[System]
Age: 19

Gender: Female

Appearance: Onyx has black hair and green cat eyes. The skin of her entire body is covered in short, soft cheetah-patterned fur, except her wings and face. She is missing her left ear and has a scar on her left cheek from a fight she was in a while back. Her wings are like the wings of a brown hawk, and her wingspan is twice her arm span. She usually wears a shawl so that her wings are hidden unless she is flying.

Equipment: 3 or 4 small knives (and other tools), a pair of restored Twin Pistols, and a basic med-pack.

Physical Abilities: Flight, 6th sence(hunting/tracking), Speed & Agility, Stealth.

Background: Onyx's species, the Elissics, live in the mountains and old cities found there. They could be categorized as a frightening predator and enemy to all creatures, as they have barely any ability to distinguish one race of creature from another from the air, and there's barely any escape once they swoop down on their prey. They are not a particularly smart race, they can't understand old human language and can just barely manage to put back together the few relics they find from humans. They can only make crude weaponry, and are fairly simple with the other things they make as well. Their society is broken up into many nomadic tribes across the region, each having their own unique color of wings, and they have no unified head of power, so they will often fight with each other when the different tribes meet.

Onyx herself is a bit different from the others in her tribe… she likes to be alone, rather than hunting in a group, and will keep trying towards her goal until she figures out how to get there. Instead of trying to fly over the tallest mountain and tiring herself out, possibly even getting sick, she'll look for the shortest path around. She's better with strategy and quick moves than drawn-out fights and trying to compensate for a group. Because of this, she is sort of left out of everything, and she doesn't care because she doesn't want to have to feel like she can't say what's on her mind. She is often given solo missions that really don't make much difference around the tribe, and whenever she's not on a mission will fly in random patterns around the mountains, usually ending up at a large lake (or small sea) where she likes to fish using an old net she had found nearby the first time she had gone there. Onyx, just like the rest of the Elissics, doesn't worry much about the state of the world or how it got that way. They all live completely in the moment.

[User]
"It would be next to impossible to unite the people of this region. However, the people of the continent you spoke of to the southwest would possibly join forces with us, as most of them are our kin." Raldel started explaining about how their tribes had spread from their origins on the continent, while Onyx excused herself and left the den.

The worry in her mind was making it hard to concentrate on anything they were saying anymore, so she started flying around the nest to clear her mind.

[Assistant]
Tarentek noticed Onyx leave, but for the moment, he listened closely to Raldel's explanation of his people's origins. He did not know much of the world beyond their region, or at least, not the world in its current state, so this was the first he heard about these groups of people. Reaching out to them for help did seem like a solid option, but there were concerns in his mind.

"It is good that you already have a relationship with those groups. Certainly, it will make it easier to get their help, but...I do have some concern about leaving the cities of our region to fend for themselves. Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and especially Tel Nof are large settlements with many people, much like Amman. Even if we have not always had good relations, I do not wish to see them fall to our enemy. Not to mention that those cities will be great assets to this Empire. Tel Nof used to be a Human military base. I want to warn them, but...I do agree that it would be beyond difficult to convince them to work together. These groups in the continent to the southwest, Africa, as the Humans called it, how much do you know about them. I fear that, to resist the advance of our enemy, we will need the support of large cities with organized militaries capable of using human weapons. I fear anything less will not be enough. And, even if we can find the support we need, Africa is far from here, and it may not even be possible to bring their forces here in time. Your people may need to retreat to the southwest regardless." Tarentek reasoned. He still did not like the thought of leaving such large cities to be conquered, but if Raldel had faith that the groups in Africa would be open to joining in the defense, then they might be a better option.

[User]
Raldel continued on as if he hadn't even noticed Onyx's absence. "We do not have a 'good' relationship with the tribes that are not akin to us, but as a race we have our pride and responsibility that binds us. I know of Three groups already that would shelter us should we need to flee, and over 10 groups that would rally with us at the earliest notice. The tribes that live on the continent of Africa are much larger than our tribes here, and they may have developed a pact with the other races there, so I believe sending a messenger to each of them as soon as possible would be the best course of action right now, because then they would be able to send warriors to the isthmus between here and the continent to guard against land expansion of this empire into the continent."

"As for the cities of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, I believe that they are still under the control of a race much like your own. I have never heard of Tel Nof before, but if it is in the same area as the other two we may be able to assume that they are also under the rule of this same race." Raldel looked around for a moment and then ordered Opal to go find Onyx. "She's been gone long enough now."

---

Onyx wasn't really sure where she was going, or why she had left in the first place, however her instincts had never driven her wrong before, so she closed her eyes and let the wind guide her.

After a while she was able to smell the familiar taint of salt in the air, and she knew she was nearing the sea she had met Tarentek at just the day before. She opened her eyes and landed at the side of the wide grey road, rather than going all the way to the bank of the sea like she usually did, and looked around.

The sky looked as grey as the road beneath her and the sea reflected the color across its surface, creating a variable monochrome scene around her. She had never been much for camouflage, but now, still following her instinct, Onyx pulled the top of her shawl up over her head and face and tied it into a hood, effectively hiding both her face and wings from the sight of any other creature.

Then she waited. She wasn't on the normal stretch of shore that she usually ended up at, instead she was in an area that was dominated by the shells of the old buildings and relics left behind by the civilizations before. Her dark clothing blended well into the shadows of the old wall she had chosen to hide behind, even though she really had no idea what she was hiding from.

After a while, she heard a loud rumble in the distance. Keeping as still as she could, she watched as the source of the rumbling came into view. It was a small group of the old vehicles that she had seen so many of just lying around that was moving quickly down the road towards where she was. As she watched, the group started going slower as they entered the area until they came to a stop in the middle of the small ruins.

They must be scavengers for the empire. Why would they come all the way out here though? Onyx thought to herself as the creatures emerged from the vehicles.

[Assistant]
Tarentek did not know enough about Onyx to know for sure if it was normal for her to suddenly leave in this manner. Though, given that she was wandering alone when she found him, it couldn't be too strange of behavior. Indeed, Raldel did not seem too greatly concerned, so he doubted it was anything terribly important. After Opal left, Tarentek turned back to Raldel to continue.

"Hopefully, your allies can mount a defense in time. Just be sure to warn them of the extent of our enemy's capabilities. I do not know if we could win direct, head on battles against them. Unless our enemy is far outnumbered, we would need clever tactics to give us the advantage. As for the three cities to the northwest, Amman engaged in trade with all of them. We weren't exactly allies, but it was rare for us to have any direct conflict, given our distance from them. Tel Nof is controlled by another group of my race, the Karisskan. We were civil with them, mostly. Jerusalem and Tel Aviv are both controlled by different races; they do look somewhat like my people, but neither of them are Karisskan. From all I have heard, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem have a complicated, and sometimes violent history with each other. Their people are almost opposites in how they behave, so I agree that it may be difficult to convince them to cooperate. It may not be impossible, but...they would need to believe the danger from this Empire is greater than their animosity for one another. Tel Nof is the smallest of the three cities, but there might actually be a good chance of convincing them to aid in the defense. If...I were to speak to them, the fact that I am Karisskan might give me more credibility." Tarentek explained.

[User]
"I could have a group of sentries go with you there, if you can show the way. As for Tel Aviv and Jerusalem, Unless you believe that you could negotiate the truce between them, I know of only one person who is level-headed enough to do so." Raldel spoke with emotion barely contained in the quiet, matter-of-fact tone he was using with Tarentek, an almost unnoticeable quaver behind his words. "You should know though, to retrieve them would mean a dangerous mission into territory that is most likely already under the control of this empire."

---

Opal breathed a slight sigh of relief as he left his father's den, and then immediately cursed himself for it. What was he relieved for? To be finally away from the Karisskan Tarentek, and back doing something that was actually DOING something. Yes, finding his sister once she's gone off on one of her little 'adventures' wasn't doing much, but to Opal it felt like he was doing more than standing around and talking about war tactics with an outsider.

Opal could not understand how his father or even how his sister could stand to be near such a creature. He had been told that Tarentek was staying with Onyx until he recovered, however, except for some apparent dehydration and a few nasty scars, the Karisskan seemed to be in perfect health. "Healthy enough to stand against one of us, or even launch a surprise attack on Onyx or Raldel should they ever be alone." The words slipped from Opal's mouth before he could even begin to think that he could be wrong. Even when the thought did cross his mind though, he couldn't force himself to change his mind.

He forced himself to stop thinking about his distrust of Tarentek as he saw the thin line on the horizon that he knew was the sea where Onyx always ended up.

---

Onyx watched for a while as the scouts searched the area, gathering anything they had apparently deemed useful, and then place a small object on one of the walls of the ruin before they left, continuing down the road to the north. They must be going down all the roads to find all of the ruins and search them before they start trying to find the people. Onyx's thoughts continued to wander about the topic as she started flying back to her nest.

She ran into Opal as she flew, who told her that her father had sent him to go bring her back. They flew back to the nest in relative silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

[Assistant]
Tarentek nodded to Raldel. It would still be at least a few days before he would feel well enough to travel, but once he had recovered, he could take on the role of negotiator for Tel Nof. "Of course, Tel Nof is barely farther than Jerusalem, and they would be able to send forces quickly. It is the smallest of the three cities, but their technology is notably better. They regularly engage in trade with other cities, so as long as we are cordial, we should have no problem simply walking through the front gate. Getting an audience with their leadership may be more difficult, but if they are governed in any way similar to Amman, there should be a method to get a message to someone important."

As for Raldel's next suggestion about finding people to broker a truce between the other two cities, Tarentek was slightly more hesitant, but nevertheless quickly came to a decision. "As for finding these other negotiators you speak of...if there is going to be a mission to find them, I would volunteer for it. Ultimately, it is my idea to even attempt to broker a truce between the two cities, and I would not send your people into danger without being willing to risk my own life as well. Where are these people you are referring to, and what kind of danger to you expect such a task would entail?" He asked.

