[System]
"Do you mind? Unlike you I have to make my tools, not just flick my wrist."

 Jaklo Wright, The Wolf's Legacy

The most apt description of Jaklo's normal state
Age: Twenty one.

Gender: Male

Species: Human

Appearance: Jaklo is 6' 2" and around two hundred pounds.He has thick dark brown hair that is kept three or four inches long. He cares more that is is out of the way than how it looks. Most of the time it doesn't matter as he'll keep it under a cap. Jaklo has cold amber eyes. The irises glow when he uses his night vision. Jaklo has overall sharp features on his face.

As for his build Jaklo is rather lean, but not scrawny in the slightest. If anything he has some trouble building up fat, and he always has plenty of muscle from work.

Jaklo prefer efficiency to fashion. He grades clothes by pockets rather than people's names. He typically will wear regular shirts with simple solid colors, cargo pants, a solid pair of hiking boots and a long trench coat. He wears hats almost constantly. It's just a thing he does. Caps, wide brim hats, beanies, anything he can wear comfortably.

His only exception is at the office where he understands that they have to keep up professional appearances. here it's white shirts, a vest, and slacks.

Background: Jaklo came into the business of magic through the work of an old hunter named Wulfegang Shelt. Jaklo was always a troublesome kid. Even in preschool he was highly aggressive and would fight the other children over even little things. He wasn't cruel or evil, but his parents couldn't channel his aggression through anything. This is where Wulfegang presented himself. The older man was known throughout the neighborhood. He was a retired park ranger as well as a big part of the community. He offered to homeschool Jaklo and try his best to help the kid. He remarked that "I was just like that at his age." From there the story somewhat tells itself. Wulfegang did teach him all things he would be expected to learn in school, but he wasn't just a park ranger. Wulfegang was a Hunter.

Everyday, even weekends, Jaklo got to see just why he was so different. Hunters can come in all kinds of forms, but Jaklo had access to a powerful primal side of himself. With training and practice he could be an apex predator. Left alone he would likely tear himself apart. Training started simple of course. You don't normally hand a five year old a sword and drop them in the woods to fight monsters. Jaklo stuck it out with Wolf, a simple nickname for his gray haired teacher, until he was eighteen when he struck out to really test himself. He used the cover of attending college to let himself explore around the U.S. and see what he was capable of.

It was only a year later that he returned home for a break. He hurried to see Wolf, but found his house surrounded with people and an ambulance. Jaklo rushed in to find his teacher dead. He rushed to his side. Jaklo shook and shook Wolf grabbing onto his shirt. He was about to start doing chest compressions when an EMT pulled him back.

"He's already been dead awhile. He died in his sleep last night." The EMT tried to console Jaklo.

"What'd he die of? He's been perfectly healthy. Just last week he was hiking the trails." Jaklo growled, but there was far more pain than anger in his voice.

"He's also ninety seven. When you get to be that age you sometimes just pass away." The EMT said in flat honesty

"That's bullshit." Jaklo shouted before turning back to his mentor, "Wolf! God damnit Wolf! You can't just do this to me. I'm not ready yet. Wolf!"

Jaklo fell to his knees every emotion boiling up: rage, agony, despair. He could feel a void in his being opening up. The funeral went on a few days later. Wulfegang was unmarried, had no children, and no contact with other family. Everything in his will went to Jaklo who was labeled as "student and the damn near closest thing I have to a son.". Jaklo spent a good few months sorting through his mentor's belongings as well as his own feelings. It was in the many collections Wulfegang had that Jaklo discovered a little group called Wells and Raick. Wulfegang was meticulous with journals and had a fair few photos. One that stood out was Wolf in his prime with a motley crew of men, women, and even some magical beings. They were all outside of a brick building with a big wooden sign that read "Wells and Raick Private Investigations". The back of the old Polaroid also had a note. "The gang from W&R after the big hunt." It took a bit more searching, but Jaklo eventually found a phone number and a new path.

Current Life: Jaklo moved to Maine over a year ago and has been working for W&R since then. He has a tiny home that houses just him. It's a simple little place basically a rustic but modern log cabin. Jaklo does prefer to spend his time working on his weapons and such, but even he has to get out sometimes. His usual haunts are a pub on main street close by to the office called The Tavern and the waterfront. The Tavern isn't exactly a fantastic place, but the beer is cold and the company doesn't drive him insane. Jaklo grew up near Great Lakes so he's always been used to seeing big bodies of water and something about being there does make him think of home…and chips.

Personality: Jaklo has grown out of his overly aggressive childhood and become reasonably well adjusted adult. Wulfegang was right though Jaklo is not normal mentally. His mana is used to fuel his predatory skills and instincts. He seeks challenges and fights by nature. Age and wisdom lets him pick only fights that matter. Of course wisdom tends to go out the window when he gets really pissed.

Jaklo is a largely positive person who lives for his job and gains great satisfaction from it. He's glad he can help people and knows his mentor would be proud of his choices. This positivity does not mean he is outwardly so. He looks solemn, and He can appear a bit gruff with first encounters, but that's just him not being in a social mood.He can be a good friend but only when he wants to. He just has a lot of weight on his shoulders. He's the soul student of his mentor feels personally responsible to carry on.

Jaklo is driven by a strong sense of duty to his mentor. He could have had a really miserable life, and instead he gets to fight monsters for a living. He has plenty to be thankful for and never forgets what Wolf did for him. He would rather die than dishonor his master.

Nothing disgusts Jaklo more than people with no regard for the natural world. Now he won't punch a guy for littering, but there are serious troubles going on these days because of moronic actions of rich people.

Jaklo has no extreme fears, but isn't a fan of dying or anything horrible like that. At most he doesn't want to let people down, and especially doesn't want to fail his mentor. He wants to keep that legacy going strong.

Schools of Study: Alchemology and Beastiology.

Specialization: Arcane Firearms, Metallurgy, Brewing, Smithing, and Enchanting

Spells: Jaklo has only one spell. It's a spell that lets him gain night vision.

Abilities: Tracker: Jaklo has been taught how to pick up on tiny details and follow trails made by his quarries.

Crack Shot: Jaklo has been working with firearms since he was young and is deathly proficient.

Ammo Assembler: Jaklo knows how to make magical ammo that will cause various effects when fired. His primary ammunition types are: Dragon's breath (a variation on the normal ammo type using greek fire as the base for the flame), Buckshot (if it bleeds this will kill it), Silver Flechette (twenty or so silver slivers ready to make any magical creature wish for death), 5.56 NATO (For those blade runner moments. You know like That gun), and Wolf Fang (an alchemoarcane ammo that produces white fang like bolts when fired. The shot has the magical energy to pierce and the stopping power of physical ammo.)

Toxic Concoctions: Jaklo has been trained to use venoms and make poisons.

Hunter's Hand Grenades: Jaklo knows recipes for: firebombs, freezing catalysts, and smoke bombs.

Back to basics: Jaklo has a solid education with the most common weapons and improvised weapons very well.

Weapons not required: even with his bare hands Jaklo is a capable fighter.

Custom Engineered: Jaklo builds all of his own gear specifically for himself. He can make all kinds of bladed weapons, firearms, and armor.

The secret ingredient? MAAAAGIC: Jaklo can imbue his weapons and tools with magical properties. He can only get one or two simple enchantments to be stable on a tool right now.

Thrill of the Hunt: Jaklo has a deep rooted need to hunt. He has an extra sense akin to instincts that give him a little extra insight into beasts and monsters. As well as a deep seeded rage which can either fuel or destroy him.

Equipment:

Arcane Justice: A quad-barreled shotgun/blunderbuss made of metal as black as the abyss. The barrels are engraved with alchemical patterns, but also have some inlaid silver for certain sigils. It has a full stock made out of white ironwood. Each barrel can be shot individually and loaded with either shells or literally anything that fits. Despite its status as a shotgun Arcane Justice can be highly accurate when loaded with rifle ammo. Jaklo refers to it as the firearm equivalent of a swiss army knife.

Ammunition Pouch of Holding: While true bags of holding are very very hard to make bags made to hold a lot of one thing or a lot of very similar things are much easier. The ammo pouch is about the size of brick and made out of dark red demonhide. Jaklo can reach into it and pull out whatever ammo he wanted to pull out so long as he put it in.

Legacy: A magical blade that can take on the shape of for different weapons. A large hunting knife for butchering kills, a short sword, a longsword, a falchion. The blade was a gift from Wolf and the start of Jaklo's carrying on of Wolf's legacy. The blade has basic magical properties and as such can hurt those resistant to normal weaponry. As well the weapon itself is expertly made and can even cut into some soft metals

Visage: A long dark brown trench coat in appearance, but in truth it is a heavily enchanted piece of armor that protects every part of Jaklo even those not covered by the coat. There is a small barrier all around Jaklo when it is active. It is hardly indestructible and breaks easily to four or five good hits. The shield recharges in around a minute, but also slightly regenerates up to full power when not being his.

Other:

[User]
Mithias leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, and stared unblinkingly at Markiel with a stoic, but not unkind, expression, as he listened to the old warlock divulge his sincere feelings. He was an interesting case, this Relovski, an undying, yet very alive and human, living being. It was pleasant to see even briefly into his soul, and Mithias counted himself lucky to have caught many a glimpse.

This kindred immortal was however, following down a dark path, one that had claimed many a fledgling or oldblood alike. Death didn't always come in the night with a hood or a blade as the naive often expected. It was far older and far more sinister. One brought it upon themselves, slowly, becoming their own killer.

When Markiel finished a silence followed. The vampire brought a slightly clawed hand up to his very white chin as he finally blinked at him. It was time obviously, that Markiel needed 'the talk.'

