and crossed his arms, stalking to a corner of the room to sulk.

"Anyways," Morgan continued, standing up from his spot by Caleb's side, addressing the room. "What I want from you all is access to the forbidden texts, yes yes I know only masters are allowed to them, but I think we can make an exception." He glanced back at Caleb, "And I know you can get that arranged." Morgan turned back to the group, "Second, I'm gonna need any and all my supplies for spells, or classes, paid for and delivered at my request." The slender male paused to assess the room for a moment, everyone was calm albeit begrudgingly so. "I'm going to keep my last request for a rainy day, which means, binding Caleb into a contract. This contract entails that any point in time I may have him complete one request, and he cannot refuse or sabotage this request." Morgan smiled widely once more, especially at Ambrose fuming in the corner.

"Well, I'll let you discuss. And no, there will be no negotiations. I'll give you two hours to complete arrangements and contact me to accept the deal." Morgan made his way to the door of the infirmary room, confidently, he flashed another sweet smile before slamming the door behind him.

[Assistant]
Ambrose looked as if he wanted to jump on Morgan and had Jeremy not been there to stop him he probably would have. Caleb was uncomfortable, and it showed on his face, but the pain he was experiencing showed on his face instead of anger or annoyance. He sighed as he pressed the button to deliver medicine to him. He would be out of the infirmary tomorrow and he was thankful, but with news like this he'd rather stay in for a few more days. Looking at Morgan, he had more of a shocked look on his face than anything when Morgan explained his terms to them. Why would he request anything of Caleb? The thought caused him to narrow his eyes as he looked from Morgan to Ambrose and then back to Morgan. What was he up to? What kind of request could he make? Caleb wouldn't agree to anything that would put his life in danger even if they didn't get the last blade. He was tired of hurting, tired of the pain, tired of being in the infirmary.

As Morgan left, Caleb adjusted in bed with the help of Alex who had moved to his side.

"What do you think Caleb?" Sam asked still looking at the door Morgan had slammed upon his exit. "Do you want me to end this? It will be swift."

"We're not murderers Sam," Alex chimed in looking at her with annoyance laced in his expression.

"What if he doesn't uphold his end of the bargain? It is better that we give our requirements in this deal," Ariana added looking at Caleb who was looking at Ambrose the entire time. When everyone realized Caleb wasn't talking, they followed his eyes and realized he was still staring blankly at Ambrose. Finally, he spoke.

"What do you want to do?" he asked Ambrose. "The forbidden texts are guarded, there is literally no way for me to get them for him. It would require me to ask the headmaster and you already know how he is. The second request I can fulfill on my own, and the third request is doable so long as it doesn't put me in harm's way, but I will think of something else if you don't want us to agree to this. Ambrose, what is it that you want to do? I owe you."

Caleb looked away finally as Sam rubbed his hand finally realizing that there had been a slight falling out between them again. Caleb was doing his best to find a way to make Ambrose happy, but if you asked Ariana just being himself was enough, but Sam knew sometimes more was required. She also knew that Caleb could get access to the forbidden text. He was considered the headmaster's son, he was considered royalty, and some viewed him as a master, but modest Caleb didn't think he was that important.

[User]
Ambrose seemed to be cooling down as soon as Morgan left the room, thinking with a clearer head. He rejoined the group of others, glancing between them. "Sam, I hate that rat, but don't kill my roommate." He said with a note of humor, glancing at her with a half smile. Ambrose listened carefully as the others chime in, and didn't even notice Caleb staring at him until everyone else did.

"Wha-me?" He blinked at Caleb's response, "I mean I don't know..." Ambrose didn't like the sudden position of power, and he didn't understand why Caleb even cared what he thought after Ambrose had spoke to him back at the forest. He felt a ting of guilt thinking back at it. "I... I don't think we can afford to waste time. This is the fastest way. Morgan is a little rat, but I don't think he is interested in bloodshed or hurting people just for the sake of causing pain." Ambrose spoke slowly, thinking through the decision himself. Finally, Ambrose shrugged and looked back over the rest of the group. "We should just do it and get it over with."