[User]
"The two I speak of are my mate and eldest daughter. The last any of us had heard of them was that they had arrived safely at the nest of our sister tribe to the east, and shortly after then was when we stopped receiving communications from them." Raldel pulled a map out from a shelf on the wall and rolled it out onto the table, pointing to a spot far to the northeast. "This is where they should be. We don't know if the empire is there yet or not though."

"I appreciate your offer, however i'm not sure I could allow you to go there. A small team of sentries would do just fine to go and find them, and you will be to busy to go anyway. Once you are well I expect to send you with a team to Tel Nof to hopefully convince them to join forces with us." Just as Raldel finished speaking, Opal and Onyx walked back in.

Opal greeted his father curtly, and shot a dirty look at Tarentek before taking his place beside Raldel again. Onyx still had her shawl tied up over head so it created a hood, and her face was shadowed as she stood off to the side. "Nice of you to rejoin us Onyx," Raldel started. "Where did you go this time?" He didn't seem to actually be interested in what she would say next, and she knew that he wasn't. This was a normal thing for them, her father would absentmindedly ask her this every time she ever had to be brought back, and then the topic would be ended before she had even gotten past saying she was at the sea.

She decided to play it differently this time. Instead she kept silent, at least until her father prompted her again, and even then she started with, "I'm not really sure. I was near the sea, but I didn't go down to the water like I normally did. Instead I stayed up the shore, by some of the ruins and the road that went through them." She realized that she still had her shawl in a hood and took it off to fix it. She didn't realize until she had got it back on right that Raldel was waiting for her to say more. "Oh, sorry I thought that was all you were going to listen to."

Opal rolled his eyes and shot another look at Tarentek. "Well? What happened there?"

"Nothing, at least for a while. Then I heard something approaching and saw some of the creatures that were part of the empire. I think they were scouting out the roads and searching for things to scavenge." Onyx finished and waited in silence for their responses.


[System]
"Let the light that all dying men see shine upon you! The Mourningstar!"
Theme:

Gender: Female

Species: Wisp

Goals: To conquer this pathetic realm! (And get a bit more confident as well)

Past Life: Mourningstar doesn't want to remember her past life for a variety of reasons. That fact that she was a pathetic loser with no friends outside the internet is one. The fact that she had been 25 and struggling to move out of her parent's place was another. Her crippling lack of self confidence was a very good one.

In her past life she had been a prodigy in programming, graduating with a Bachelor's degree in only two years of college and being the top of her class. The problem was that she could barely interact with people, a lifetime of shutting herself in her room to focus on her personal projects and gaming. She didn't even bother showing up to the graduation ceremony, there were way too many people there for her to even breathe much less give a big speech. She did a private celebration with her parents instead. This is how things went for 5 years, moving from job to job as a freelance programmer all from the comfort of her nice dark room.

Then of course the one time she decides to come out of the house to go get something to eat (a little self congratulatory snack after a particularly long coding session) she ends up the victim of a mugging gone wrong. She did everything right too, handed over her wallet, jacket, phone, so why did the mugger shoot? She would never know, nor did she really care. She was dead now, nothing left but to go to purgatory or whatever. So when she was given the opportunity to reincarnate in a cool fantasy world like her favorite games and anime, you can be damn sure she would take it. Nothing else better to do right?

This was her chance to reinvent herself, be more confident, attractive, powerful. So with that, the lost soul discarded the name of the old pathetic loser she used to be and adopted the name of a new, beautiful soul. She would be named Mourningstar! A bit edgy, but she liked the name, it was fun. Maybe this was a common name for monsters in the new world? Only one way to find out!

Current Skills:
Mana Orb III (3.0)
Lesser Force III (3.0125)
Levitation (--)
Magic Analysis III (3.0)
Mana Shape II (2.5)
Mana Slice II (2.0)
Monster Analysis II (2.5)
Focus I (1.1)
Taboo I (1.3)
Meditate II (2.0)
Mana Drain (1.0)
Mana Dart (1.0)
Fireball (1.0)
Shield I (1.0)
Overwork II (2.0)
<UNUSABLE>
Muffle (0.5)
Smash (0.2)
Defender (0.2)
Deception (0.3)
Charisma (0.35)
Blunt Resistance (0.2)
Mental Resistance (0.5)
Point Strike (0.1)
Fire Resistance (0.2)
Rabid Fit (0.1)
Dextrous (0.3)
Suppress Presence (0.6)
Crafting (0.1)
Blood Drain (0.9)
Intimidate (0.2)
Alert (0.5)
Keen Sight (0.2)
Plant Analysis (0.6)
Material Analysis (0.6)

Transformations: Corpselight

Inventory:Woven Cane Body Wrap:
Wisps normally cannot use equipment. This item, normally a headband for a humanoid creature, has been wrapped around your entire body. If you can find a way to fasten it, you may be able to use it without an equipment skill. However, due to its unsuitable nature, its bonuses to your stats will not be as great, and in some cases may be negated entirely.

[User]
Asteria

---

---

Asteria couldn't run as fast as she had wanted, because Mother Rat showed her tiredness by moving a bit more sluggish than usual. Nonetheless, they eventually arrived at Jason's cave, and the first thing Asteria – and probably everyone else – noticed was the large green crystal, within which a red core was growing and spreading. While Jason experimented with looking at the large crystalline formation with a smaller green crystal of his own, Asteria looked over the cave, and noted the 11 Healing herbs, though one of them was an ominous black instead of a healthy fresh green.

Since their…leader was still busy, Asteria approached the garden. She now knew that the green herbs could heal one fully – and how had no one mentioned that to her before?! – because she had eaten one from the lake shore and immediately felt her injuries and aches dissipating. It wouldn't surprise her if that meant the herbs also contained magic. She put a paw on one of the green ones and mentally flicked the Mana sense on long enough that she was able to momentarily sense the green herb, then flicked it back off. Now that she had a proper skill, it really was as simple as having a psychical light switch that she could turn on or off with her mind.

The green herb, while Asteria focused on sensing its mana, had the faint but sure feeling of nature, health, and goodness. It wouldn't surprise Asteria at all if it had used the ambient magic to grow then "converted" the mana for its own use. Asteria drew her paw back from the green herb and warily approached the black one. This was surely a significantly worse idea, but she wanted to know what the heck was going on with all this sudden permeating darkness and death. Was it really the case that they had killed too many creatures in too short of a time period? Or was it something else? After all, there had surely been plenty of killing before they as humans were reincarnated into some of the monster inhabitants of this cave…so perhaps a warring intention was the key difference that was beginning to change the cave.
Thus, Asteria put her paw on the black herb, and once again flicked her Mana Sense on long enough to get a feel for the plant, as it were.

She was a bit discomfited by what she discovered, but not as disturbed as she was by Jason's shout proclaiming he wanted to become the Dungeon's new master. This better not mean he'll suddenly turn into an enemy or something. With that grumbling thought, Asteria finally left the herbs to their own devices and joined a panicked Ed in trying to help Jason. The Earth Mage slime was slumped at the base of the large green crystal, straight red thorns of new crystal formation beginning their approach. Suddenly, Jason regained his senses long enough to throw himself at the crystal, getting kind of impaled by the red crystalline thorns in the process. "…I think he might want whatever is happening to happen, Ed?" she tried to reassure him, but the questioning tone of her encouragement gave away her own confusion.

"Let me see…" she trailed off as she approached Jason and the green crystal with its red core. She cautiously lifted her paw and put a single crooked finger on one of the red tendrils, then activated her Mana Sense once again. Asteria assumed that the crystal was bound to have some magic, and so focused on diverting some of its energy away from Jason and towards herself. She was tense and ready to withdraw at the first sense of trouble, but both aware and utterly terrified of what would happen if she were overwhelmed or have her sense and spirit burned or whatever the heck the crystal might do to her while Jason was interacting with it.

Uses Mana Sense on green Healing herb.
Uses Mana Sense on the oozing blackness herb.
Tries reassuring Ed.
Uses Mana Sense and Mana Drain on red crystalline thorn with the hope of helping Jason, or at least finding out what's going on.

[Assistant]
@Guy0fV4lor @ReusableSword @Gardevoiran @Kazemitsu @floodtalon @ReusableSword

When Jason touched the Crystal and suddenly was clearly in pain Danny's first idea was to use his prepared second level Mana Orb, but since he didn't fully know what was going on he decided against it. After all the Mana might somehow get transfered to the Slime as well. So instead he tried to let Orb dissipate harmlessly while reabsorbing the energy it took him to create it.

While he was trying to do it the Crystal changed significantly, growing spiky tendrils. The whole process raised his curiosity but at the same time he didn't dare get near it unlike the Dire Rat and one of the Pixie's who both approached Jason trying to help him or at least comfort him a little.

Abilities:

* Mana Orb I and II
* Lesser Force
* Levitation
* Monster Analysis I
* Meditate I

Transformations:

Inventory:

[User]
---

Everything was - she could see everything. From this core to the cave to the - Crispy was coming and she wanted, no needed him. She knew it. With him and maybe some others they could stop everything. They could learn and grow.

She needed more.

She could even see down into the depths of the central pool, down, down, down...through solid rock and packed earth, into a hollow chamber shimmering with the water's reflection…

Something with blue eyes looked back at her.

She was taken aback, between knowing she could go higher, that something hidden was down there, and that this thing was looking at her.

And then it started. She was praised. It was hard to tell, but she knew it.

And then she was stuck, with this thing looking at her.

Nothing else to do, so she tried to look at it. Find out what it was. See anything she could of it. Inspect it, learn. What was it? Why was she being watched? How?

...and that cavern. The message had said she could borrow? Could she burrow down there? Was this thing down there?

She needed to know.

[Assistant]
Ardur The Pixie  PROMOTED! >>>> Strange occurrence's /// day 8 // Evening / Location - J11

Reaching the slimes cave and uncovering the entrance showed little activity in the area. The slime seemed rather frantic with a want and desire to get into the area. The pixie was unsure why he was so desperate to get into his small cave but followed him inside. He watched as the slime cautiously approached two different crystals.