"You speak of funerals, of death and of loss. Your thoughts turn to darkness and begin to swirl about the vortex of doom as if there were no other possibility. Immortality is not merely a constant apology for lack of dying, Markiel. In all your years, have you not witnessed births as well? How many lives have you encountered and enjoyed that you never would have had you remained mortal? Do you ever think on that? Their lives have been blessed by you, and despite your nihilistic assumptions, even mortal lives have meaning in their fleeting existance. Your life has meaning. Your life is no torment to you, only that you look upon it that way. The demon you fear only laughs at the torture you bring yourself. You see, you're something else now Markiel, something no longer meant to die. All you need to do is reach up and grasp your destiny and make it yours. Claim it. Own it. And may every moment of your consciousness be spent in appreciation and wonder at what the universe has to offer."

"I look upon you now Markiel with as much love as I would whether you would live forever or die in a few decades, as I would anyone, and I feel only joy. Perhaps I will one day miss you, but never will I regret our time together. I do hope that you will be around for long."

This is perhaps why Mithias had lived so long.

[Assistant]
Jacklo didn't seem quite awake yet, and Azai didn't notice his brief awakening so he didn't disturb his rest and just walked away. He didn't want to stay in the office since there wasn't anything to do right now, and Coal wasn't anywhere near. He wanted to see if he would want to visit that mage's parents, Azai kept the address just in case. So he decided to head up to his penthouse and read that tome he got from the mage's basement…

Arriving home, he would always take a close look before entering, it was a slight case of paranoia, but it has been a right one since his list of enemies isn't getting shorter. He confirmed that nothing was out of place and went onwards, his house wasn't the kind that you would open and directly see the main room, there was a small hallway that had a small shoe closet and leading to the main room, he went down on the two steps before entering the main room, and got his jacket off getting comfortable before reading the tome. The tome seemed a bit complex, but it had the right thing for him, and it seemed that it would take some time to comprehend it…

[User]
"Maybe one day I'll get to reach your vantage, but for now I'm far more concerned with making sure that others don't make similar mistakes. Even if I've gotten a good bargain most won't." Markiel stopped and chuckled shortly.

"You kind of reminded me of Terry, Seph's last apprentice, he and Seph would argue constantly about lycanthrope and the troubles that can come with it. Terry had a surprisingly open mind about it all. I think I might actually call him see if he's gotten any similar cases to ours along the west coast." Markiel glanced over at his phone, "Not now though. Ms. Morganstern mentioned the possibilities of a dinner party, and I'd much prefer to do that than spend hours sorting through case files with Terry."


[System]
Basics
Alias: Black Jack
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Alliance: On nobody's side but his own
Power: Superhuman Durability and Elemental Transmutation (ability to change one object into another within reason)

Physical Description

Image:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 145
Hair: White and kinda wavey
Eyes: Red
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Button up over black v-neck with regular black jeans and combat boots. Occasionally wears a black jumpsuit with red accents with a mask like this

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Witty, arrogant, rarely angry, goofy, socially awkward
Skills/Talents: almost inhumanly fast in all aspects, skilled with most weapons
Favourites/Likes: killing, sadism, sex, alcohol, smoking, freedom, favorite weapon is a scimitar
Most Hated/Dislikes: the bastard who stole him from his parents as an infant and tortured him for years.
Goals/Ambitions: to kill all the others and the bastard who tortured him.
Strengths: fast, strong, skilled with most weapons, witty af
Weaknesses: reckless
Fears: dying before he gets his revenge

Additional Notes: Doesn't normally carry weapons on him, uses public transportation, could possibly have STDs, was tortured for 16 years before he escaped, doesn't know who the other victims are but meets them and takes them down on the streets when he finds them.

[User]
Lexa stared blankly at the man as he babbled – well, her version of blank was more like a glare. She... honestly had no idea how to react to him. Because... what? She'd been asked out before, sure, but people who tried were usually less of... whatever this was. After a moment too long of staring back at him she finally opened her mouth.

"Not interested," she said in a flat voice. "You call me that one more time, you're getting thrown through that bookshelf." She nodded to the bookshelf in question behind him, stocked full of hardcover encyclopedias.

[Assistant]
Jack stared at her in surprise and shuddered at her words. Although it was hard to believe that someone of her size and strength could throw him through a bookshelf, he still felt threatened just by the tone of voice she used. This girl was feisty and he appreciated that. No meant no. He hadn't often been turned down and wasn't sure what to do now. "Once again my apologies milady. What is it I can do to convince you to go out to eat with me? Nothing? Alright I'll leave you be and return to the movie, I suppose." Jack turned away, rolling his eyes a little, disappointed that he had failed. He never failed, and if he did he usually just ended up killing the one who had made him fail. But he couldn't kill her, he had no true reason too.

What was there to do now. There was not a soul to comfort him. It was rather frustrating. Then he remembered feeling a pack of cigarettes in his pocket earlier. Yes. He really needed one at this point. Without hesitation, Jack walked out of the book store and pulled out the pack, there were only two left. One for him, and one for... well. Whatever. She wouldn't like him anyway, was it the way he looked? Or was it his social awkwardness that deterred her? WHATEVER. He didn't care, there were more important things to think about. Like how he had forgotten to bring his dufflebag out on the town, luckily for him he always kept a spare hidden away somewhere in the city if he needed to change quickly. The outfit and mask wasn't cheap, but he could get money whenever despite not being a thief he was damn good at thievery.

In the distance, he heard police sirens and wondered what was going on. Probably another old-timer having a heart attack or a cat stuck in a tree. Not his problem. If it was something like, another one of his 'buddies' then it would be his problem. But no, it couldn't have been, too little chaos in the air.

With nothing to light his cigarette with, he wandered back inside and to the counter once again. "Excuse me, Miss. 'I will throw you through that bookshelf over there'. I'd HATE to bother you again." He glanced over his shoulder to make sure none of the fanboys were giving him dirty looks then returned his gaze to the red haired one. "I was wondering if you had a lighter or a match I could use... It's kind of important. Like VERY important actually. Life or death, really."

[User]
An eyebrow quirked up at being called 'milady' of all things. But Lexa was silently relieved when he didn't call her bluff at least, and took a hint. It wasn't that she doubted her ability to bodily throw someone into a bookshelf – but her bosses, while good, kind people, only gave her so much leeway when she ran the shop. She could get away with plenty, but assaulting a customer hadn't quite made the list yet. He walked away after another minute of babbling, and Lexa let out a slow breath. She turned to walk back to the office and found her coffee finished.

Pouring herself a mug, Lexa walked back into the store and took the seat behind the counter. The fanboys were quiet, enjoying their movie. The flirty one had left through the door, standing outside the shop. Lexa heard a flash of siren through the open door before it gently shut. Her lips tightened for a moment. It was a city. Sirens could be heard every day without Trick needing to intervene. Placing her mug of coffee on the counter, she picked up her phone and pulled up the local news sites to see if anything was being reported.

The man from before chose that moment to return to her. Lexa did the slightest of jumps, so engulfed in her search that she didn't even notice him. She blinked up at him in surprise before smothering it with her usual gruffness. She absolutely was not embarrassed. Replaying his words in her mind, she glanced down to the unlit cigarette between his fingers. Looked back up at him. Stared at him in a way that said she was unimpressed.

After a moment, Lexa reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, finely engraved lighter.

"Hope it saves your life. Take it outside and don't burn the place down."

She turned back to her phone, her mouth skewing to the side slightly. It was probably nothing. She didn't need to be there.

(But what if she did? Ever since the public found out about her, it seemed like an invitation for more and more people with bad intentions and extraordinary abilities had been crawling out of the woodwork. And plus the new breed of sickos who only seemed to have numbers for names, and the men who'd gotten away last night… Memories of people screaming, dying, replayed in her head.)

Lexa glanced from her phone back out towards the door. She'd left her gear at home. She didn't have time to dye her hair. It was broad daylight. It was probably nothing.

[Assistant]
Jack thanked her with a nod of his head and took his smoking outside. Standing outside, leaning against the outside wall of the bookstore he smoked his cigarette casually like the total bad ass he felt he was. The tortured one knew that it was only a matter of time before the trouble nearby attracted one of his own. They were naturally attracted to bad things and they hated policemen. With good reason. The cops never did them any favors, some of the cops even tried to stop them from escaping when they did, trying to return them from whence they came. The tortured life. He hated them just as much and wanted them all dead. A cop killed his only real friend in the world. The young man would never forgive them for that.

The man lowered his head, listening intensely. Only a matter of time. In the distance the sirens stopped abruptly and then there was a loud crashing sound. From what he knew about the others, and he knew the survivors rather well now, they had either blasted the car way or thrown it. Only 3 could throw things. Only 9 could cause the car to fly with a blast. "Well darlin," He spoke to himself as if there was a female with him. "That's my cue." A smirked formed across his face as he raised his head to look in the direction the chaos noises had come from. His cigarette resting lazily between his lips. Maybe now I can get my revenge on Trick...

Revenge, it seemed like his only purpose in life. He often thought about what he would do after he destroyed Shirley. No ideas ever came up, was there a life beyond torture, pain and revenge? If there was he couldn't see it. Jack spit the cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with his boot. "Murder awaits."

---

It didn't take long for him to seek out his hiding spot for his spare Black Jack outfit. The hardest part was getting the damn leather jumpsuit on. "DAMN, SHOULD'VE GONE WITH SPANDEX." He cursed under his breath on the rooftop as he hopped on one foot trying to get the outfit on. Once it was on and zipped up all the way he was already exhausted. The man placed his mask over his head and lept off the building, feet pointing downwards arms up.

When he arrived on scene the remaining police officers were hiding behind their squad car and shooting at their attacker. Once they spotted Black Jack they turned their attention to him and started shooting in his direction. "Hey, whoa, hey!" He dodged their bullets but just barely. "I'm kinda sorta here to help you folks." He laughed beneath his mask and walked past them.

"Black Jack, you're under arrest for a book full of first degree murder charges."