There were grunts of approval and some murmurs of concern, but everyone was on the same page. Ambrose pulled out his phone, texting Morgan their approval and to meet them back at the room as soon as possible.


[System]
清風 美紀
Age: 57 (~16 human age, may change)
Gender: Female
Race: Kitsune

Personality: Miki is free-spirited and energetic, making it her mission to enjoy life to the fullest and aid others in doing so. She makes new friends easily, but only keeps a select few close to her. She does have a certain distaste for boring people, and often tries to shake them out of their routines.

Abilities:
Limited Shapeshifting
-Miki can hide her supernatural features, but that's about it.
Invisibility
-Miki can disappear from sight, and even fool cameras, but this only lasts a couple minutes per day.
Illusions
-With a bit of uninterrupted eye contact, Miki can fool someone's senses. Complex illusions are easier to see through, and suspicious people may not be fooled at all.

Skills:
Parkour/Agility
-Miki is an expert at moving through the urban landscape.
Skateboarding
-Where Miki's feet can't carry her, her favorite set of wheels usually can.
Lockpicking
-With the right tools, most mechanical locks are but a minor inconvenience to Miki. She's useless against electronics, though.

Equipment:
Running Outfit
-A set of clothes chosen for maximum maneuverability without standing out.
Skateboard
-A vintage California Free Former longboard, probably Miki's most prized possession.
Lockpicks
-A small set of picks, only carried while working.

Brief Backstory:
Miki was born in Miura City, and has been around for long enough to watch the rise of the digital era. She spent her first couple decades partying and generally running wild, both in Miura and on the road, but eventually felt the need to do something at least a little productive.

With that in mind, she realized that the people of the Imaginary District often found themselves in need of items from the outside, and that not everyone could mingle with the humans to get them. She decided to become a courier, running items of interest (and occasionally sensitive information) from the human city to the supernatural community... but why buy those things when one can just take what one wants?

Needless to say, her line of work has gotten her in trouble with both human authorities and the Imaginary District police, who don't appreciate the attention her activities gather. But she's not likely to stop anytime soon, as she knows some people have come to rely on her. And as for the law? Well, the thrill of the chase is just one more thing that makes it fun.

So intense, WOW...
Until the day you grasp it, keep pushing forward on YOUR WAY
YOU GOTTA GET IT
Eternally, KEEP IT ON YOUR MIND
Starting right now I'll stop time for you
LET'S PLAY LIKE YOU WANT TO, to your heart's content
Having come all this way, don't you dare say you're turning back!
That's impossible now
Pushing foward with that deliberate crime, come now, GO YOUR OWN WAY
Don't look back! AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!
ALL RIGHT! Messing up isn't a problem!
A great battle with the enemy that stands before you!
With that kind of feeling TRY IT
SO Say it, Do it!
Come on just DO IT
If you earnestly wish for it,
There is nothing you can't do
Since there is nothing holding you back,
Always
Wish for it wholeheartedly, make that tongue move
Just the way you want, WOW....
Leave it to your desires, push forward on YOUR WAY
YOU GOTTA GET IT
Clearly KEEP IT ON YOUR MIND
Making a face like that, looking like you're lost
What do you plan to blame it on this time?
A life lived without excuses
Get with it already!
Even shedding countless tears,
Rise above it, EVERYTIME
Even striving for the unreachable,
Calling it "just a dream"
Don't you dare let it end like that
Always
Press on wholeheartedly, meet the challenge with intensity
Just like you want it, WOW...
Seize upon your impulses, GO YOUR WAY, to the extreme
YOU GOTTA GET IT
Instinctively KEEP IT ON YOUR MIND
What can be seen in those eyes,
Is something more certain than anything
With hand outstretched,
It's surely waiting for you
Always
Seek it wholeheartedly, feel it all the way inside
So intense, WOW...
Until the day you grasp it, keep pushing forward on YOUR WAY
YOU GOTTA GET IT
Eternally KEEP GOING ON
Wish for it wholeheartedly, make that tongue move
Just the way you want, WOW....
It's fine to do it just the way you like, keep on going YOUR WAY
YOU GOTTA GET IT
Instinctively KEEP IT ON YOUR MIND
Eternally, KEEP IT ON YOUR MIND