They were odd colored and definitely not mana crystals. The slime picked up one and slowly touched the other. For a moment it looked like nothing was happening. It would seem that trying to see body language with a blob of goo was rather hard to see. Let alone interpret. However, by Jason's next actions he could tell he was in pain.

The slime leaped on one of the crystals and seemed to be vibrating or at the very least in pain. One of the dire rats, that Ardur couldn't quite remember his name, moved up to the slime with a bit of panic. Another rat seemed to come up and inspect the slime and the red crystals while also seeming to try to calm the other rat down.

Ardur stepped forward and toward the slime stopping just short of him, "Hey Ed, was it? Why don't you go and watch our backs with the wisp? Be a real problem if we get cornered in here while he's doing whatever it is he's doing." Ardur spoke calmly and rather professionally. It's not the first time he's had to redirect someone's effort to help in an emergency, sometimes they can do more harm than good.

Looking back to the slime and the now obvious pain he was in the pixie decided to use a spell he hadn't used yet. Ardur reached out and cast Minor Heal III on the slime knowing how well it drained him. Then stepped back as the other dire rat began to do something to the slime.

Level: 4

Health: Full
Mana: 1/4
Stamina: 3/4

Inventory: N/A

Clothes: N/A

Weapons: N/A

Magic/Skills: Shield II, Lesser Flight III, Minor Heal III, Physical Conditioning I, Fire Resistance I, Taming I, Fireball I

Kills for current level: @Searat

[User]
As Mourningstar finished removing her new helmet from it's previous resting place, she was assaulted by a series of system messages from all over. A level up, Fireball II, a dungeon formation. That last one excited her the most, dungeons meant respawning monsters and bosses, albeit probably no boss monsters at the moment considering what they did to Rattleskull. A hint of sunlight peeked through the cavern roof, a beam of light settling on Mourningstar as if to celebrate her survival. "Yeah. Good job me." She whispered to herself as she mentally patted herself on the back.

Of course her mental celebration could not last long, for both Oberon and Asura had suddenly become eggs. She stared at them for a minute as the others left, before shrugging and floating onto Rattleskull's corpse. Looks like she was going to be the designated guard for now, no big deal. She then got to work on her next project, trying to make this thing into a helmet. At first she figured she could just scoop out all the innards and just wear it like that, but then she realized that might be a bit awkward. After scooping out all the innards with Lesser Force, she then got to removing the lower jaw from the rest of the head, making it less helmety and more hatty.

Next up was making sure the thing could actually stay on her, which was where the headband she had looted came into play. She looped that through the top part of the jaw and over the skull to make it into a strap, one she could sorta tie under her body so that it wouldn't come flying off. In the end, she had turned Rattleskull's head into a hat slash body armor thing. "Wow this is super gross. And morbid."


[System]
Age: 27

Sex: Female

Race: Marked Human

Appearance:

Taking after her mother, Nalia has the Platinum Blonde hair and eerily blue eyes of the Dolona family making it rather easy to impersonate them. Her pale skin and clear complexion was the only thing she truly inherited from her Delorano blood, not that she was complaining. Due to her constant travel, she is usually always seen with a black cloak upon her shoulders, though she never wears the pauldrons or the articulated plate sleeve as seen in the photo, rather, she simply wears the lacquered breastplate and a pair of dark brown leather gloves.

Personality: Nalia is typically Sarcastic or completely serious, sometimes it can be hard to tell. If she does not know someone, she keeps her words short and clipped, not wanting to waste any more time with them than she must. The only people she ever shows any semblance of kindness to those that she may call friend, giving advice when asked and distributing punishment when needed, but only killing when not given another choice.

Biography: A child born of both the Delorano and Dolona families, Nalia was the first, and only, child of Leon and Anasi. As she grew up, she was raised to be the heir, meant to take over the family when it was time for her parents to step down… or be killed. When she was only a year old her mother came down with an illness and passed from the world, her father remarried rather quickly at the behest of those around him as none believed a woman could be a heir and that he needed a son. Despite managing to have a son only a year later, it seemed Leon was set on the oldest child being the heir, this never changed.
 When the feuds were claimed, she was sent away at first as a means of protecting her, but she simply came back, refusing to be told otherwise. It was during an attack on her home that Nalia had been forced to fight to defend her family, her attacks brutal and unforgiving until she came across a male who seemed far too young to be leading an attack. As she had chased him down in his attempt to flee, she was rather far from the main house, which left her far more vulnerable than she was willing to admit to anyone.
 Despite this, Nalia refused to kill the child, even went so far as to tell him to run but make sure that she never saw his face again. No… she had no desire to kill someone who was nothing but a boy, a boy whom was doing the best he could to make sure his family was going to be ok. That had been her first mistake, her second? Simply looking down at the sword that had found it's way through her back and stomach, though it seemed to have missed any vital organs. As the blade slid from her body, she heard the sound of someone hitting the ground behind her and the oddly warm spray of blood against her back. Moving slowly, she turned to see the man that had attacked her dead on the ground, and a man standing where the other once was before her world went dark.
 When she finally woke the following morning, back in her bed and her wound treated, she found what appeared to be a rather odd scar along her right forearm and bicep… she had been marked, and by what appeared to be a dragon no less.

Position In House Delorano: Heir

Equipment:
* Rapier
* Pistol
* Cloak
* Lacquered Breastplate
* Stiletto
* Draconomicon
* Standard dark brown leather gloves

Skills: Human +1 to chosen field (Dueling)

Gifted: Dueling +4 Brawling +4

Above Average: Athleticism +3, Acumen +3, Grace +3

Deficient:  Archery -2, Soldiery -2

Marked Ability: Bronze Dragon - Mark is on Right Forearm, when initially given it was the color of scar tissue only to be traced over as a black tattoo in an effort to make it inconspicuous to those who do not already know her to be marked (Which is now only her First Mate as her father is deceased). Her mark gives her the ability to control liquid substances OUTSIDE the human body, however, once blood is outside it is fair game.

Unlisted Skills:
* Skulduggery
* Reputation

Side Note: Takes -1 to all Athletic checks for 30m period after unboarding ship

[User]
Lucien Delorano

---

Lucien stared at an old portrait. The ornate gold-lacquered frame seemed unfit for such a dark image, and in the flickering light of the candles and braziers, the boys expression seemed much darker.

This one was of a boy no more than 10 or 12, unruly hair and a dark brooding expression. Leon Delorano stood beside him, handsome face and heavy hand resting on the boys shoulder. Rings of ruby, gold and silver crowded the Lords hand, set in stark contrast to the boys dark tunic. In the background was a seascape with white-foaming waves and a dozen masts raised in the distance. The sails were furled, the wind non-existent. The sun was a purple crescent swallowed by the sea. Lucien remembered the portrait had been staged right here in this very room-the background was either painted first or added later, Lucien did not care or know, But mother insisted all her children be 'immortalized' in painting. Lucien could not remember the painters name, but how he had hated it when he told him to stand still, quit fidgeting!. Lucien remember how his father had wordlessly placed a hand on his shoulder as if to hold him in place.

Lucien looked away from the painting and turned to face his family. A lavish dinner upon an ornate table-nothing less would be expected at his fathers wake. The food sat mostly untouched, stomachs either too ill to eat or mouths shut in sullen silence. Lucien approached and hovered at his fathers chair. Lucien nodded mechanically as his aunt Fiona entered the chambers and seated herself beside her fathers chair. Still Lucien stood, arm rested on his fathers chair, staring at the open ledger of his last will and testament.

Quiet conversations occasionally pierced the silence. Besides the shuffling feet of the servants, and the odd clank of glasses, the room was still and tense. Most talked in hushed tones among themselves. Deflated, Lucien took a seat beside the empty patriarchs chair, and searched his mind for something to talk about. He wondered where Nalia might be. He thought of the messenger he had beaten to a bloody pulp after delivering the horrible news of his fathers murder. Four simple words had shattered his world in an instant. Lucien had made the messenger pay, that was for sure.

Words... The hushed conversations were unnerving to Lucien. He felt a stranger here, in his own home. He had not seen his family or friends for four years while he was studying at the University and he had become detached somehow. Yet the old memories were slowly trickling through the thick fog of disbelief and mostly rage that clouded his mind.

Passing the strange healer Otto in the halls without a word.

Pieter at the docks, watching for the guards that might catch him sneaking aboard the sailing ship the Maid.

Nalia in fathers study learning the family secrets.

Lorenzo sneaking off with the kitchen girl to do gods knows what.

Fiona, his aunt whispering in fathers ear at supper....and his mother.

Dying.

Pale and thin from the plague that took her in an instant. Or was it poison? His memories lied. Otto, at her bedside. Father pacing the halls. The memories fell like a flood, and Lucien discarded them for rage.

"Any idea what we should do next?" said Pieter, sipping his wine.

Lucien shook himself from his revelry. He stared at the dead painters son. He smiled.
He drew his rapier and threw it on the table with a loud clang, scattering grapes and nuts and spilling a pitcher of wine. A thick scarlet stain spread across the table cloth.

"We can start with this!" shouted Lucien, pointing to his unsheathed dueling blade. His eyes were wide and furious.

[Assistant]
The Soldier

---

Hand resting on his sword hilt, Meldyr strode through the halls of the manor. He stood tall, feet moving in practiced unison while the heavy steps of his military-grade boots announced his arrival to any who were near. If one were to stop and look at him casually, they'd think he was handsome (albeit unkempt) if not for the very grave and daring gaze he would give any who attempted to draw his attention. It was not long until he made it to the feast, the guards standing at the ready outside the halls.

"Men," he said curtly, giving them a nod. He wasn't one to be overly malicious to those under his command. He'd been an underpaid soldier himself for more years than he was comfortable with. But he was still firm, and he'd allow no slack, particularly not now. He hesitated and gave the soldiers a look, but whatever clue that might have given away the substance abuse Pieter had seen earlier was lost on him when he heard a crash in the room beyond.