"If you can catch me!!" With another chuckle he ran towards the enemy whom he recognized as 9. "Hey baby, did you miss me?" Black Jack stared at the abnormally bland 'comrade' of his. The others were normally so, colorful? Well he guessed he wasn't so colorful either. Black was obviously his thing, duhh.

"Not at all." 9 threw his hands out toward Black Jack and a burst of energy exploded before him, throwing him as well as the cops and their cars back. "If you are here to kill me, I am afraid you are mistaken. I will be doing the killing today." He stared with an unamused expression toward the others.

[User]
Lexa lost attention in the man as he followed her command and walked outside. Her brow furrowed again as she looked back down at her phone. A new headline popped up on the screen. Superhuman Havoc Downtown. The timestamp was from two minutes ago. Cursing to herself, Lexa dropped the phone and pushed herself up. She didn't have time to go back to her apartment and grab her gear. Stupid, she was so stupid for leaving it at home today. She'd just have to make do.

"Tyrell, you're in charge," she announced to the audience as she hurried to the back room. A large, dark hand raised up above their heads in a thumbs up sign as the door swung shut.

Her coworkers were good, trusting people – no one locked their employee lockers. And Emma sure had a thing for black. In a matter of minutes, Trick stood in the little bookstore's back room, in a pair of her own black jeans, a fitted black hoodie, and a long black scarf intricately wrapped to hide her crimson hair and the bottom half of her face.

She needed a weapon. Trick went to the supply closet and pulled out the mop. Shoving off the head, she brought the wooden pole down hard against her lifted knee, splitting it in two. She'd pay for a new one. Spinning the two makeshift weapons in her hands to test her grip, she looked out the window. And then she was gone in a pop.

---

Trick darted through the city, rushing towards the commotion with the help of her teleportation. Her eyes narrowed at what she saw: the man from last night, Black Jack, and one of those numbered bastards who'd been popping up in the city. A group of police officers, determined but clearly terrified at the threat, were aiming their guns at the two.

The Number raised his hands and a pressure wave erupted forth. Black Jack was thrown back, as were the cops. And their cruisers. Eyes widening, Trick sprang into action. In an instant she appeared beside a man thrown in the path of a flying car. In the next, both she and the man were gone, reappearing a short distance to the side.

Trick dropped the cop without ceremony, and was gone again. A muffled pop was the only warning the man with outstretched palms had before he felt jagged, splintering wood pressed hard against his spine. When the cops and other wary onlookers finally processed the scene, their eyes widened. It was Trick, their nighttime guardian (menace?). She was dressed oddly, and didn't have her katana, but there was no doubt it was her. In the daylight.

Trick glared at Black Jack over the man's shoulder, amber eyes flashing in the sun, but her voice was directed at the Number.

"I'm getting sick of you poker deck jackasses tearing up my city. One chance. Stand. Down."

[Assistant]
Black Jack was thrown back along with the cops and cruisers. He used the force from the blow to go into a backflip and land on his feet. "Woohoo! You're my kind of guy, 9, but you already knew that." About that time he noticed that another had shown up and helped out the cops. It was an oddly dressed little vigilante, it was Trick. Before Jack could do or say a thing about her strange get up, she disappeared and reappeared behind 9, jabbing something or other into his back. "You would not attack so brashly if you knew our pain." 9 said in a emotionless tone. "Here, let me show you." The number reached back behind him and gripped the wooden handle piece that she had pressed into his spine.

"9, don't!!" Jack ran to stop him but he was too far away to get there in time. The cops on site just stood bewildered unsure of what to do about the two, make that three, powerful beings that fought before them. If Trick did not teleport or get out of the way, flashes of horrible things would appear before her eyes; visions of the tortures that befell the poker deck named ones. Including 9 and Jack. The visions were too blurry to tell exactly who these people were but it was obvious that terrible things were being done to them, their screams of pain were prominent above any other noises.


[System]
Brute | Level 5

---

-------STATISTICS-------

-------MASTERIES-------

| VIT -- 22 | 60% | BLADES -- D
| MGT -- 10 | 60% | POLEARMS -- E
| SKI -- 5 | 40% | AXES/BLUNT -- C
| SPD -- 8 | 60% | BOWS/RANGED -- E
| SRT -- 2 | 20% | THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 1 | 20% | MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 5 | 40% |
| DEF -- 4 | 25% |

---

Traits:

Weapon Familiarity: Effective weapon weight is reduced by one for each relevant weapon rank above E.
Juggernaut: After defeating an enemy with a melee attack, this unit can choose to move onto the tile the enemy occupied, and then make an additional melee attack against another adjacent foe if possible.
Smite: Command, when used shoves the target 1 tile away plus an additional tile for every two points of MGT above target's.

---

* Bronze Hand Axe

	+ MIGHT | 4
	+ ACCURACY | 60
	+ WEIGHT | 4
	+ CONDITION | 11/20
	+ RANGE | 1-2
	+ SPECIAL | Doubles as a ranged attack
	+ COST | 125

* Bronze Battle Axe

	+ MIGHT | 6
	+ ACCURACY | 65
	+ WEIGHT | 5
	+ CONDITION | 30/35
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | N/A
	+ COST | 240

* Iron Battle Axe

	+ MIGHT | 8
	+ ACCURACY | 60
	+ WEIGHT | 8
	+ CONDITION | 45/45
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | N/A
	+ COST | 550

* Ancient Blade

	+ MIGHT | 7
	+ ACCURACY | 65
	+ WEIGHT | 4
	+ CONDITION | 20/20
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | +3 SPIRIT while equipped. Attacks have a 15 + a.SRT - d.RES % chance of petrifying for one turn.
	+ SELL VAL. | 375

 Possessions:
* Vulnerary (1/3)
* 0 Aurums

Personality
* A man of few words with even fewer friends. Not in favor of needlessly violent options. First to jump into the fray and risk it all, eager to bring conflicts to a quicker and safer end.

Backstory
* Hailing from a small mountain village, Lyun set off after repeated sightings of bandits and other kinds of troublemakers. His goal is to make a name for himself, a reputation so undeniably menacing no one could ignore it. Such a priceless treasure would allow his village to live in peace, free from thieving cowards.

[User]
Taking a deep breath, Siris calmed himself as he felt the blood from his two shallow stab wounds slowly trickle down his armor. This wasn't his first time adventuring into danger but normally he was always abandoned, the most logical solution, but Ashür's words had made him realize this wasn't like those times.

The young warrior looks around and sees how the rest of the his allies had not only followed him but kept up with him. Focusing his resolve Siris looks Ashür in the eye before speaking.

Siris: I apologize Ashür, you're correct…

Without much else to say given the situation, Siris thinks back to his young days of constant training and decides he would be would still be best suited to watch the front so long as he didn't stray too far. He speaks to his comrade with a serious tone

Siris: I'll guard the front, even injured I'm more suited for it. As you say we shall advance together.

With his shield up, Siris slowly walks forward while waving his sword, trying to use it to get an idea of his surroundings and to deter and frontal assaults.

Siris moves 3 tile to 10-19 and attacks in front of him

[Assistant]
Etor: " Thanks Iddin. Zuzu's words are always reliable for a good albeit somewhat painful restoration."

Etor surveyed the area again and felt uneasy leaving anything unexplored. Whether foe or treasure the young spearman didn't want to leave any stone unturned

Etor: "Makeen. I'm going in"

He didn't realize the band had moved forward and that only kastilus remained by his side. Etor slinks into the room and to the side trying to be as careful and as quite as possible. When he looks back and notices everyone is gone except for the scholar he motions to him to follow.

Etor moves 4 tiles to 9-32

[User]
---

FOES

NONE

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR

| VIT -- 11 BLADES -- C
| MGT -- 4 POLEARMS -- D
| SKI -- 5 AXES/BLUNT -- E
| SPD -- 6 BOWS/RANGED -- E
| SRT -- 0 THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 0 MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 4

* YEEK CLAWS

	+ MIGHT | 1
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | Thin and nigh serrated, natural weapons of the Yeek.
	+ CLASS | BLADE

* GNARLED SPEAR

	+ MIGHT | 3
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 4
	+ CONDITION | 5/5
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | Little more than a tree limb, knapped to a point.
	+ CLASS | POLEARM

* GNARLED JAVELIN

	+ MIGHT | 2
	+ ACCURACY | 65
	+ WEIGHT | 5
	+ CONDITION | 5/5
	+ RANGE | 1-2
	+ SPECIAL | A little more craftsmanship was put into this tree limb, it might just fly straight.
	+ CLASS | POLEARM

* YEEK HIDE

	+ DEFENSE | 1
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ SPECIAL | Rubbery and blue.

JITTERY -- After engaging in battle, this unit may move to an unoccupied adjacent tile.

BLUE YEEK ENSI

| VIT -- 9 BLADES -- D
| MGT -- 2 POLEARMS -- E
| SKI -- 2 AXES/BLUNT -- E
| SPD -- 8 BOWS/RANGED -- E
| SRT -- 5 THEURGY -- C
| MND -- 0 MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 6

* YEEK CLAWS

	+ MIGHT | 1
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | Thin and nigh serrated, natural weapons of the Yeek.
	+ CLASS | BLADE

* Heal -- 𒀀

	+ MIGHT | 0 (As Melee)
	+ ACCURACY | 90 (As Melee)
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ CONDITION | 20
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | Restores VIT to an adjacent ally equal to (SRT+7)
	+ COST | 250

* Word of Zuug-Agbliish -- 𒀯

	+ MIGHT | 1 (As Melee)
	+ ACCURACY | 80 (As Melee)
	+ WEIGHT | 2
	+ CONDITION | 4/4
	+ RANGE | 4
	+ SPECIAL | Until the start of this unit's next turn, all allies within four tiles gain +2 Might +15 AVO, while foes lose -15 AVO
	+ COST | --

* YEEK HIDE

	+ DEFENSE | 1
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ SPECIAL | Rubbery and blue.