[User]
Styx soothed the kink that lurked in his neck with circular, almost methodical motions with his hand. Though his hand looked alive, blood no longer coursed through it along with the rest of his body. Ankou were post-mortem living enigmas. They were gifted with the ability to perform innate human actions, such as eating, sleeping, and shitting, but nutritional or neurological substances were unable to even graze the conscience of the regional reapers. This was, you probably (hopefully) guessed it, the lack of blood flow within their bodies. Once in a blue moon a little pool of stale fluid gathered under the facade of vivacious skin and needed to be remedied. Luckily it only required a little pressure to suffice. The pastime was perfect absent-minded idleness, in other words, exactly what he was partaking at this very moment as the Boss delegated tasks for her underli- co-workers.

Well, at least Styx got an internal chuckle at the sight of a pale pigmented Yuina. A random passerby could run the risk of mistaking her for a ghost should she remain in the same state of distress. His eyes danced from the entertaining spectacle over to the now empty bottle, a reservoir sucked completely dry. Perhaps he should have used the timer on his phone? Nah, he had to retain some bearing on reality, he didn't need Shina shattering the enjoyment of getting smashed from booze. Then again, it's not like Styx has ever lived through such an experience.

"Onrie! Onrya! Onryayayayayayayayay~!" Alcor began to babble incessantly in her failed attempt at pronouncing the name of their objective. After he caught Styx's sideways glance, Mizar gravitated over to his sister and gave the starkly contrasting orb a gentle nudge. His two familiars then quickly whizzed to his side while the younger Oni, Nao, volunteered for their entourage. He regarded the assembled group with a narrowed gaze before he turned around and made his way for the door. With one hand shoved deep into his coat pocket and the other now holding open the entrance, Styx called out to his comrades, lackadaisical and unenthused as always, "Shall we?" His coarse voice permeated the surgical mask as if it didn't even exist. He topped of the query with a slight nod of his head.

It was time to venture back into the streets of the Imaginary District, the district that never even knew the concept of sleep. And additionally, young maidens hanging out in paths that saw frequent traffic. Aamuu was already in the midst of rationalizing why a girl of such attire would be hanging out in front of the MYO. Rather than waste his time sifting through levels of adolescence, Styx spoke up with his hand still keeping the door wide open, "Hey, we'll be passing by a bus station or two. I have some spare change, just tell the driver where your flat is and hopefully there'll be a stop on their route that's close by.

Styx wasn't an altruist. This wasn't an act of potential kindness. He just really wanted to get to the bottom of this Onryo business so people would cease to misconstrued the story.

[Assistant]
To say that the expression on Makiko's face was the definition of unimpressed was a rather massive understatement. The black-haired girl sighed, turning to look at the trembling girl tightly clinging to her. Really? Yuina hadn't gotten over it? Was it because of that poltergeist? Those weren't even proper ghosts! Raising her free hand, she brought it down sharply, though not very hard, onto the futakuchi-onna's head. Once again, she took care to avoid the second mouth.

"Stop shaking," she admonished her friend, "You're a youkai, it's more difficult for a vengeful spirit to target you, remember? Besides..."

With remarkable gentleness given her previous sharper punishment, Makiko disentangled herself from Yuina.

"The exorcism of spirits is a natural part of an onmyouji's capabilities."

As Nao spoke up, Makiko turned to face her, nodding her head. "Alright, Nao-san, I'm glad you volunteered."

As Makiko headed for the door... yet another person walked in, this one appearing to be a human girl. Though, to be frank, you could never say for certain if someone was a human(or even if they were fully human) or not in the Imaginary District, even when they looked it one hundred percent.

They didn't have time to address a new member, however.