Without another word he stepped into the room, hand no longer resting on his sword hilt, but gripping it. That is, until he saw it was merely Lucien making a scene. He glanced to and fro around the room, as if he was trying to gauge an enemy's strength in a subtle manner, and not in a room full of supposed friends.

"Lord Lucien," he said, his strong voice cutting through the silence that had followed the tossed blade, eyes intent upon the younger Delorano. "Perhaps we should wait for Nalia before we...discuss matters."

[User]
 Nalia had refrained from going into the Hall for as long as she could, mostly because she did not want to face those that were within it. Some had indeed been loyal to her father, others she felt had only made it appear that they were and some were after her chair, which was normal. Actually, it was the main reason she and her Aunt seemed to not get along very well as she didn't seem to think it appropriate for a woman to be the Head of House. Standing from the chair in her Father's... no, no it was her's now, she had to think of it as her's otherwise everything just wouldn't seem real to her... standing from the chair in her study, Nalia let out a shuddering breath and rand her fingers over her shirt and trousers. She needed to stay strong, there was no crying during this time, no tears, she could easily wait for the time when she would be alone on her ship once more. It was safe there, no one knew when she cried or when she was at her weakest, no one but her first mate and best friend.

 Letting out one last breath, she opened the door to the study and stepped out, closing and locking the door behind her before she set out to where everyone was waiting for her. As she arrived, she witnessed her brother thrusting his rapier into the table, pulling an annoyed noise out of the older woman as she shook her head. "Lucien you will take that blade out of our table and sit down," she said, her commanding tone filling the room, "Now is not the time to be acting a fool!" With a long and confident stride, Nalia went to the seat her father used to occupy with every dinner and sat down, her legs crossed at the knee. She needed to be strong, there would be no tears from this woman, not now... but she could not say that they would never come. For now, they were buried deep inside, not even christening her eyes with a watery sheen like her Aunt. "You would do father a disgrace if you even think to fight someone now, you need to learn to control your violent impulses before they get you killed next."

 Settling herself in for the long haul, she looked around the table at who was present, not as many as she would like but no less than she had expected considering the turn of events. "As you well know, to the displeasure of some, the death of my Loving Father has left me as the Head of House," she said, her words were slow, carefully chosen and her strange blue eyes scanned the room before her, "I know this means that the trips in which I used to partake will be farther apart and not nearly as long as I will have estate matters to attend to. When I am not here however, my cousin will be standing in for me as he seems to be the most level headed one out of my younger relatives." Her eyes flicked to Lucien, "I would have passed this on to my brother if I wasn't afraid he would simply run to our enemies door and challenge them to a duel. Lorenzo... you will take the vacant seat on my other side next to your mother from now on."

 The words she spoke dropped heavily from her lips, it had been a tough choice, but one she had had to make none-the-less. She hoped her dear brother would understand, and if not she would simply have to put him in his place until he did. This was not a title she had wanted, she did not like that she was putting her Aunt one step closer to the chair she felt should already be her sons seeing as Lucien was ill fit due to his temper and Nalia, well simply put, Nalia was a woman who refused to act as one should in the courtly manners. "Now, let us refrain from fighting and let us eat in my father's memory, these next few days will be rot with mourning, but let us remember him as he was, and not as he is now. His Will can wait just a little while longer..."


[System]
Sabre04

Military Rank: Sargent
Age: 26

Sex: Male

All clothing as well as the mask are black.

Equiped with Chameleon-tech camoflage abilities built-in.

Personality: Seth acts like he does on the battlefield- quiet. When Seth does talk, it's in a hushed tone. He's cold, calculative, and efficient, so don't get in his way. This distances people that first meet Seth, but nobody's really gotten to know him since elementary school. Details in Bio, but he used to be just a goofy nerd with other nerdy frineds.

Biography: In elementary school, Seth was one of the coolest nerds, making friends and doing school stuff. By 5th grade, others had moved on to hanging out at peoples' houses, but because of his strict parents, Seth couldn't go. By 6th grade, he had all but refused to do school work and was nearly expelled. Something switched. From that point on, his devoted all energy not spent eating and sleeping went into school work.

By high school, and not having talked to anyone outside of ice breaker games, Seth's parents got worried, so they got him video games, which his parents made him play for a certain amount of time each day. He mostly played mostly survival or stealth-based games. He started breezing through them in a few hours and eventually having to make up extreme challenges to make it anything more than a cakewalk. By the end of high school, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but wanted something with precision, calculation, and something he hadn't used much before: physical work. So, he joined the army.

Seth didn't take much time to reach the rank of Sergent. Once a Sergent, his talents acquired by social learning during his video game time started to shine while doing rudimentery drills. He was assigned to a top-secret military reconnisaince squad due to his exemplary time in obstacle cources and the notes of being quiet in all noises by his commanding officers. Their missions were only observe without being observed. Sometimes a "find this person" mission thrown in there. Seth was the one that was usually sent in when close-up observation was needed without being seen.

By the time he was 25, he was selected to be sent out for the Sabre project. He didn't know what that meant, but Seth thought it would be more of what he was doing. He wasn't ready for what it was at first. He didn't know he would be augmented. Once he was, and after getting used to the augments, they became second nature to him, making him nearly ghost-like. Especially with the suit he was issued, which also heavily catered to his reconnaisence ability.

Specializations:

Natural skills-
- Stealth knowledge and training
- Survival knowledge and training

Augments-
- Silent Step: Seth's bottom half of his feet have been integrated with quieter materials so he can make no sound by stepping alone (obviously he'll make a noise if he steps on something that makes a noise. And yes, this also means he goes barefooted on his missions) and has had the nerve endings on the bottom of his feet removed.
- 70% night vision: Seth's irises have been artificially enlargened to be able to see much better in the dark.
- Breathing pores: Seth's trachea has been given about a dozen tubes out of it that lead to pores along his neck, allowing for slow and silent breathing.

>> Retrieving most recent Psychological Evaluations. . . |
>> Done
>> File extracted
>>
[[PSYCHOLOGICAL EVALUATION: SETH GARRON, SARGENT]]
EXAMINER: JONATHAN S. WALSH
DATE: [[REDACTED]]
Sargent Garron exhibits extreme introversion, most likely caused by an onset of high expectations, albeit external or internal factors. That being said, Garron's logical and reasoning capabilities far exceed the curve for his age group. Keeping Garron engaged in speech is increasingly difficult proportional to the amount of time the conversation lasts, and his body language is very closed and cut off. Garron opts to not talk unless he deems it necessary, and will often answer yes/no questions with head nods and shakes unless pressed for a verbal confirmation. I recommend that Garron be placed in settings where verbal communication is mandatory and vital. Social interaction is also recommended to exercise the creative half of the brain that hardly shows in any of his communication and testing.

[User]
Fidgeting in her seat Saf began to really worry about this new assignment. A loose-knit group of specialists working for someone who refused to even properly identify themselves to their subordinates screamed black ops, and whenever they were involved the mission was sure to be something morally questionable. She hadn't even been given an explanation for the invasive surgeries she'd been forced to undergo before accepting this posting.

Quickly glancing at the doctor sitting next to her Saf reached down and tapped her wristcomp, activating its video record function. If these people were upto something questionable she wanted to make sure they didn't leave her out to dry once the work was done.

[Assistant]
Jax was un-phased by the man appearing on the screen as he finally looked up moving his head toward the screen. To him none of this was new, missions with very little prep time or briefing. Though something caught his eye. He looked over to 09 as she reached down and he rose an eye brow. Jax was very perceptive, it was one of the things that made him such a good sniper. Looking down he saw her wrist device turning on. That made his brow furrow as he looked at her, "you"  He looked at her pointing his knife at her "off" His knife moved to point down at her wrist. His tone was very serious as he wouldn't let anything compromise him, or his team.

 Very little of any of Jax's operations were recorded. Most of his record simply has operations he was a part of, what he did and his contributions were all classified at the highest levels. Anonymity was the name of the game. Once on mission, they no longer existed. The idea of being recorded bothered him as there would be a record of involvement. He wasn't about to change things now. It should be slightly obvious that he was black ops. His out of regs hair style for one, his slack wear of his uniform, and the fact that he wore no rank or insignia, only a name tape that said "Ghost Reaper"

[User]
Seth heard the voice least heard, from 06. Looking over, the sniper had caught 09 trying to record using her wrist device. Noting the keen eye sight of the Sabre unit with 'Ghost Reaper' taped on his uniform, he also took note of how demilitarized the sniper was. Must be federally employed or highly classified missions. I'll keep an eye out since he also talks short and precicely. Seth wasn't exactly in uniform, but he wasn't specified to, so he dressed commonly. Especially since previous branches, ranks, and titles were basically expunged.
 At this point, Seth just wanted to get on with this briefing and get the mission. Since he was stealth-recon, he figured he'd be going in, getting info that wasn't locked down before the rest of them come in and kill every being that stands in their way. It's almost an art sneaking past opposing soldiers, knocking one out to "borrow" a uniform and identification, and getting everything possible with those credentials. Or, in the higher security areas, sneaking past everyone, slipping into a room by following somebody, and plugging in a USB worm host into a server room. It was a mental challenge to get into places that Seth couldn't get from any video game, board game, or personal challenge. Mental challenges is the one reason Seth stuck with the reconnaissance squad he was placed in. He could almost make it a game.

[Assistant]
Looking over at the former sergeant Saf was unimpressed with his passive threat and placed her hand onto her sidearm. "No," She answered back levelly, mimicking the longarm's tone.

As it had already been made clear to her there was no rank here and he had no right to make demands of her, and unless he wanted to actually try and force her to do what he said she most certainly wasn't going to, especially not at knifepoint. She'd read Sgt Orion's file, and knew he was a skilled sniper and expert in stealth operations, but she was the close combat expert here and in the close confines of the briefing room she had the advantage.