RED YEEK

| VIT -- 26 BLADES -- E
| MGT -- 6 POLEARMS -- E
| SKI -- 3 AXES/BLUNT -- C
| SPD -- 5 BOWS/RANGED -- E
| SRT -- 0 THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 0 MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 2

* BRONZE BATTLE AXE

	+ MIGHT | 6
	+ ACCURACY | 70
	+ WEIGHT | 3
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | N/A
	+ CLASS | AXE

* RED YEEK HIDE

	+ DEFENSE | 2
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ SPECIAL | Tough and red.

DAUNT -- -10 Hit/Critical Rates to enemies within 3 tiles.

---

---

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #1
VIT 0/11
KILLED BY ASHUR

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #2
VIT 0/11
KILLED BY SIRIS

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #3
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY MAKEEN

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #4
VIT 9/11

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #5
VIT 0/11
KILLED BY GESTIES

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #6
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY ASHUR

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #7
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY SIRIS

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #8
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY LYUN

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #9
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY LYUN

BLUE YEEK WARRIOR #10
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY ZARIF

BLUE YEEK ENSI #1
VIT 0/0
KILLED BY ZARIF

RED YEEK #1
VIT 0/26
KILLED BY LYUN

---

ALLIES

Gesties

| VIT -- 6/14 BLADES -- D
(-5 Accuracy / -1 Might)

| MGT -- 6 POLEARMS -- E
(-15 Accuracy / -1 Might)

| SKI -- 7 AXES/BLUNT -- E
(-20 Accuracy / -0 Might)

| SPD -- 5 BOWS/RANGED -- C
(+5 Accuracy / 0 Might)

| SRT -- 2 THEURGY -- N/A
(-20 Accuracy / -2 Might)

| MND -- 1 MYSTICISM -- N/A
(-10 Accuracy/ -1 Might)

| LUK -- 6

* BRONZE SICKLE SWORD

	+ MIGHT | 5
	+ ACCURACY | 75
	+ WEIGHT | 4
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | N/A
	+ CLASS | BLADE

---

HELLIONS PHASE

COMMENCE

---

---

Gesties: "S'pose I owe you times three now. . ." The gruff rival merc muses aloud, nearly knocked on his ass once more beside Makeen, the boy having distracted that nasty little javelineer enough to save Gesties from the next death-knell shot. As Zarif's arrow whizzed overhead, barely having cleared that shiny dome of his, the man manages to pick himself up. "S'pose I could owe you a fourth time, Hellion?" He breathes another ragged breath.

Ashür: "Hmmph. . ." He merely sighs at Siris' response. It wasn't the time that the bandit felt the rash boy-warrior thought he could take on the whole damn world. It was like poison to Ashür's cynicism, bringing to the front of his mind days better left forgotten.

Bright-eyed as ever, Etor makes the point of covering every square inch of the Ziggurot's confines, lest yet more of the filthy blue Yeeks be lurking. . . And perhaps on the off-chance that some ancient treasures still lie here. Captain Doan would surely praise his shrewdness. Whether for better or worse, the chamber is empty, beyond the stink of the creatures' little den, without mentioning the contents of their guts spilling over across the slick sandstone.

Etor's gesture seemingly lost upon the scholar, he makes his way between the vanguard and the heart of the Hellions there, ever moving with a certain unfaltering leisure.
Kastilus: "Yes. . . Yes. . ." He mumbles aloud, his dark eyes moving from one wall to the next, "This would have most definitely been the procession hall. In days-long passed, representatives of each polity would have come before Dumuzid here, a primitive seat of power when put against the silver-plated Uruk perhaps. . . The main chamber should be but ahead." He makes no real attempt to remain hidden, nor for his words to do ought but echo down the tomb of old.

[Assistant]
Etor: "Bah. The money is looking a little to relaxed and nonchalant for my liking"

After looking around and finding nothing of interest or value, besides geek feces, Etor catches up to the group.

Etor: "Nothing in the back room."

He says this to no one in particular as he keeps an eye on kastilus.

Etor moves 4 tiles to 10-26

[User]
Splitting isn't exactly the best plan to move forward. Not that the young Hellions seem to have a plan that isn't simply moving forward. Still, both Yeeks and fellow humans could be just around the corner.

Lyun moves deeper into the branching path, scouting just enough to continue holding the corridor with his frame. Heavy steps on the rough stone below, wordlessly announcing his arrival.

Lyun moves 4 tiles to 5-24, readying his hand axe for battle.


[System]
Age: 18
Appearance:

Bio/Summary: The Brandeau family owns lands not far from the Empire's northern frontier. Hence, the family has become keenly involved in keeping their lands safe from dangers. The Brandeaus have developed a strong sense of noblesse oblige from their time as wardens and protectors of the folk of the north, and they are considered among the most dedicated to the safety of the people. However, as a consequence of their mingling with commoners and isolation from the heartlands, the Brandeau family has diverged from contemporary noble culture more and more over the years, and is considered to only technically be nobility.

Leon is but one of many children of the Brandeau family, but he is the only one that has been sent to the Cadenza Military Academy. Leon is an exemplary son of the Brandeau family; he is polite and honest and dedicated to protecting both the common man and the empire. However, while he isn't stupid by any means, his naivety can lead him to make many mistakes out of ignorance, and he is incapable of subtlety unless coached through it carefully by someone else.

Vessel: When dormant, Leon's vessel is a crest in the shape of a spear that he wears on his chest. When activated, it transforms into a glaive, being his weapon of choice. The vessel's name is Bastion.

Abilities:
Bastion's abilities involve manipulating earth and stone to Leon's advantage.
-Granite Phalanx: By jamming his glaive into the ground, Leon creates a wall adorned with rocky spikes.
-Lucerne Breaker: Leon slams the flat of his glaive on the ground, causing the ground around him to shake violently for a few seconds and break apart.
-Terra Spike: Engaging in a lunging thrust, Leon causes the ground immediately in front of him to bellow forth in a sort of spike.

Equipment: Leon carries a handful of javelins to hurl at his foes if he finds himself bereft of other options.

[User]
✠ G R A D O N G I L T W I T H ✠

⛨ Current Location: Fort Orello ⛨

Well, there could have been less violent ways to resolve this madness. But Leblanc's methods were at least quick and to the point, the two fighters having been severely inhibited from continuing. All weapons had been taken away and confiscated thanks in part to the efforts of Anton. And as for Gradon, well, he would have been happy to see his fellow cadets finally come to his aid.

It was a shame he was rightly knocked out, not even stirring as Leblanc made act to stroke his face and neck. Purely for medical reasons of course. Thankfully his slumber didn't last too long and he blearily blinked open his eyes to feel the ground being dragged beneath him. Was someone carrying him? Wait no…beneath him. Someone was pulling him away from the residing fight and off to who knew where.

Oh, and there was Esther trailing after him, who looked like she had cried a river. And she was also…half-naked? "Hey, um, Esther? You should probably put a coat on or something-oh. I see you did," he said regaining more sight and seeing Viola's jacket upon the girl. "Say, who's dragging me? Althea if that's you, there's no need, really. It was just a punch-whahh!"

As he turned to see who held him, he jumped backwards. Given that he was being dragged, it resided in him scooting away and hitting his head on the stone ground in fright. "Ow…Ow…sorry Leblanc. I just didn't expect…er, you to be treating me," he said, scrambling to his feet and trying not to make this awkward. Good thing Esther was here too, lest he be left alone with the trigger-happy salad head.

[Assistant]
Leblanc Farris
 [[ Location : Fort Orello ]]

She supposed it was only to be expected that people would be interested in following, and that it was Esther of all the cadets was not surprising in the least. If there was a chance to throw herself at Gradon that she hasn't taken then Leblanc certainly hadn't seen it.

"I know you just woke up, but that's no cause to be rude." Leblanc deadpanned as her charge awoke with a fright and threw himself upon the nearest rock to further heap the injuries on what must have been a remarkably thick skull. "If you had expected me to save you...well you must have an alarming degree of faith in me." The sea weed haired woman began to speak in a dry tone only to pause and turn rather plain, thinking that Gradon may very well just think better of people then most others would, which rather took the fun out of it for her.

Waving off frivolous concerns she turned back to the course she'd set and eyed them up form over her shoulder. "Regardless of what either of you say, you're returning to your rooms. Esther, you need to get dressed before I do something we'll both enjoy, and that says nothing of the libido of others here." Leblanc said, an auspiciously long tongue raking across her lips in a blatantly dramatic manner. "And I imagine Althea would advise Gradon to rest his head before he endeavors to break up the next confrontation, so do her the courtesy before the next punch shatters that glass jaw of yours."

@TheWindel

[User]
Esther von Degraff

---

Esther smiled brightly when she noticed Gradon gaining consciousness as he was being dragged by the green-haired girl. "Farris, look! Gradon's awake!" she said to her chirpily.

However, Leblanc's reaction to him waking up was not something she saw coming at all, as she threw Gradon to the nearest wall, causing her to gasp. "W-why did you do that?" she asked her before quickly running towards the boy. "A-are you alright, Gradon? H-here, take my hand."

After she helped him get back up to his feet, she heard Leblanc saying how they two should return to their room. She told Esther how she should get dressed, before she did "something that they would both enjoy" while licking her lips. This, of course, sent goosebumps to her neck right away. It reminded her when she first met Leblanc, and how she thought she was a terribly scary person to talk to. Now, after spending quite some time with her, she had become somewhat accostumed to her blunt and harsh personality. Somewhat, being the key word here.

"R-right, I'm going!" she quickly replied. Leblanc's intimidating mannerism had put a nervous fear to her that made her forget once again that Gradon now was added to the list of the males who had seen her in the skimpy nightgown.

