[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Appearance: "Heheheee~ Don't go back that way, it's-"*BOOM*"-... Right on time! :D"
Abilities: Milly is, in spite of her young age, an explosives expert with an in-depth knowledge of how to brew just about anything you might need for demolition. She knows how to make small explosives, big explosives, explosives that will stick to a surface, explosives that will just flash without actually causing damage, if you need something blown up, Milly is the one to ask. She's also rather capable of laying traps, provided they involve explosives. She is also adept at predicting when an explosion will occur, and as she is familiar with the scent of gunpowder she can detect it by smell very easily. Due to her small size, Milly is also decent at infiltration, provided she gets to blow something up at the end.
Personality: Milly is rather friendly and enthusiastic, and eager to talk. Well, eager to talk about one specific thing. Explosives. Milly loves to talk about explosives. This may be because of her near-obsession with them and her tendency to use them for just about any purpose no matter what it is. Distractions, breaking through a lock, fighting, Milly uses explosives to do just about anything they could possibly be used for. She adores explosions to the point of almost lusting for a fiery blast of destruction, which likely drives her work to make more and more explosives. She is eager to help out the crew... by building explosives and explosive traps. However, she can also be rather temperamental and quick to anger. She is much more patient with constructing new bombs then she is with people in most cases. She dislikes her nickname of "Minnie" as she is self-conscious about her small size and underdeveloped appearance. However, she is confident she will grow out of it, insisting she is simply a late bloomer and in a year or two she will be even more mature in build then any of the other girls in the crew. Her payback towards those who anger her tends to vary, from planting flashbang traps in their room to putting small explosive traps under their bed, the former for friends and the latter for enemies.
Bio: Descended from a long line of explosives experts, Milly's purpose in life is derived from the success of her family in the field. To put it simply, Milly feels the need to display her explosives knowledge. Born to Eric and Danielle Nobel, Milly grew up learning about explosives. Indeed, from a young age, she grew more and more obsessed with them. Sadly, she suffered from illness early in life, which she insists explains her "late bloomer" status. She has long since recovered from her illness, and insisted in venturing out into the world to display her explosives knowledge. It became especially important to her after the accidental death of her father six years ago, which many people attributed to a mistake with his explosives. Adamant that her father would never make such a mistake, Milly left in order to prove the knowledge he passed to her was not the knowledge of someone who would have killed themselves with their own work. Admittedly she also left in order to blow up more things, but the original, chief purpose, the one closest to her heart, is to prove herself and prove her father did not make a mistake that cost him his life.

[User]
"Hmm... I think you've made a little mistake here, isn't it, sir?" Char had a devious grin on her lips as she pressured an old, slightly fat and half bald man, who happened to be a jewel trader, "The exchange rate of these gems is a little off, don't you think? The three small ones should be worthy 200 gold each, while this one should be 500. Together they should make up to eleven hundred gold pieces, minus the 10% exchange fee... the final amount should be of eleven ninety gold. So, why is it that there's only 965 pieces on this bag?" She said while jiggling the bag of coins in front of the man.

"You're crazy, little girl! I counted them in front of you, there's precisely eleven ninety gold there. If you keep on trying to scam me I'll have to call the port security." The plump man snorted and cold sweat dripped from his brow. He couldn't believe someone had seen through his trick so easily, much less a girl barely out of her diapers.

"Oh yes, please do that," Char said with a provocative voice, taunting the man, "while we're on it, why don't I show them those 25 gold plated steel coins that you've thrown together with the others? I'm sure they would love to know about it." She twirled her right index over the man's street stall counter and looked at him with upturned coy eyes, for all that would be looking, she would be just a gentle, innocent girl. However, only the man could see the devilish smirk that was below the her hood.

It was common sense that it was the loser's woe to be caught cheating in business, Char knew it all too well and she was sure that the man knew it too, the look on his eyes said that he was prepared to have his own blood sucked in order to preserve his business' reputation.

"Now then, how about we discuss the way you'll compensate me..." Chaser said while flashing her best merchant's smile, however the man saw nothing but the fangs of a money vampire.

[Assistant]
Melody didn't bother to look behind herself as she left the ship. They were all adults, except for known few members of her crew. Melody didn't exactly like the fact that Char was running around in this lawless cesspool by herself. She really didn't care too much, she knew that Char had her ways, but then again, pirates did too. Melody smirked as she made her way across the island, she knew there were people staring at her, and why wouldn't they? She had a bounty on her head, and although it wasn't very high (5000 gold) but it was enough to make pirates and low level bounty hunters consider making a quick pay day. She hoped they would try, none of these idiots could come close to capturing her.
 Melody stopped in front of a small store hidden behind a bunch of crates located in a corner in the middle of the island. She walked in and a familiar voice greeted her. "Ahhh... Is that Melody? An old guy walked up from behind the counter his small stature making him seem even smaller in the dimly lit space. Melody knew that it would be a bad idea to try stealing from here. THe old man was small, but he had many ways and traps in order to get even. She politely said hello to the man and continued, "Mark, do you have any more music disks?" The old already knew who his customer was, and although she frequented the store, he always managed to have at least 1 disc for sale to his friendly customer. She bought the only one Mark had, for 2000 gold. These discs were rare, and Melody was out to create a massive collection. Once she had bought the disc, she continued on going around town, hitting up a few bars, singing at some others for a quick pay, and then came back tot the ship with 10 minutes left before the 6 hour deadline. She didn't even try to enter the ship, instead she called out Milly. Melody didn't want to have to mess with the various traps on the ship She was after all carrying precious cargo.