[User] Jackson put a hand on both Jax's knife hand and Saffrons' sidearm holster, motioning for them to stop. "Calm down, both of you. I won't have the first injury here in the briefing room, m'kay? We're a team now, remember?" Jackson attempted to defuse the tense situation. Teamwork would be what would make or break them, and distrust between them would surely be the death of them. He was just glad he could heal minor wounds without any tools, using his nanites. If the two did attack each other, he could at least heal them, like he said he would. Let's just hope it doesn't get to that.

[Assistant]
Slowly relaxing Saf slipped his pistol back into the holster and lifted her hand away, holding it up to show she meant no harm. All the while her eyes remained fixed on the sniper, unwavering and ready should he make any hostile move.

Finally her eyes broke away from Sgt Orion and moved over to the screen. "I'm getting tired of all this bullshit," She said, her tone obviously riled, "I was told this was a military operation, but so far all I've seen is wasted time and pointless theatrics. If you have a mission for us then give us the intel and send us on our way. If not, let us get back to our duties."

[User]
Jax watched as Saf put her hand on her side arm. He waited for her to make a move, they were both experts in hand to hand combat, hell everyone in the room probably was, But she specialized in it. But she was brash and aggressive, tended to act before thinking. These were things he could take advantage of, these were also things you didn't want in a black operative. Though he felt the Docs hands on his own as he lowered his knife, but kept his eyes on saf. His own posture never changed, he was still sitting in a relaxed state as he flipped and spun his knife around once more. Looking at her, she had another outburst. In Jax's eyes she was quickly becoming the biggest liability.

 In the field this spat wouldn't effect Jax, he had team mates that he didn't get along with before. Once on the field though mission took priority. Jax had learned to separate himself, Jax became Ghost. Her he wasn't so sure about, she seemed to controlled by emotion. He turned his head over to the screen once more as he pushed everything down. Right not it didn't really matter, but that didn't mean he wouldn't be watching her closely in the field to see how she act.s

[Assistant]
With all of these volatile emotions flaring up, at least in 09 and 07, Seth thought that trying to reason these motions down would be the most effective way to move forward, since apparently this group isn't a one-time thing. "Oh-Nine. This isn't standard military op. It's closer to a black op, which is still military. That would mean discretion is key. If we don't succeed, we have nobody to turn to. It's just us, meaning team cohesion is also key. All of us are very different and we should be trusting of each other, and our mission director, as this won't be our last mission together, I presume." Seth read her dossier. He knew she had trust issues. Trying to reason trust from her seemed like the most efficient way to make her trust someone.
 "He'll give us the information we need, then we carry out the mission. Nothing else needs to be done. A recording isn't necessary unless you're just forgetful. Even then, seven others will have heard the same knowledge and can repeat it to you if you do forget." Using a disguised insult would help at least take her focus off of the recording itself and, if it worked, she'd be angry at him for insulting her memory. Once finished, Seth maintained eye contact with 09, awaiting her response.

[User]
Saf nodded her head towards Sgt Garron, acknowledging his words if not heeding them. The non-com obviously had little in the way of actual battle command and his blatant attempts at psychological manipulation were as clear to her as they had been during her numerous psychological evaluations. He was trying to smooth the waters though, even if a little hamfistedly, and she appreciated his attempt.

Now if everyone would just get to the point and explain why it was she'd been cut open and tortured for days she could get the show on the road and actually put her suffering to good use.

[Assistant] Watching as the first arguments already began, Scott couldn't help but let out a short laugh. "If you don't mind, you'll all have plenty of time to get your irks and quirks out of your system en-route to our mission. But for now, I would like to remind you all that we're in the presence of Overwatch, and as such you should all be on your best behavior." He waited a moment in silence, making sure everyone understood him. Turning in place to face the monitor, he rubbed his chin briefly and said, "My apologies, sir. please continue."

[User]
"Thank you, Zero-Two. Now, I'm sorry to burst your bubbles, but this first assignment will not be on the field. This will be an exercise of sorts. It would be a grave mistake so send you out against the JFA without getting used to your new augmentations, equipment, and team-mates." Overwatch adjusted his glasses again and fixed his gaze on Cyprian. "Zero-Eight. Have you relocated the SDS's to designation Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot?"

"Affirmative, sir. Models Zero-Two and Zero-Eight are test confirmed, and the other six models are fully functional and ready for testing." Cyprian responded in a normal tone, a method of speech new to his allies.

"Very good. Zero-Two, lead your team to Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot, and have them suit up. Even though you and Zero-Eight are confirmed, I want you to partake in this assignment again."

[Assistant]
Seth's attention was brought back to Oh-Two talking about this sort of banter being done en route. This shouldn't continue past this room. En route should be spent strategizing an briefing of any sort that 02 can do. If we bicker en route, we'll surely bicker on the battlefield. Well, this time it would be on a training field of some sort. At least there's some soundness in their strategy, having us tested with these SMS's before being sent into a real firefight. Alpha Twenty-Three Foxtrot... A23F. It might help to remember that. My memory might become faulty before the time of its relevance... Someone should be able to remember.
 Once Overwatch had finished giving orders, Seth stood up and absent-mindedly saluted the figure on the screen, wobbling a bit as he stood up, still getting used to the bottoms of his feet not giving off any feeling, which forced Seth to calculate his balance by means other than his foot bottoms. Once he readjusted his balance, he turned to Oh-Two and made an 'after you' motion towards the door, ready to leave and finally have the mental challenge he'd been craving since arriving at the facility.


[System]
Appearance:

Symbol:
Age: 18

Height: 6'0

Weight: 130 Ibs

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapons: He wears bracers that have a retractable 7-inch blade in the shape of an arrow. When retracted, the bracers shoot 10mm rounds. Each bracer holds 20 shots, with extra ammo in pouches on his belt. A visor he wears with its own Heads Up Display uses a pair of crosshairs to show where he is aiming his weapons, improving his accuracy. They were designed and created by his dad when he unsuccessfully applied to Beacon around the same age as Robert. They are the only physical objects remaining from his family's past.

Specialty: Robert is best at fighting an opponent one on one, and because of this he relies heavily on teammates when in a large conflict with multiple enemies. It is also because of his helpful and team-player attitude that his teammates chose him to be the leader of his original team, RPGD, to his surprise.

Semblance: Robert's semblance allows him to subliminally affect probability fields, causing improbable, but not impossible, "unlucky" events to occur to enemies within his line of sight. At the time, Robert has no idea that he even has a semblance, let alone has been using his semblance on himself for years to increase his already bad luck to near-immeasurable levels.

Personality: Robert is an average geek with an interest in subjects like comics and ancient world history. Most groups of people would probably describe him as everyman due to him not having much in the way of impressive skills while others might see him more as a goofball thanks to his usual optimistic and joking attitude. When the going gets tough though, the red haired boy is a good person to have by your side as he will never give up or surrender, even when all may seem lost.

Eight year old Robert sat in front of the television, playing with his toy cars and action figures. Behind him, Robert's dad sat in a reclining armchair, half reading the newspaper in his hands and half listening to the TV. "John, could you help Scarlet with her dinner," Robert's mother called from the kitchen. "Yes, Marian," Robert's dad answered, walking towards the small toddler that was Robert's sister. Robert looked up from his toys to see the news channel that was on show the words "Breaking News". The anchorwoman then read the new news, "A warning to all human families living in neighborhoods with large majorities of Faunuses, the organization known as the White Fang, previously known for its peaceful protests, has been attacking humans in the before-mentioned neighborhoods. This recent aggression is suspected to be a result from-" Robert's dad turned the TV off. "You don't need to listen to that garbage, son," he said. He then walked back to the dinner table where Scarlet was playing with her food. Robert went back to playing with his toys. Unbeknownst to the Fallson Family though, a small crowd gathered outside.

Six Faunuses stood, looking at the happy family inside. "Burn it down," said the leader. The other five threw Molotov Cocktails at the two story house, the fire quickly spread throughout the bottom story and the roof. No one inside knew what was going on, all they knew was that the house had spontaneously burst into flames. Robert's mother screamed, Robert's sister cried, Robert's father yelled orders, and Robert continued sitting there confused, trying to understand what was going on. His father grabbed Scarlet, his mother grabbed a family photo album, and they both sprinted towards the staircase. As they reached it, his dad stopped and turned around, "Come on, Robert!" he cried. Outside, the leader of the attack turned and grabbed a baseball bat that was strapped to his back. It suddenly transformed into a grenade launcher, and one shot was fired. The single grenade incinerated the wall it struck, as well as the three humans standing next to it. In a flash, Robert's family was gone. A single, burning photo floated into Robert's lap. He stood there dumbstruck at what just happened. The creaking of the roof brought him back to reality though, as a large burning beam fell from the roof. He tried to dodge, but was too slow. It fell right on his back, pinning him to the ground and burning his flesh. He was able to quickly wiggle out from under it though, and jumped out of the hole in the wall that the grenade had made earlier. He laid on the lawn of his house, clutching the photograph from earlier. He saw the six Faunuses slowly approaching him, ready to finish the job. The sounds of sirens around the corner stopped them in their tracks though, and they escaped. Robert continued lying there, unable to move, sobbing. One of the officers picked him up and carried him to a patrol car. After sitting in the passenger seat for several hours, one of the firemen walked up and gave him the only other thing that survived the fire, his father's visor and bracers which were in the basement during the fire. Afterwards, the officers and firemen left Robert alone. Bad choice. He rose from the seat and walked off into the night, passing a street sign that read "Loxley St." Robert's eight year old mind thought of nothing but wanting to be alone.

For the next several years, Robert would live on the streets. Stealing food and other necessities only when he had no other choice, and only from people who could still live without those necessities. Witnesses would often report to the police that the only thing they saw before their things were stolen was a figure with a green hoodie.

Robert didn't go it alone for all those years though. He did make some friends at a restaurant named Fryer Tuck's Diner; namely Tuck, Alan, and Miller. If not for them, he might not have been able to go to Beacon as they were the ones who helped him acquire a GED as well as the application for Beacon. If not for their moral support and assistance, he would have probably never gotten off the streets and into the prestigious academy.