Arriving back at her bed, she quickly took off said nightgown before putting on her red dress once again, not even bothering to look around to see if there was anyone else in the room.

@TheWindel

[Assistant]
---

ORELLO

---

The brawl at the mess hall would come to an unexpectedly abrupt end as soon as the second wave of Cadets, along with Anton pretty much threw a bucket of cold water on the unruly soldiers' spirits. That and the quite bad injury Leblanc inflicted on one of them were enough to cause those who were looking for a way to waste excess stress to cool down.

"Well, look at that! It seems like you are getting used to the life in a frontier fort way far than I thought. That's really a journey full of firsts for you, right, Cadets?" Those words, said in a laid back, yet firm voice couldn't have come from anyone's mouth other than the Captain, who walked into the last moments of the fight, only to cause the rest of the soldiers to scatter around once a commissioned officer arrived at the scene. Interestingly enough, the uniform worn by the Captain matched that of Viola, except for the insignia denoting a far higher rank, of course. "By the way, one of you guys go gather everyone. I have a surprise for you— Actually, you may want to put your shirt back on for this one, Tzi," she said, after taking a look at Tzi's usual state of undress.As soon as the Captain was done with her comments, she was surprised by none other than Viola, who almost pounced at the Captain, with a bright smile stamped on her face. "Oh, Sis, you are really here, like you said you would be," the excited girl said.

The look of surprise was quite evident on the Captain's face as she stepped forward and placed a hand over Viola's head, fixing part of the younger soldier's hair. "So, you arrived already, Viola? I thought for sure that you would not come here before me," the Captain said. She halted her speech when she noticed that mark on Viola's face and asked, "What's this on your face? Don't say to me that you—"

"My squad was attacked by bears in the mountain," Viola said, quickly interrupting the Captain's question, almost as if she didn't want to let her finish it, probably because she didn't want to tell the Captain about the warm reception she got earlier this morning.

"Bears!?" the Captain asked, astonished.Nevertheless, they wouldn't have the chance to finish their talk since the bells of the fort began to toll right away, announcing that the convoy escorting the officer scheduled for the review had just arrived at Fort Orello. However, none of the men stationed at the distant garrison could expect to see who was it that left the main carriage and planted her greaves at the muddy, packed earth courtyard of Orello. No one but the Empire's Crown Princess, Ires, in flesh, bone and draconic armor."The installations are certainly bellow the average, especially for a fortification that spent fifteen percent above the planned budget on the previous year. This definitely doesn't leave a good first impression," the stern looking girl said to the fort's commander, who rushed to the gates, in order to meet her unexpectedly early arrival.

"I'm most sorry for the state of the fort, Your Highness. We were expecting your arrival for tomorrow, this wasn't supposed to—" the Commander said, trying to make up for the bad first impression as well as he could. Suddenly, a malicious gleam shone on his smile as he said, "Yes, indeed, everything was in order, until we received those Cadets from Cadenza and the Aquarians—"

"Your excuses are of no concern of mine, Commander," the Princess said harshly, interrupting the Commander's grovelling. "It's your responsibility to keep your own garrison in perfect order at all times. Yet," the Princess said as she walked past the Commander, reaching the aftermath of the mess brawl, "I see that you are having trouble keeping even your men on the line."

The Princess turned her gaze toward the standing Cadets as as well as the Captain, Anton and Viola, prompting the last three to drop their conversation and salute her with posthaste.

Interestingly enough, the next words to come out of the Princess' lips were kind of unexpected, at least for Viola. However, the Captain was quite aware of what to expect from one of her former pupils, as the was made evident by the slight smile on her face. "Commander," she said, addressing the Commander once more, "given that you need to fix this mess for tomorrow's review, but just as you say, the Cadets and the Aquarians are in the way. I declare that they are to take a night's leave at Orello Village. All expenses shall be covered by the Imperial Court, under my name. Meanwhile, your men are to work at double pace, if this fort isn't ready to be review by dawn's first light, cutting your budget by half will be the least of your worries," the Princess declared, smiling back to the Captain before leaving to the interior of the fort with the Commander in toll.

[User]
It turned out Gradon was in better shape than Leon had expected, which was just fine by him. He was a little concerned by how Leblanc was carrying him, however, but that ended up being moot when Gradon suddenly jolted awake, seemingly no worse for wear. Leon was disturbed by the turn the conversation took upon his revival though; he wasn't much for innuendo, and he could only guess that Leblanc had something filthy on the mind as she spoke. Whatever was going on with them, Leon wanted no part of it. He would leave Leblanc, Esther and Gradon to do whatever it was they were talking about.

Of more interest to him was the arrival of their Captain. Her arrival came with the even more shocking discovery that Viola was her sister. "Who's that, Leon?" Anton asked him as he returned from rebuking his comrades.

"That's our Captain. She came with us to the fort." Leon told him.

"Oh, so she was there for the ghosts and s-"

"Yes." Leon quickly cut him off. "She was. Don't mention it again." He still couldn't believe Tzi had blabbed about that so casually. Now even Anton knew about the strange events of their patrol. He didn't expect it to matter that Anton knew, but goodness knew they shouldn't have told anyone.

Upon the tolling of the bells, Anton told him, "That's the signal that the review is beginning. But they weren't supposed to arrive until later..."

"Is this going to be a problem?" Leon asked him. There had been so much chaos since their arrival, he imagined it would have a poor impact on the fort's appearance.

"Maybe. But chances are it could just be some half-arsed officer who doesn't care too much. Still, try to look sharp." Anton's semi carefree attitude towards it all ended up being poorly considered, as the Imperial Princess of all people appeared to be the one leading the review. Anton hastily stood at attention and saluted her as she arrived, with Leon following suit. She announced indirectly that they would all be lodged in Orello village to get them out of the fort's way before leaving to further inspect the fort. With her gone, Leon relaxed, though Anton was less so.

"Bloody hell. We didn't know it was going to be the princess showing up. Look, I should probably go help and try to salvage this mess. You have fun vacationing in the village, eh Leon?" He gave Leon a final pat on the shoulder before leaving in a hurry, with Leon waving him goodbye. He felt bad for him, knowing he was probably going to have a hell of a time with this review, but he was still dwelling on the sudden arrival of the princess. He wondered why such an important person would be sent to review a fort. He would have thought that a review like this would only be important if they were expecting Orello to be ready for something...like a war. Leon hoped that was just his imagination going wild, but he was still certain there had to be a reason for this visit, especially since nobody seemed to know Ires was the one coming.

Approaching their Captain, Leon spoke to her. "Um, Captain, if I might ask; did you know anything about this?" He had already suspected she might have known about the review, though he wasn't a hundred percent certain. However, given he knew as well as anyone that Ires was a student of Cadenza until recently, he wondered if it wasn't possible she knew it was her that was coming here too. It was just idle speculation on his part, however, and he would have to take his Captain's word for it.


[System]
Race (Human or Type of Fae): Wood Nymph
Position (In court if you are a fae, Any fae outside of a court will be under extreme pressure): She's a duchess of the Fall Court
Age: She thinks she's about 5,500 years old.
Personality (Fae type has effect): Some say she should be of the winter court, for there are rumors of her ruthlessness. While she does have her moments, especially when unsuspecting humans find their way into the deepest parts of her woods, she reserves her true wrath on the ones who thinks they can take her forest from her. Otherwise she is serene, and even tempered. She enjoys life, and all that it brings.
Appearance: If she ever puts on a glamour(which she so rarely does), her skin and hair and eyes are the color of her bark. To match current time, she'll usually wear a green sleeveless blouse, a dark fur coat, dark jeans, and black boots. Otherwise, she's either an Ash tree, or in her Fae form, she's green with ivy climbing her body.
Background: Not much is known about Meliae, except that she's inhabited and ruled the Taiga forests for as long as most can remember. She was there long before the humans, at least. She doesn't come to court except when it's required of her, and holds her own court within the deepest parts of her forests. Her territory has been quite cut down, she now only rules parts of Russia, although she now rules them with an iron fist.

[User] Max looked over at her, switching to sitting on the ground, and pulled his knees in, "But... I need to go back," He said, visibly upset, his face contorted into a frown, his eyes full of worry. " I need to be with my mom and dad, my friends..." He then had the worry that maybe some of his friends crossed into the world as well, but put it off. He needed to worry about him for now, so he took a shaky breath in, and said, "Why couldn't I leave? I was running away from here, but as soon as I left, I came right back..." He rubbed the back of his head. If he could figure out why that happened, maybe he could escape.

[Assistant]
"I'm afraid you can't. Walking through the Fae realm does things to a mortal. Things that wouldn't be able to be explained by your science. So I'm afraid you cannot go back." Meliae said, trying to figure out how to explain this to him without freaking out anymore.
"At this point, I either had to take you into my court or you would have died. We are many days from mortal civilization, even with the help of the portals. Food offered from a Fae...it's a contract. In the Fae realm contracts are binding by magic. You cannot leave, so it prevents you from leaving." Meliae tried to explain but she knew she wasn't doing a very good job.

[User] The Fall King looks through the pool before the stone dias. as he watches the nymph struggled with the human boy. How foolish of her to try to be honest, when wonder and amazement could have worked if she had acted quicker. The strong, sharp features crack a sly smile. Gesturing the wind rises, leaves rustling and falling to the many hued carpeted ground below. "You have caught a mortal, tree. One that I shall wish to see. A later date to my Court thou shall come yet. Do not forget to feed more fruits unto thy pet." The wind whispers through the air echoing his words with a eerie echo to the Fae Duchess. He did hope that the fruit would be reversible as the boy could prove useful in his plans. The foolish little Fae had forced a deal, he sits back amused. The poor child would be lost and confused, it would be rather sad if his potential had been wasted. But the boy wast not his- yet. He would come to serve the Fall King in time, slowly the threads would come together and the web would be weaved to hold the great prize he would catch.