"... If you're here to join the Youth Organization, I'm sorry," she began, "But we don't have time for a proper introduction. You can accompany either our members going to exorcise an onryo, or our members trying to find a lost cat. Or you can wait for us to return."

With that, she waved to the other members to get going, and headed out the door... in time to see yet another girl, this one having been peering through the window.

She sighed.

"... Now what were you doing, exactly?"

[User]
Karu's nigh-eternal gaze kept itself locked to the window for the past few moments.

It was only after the leader headed out that it began to shift again, albeit with a slow and disquieting head turn, as if you could almost hear a deafening creak. Then, presented in full view, was the same classic face of what your mother kept warning you about, in bedtime stories or in reality, and definitely a warning a child should heed.

"Myah."

Half-closed, ominously red contracted eyes stared through the onmyoji girl, and a wide unhinged smile greeted her sight.

"Ah. Ghost hunting?"

Karu's eyes widened slightly, though not really with surprise.

"Dangerous. A grown-up like me can help!... for now."

Says someone who looks otherwise. But hey, she's 800-something. That sort of... qualifies?

[Assistant]
Akio Haritama
@Rune_Alchemist

"And lets go. That goes for everyone on this cat finding thing. I wanna get this over with so I can go back to drinking."

 Akio scoffed at this comment, and gave a bemused look up to this alcoholic Oni. "You sure do drink a lot Shina, is that common between Oni's?" He asked. He could smell the alcohol on her breath from where he stood, and it didn't necessarily make him uncomfortable, he wasn't used to people drinking around him. He then shifted his attention away from her, and towards the other human.

 He waved over at Tessai, and stepped towards him, "Nice to meet you," He said, and smiled, "I'm Akio, and forgive me for asking, but why are you here?" He was rather confused on why humans were here in the first place, as it seemed that monsters and human's wouldn't get along well. "I mean, you are a human right?"

[User]
Tessai Watabe

Tessai sat watching as the members of the Miyura Youth Organisation stired, and began making their way towards their assigned or chosen jobs. Not that he paid attention to much of it, mind you. He was really just scanning the room; less so watching and more so skimming through the pages of a book to find a desired point, or, as it were, taking in the barest of information required.

"Nice to meet you," the new boy said as he approached, "I'm Akio, and forgive me for asking, but why are you here? I mean, you are a human right?" he must have jumped to that conclusion, then. It wasn't like humans were really that rare in the Imaginary District.

"Pleasure. I'm Tessai. Watabe." he responded, standing to greet the boy whom named himself Akio, "And, yes, I'm indeed a human. You shouldn't be too surprised. We've got at least two others, not including us. With one of those being the leader, Makiko. he gestured towards the girl as she exited the building, before stopping outside the entrance to turn and face someone peering through a window.

Then he held out his hand, offering him to shake it. The moment he did and let go, if he shook it, Tessai motioned for him to follow and began to make his way towards the door.
"Come, we should probably get this finished quickly before Shina decides to rob a bar. It shouldn't be that difficult." but then again, knowing his luck, it would turn into some complex plot device where terrorists stole cats to feed a death machine.

It was a good job he wasn't a character in a novel or manga.

He approached Shina and walked past her, giving her a slight tap on the shoulder to indicate that they should be going. Out the doors, past Makiko who was still otherwise engaged, and onto the path; hoping slightly that Akio, the Oni, and the rest of the Cat Brigade were on his tail.

@Rune_Alchemist[@EVERYONE KITTY RELATED]

[Assistant]
"... If you're here to join the Youth Organization, I'm sorry," she began, "But we don't have time for a proper introduction. You can accompany either our members going to exorcise an onryo, or our members trying to find a lost cat. Or you can wait for us to return."

Miki blinked as the club leader swept past her, clearly wanting to get on with what she was doing.

Huh. Maybe I should have blended a little less. And what kind of a club is this, anyway? Some of them are finding a lost cat, okay, cute. But then the other half are going after an onryo?

She grinned to herself as people began passing by her to leave. She noticed Tessai walk past, correctly guessed he'd be looking for the cat, and started casually following him.

This just might be my kind of club.