Theme Song: Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son

Based off of: Robin Hood

Color: Rosso Corsa

[User]
Monday

"One day I will manage to get that idiot to stop doing these things" Cian muttered under her breath as sat in the courtyard looking for her brother figure/guardian/pain in the neck/narcissistic asshole. Dont get her wrong Cian was eternally thankful for what he did and was doing for her and as such loved him as she would a brother but by the heavens above did he manage to piss her off lately. Leaning back a bit she kept sighed softly as she tried to keep her eye open for a person with a furred purple hat.

Tristan Mauve

"Well well guess the school aged well like some people are bound to." He muttered to himself as he walked through the entrance of the school. Tristan stood tall at a six foot 4. He had a lean build like that of a runner or a swimmer with tight black slacks and a white shirt with his signature purple jacket. He often got compared to how similar his and Cian's style was similar but "Its bound to happen when one grows up with a clean cut figure as myself" He muttered once more with a joyful laugh at the end. Wonder how the old stomping grounds held up without me creating craters ever other week. He thought to himself as he kept a single eye out for his sister.

[Assistant]
A quietness that somewhat resembled serenity soon fell over the two.

Watching the white trails painted on the vast canvas known as the skies, Sangue's train of thoughts floated down to many places. From her wonder of when Apep would arrive to figuring out more about what makes her team happy, her simplistic thinking process made her space out for several moments. To some, she could look thoughtless, but Sangue was more than willing to think about a lot of things, even if she thought slower than others.

For her, it was good to keep thinking about things. It let her mind keep functioning and warm itself up for every day.

She glanced at Galla once, blinking at the newspaper, before turning back to the skies. And she decided to remain quiet, hopeful in that she wouldn't annoy the woman next to her by constantly attempting to talk naturally. The red snake wondered if there were other places she could visit while Apep wasn't around, but for now, sitting right where she was suited her well enough.

[User]
Cypher

Gymnasium

Emerald's face widened with glee as she looks at both pairs of gauntlets. From what Gren was saying both had advantages and disadvantages. The first pair offered more firepower but were heavier, while the other was lighter but it would have to transform into cannon form to fire rockets. If she was honest she found herself liking the first option, she could get used to heavier gauntlets easily enough, practicing with them would help her body adjust to the weight and she'd end up a bit stronger because of it to boot.

Of course there was only one way to find out which was better for sure. At Gren's suggestion to go test them out at the firing range Emerald nodded her head enthusiastically. "Yeah! Let's do that! I'm sure Skyra will show up if she hears explosions I mean, who wouldn't?!" Emerald was bouncing on her heels, her tail flicking erratically behind her, she was clearly excited.

[Assistant]
"Mhm. Yeah, see you."

Sand ended the call just as the infirmary door opened again, revealing Robert again. She slipped the scroll back to her pocket as the boy caught sight of her and approached, apologizing for the delay.

"Not a problem. You were just in time."

She took stock of his appearance at his prompting, noting how most of the damage he had sustained seemed all but gone. An awakened aura is an amazing thing, she reflected. She suspected that recovering from his condition would have taken longer than a weekend if he had not been trained to be a Huntsman. In fact, she had to restrain the sudden urge to poke at his side to see if he was not exaggerating the pain in his ribs.

"They didn't give you a mirror?" she asked, keeping a hint of mischief away from her voice.

You look awful. Definitely, was the first response that came to mind. But she swallowed the words. It wasn't true, but he made it too easy for her. She quickly curbed the part of her that instinctively tried to agree with his assessment on his appearance if only to see where that line of dialog would lead. It would be plain hurtful, and there was such a thing as overindulgence.

"You look fine," she answered honestly after a moment of consideration. "Bit of bed hair. Wouldn't have guessed you were hospitalized if I hadn't seen it."

The fact that she could even say those words felt like lifting a weight off her shoulders. She could not have known how things would have gone back at the Fort if she had chosen to prioritize her mission and left the group of Huntsmen to fend for themselves, or if she had agreed to leaving Robert once they realized he was drawing the Grimm towards them, but it seemed to her that if Grane and Trad were safe, and Robert only had slight aches to complain about as she walked him to his room, she had made the right choices where it mattered. It made her proud.

As for Delta… Her actions were irrelevant in that case. The group's last member had been lost before she had had a chance to intervene. It was lucky enough that I was close enough to help at all, she reminded herself. There was nothing to regret. She would have to be satisfied with the results.

Sand shrugged, jostling the bag on her shoulder. "Anyway, let's get going. I still need to drop this off."

Who

[User]
Monday

It wasnt long before Cian managed to find her brother figure he was hard to miss with him practically forcing his way through the throng of people that had gathered at the entrance. Despite her better judgement she let a small smile out as she walked up to him as he greeted her in his usual manner his hand ruffling his hand through his hair before forcing her to find a bench so he can fix it. "I cant have any sister of mine walk around like how you are so we are going to find a place for me to fix your hair and for heavens sake button your jacket and put on some actual clothes." Tristan said as he forcefully guided her through people he would not let his sister walk around like how she was plus what was with her clothing? Sure it was practical he supposed it offered no limitation in movement and with her style of fighting something like that could mean her life. But god damnit she was his sister he hated her showing any skin at all it might attract people to her and that was what he was trying to prevent.

Cian sighed as she let her brother guide her trust him to make a mountain out of a mole hill. Still with a exasperated sigh she willingly followed his lead but stopped when she saw Sangue she believed it was sitting on a bench with someone. "Ah Sangue was it?" Cian said as she slipped out of her brothers grasp as she walked up to Sangue she was sitting next to younger girl it appeared with black hair that she never seen so probably a younger sibling. "Is this your sister?" She asked Cian was never one for words but has been trying to fix that and Sangue did help with the last mission so why not try to start a conversation.

@Crimmy

[Assistant]
"Sure thing," Robert said, following Sand back to their team's room. As they walked, the two members of the leaderless team talked about several subjects, mostly relating to Beacon though. Even then, the Altesian girl was still able to find ways to tease the boy, most of the verbal jabs going right over his clueless head.

As the two turned a corner of the hallway that would lead them back to their place of rest and relaxation though, the redhead stopped in his tracks as he recognized a figure ahead. Standing right outside the door of their room, was a girl clad in pink, with a fist raised to the door as if to knock. For the couple, time seemed to have stopped, their breaths catching in their throats as they looked at the one who they'd promised their hearts too. "Priscilla? Is it really you?" Robert asked in disbelief.

"Robbie?" she replied back, eyes watering with tears of joy.

And with that small exchange of names, time began again as the couple ran into each other's arms. Robert was holding back tears, but Priscilla couldn't hold back the waterworks. They stood there for what might have appeared like forever to any casual observer, but to them it didn't feel like any embrace could be long enough. "You disappeared. I couldn't find you no matter how hard I looked. Daniel or Greyson either. I- I thought you were gone forever. I was afr-"

Priscilla pressed a finger to his lips and soothingly told him, "Shh. It's okay. I'm back now, Robbie," before leaning close and planting a kiss on his lips. It had felt like a lifetime since the two had done that. When they finally separated, the girl smiled at her boyfriend and told him, "I promise to explain everything... as soon as we find a more private place to talk."

Taking her hand in his, Robert smiled the widest smile he had ever made and told her, "I know exactly the place." And with that, the couple took off, leaving Sand in their dust, likely confused and bewildered.


[System]
"I'm still alive, and I can still fight. Shouldn't that be all that matters, at this point?"
-PILOT-
(obviously not as naked as this)
Age: 15

Personality: Lora is unique for having a sort of deadpan confidence, seeming be reserved on the outside but in reality being very empowered and sure of her capability. Of course, she's not headstrong, either, and in fact proves to be rather patient. Off the field, she performs small efforts and tasks in hopes to play a little more than her part. The most emotion she can be noted showing is largely in combat, as if she has some deep-seated feelings regarding the Cruxi (and boy, does she).

Motives: Repel the Cruxi and ensure a better future.

Background:
People who say Lora went through hell don't realize that good people shouldn't go to hell.

The young Lora grew on a colony somewhat on the farther reaches of human society. Her family was one of the most esteemed on that world, and not because they had luxury. No, it was because they shared their luxury, working to create and distributor new technologies to benefit the people and ensure what happened to Earth would not so easily repeat itself. Lora was exposed to this and more, and so learned the better qualities of life and what they meant.

To say it all changed when the Cruxi appeared seemed cliche and inaccurate. Within 24 hours, it all disappeared - homes, families and lives alike. A still-young Lora and her younger brother were one of the few that managed to make it, of the single escape ship that managed to survive the ordeal. She wished she could stop crying, that after she cried all her tears, her voice went hoarse, and her heart ached the worst, it would stop. But the pain never stopped.

Lora practically begged to be enlisted in the project to weaponize Framewerks. She wanted so many things, but the only ones she could hope to get were revenge, and hope itself. She would gladly learn to take life if it meant no more had to suffer like she did. She would become stronger, far stronger than she was on that day of defeat, as strong as she needed to be to take down the enemy. And even if she died doing it, Lora was going to bring peace and happiness back to every last human who deserved it.

Notable Deaths: Pretty much anyone she was related to by blood, except her brother. A couple of her close friends also didn't make it.

Other Things: People think that Lora doesn't show her emotions because she is very scarred inside. While they are partly right, she also represses her emotion to ensure she can remain stable during Framewerk combat. It works for the most part, but there are times where she can get a little loose.

-FRAMEWERK-
Code Name: Caliburn

Primary Weapons System:
 The right arm is equipped with an X-02 Lightstriker, a particle cannon with a trio of edged prongs circling the barrel. The weapon accelerates a payload of Tau particles while charging up to one million volts of energy along the prongs, before the whole blast is released in a high-impact bolt.
 The Lightstriker has a great yield with adept stopping power, but is slow to fire and has difficulty piercing through armor. When you're given the ample time to charge the cannon to full capacity, however, that shot is guaranteed to put at least a smoldering crater in most any physical armor imaginable.
 In the event of a close-range hazard, the weapon's prongs are reinforced to act as an emergency melee weapon. Prolonged use is ill-advised, as damage may dramatically hamper the Lightstriker's stability and risk further damage if fired.