[Assistant]
Max frowned, this was all very upsetting, but at the very best it would take time to fix this mess of a situation. Stifling back his tears and sniffling a bit, he looked at Melliae. She had saved him, even if she could have been more honest before giving him the fruit. He'd need to be more careful from this point onward, and consider his actions if he wanted a chance at ever escaping in the future. For now he would play along.

 "It's Ok...." He told her, " I mean, I would have died if you hadn't, just be upfront about these things next time, please?" He asked, standing up and dusting himself off. he look at her and shuddered, still put off a lot by their appearance, but he'd acclimate eventually. " So you mentioned getting me fed?" He asked hopefully as his stomach growled. He'd already taken food from the Fae, so there was no point starving himself.

[User]
"Oh, now I've caught up with you."

 A ponderous voice bellowed from the dense thickets toward the gathered fae and mortal standing amidst the entrance of the fall duchess's 'village'. The great stone giant parts the numerous tress as he slowly but surely steps out into the open. A move that would be far from Orðabók's mind in normal circumstances. But this was not such a normal occurrence indeed.

 His gemstone eyes set upon the poor young boy who was simply bedazzled by the goings on around him, of course, the sight of someone as imposing as a lord of rock couldn't exactly help. Drawing nearer to the group, he attempted to appear as non-threatening as possible, of course, he had vague recollections of the duchess, and one her position would likely at least know of the hermit, so there shouldn't be all that much trouble.

 None of this had particularly eased the golem, no, he was simply too enthralled by the prospect of the mortal's knowledge to worry about the encounter with other fae. With little more than a gesture of greeting to the fall noble, Orðabók leaning close to young Max and spoke in his normal dull tone, "You wouldn't happen to be a human, would you?" Just to be sure.

[Assistant]
Max felt the Earth shake as the Stone giant approached them, which caused him to turn around to check out what was going on. His eyes widened in shock as he saw Orðabók approach them, completely and totally astounded at the fact that a giant rock monster was even real. He looked at Melliae and Katya in hope of some kind of assistance, but then the creature spoke, asking him if he was Human.

 "Um, Y-yes..." He told him, honestly mostly worried about being eaten," But I'm really tough, and probably chewy, so you most definitely wouldn't want to eat me." He added hatilly," And you are?" He asked, scuttling behind Melliae in hope of protection.

[User] Soft feet pattered across the paths to the Summer Court. Aisling gazed about her at the marvel that was the Summer Court, though still she much preferred the Fall. The Fall for all it's twists and turns and shadowy halls, the hall was true unto the being lying within. Lies and deceit held in the light of day, and in night they gleamed with beauty. A basket on one arm was covered with a green shawl she had shed in the warmth of the Court. Pausing before the two guards that sat before the door to the Lord's hall she bid them to take word of her message to the Summer King. As she waited she mussed. Falk- as the Fall King was known- was up to something. Dismissing the Winter King in such a way and now turning to summer. She know her part in this, but not what the over all scheme was. That was what is was with no doubt. For the Fae were glad with their schemes and power struggles. It wasn't so different from the real- excuse her- Mortal Realm, oddly enough. She had told her Lord of a twisted woman who had been on the human news. He probably would pass her- the deranged woman- by as she was too visible.

[Assistant]
The snow covered ground sparkled like diamonds and glitter. Ice crystals hung from the dormant trees branches, and snowflakes floated silently to the ground, like soft feathers. Winter Court was beautiful, cold, and gleaming with fresh snow today. The bright red of the Winterberry bushes that grew around the castle were in magnificent contrast to the white wonderland. As where the glorious Witch hazel trees, whose flowers blazed like little suns in the midst of the everlasting winter that was Marzanna's Court. Her favorite part of the whole Castle was the frosted gardens, and the frozen roses. That was were she was at this moment, in the gardens enjoying the crisp frigid air, admiring the frosted evergreens, and newly bloomed snowdrops.

Marzanna wore a dark Prussian blue gown, that was intricately beaded up the sleeves, and along the hem with black and blue gems. A deep V neckline, and sweeping train made up the rest of the dress. Her black velvet cloak, had raven feathers sewn around the collar, it had been her mothers. Dark colors made up most of her wardrobe. She had gowns, and jewelry from every human era she had been alive for. The one she wore now had been a gift from her father's new wife.

Tonight was the anniversary ball. A celebration of the 50th year since King Haeson's ascended to the winter throne. Every single winter fae was invited, as were the elders, and important persons from the other seasons. This particular ball was quite lavish, as Marzanna had been in charge of the planning. Long ago when she had been a mere countess, she had been known to throw some of the best parties this side of summer.

[User]
Taking a stony finger to his chin, the lord of rock and rubble pondered for a moment. The question was a puzzler for sure, who am I, who am I? The young mortal hadn't even seen the golem for but a moment, and already asking such perplexing twisters. But, since he was somewhat short on time he opted for an easier answer, one that could not possibly reach the fathoms of such a question, "You may know me as the Hermit." the stone giant rasped in his earthen tone.

 "And what would I have the pleasure to call you, young mortal?" He added, all the while barely glancing here and there at the fae of the fall court. Perhaps it was intrusion that he had sprung upon them, but then, he could learn so very much from the human. And thus, Orðabók would live with whatever could come of the encounter.

 Surely these fae had not been keeping this boy as a pet for too long, unlike that ashen girl of the Fall King. And the mighty stone golem wondered of the poor mortality that leads to something so akin to slavery. Would they do the same to the young boy? Could Orðabók allow such to happen? He was a neutral force after all, but something surely didn't feel right to him.

[Assistant]
She could hear them, they had to be a flight away now, if not a little less. She recalled four officers pursuing her, however it was likely they called for backup, just in case. She had ten minutes at least, she had to deal with them and get out of here before their backup arrived. Clearing her mind, she aimed one of her guns at the door, lifting it from the chest area, to the head. The instant the door opened, she fired, the bullet piercing through the skull of the officer stepping through. His body instantly fell, causing the three remaining cops to crouch, giving her time to change to a generator a little further back. Once there, she remained silent, listening to the footsteps of the men. She smirked, they were using standard procedure, spreading wide enough to cast a net, but not too far apart that they couldn't see one another. She knew they'd find her if she stayed hidden, and if she revealed her position, the others would bear down on her position. She knew she was screwed, being backed into a corner like this. If she were to die here, then so be it, but she was going to take at least two more with her. She peered around the side, spotting an officer headed her way. He turned his head away, giving her the chance to lean out and fire again, dropping him easily.

Just as she had expected, the other two started firing in her general direction, causing her to retreat into cover. She popped out every now and then to fire at them, forcing them into cover as well, thus initiating a rooftop shootout. She knew her fate was sealed now, with those two in cover, backup would arrive before long. She sighed, luck was not on her side today it seemed, her career was over. Having no fear of death, she rose out of cover with both guns aimed forward, firing as she ran at the officers. "Is she insane?! Don't kill her!" one said to his partner. It was too late, the bullet passed through the woman's chest, her steps now slowing to a stop and her guns dropping. She looked down at the wound, blood running down her body like a river, a smile forming on her lips. She looked at the men, who seemed to be disturbed by the smile, "I have sung my final song. Ironic...to be killed in such a place, on the day the world first learned my name...enjoy your victory while it lasts..." she said, falling to her knees. Holding her wound, she looked at the officers who approached her, "I swear...I will kill you...both of you...I will find a way...you haven't heard the last...of..." she trailed off, hitting the ground. The air around the city suddenly got colder, especially around her. In an instant, the officers had frozen in place, the woman's body vanished from sight as well. The woman, still barely alive, used her eyes to look around. This was a strange place, she was looking at a landscape that couldn't be physically possible, yet it was there. To her, it looked beautiful, the ice and snow twisted in such horrific yet beautiful ways. If this is what death looked like, then she was content with it, "Beautiful..." she managed to spit out, her eyes slowly closing. She wished she could live just a little longer to enjoy the beauty of this landscape, but such was not her destiny.

[User]
As if he where an angel of death, a dark figure stands over the woman, chuckling "Going to give up now, little one? Let your silly little life end here?" he taunts, daring her- no, Challenging her to stay alive and awake "Laying in the snow?" In the light snow fall the dark gremlin was a perfect contrast to the white and light blue all around, Dark robes, of black and night sky blue cover him, sword at his side

"Perhaps i can show you even More wonders, But rest now, little one, We'll see you yet live...."

[Assistant]
Meliae glanced up at the giant rock in front of her, as a few of her warriors came closer. She held up a hand, halting their movements.
"Do mortals interest you so Hermit? There are billions outside of my forests, I'm sure they'd love to meet you." Meliae said, her words cruel but when one doesn't pick a side, it tends to earn them enemies instead of friends.
"You may call him Max, if you feel it necessary to speak long enough to call him anything." Meliae stated, answering for the boy before he got himself in trouble.


[System]
"Enlighten Your Mind"
Basics
Nickname: "Meditator"
Race: Sak'all, Crocodile.
Gender: Male.
Age: 29.
Additional Info

Personality: Varm was born into a nomadic tribe of Sak'all. His father was a fighter, and his mother was a Shaman. Always fascinated by Kindness, he always helped, even if he did not get anything in return. He is a loner, likes to reside in the dense Forests where they can be alone with his own business

Studying the ins and outs of mastering Enchanting, uses it during the fight, can enchant Blades to deal poison, fire or just blunt damage.

While living in the Woods he has a lot of time for medidation and training, this has maken him very Disciplined and fast. Thanks to his mother he acquired the knowledge needed for basic first aid.

He always wanted to create a huge monk monastery. Firstly he became a Monk because one of Tribesmen was a Monk Master and he wanted to teach someone about enlightening the mind and becoming a master of all the techniques. He eats the plants he gathers while walking in the woods, which is weird because he's a crocodile, and crocodiles usually eat meat, but he decided that true master should eat meat only when he needs.He could risk his live for goal he decided to achieve.

Appearance: He's a bit short for his race, and Not so heavy. He wears pants, and also wears Tall Travelling boots on his feet. No Armor on body can make him vulnerable to most attacks. Wear's left shoulder armor and self made gloves, one armored and second unarmored.

Height: 6.1 feet.
Weight: 167 lbs.
Fight related
Magic: Enchanting
Class: Monk

Weapon :
Self maded Blades, like This on picture

Strengths:
Monk Discipline - Disciplined, will hold to one goal.

Fast Fighter - Due to Monk training he is very fast in combat and can fight with bare hands with same precise as if he were armed

Weaknesses:
Lack of Armor - He only wears pants and left shoulder armor, making him vulnerable to attacks

Weird - As a Monk he is treated like some kind of weirdo

Techniques: He only fights as last resort, but when he must fight he depends mostly on agility and speed, Strength is second. He can beat enemy with bare hands due to Special arts training.

[User] "Right you a-" I said to the lion, with my speech getting cut off by a roar that, surprisingly enough, didn't come from Ymahr, and made the cat flee. I turned around to see an illusory creature disappear, and someone flying away with a chunk of our wurm. "Hey, next time you guys should just ask!" I shouted to the thieving duo. Normally, I would be against thievery, however, since it was just food, and I didn't really need what they stole, I didn't mind too much. Heck, for all I knew, those two were desperate for food and or money. Did I really look so intimidating that they preferred to do that instead of just talking, and maybe asking me for some of the wurm? Maybe it was just the fact that I recently slayed a wurm that was bothering them... speaking of... "So, I'm all for just cutting this thing up for rations and leaving the rest to random passers-by, but I'm not sure everyone else is," I really wanted to see what weirdness this enchanted forest held, let alone the treasure, but it seemed like our fox... who I may have to talk to later... would rather we haul this thing all the way back to some starving village. It didn't seem like we were getting anywhere, and that kinda bothered me. Sure, this was just a pit stop at first, it could turn into a detour if we all agreed to get rid of this thing before moving on. Then again... we COULD get some armor, but... the armor wouldn't really be useful to us, as I couldn't wear heavy armor AND fly at the same time, Erion was more geared for speed, and Ymahr didn't seem to want any armor at all. While I waited for a response, I started cutting up what we had with my spear, making portions that were normal to me, but probably somewhat small to the others.

[Assistant]
Erion breath deeply as he went to approach the group again. He looked at everyone and then headed to the creature and then cut some of the meat out, before getting some cloth in his bag and then putting the meat in his bag, surrounded by cloth. He looked at the group calmly.
"Well... before we attract some real problems, ya, we should keep going." he says softly as he moves back to the group.
"Names Erion by the way.... Erion Silverwind." he then says. He didn't want to pronounce his real family name, for a reason that... well... it would take lot of explaining and maybe have some people know about the past, and god knows that he didn't want to be associated with his family. He looked at the bird guy that asked about the meat and such and what to do with it. He breath deeply.
"With the size of the thing, I guess we could leave it for random passerby... It would be best to have it feed hungry people, but we can't really drag something like this. Either we leave it be, or we inform a village and then move on our way if you ask me." he says calmly to the group. He was unsure what the others would want here. He breath deeply. He was ready to move on now. Unfortunately he didn't have enough salt to salt the meat for better preservation. Well.... that was one resource he would need to buy in the next town.

[User]
The lion stopped in his tracks to see the two cutting piece of what remained of the Wurm, idly he realized that was getting hungry himself and while Wurm meat certainly wasn't the best thing out there, it was better than nothing. He approached the beast's carcass and began to cut some for himself, picking out pieces that were average at best, no sense in over-excess after all. The two were debating on what to do with what was left of the remains of the beast, the Shael suggested leaving it here for other wanderers and it certainly was an idea. The Nin'tah on the other hand said that they couldn't drag the thing it to a starving village, and that certainly was an act of charity that Ymhar would have to commend him for if it they had the manpower, that is. Right now, that option was out but still, the world would be better if others could learn to help each other more, but that's not saying a lot about the lion himself really.

"I say we inform those starving people, we can move on from there."

The forest had its fair share of adventure to be had, but the battle took out a lot out of the three of them and the lion was sure they were tired. Maybe a quick stop at an inn or tavern would be nice and they could come back to this forest later, who knows what secrets are lying underneath the foliage? Then again, it might be home to more creatures that could surpass the power of the Wurm they've fought earlier. Rather than mulling it over, the feline began to walk again, motioning for his two allies to start moving.

[Assistant]
Zack had excused himself from the company of his three brothers to wander around the city for a while. Helpfully he was able to procure from Ezekiel a hooded jacket with which to conceal himself, although it was a tight fit on the far larger coyote. "Well," Zack had thought to himself as he winced in the constricting hood, "At least it's not the sack I was wearing over my head on the way into the city."

The farmer Zack had acquired that sack from was pretty pleased with the arrangement, ultimately. As it had turned out, he had long ago received a curse from Zack himself: he was hexed in such a way that if he tried to say the word "fish", he could only do so backwards. When Zack, unfazed by the farmer's yelling and threats, agreed to at last reverse this curse in exchange for a simple potato sack, the farmer was at first stunned, and then overwhelmed with joy. The farmer couldn't believe his luck! And so it was that Gort Symons, lah'na farmer, could after so long order his favorite foodstuff with minimal embarrassment. When he broke the news to his family, they were overcome with tears of joy. Zack couldn't for the life of him remember what the farmer had even done to earn his ire in the first place, but at least he had got a potato sack out of it several years on. The eye slits he had to leave with his teeth; as he learned, the blunt head and butt of his staff didn't quite do the trick.

And so Zack wandered the streets, looking inconspicuously conspicuous. People who saw his overly tightly bound hood mostly just assumed him a member of some obscure religious order most masochistic. It certainly beat self-flagellation as a practice, and was at the very least much easier for parents to explain to their children. You also don't need to cover a child's eyes from a man wearing overly tight clothing, usually; you always had to do this when a shirtless man came by, lashing himself. Unless if the child had a particularly strange upbringing, but maybe that's not for me to judge.

Zack had no destination in mind, it was simply just refreshing to be able to walk among actual crowds of people again. He had spent many months out in the woods, just like the fairytales said he does. From time to time he had even bumped into the children who had gone out on dares to find "Cackling Zack's Shack", or whatever it was his supposed abode was called in their imaginations. Zack merely took amusement at these visitors, although they were arguably his most consistent contact with anything but wildlife during those months of isolation. To keep up appearances, he would often threaten and scare the children away, although he had never actually cursed any he could recall. But if the threat was enough to do it, was following through with the actual action that needed?

He glanced up at the sign of an inn with longing. He promised his brothers he wouldn't be out long, but he had not enjoyed the pleasure of a drink for such a long time. As if to assuage his guilty conscience, he began to consider that maybe if he made lodgings here, he wouldn't burden his brothers with having to make space for him in their already cramped house. This was enough to spur him to wander in.

"Hail, inkeeper. Some mead, please!" said Zack merrily as he rifled through his pockets for some coin.

[User]
Nile slid next to the coyote gracefully and with practiced ease, flipping a coin between her fingers and spinning it casually on the tabletop. "Two." was all she said and at the sound of coin clattering on wood the innkeeper quickly snatched it up and nodded, returning in moments with two mugs filled to the brim with foaming mead. Nile gave the coyote a not at all subtle searching glance, "Those clothes are rather tight for a caster aren't they?" she murmured to herself as she examined his body and paused a moment. Her hand reached out and a single finger curled around his scarf for a moment, "Maybe they could do with some loosening, especially if you're anything like your staff." She said with a wily grin then turned back towards her drink and swigged it, easily taking half the large container in a single gulp.

Nile would've taken the coins she'd felt in his bottom right coat pocket if she'd felt the need to but she wasn't strapped on cash right now and she hadn't even played here yet. From the guilty look on his face as he'd walked in he'd come here for a rare, but much needed splurge, perhaps she could convince him to splurge just a little more. Drunk people were always fun to watch. Lordy he was a tall one though, nearly two feet taller then herself, though that wasn't that much of a surprise in it of itself. He was obviously either a religious person of some sort, some sort of magic user, or both. She had fun playing with those religious folks and she found those with magic often made for the most exciting tales.

[Assistant]
"I hate being in Shava'ren, All these Ravens, you have feeling that they will steal something when you don't watch them".
Varm was in Tarner, a coastal port located in the North of Shava'ren, he was going to g
et on the first ship sailing to Lahria. He was Travelling to meet his friend, a Lah'na named Reker, an innkeeper in one of the cities. His tavern was called "White sword", where he planned to go, Varm have a deal designed to bring him some money. Varm had a rare item whose name could not be divulged and that is why so much afraid of being robbed.

After eating a meal in the coastal tavern he decided to look around for ship. One of them called "Black Rose" had planned to travel to Lahria. The Captain was Rakonai.

"Hi, may I go on a journey together with you? I have to be in Lahria in four days."
The captain was not too nice,
"you can sail with us, however you will need to pay".
"I don't have too much money but I have to go along with you, so I'll pay."

After the transaction, Varm went back to the tavern to pack. "The ship sets off in an hour, so I advise you to hurry up"  Captain yelled. An hour later, the ship was already on the waves, carried by sea to Lahria.


[System]
Age: 44

Class: Naval Senior Armsman

Equipment:
Light Carapace Armor - Stukov cannot afford to be weighed down in the tight, fast moving brawl of a boarding action, repelling or engaging in, so the only real piece of armor the Senior Armsman wears is a reinforced Carapace chestplate, which also includes his backpack of ammo and oxygen for his rebreathing kit, a model capable of sealing against loss of oxygen, although true void exposure won't make him last long, due to the sheer cold of the Void.