Secondary Weapons Systems:
 Equipped on each shoulder blade is a paired GAU-19 heavy rotary cannon and a TOR-VN railgun system. In the event a pilot wants a quicker, more traditional method of dishing out damage, they will switch primary weapons control to this weapons array. It is then armed by flipping them over onto a set of shoulder mounts, a relatively brief process provided there is ample room for it.
 The chainguns and railguns are fired in their respective pairs, the former more rapid and culling while the latter heavier and more accurate; however, both take a bit of time to wind up before they can effectively fire, however less so than the Lightstriker. For safety reasons, the Lightstriker is powered down (even though at that time it cannot be directly controlled anyway) and the upper range of movement for the arms is locked down.

 Also equipped is a pair of infantry-grade missile launchers on the collarbone in front of the shoulder, and a reinforced shield unit on the left arm. Both are designed to be used independently of the major weapons systems - the shield unit especially is designed to withstand most heavier blows, while reinforcing the right arm enough to enable a fair medium of punching and bashing.

Frame Armor Type: Medium-Heavy ; designed to be a powerful weapons platform with a minor in tanking.
Solid Synchro Rate: 100% [MAX!!!]
Special Ability: -CLASSIFIED-

[User] "The Caliburn seems pretty much done for.", Ryan says quietly. The Macabre then turns towards Elora's Frame and nods its head in thanks. Then, suddenly, the big piece of metal that was once the Caliburn charges Ryan's frame. Visceral quickly impales the bigger frame but that is not enough to stop the charge. Macabre is sent tumbling away, back into zone B. Ryan feels a jolt as the Macabre crashes through a pillar and lands at the base of another. The Macabre quickly feels for Visceral, Ryan then realizes that it is still stuck in the Caliburn.

[Assistant]
"O-Okay. Just stay right there." When Koehler actually listened to Elora's pleading despite his delirious condition and forfeited out of the match, Elora sighed. She did slightly regret losing a teammate, she couldn't deny that, but she cared more about the well-being of her new comrades and possible friends. She did not want him to push himself too far, like what happened with Alexei. She shook the sad thoughts from her head and opened up the Command channel.
"Diver to Command, do you read me? Cadet Koehler requires medical attention. He seems to have some kind of delirium. Please."

Once Elora got a response, she looked at the map, and gasped when she saw Macabre knocked a far distance. The battle was turning uglier by the second: despite Elora's attempt at subduing the powerful Frame, Lora still kept pushing herself, and actually managed to perform the charging tackle on Ryan and his Macabre. Her thrusters shorted out with heavy black smoke from that move, unusable for the rest of the fight, but the resulting impact was enough to crack Macabre's torso. The Framewerk first attempted to stand, but doubled over, it's extremely light structure compromised to the point that it couldn't support itself any more. Then with a loud, metal-screeching noise, the Frame's upper body dislocated from it's lower body and bent from the lack of support when it took a few steps forward.

"Oh no...Ryan...I..I'll...." Elora's voice wavered, and then she lowered her head. She opened up a voice channel with Lora. "You may think I'm helpless without my friends...but you're wrong! I'll avenge my friends!" With a snapping of fingers, Elora programmed the Data Drones to focus their fire on the Caliburn's second weakpoint: the heels of her feet. With that much laser fire thrown at them, even from a weak source like her Drones, was sure to heat up the joints to the point they would bend due to the Framewerk's massive weight, and break under her, causing the entire Frame to fall down. Diver then rounded up to the front of the Caliburn, and fired her ABR at the third and final weakpoint of the Caliburn: the armpits. Elora's objective was to disable her weapon-arm by shooting into the armpit, where the armor was thinnest, and disable the entire appendage.

---

"What are you doing, Cadet Koehler? Get back in there and fight like a man, dammit!" Lorenzo ordered through the microphone. "If you think you can just sit the mock battle through-"

"Professor, I think there's more to his situation than apparent cowardice." Ritsu slightly moved her index finger towards the lower deck, where personnel were making reports on his condition. "His readings have turned abnormal, likely caused by an external chemical reaction. Cause seems to be narcotics taken after the physical examination, but before the briefing."

"..." Lorenzo was quiet, but his tomato-red face and lip-biting teeth told more than enough about his reaction.
He pressed another red button, and Roxy turned limp with his systems shutting down while it was leaning on the tower.

"I'm going to kick that drug-snorting junkie out of my project faster than you can-"

"Uhh, sir, not to interrupt, but these aforementioned narcotics, they also affected his Synchro Rate. In fact, they resulted in a positive rise."

"Move!" Lorenzo stepped down to the lower deck and shoved the scientist off of his station, and leaned on the monitor that showed a graph of Koehler's Synchronization Rate. Ritsu followed behind. "Maybe we could keep pilot Koehler around for a while longer, if only to properly research the...unexpected qualities of his consumed substances."

Lorenzo grumbled, but then nodded when he went back to his seat in the upper deck. "His use of narcotics will be heavily monitored, and when there's any signs of drug abuse or violent reactions he'll be kicked out."

"Of course, Professor."

Lorenzo sighed, and was about to return back to his observation when another report came in: "Sir, Macabre has taken critical damage. His chassis is ripping in half!"

Without saying a single word, Lorenzo deactivated the Macabre, and the Framewerk fell down, its two separate halves hitting the ground at separate times. Lorenzo went back to watching the monitors with clasped fingers, more miffed than previously.

[User]
Koehler could only laugh at the order, a sort of demented, quiet giggle. "Keheheheheh... if only you knew.". The muffled laughter turned into a small amount of crying before Harold got over himself. "I'm seeing shit! I'm seeing shit, captain!".
Indeed, the 'recovering' drug addict was seeing some things. Flashbacks and memories of his darker moments turned ever more real as his mind tried to recover itself from going through whatever happened.

Withdrawals, beating people senseless for no reasonable purpose, facing the sheer disappointment and negligence from his family and friends, him actually killing someone, or something once or twice... It was getting too much for him to just sit there and take it. He hit himself as hard as he could to try and give himself blessed unconsciousness, but to no avail. He tried to stop the vivid imagery by disconnecting himself, but he couldn't, for some damn reason.

It's almost like he wanted to face his own sins... "I'm a WRECK! I don't deserve to be here!", he said, mainly to himself. Roxy barely nudged to just try and hold itself, attempting to copy its' pilots' scared and feeble position. Of course, it was immediately stopped by the locking system in place. He mumbled apologies to Elora, Stukov, Miles, and all of the others (including his 'handlers') for being so pathetic.

[Assistant]
The attack provided a different result than Lora had anticipated, partly due to the malfunction of her thrusters; the lighter frame was shoved hard into Zone B, the torso cracking and creaking hard. A few seconds passed, and Macabre tried to regain composure... only for the whole frame to split in half at the waist, the chunks disabling as they hit the ground.

Unfortunately, Lora's own troubles were compounding. Visceral had ended up lodged in Caliburn's gut - perhaps an opportunity for a weapon, if both the Framewerk's arms were not nigh-paralyzed. That blast from the main thrusters had left them shot, and the whole body had suffered so much armor damage the harness was locking up. A quick diagnostic revealed that not even the secondary weapons system was operational, as the thruster malfunction and Diver's laser blasts had done a number on the guns.

Lora was getting a major headache. She struggled in the control harness, trying to get her poor wreck of a machine moving. A comms channel opened, and a decisively less-timid Elora spoke up:
"You may think I'm helpless without my friends...but you're wrong! I'll avenge my friends!"

The pilot shook her head, groaning in mild agony. "Is this how it's going to be-!?" The young lady panted out, unaware of whatever channels she had open. "I'm supposed to give it my all- fight with everything I have! I couldn't even get a chance-..."

The laser drones opened fire on the Frame's ankles, unforgiving to Lora's drama. Ravaged and ruined, Caliburn had little capacity to avoid Diver's strategy. The right leg gave out first, and as the larger Frame tried to move away, it instead tripped and crumpled to one knee, caught in a defeated kneel. The Frame's displays were blaring red along Lora's cope of vision, and her muscles ached with strain trying to wrestle control back into Caliburn. Sweat burned down her face, her brain hurt, the sounds replaced with angry blares of the alarm...

That was the problem with Synchronization. For as long as a pilot was given complete control over their machine, so too were they given the strain of trying to control it as it fell apart. As the ratio climbed, so too did the chances that a pilot would die with their Framewerk.

Diver pulled around and took aim with its rifle. Any more damage, and Caliburn was going to be seriously crippled. Lora finally came to realize the danger, and so quickly (if ruefully) moved to pull her emergency release cord. "So be it. You win. Manual override: eject," Lora firmly announced, and moments later she was pulled away from the cockpit. The back of Caliburn's neck blew open, and from it an emergency capsule was launched.

The safety pod flew through the air like a valuable missile, before it deployed a lining of air cushions. It bounced once... twice... then grounded down to a grisly stop among the disturbed earth of Zone C. The pilot within had strains of every kind weighing upon her; carefully, gradually, she began to slow down. To control her breathing...

Breathe in-... hold... breathe out... breathe in-...


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 18

History
The Estrielles: an unusual, gifted bloodline of mortals, holding affinities for magic yet no manifestable powers of their own, were identified by The Inquisition as a potential extension of their faction some 80 years ago. In return for magical prowess, unparalleled skill in the Healing Arts, protection and lavish treatment, members of the Estrielle bloodline were to be forever bound to the Holy Church and the deity responsible for their contracted wealth of power - Kal, the Goddess of Restoration.

Details of their Contracted Powers:
Each member of the bloodline harboured unharnessed magic mixed and diluted within their bloods. Thus, to ensure that these revenues could be tapped into, what used to be fragments of magic lying dormant in their bodies were forcefully extracted, compressed, and manifested into Sentinel Spirits, each taking varying forms of Kal's divine symbol - the phoenix. The Spirits, bound to their respective owners, became personalized, paradoxical weapons of healing and volatile firepower, leaving members of the Estrielle bloodline free to explore the depths of their newfound magical capabilities. Each family member wielded their Spirits differently, and while some excelled in the Healing Arts, others could manipulate their destructive flames with adroit precision.