Lucius pattern Mk 22c Shotgun - The shotgun of choice for Stukov, this eight round revolving magazine lets him slam through shells at a frightening rate, with a heavy cartridge that shreds through most enemies not wearing heavy, quality Carapace. And this assumes hits on any given armor's strong points. Like many shotguns, plenty of various ammo types exist for his shotgun, and while Stukov carries plenty of slug and buckshot, he carries a handful of Hellfire and blessed buckshot for handling Daemons in specific. Stukov has no problem using whatever ammo he can get his hands on, or issued for a given mission.

Foehammer - Known by its more humble name the Shotgun Pistol, Stukov uses this as a backup when his larger, bulkier shotgun isn't an option. Unlike his Mk 22c, it is a single shot per load weapon that he usually loads with oversized slug. This is for the reason that if he needs to hit something a distance off, he doesn't need to waste time changing loads in his main gun, or his side arm. And if they are heavily armored, slug has a better chance to punch through than buckshot or most conventional ammo loads.

Combat Knife - Not much to be said for Stukov's knife, it is a fairly standard issue, single edge blade with a point for stabbing as well as slashing. Pretty much a last resort when both his sidearm and main shotgun are of no use to him in a situation.

Flash Grenades x2, Concussion Grenades x2 - Flash Grenades, true to their name, emit a blinding flash of light that blinds both organic and mechanical means of sight for a period of time, making them easy targets so long as they were not protected from the effects. Concussion grenades utilize a shockwave that, while it does little real damage to ship structure or hull, the sheer pressure of the shockwave and the din of noise ensures that, even if the pressure didn't kill a foe, they won't be hearing anytime soon.

Against All Odds: When he was a rookie Armsman aboard his first Imperial Navy vessel, during a transit in the warp the Gellar fields failed and hordes of daemons poured into various breaches in the hull across the Cruiser. Whether it was divine intervention from the God Emperor himself, or sheer stubborn determination from the surviving crew, the Cruiser was able to emergency shift back into real space and drive the remaining daemons and their slaves out the airlocks and back into oblivion where they belonged. The Cruiser suffered over 75% causalities, and could barely limp to the nearest Imperial holding.

Boots on the Ground: Rather than being left to sit around and wait for a new crew to be brought in, the Armsman Stukov was now reassigned to an Apocalypse Class Battleship, since she had recently seen vicious combat and had lost a fair number armsman, amongst other crew. One of his first assignments as part of the new crew was a shore party that was deployed to secure sensitive fleet records lost in a planet wide raid by Dark Eldar. Once again, most of his comrades were wiped out but he survived and personally hauled the reclaimed records back into orbit before the Orbital Bombardment vaporized all Dark Eldar that could be found.

Close Quarters Chaos: Earning his rate as a Senior Armsman, and the right and occurrence of leading junior Armsman into battle gains those that would stand against the Imperial Navy and her vessels. So his first tasking was as part of a wave of Assault craft, specifically the Shark Assault Boat. Under heavy interceptor and bomber escorts most of the first wave of Assault Boats reached their targets, a miracle in and of itself. Heavy casualities were sustained as Stukov rallied any and all Imperials he could find and stormed the bridge of the craft. When challenged to a duel for control over the vessel, he shot the enemy captain cleanly, taking his head off as a fine mist. The following chaos as Stukov led his men back to the boats, leaving the enemy ship in chaos as it fought itself for control as several friendly Imperial vessels bombarded the craft into oblivion the moment its shields failed.

Not one Step Further: The Battleship he was assigned to came under heavy fire and was badly damaged, suffering a force re-entry into the nearby plant and crashing down behind a long forgotten temple to the Emperor. After the survivors took refuge there, they had to hold out until either the Battleship's surviving engines could be overloaded, finishing the beast off beyond any salvage hope, or help arrived. With nowhere to run or hide, Stukov rallied the remaining combat capable men and women, armed them, and held out as long as possible, far longer than anyone short of even an Astartes could consider thanks to tactics and a desperation coupled with nothing to lose. The survivors were saved by passing Inquisitorial vessels, introducing Stukov to work with the Inquisition and, eventually, Inquisitor Caphus himself.

Time with Inquisitor: Nearly ten years aboard his vessels, only recently tasked formally to his retinue.

Appearance:

40K Knowledge Question: Erebus of the Word Bearers Legion

[User]
The Psyker was spread out across the couch, her head lying flat upon one of the incredibly comfortable cushions among it, making it no surprise that she had fallen asleep so quickly. Aviza had also fallen victim to the couches soothing comfort, drifting into a peaceful sleep which was void of any dreams. Now kneeling down next to the Psyker, Aviza waited patiently for her to fully awaken from her own unconscious state of sleep. She did not have to wait long however, for the Psyker sat up and glanced back and forth between the slice of freshly baked pie and the Adeptus Sororitas who offered it with an emotionless look across her face. As soon as the piece of pie was taken from her, a smirk spread across her face, this wasn't anything malicious but her own form of a smile. Once the Psyker had politely moved her feet allowing Aviza to sit down upon the couch, she reached for the T.V. remote. Placing the remote on her lap, she stretched out her legs and rested them half way upon the metal table in front of her and relaxed.

That was, until the Psyker introduced herself, which then Aviza turned her head and held eye contact with her new comrade. "An honor to meet you Adrianne, I am Aviza Norea, Celestian of the Ebon Blade. I usually do not spend time with the type of soldiers that make up this squad, unless they are impure…" Aviza pointed at the white phosphorus type grenade upon her belt followed by a light cough while she covered her mouth. "Worry not Adrianne, at this point you are in no danger of becoming a human torch." There was a short pause as Aviza reached for the T.V. remote and turned it on. What showed upon the screen in front of them was a military history documentary for part of the Imperium of Man. Tossing the control to Adrianne, she spoke "Try channel [4278] also, toss me a bag of those Cheesy crisps and a soda."

[Assistant]
" unless they are impure… "

Adrianne would glance down at the phosphorus grenade at the sister's belt when Aviza motioned towards it. She was more than familiar with its effects and abilities, knowing full well that compared to the phosphorus grenade, a frag grenade was a gift of mercy!

For a moment, her mind flashed back to a dark basement room in what seemed like a bunker of some sort. Six wounded and battle weary guardsmen were huddled together in a group at the center of the room, performing weapon checks and tending to each others wounds when suddenly the metal door to the bunker room swung open!
Things were blurred afterwards, but she heard quite clearly the voice of a power armored woman cry out from outside the room: "Cleanse the impure!", before the sound of metal clanking against the concrete floor could be heard as a grenade was thrown into the room, and the metal doors were shut closed by power armored hands behind it!

One of the guardsmen, Marcus, shouted out as he immediately got to his feet and rushed towards the door! But by the time he got there, it was already shut and locked tight!

A fearful moment passed then, before the grenade lying on the ground burst into a consuming white gas cloud caressed with fire that filled the room and consumed the guardsmen in the blink of an eye! Terrified screams filled the bunker as the guardsmen were burned alive both from the outside, as well as inside as they breathed the lethal gas! Some of them twisted around on the floor in pure agony, whilst another stood upright, blinded, and walking clumsily around the room; parts of his skin and uniform burned right off his body!

Her mind returning from the memory, Adrianne would nod slowly, before passing a bag of chocolate covered chips and a bottle of caramel soda to Aviza sitting next to her.

"I'm at least glad you consider me so. I somehow doubt the rest of your sisters would have given me the same treatment." Adrianne would smile slightly as she looked at Aviza, before tossing a quick glance at the bag in her hands.
"I did not believe the sisterhood would ever condone the consumption such lower class junk food among their members. You surprise me, Celestian!"

[User]
Stukov had been silent from what he had seen during the recording that the servo skull had made. So, it looked like the footage had not gone to waste after all, and wasn't just some mindless recording of the fact that the bumbling of one sister had caused them to have to fight off the statues long enough for the three to escape. Shame the woman was wearing a golden mask or ID'ing her would have been far easier, to put it mildly. The Sister came in eventually, bearing a piece of pie and asking Smiles to move so she could sit, furnishing her with an olive branch in the form of food. He couldn't help but make a comment as the two sat together and spoke in brief, his presence apparently forgotten. "I have heard that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, but Sis, I didn't think you would try that with Smiles. Wasn't aware it worked that way for women too."

Snorting in amusement at his own joke, Stukov half expected some biting remark from Sis since the two of them had yet to see eye to eye on anything, far as he had seen. But he leaned against the back wall of the living room, arms crossed across his stomach as he considered what he had seen during the holo vid. One male, Alpheous from the vid, and some mutantly tall woman in form fitting robes that left little to the imagination. But those two did not mean much to him, the one who kept his attention had been the woman with the gold skull mask. Blonde hair, at least partially, average height and build as far as he was able to tell, armed with the equipment of a sorcerer of some sort. Gold skull obscured facial patterns beyond that, the recording that the servo skull had displayed replayed in his mind like a record. He needed to pick apart further details about that group, what he could gather, and the burning of a brothel really, to be frank, paled in the armsman's mind in comparison to this group.

"If I may Smiles, M4R1-A had some interesting recordings from the run I think bear reviewing. M4R1-A, begin playback from timestamp Theta, if you would be so kind." Assuming the skull listened, or Smiles reverified his command, he would begin to rewatch and analyze the playback that the servo skull had made of the run, pretty much the three figures. He was noting names, specific notes, anything of particular value before they all got hauled off to investigate this burning brothel mess. He had a gut instinct Boss would want to go check it out, and once he had reviewed the information he had found from the vid recording he would speak, to no one in particular. "Alpheous, we have a name. Boss might want to know about this recording, for review once the mess at the brothel has been dealt with, one way or another. Shall I pass word along to him, or one of you two have something else you need to speak to him about at the same time?"