The Spirits mirrored certain characteristics belonging to their human owners, and logically so, because they were fundamentally a part of them. For example, Spirits despite being ironically called as such, are in fact mortal creatures with ages paralleling that of their masters'. Spirits can die from mortal wounds, but their deaths will not result in the deaths of their masters. On the other hand, the death of an Estrielle would consequently result in the eradication of his or her Spirit. Lastly, although Spirits may act independently, an Estrielle's command is absolute.

For decades, the Estrielle bloodline served the Holy Church in their passionate and fiery endeavours, before the tainted fires of an offspring brought ruin and devastation upon the family. Zaire Estrielle, eldest son and brother to Phoenix Estrielle, cultivated an inexplicable and unfathomable interest in the hidden ones that dwelled in the depths. He had sought to collude with them, drawn by the mysterious allure of the underworld and its secrets. It was no surprise that the Holy Church promptly ordered a death warrant upon the discovery of his secret exchanges. The powers of Kal and the Healing Arts were not for the damned. Zaire Estrielle, the catalyst for the despair, became no more - dragging all those who had tried to defend him along with him to his grave.

All except little Phoenix Estrielle, whom for five years quietly watched her brother make his hidden dealings, her lips silent and unmoving, motivated by nothing else but sheer curiosity and her eagerness to learn about a world kept secret from her all those years - without being caught, that is. Phoenix did nothing to save her brother that night when The Inquisition made the arrest, thinking she had saved herself from eternal damnation. She thought wrong - and was careless. The Inquisition, it seemed, were cleverer and more attentive than she had anticipated. It was brought to their attention that 16-year-old Phoenix Estrielle had stood at a corner, contrasted against her screaming parents, a mask of indifference implanted on her face. Suspiciously, they conducted an interrogation during which Phoenix, with her brazen personality, had nonchalantly admitted her knowledge of the matter without much fuss. For silence, she was duly awarded with a curse.

Curse
The Curse of the Phoenix is terrible indeed, causing the afflicted one to progressively age during the day, before ending dusk with a wrinkled, elderly form. She will die during the night and be reborn again at dawn, starting the day at her natural age. The process repeats itself daily. This is by no means a form of immortality, for the afflicted person remains mortal, susceptible to injury, natural aging, and death.

Appearance
After approximately two years of suffering from the effects of the curse, she has found the perfect clothing to accommodate her constantly aging body.

Abilities and Equipment
Her Spirit, Avrak, contains hawk-like features and a fiery, blood-red plumage. Avrak is rarely seen near his master, for he typically follows her around from the skies or atop the roofs of buildings.

Phoenix's adept skill with her Sentinel Spirit lies primarily in its destructive abilities, her powers nurtured and cultivated through necessity - and indisputably so, for two years of roaming the dark streets of Sutton along with her obvious weakness has forced her rely much upon her relationship and synchronicity with Avrak. On the other hand, her skill in healing leaves much to be desired, having deteriorated over the past two years as a result of the lack of practice. For one, Phoenix's inherent cautiousness meant that her medical needs were scarce. Secondly, Phoenix is not one to administer her healing powers to others - not unless one had something considerably significant to offer her in exchange for her services. Most importantly, as part of her curse, Phoenix cannot perform the Healing Arts without accelerating her aging. In other words, the casting of restoration spells will cause her time of death to be brought forward (only for that day).

She does not possess any note-worthy items - only a dagger which she hangs on her belt.

Personality
A self-interested and calculative character, and perpetually bored, Phoenix navigates life with an almost uncanny confidence as a cursed being. Typically, she comes across as calm and emotionally self-contained, yet is capable of displaying bouts of brash stubbornness akin to that of a child. Phoenix appears to be disinterested in interpersonal relationships, for she thrives inside her mind - an intellectual, observant and cautious individual. As many of her acquaintances would find, Phoenix's habitual bluntness can be unnerving.

[User]
Chapter 1 - Into the Depths

Two days before the gathering:

Ray Conover sat back in his chair. The mercenary's home was comfortable. It damned well better be after the blood he'd shed to buy it. He looked outside at the waxing moon rising just above the line of shingles and chimneys. Professor Whitlock had hired him to help with an expedition into the depths. Hopefully it wouldn't wind up like the last one. That aging fool was going to get what's coming to him if he didn't lay off on the adventures. Ray grinned at the thought. He couldn't deny the fact that the man had energy.

Thud! Thud ! Thud!

It was the door. The day had already died, whoever it is, is probably trouble. Ray grabbed his repeater crossbow, scratched his chin stubble with one wrist, and stretched his neck. Preparations complete he stomped down his stairs to the door. The thick glass made identifying the dressed figure outside impossible so he hefted the crossbow with one arm and opened the door. "What'ja want?"

On the other side was a man dressed in fine black attire with a sharp black top hat and a black cane with a silver-bulbed handle. Barely affected by the deadly crossbow pointed at him, he adjusted his circular orange sunglasses and spoke with a practiced tone. "Well, sir. I came by in hopes of finding someone to help me with a job a month from now."

"Why didn'ja just say so?" Ray stammered. "I've got a job soon. Should be done by then. What did'ja have in mind?"

"I can explain. May I come in?" The man asked.

"Well first things first. You already seem to know me. What's ya name?"

The bespectacled man replied in a proud tone. "My name is Aran Vernus."

Ray gave him a good once-over with his eyes. Aran was pretty pale and thin under his coat. Maybe it was just the light. "Well Aran Vernus. Sure. Come on in."

His face shaped into a predatory grin. "Gladly." He lowered the spectacles revealing eyes the color of the deepest pit.

Day of the gathering:

Avrion surveyed the group. Two women, two men, a masked personage and himself. That made six. It would have to do. They were situated around a rented private room in a library. Though they hadn't all come in at the same time. The mercenary Ray Conover was of course a little late. He usually was. Avrion had hired the man before and he was just as sloppy looking as usual. The very reason Avrion trusted this man so much was set in his ability. He was not cursed or supernatural in any way. He simply was as some people would say, a badass. He was talented and despite his disheveled appearance was incredibly wary.

"So uh, what's the spiel?" Ray piped in. There was a certain tension in the room waiting to be stilled by the professor. The merc peered around at the group, staring at Oswalt for a little too long. "Eh, sorry." He apologized, glancing away.

"Yes of course. Let's get this underway. I'd let you bunch introduce yourselves to one another but we'll have plenty of time to do that over the course of our venture." He sighed and took a deep breath. In that moment the gravity weighing on his mind was visible in a brief and sad expression. "I have learned that creatures are appearing in the city at increasingly alarming rates. The guard are having difficulty keeping track of it all and I know precisely why. Someone is organizing them and increasing their numbers. If this continues the city will be overwhelmed and collapse. It could be any day now which is why we need to start moving as soon as possible."

Avrion stares at the window for a good long moment. It was currently noon so the sun was still bright in the sky. It's obvious by his expression that though he knows this must be done he was having doubts as to what to do and says. "The guard won't help us down there. Our lord won't risk it. We're on our own for now until we get some more incentive. My suggestion is to enter the depths and find this incentive to stoke the guard. Any other thoughts?" He opened the discussion.

[Assistant]
"I have no objections to that plan," Red spoke. She neither smiled nor frowned.
Red... you could murder them all. A voice in Red's head spoke.
You could strangle them or stab them. I could teach you how.
"I DONT WANT TO KILL THEM!" Red shouted. She hadn't meant to voice her thought. But she had accidentally let it slip through her mouth.
Red. Your newfound companions are cursed as well. You aren't alone anymore.... Oh wait, you've never really been alone. As soon as human company fled we had already settled in. Another voice chimed in. It was sarcastic in tone and overall rude.
"You don't count as company," Red snarled. It was aimed at the voices.

[User]
Avrak, it would seem, in that mere span of fifteen minutes they had been in that room, had developed a penchant for igniting little slimy paper balls - a concoction of bird saliva and viciously shredded pieces of paper, all thanks to the generosity of the library. Except that they were blissfully ignorant of the... minute destruction the bird had caused to some of their hopefully unimportant texts.

Phoenix had been watching her Spirit with mild interest and amusement, her eyes regularly flickering across the room in an effort to appear intrigued by the several oddities that had gathered there. Not that she wasn't intrigued, but she had already been in that state and over it approximately five minutes ago. No reason to spoil the atmosphere, she mused, noticing Ray's enthralled expression as he stared a little too long at Oswalt, before blurting out an apology. In fact, Phoenix herself had been freely staring at the amphibian with morbid fascination just moments ago, but saw no reason to apologize. So she hadn't.

The masked figure, Doctor Caldwell, held the record for holding Phoenix's attention. For a full six minutes, she had unashamedly dissected him with her gaze. Funny, because that's exactly what Doctor Caldwell did: dissect people, and quite literally so, she thought, spending the next minute mulling over that slice of mild humor, while her fingers twitched at the thought of waltzing right over to snatch the doctor's mask off. She grinned slightly.

Across from her, Red was twitching as though a thousand conversations littered her mind. Upon her little outbursts, Phoenix cocked her head, raising a brow. She pondered over the red-haired girl's seemingly instable and volatile emotional state. A snarky comment almost crossed her lips, but she managed – barely – to halt the words.

Then, she decided that she had waited and seen enough.

"Two questions, if I may." Phoenix directed her inquiries to none other than Avrion.

"Firstly, I'd like to know about the full terms of contract of this job." A mischievous smile lit her face. "A lifetime supply of breakfast, perhaps? Of course, rewards are not mandatory, but I do work better with extrinsic motivational factors. If you get what I mean." She winked.

"Secondly, is The Inquisition going to be involved in this? Because I do find them greatly distasteful." Phoenix's expression darkened with those words.