[User]
~Jonathan~

When Milly responded enthusiastically, Jonathan beamed, albeit mildly surprised. This was the first time in a very long while that anyone had taken one of his inventions seriously! Song only shot down the logical fallacies behind his inventions, so he appreciated being able to share his creations with an aficionado. Perhaps he didn't have to worry about boring Milly with technical jargon after all!

"Yes, good points for sure. Depending on how you load it, it'll take some thought to make sure that you're not anywhere near it when it goes off," Jonathan agreed. "For closer range though, I think it would be best to just throw a normal bomb, and use the roto-bomber only as a long distance specialty weapon that just blows everything to oblivion- all in good fun. I put it together in the discus shape and designed the internal acceleration so that you could hopefully launch it much further than you could throw- perhaps even further than the average marksman's accurate gun range, say 200-300 feet, if you give it enough of a heave. It's always nice to take out your enemies from afar, though you can't quite feel the explosions as intimately, I'm afraid."

"But now that you mention it, the ability to remotely control the launch of individual spheres would be incredibly useful," Jonathan put his hand to his chin. "You could throw the roto bomber into the middle of a battle, and wait until the opportune time to launch them if you had some sort of controller... It could almost be a game of sorts! I'll give this some more thought. I've recently been experimenting with using radio waves as control signals. Maybe this would be a good use for it."

"The directional charges might be a good idea as well. There's also the case where the disk launches a sphere, but the sphere hits something and detonates near the roto bomber... though again, a controller would solve that problem."

"Ah payload wise, as I mentioned earlier, you can adjust how far the disk will shoot the spheres out between 10-30 feet, and adjust accordingly, though it's probably best to keep the roto bomber as light as possible by keeping the spheres themselves light. One of the nice things is that you can be quite versatile with this contraption. Load it up with flashbangs, fireworks, cupcakes even."

"But what's a good invention without a bit of collaboration? Why don't you hold on to the roto bomber and tinker with it how you like. Ultimately, I think you'll be the one with the most use for it," Jonathan said with a knowing grin. "I'll keep looking into radio waves, though perhaps you may find an opportunity to use it before I figure anything out."

With that, Jonathan let Milly off to her own devices, and begun fiddling away with antennae at his desk.

~Song~

On her way to the apothecary, Song caught sight of the young german noble. While he wasn't the easiest to read, she appreciated his presence aboard the ship. The little rivalry that Waldemar and Jonathan had begun to form kept her traveling mate just a little bit more on his toes.

She gave him a nod of recognition and a light smile, but didn't quite know what else to say to start a friendly conversation.

[Assistant]
"Guess I'll work something out." He said as he shrugged yet again and made his way into the town. He didn't have any real fear of being recognized as a pirate, after all, he was simply buying food. That wasn't exactly suspicious activity, unless no one actually ate around here. He felt the coin purse attached to his hip, the coins jingling and bouncing against his leg. Simone walked down various streets looking for some place to buy some food supplies, and wondering how he was going to get it all back to the ship once he got it. He watched the people stroll past him, almost a little wary, keeping a hand on his coins. Eventually, after a few minutes of searching he found a nice food store.

Simone strolled about the interior, taking it all in, thinking about what they needed. He didn't look forwards to dragging it all back to the ship and what not, but he supposed it was necessary. He bought a couple of small bags to carry his food in and set off to work at finding what he wanted. He quickly started grabbing what he thought he needed from one stall, muttering to himself as he did.

"Need that, that, and that, definitely that. Got any chili powder?" He asked quickly, before realizing there was a jar off to the corner. "Thank you very much." Simone mumbled as he slid it over to the rest of his pile. There was more than enough meat to choose some, and he grabbed some that originated from quit a few animals for variety. "How much do I owe you for all of this?"

"That would be..." The merchant counted it all up. "320 gold coins"

Simone whistled in slight shock. "All right, I suppose that's fair enough." He counted out and gave him the right amount of gold for the mass amount of food he got. Now... how the hell to haul it all back? He sighed loudly as he sorted it meticulously into bags and looked at them all around. "All right, I saw a cart outside. I assume that's yours right?" The shop keep nodded warily. "I'm going to borrow it, gotta get all of this food back somehow. You'll find it at the port, see you." He tossed an extra few coins to the shop keep and dragged his food haul to the cart outside. After loading it all up he started on his way, hauling the cart behind him. He made it all the way to the ship with the cart and hauled it on board, before loading the kitchen up. He had managed to get all kinds of fruit, vegetable, meat, spices and even some booze. he pushed the cart off of the ship and back onto the port nonchalantly and made his way back to the kitchen. There went his trip, he supposed. He decided he had a little time left here, and with that he would try his hand at cards in town.

He made his way back in and quickly found a gambling place; far faster than he found a food place. He got in and sat down at a card table, ready to try his luck and he placed his bet and got his hand.

[User]
The applications of the roto-bomber were so vast and explosive that Milly couldn't help but be more and more excited. Toss it into a large room and shut the door, no-one would be walking out of there depending on how you use it and you'd probably knock the walls out depending on the explosive payload packed into the device. Same situation but to avoid lethality, flashbangs would render everyone in the room deaf and blind! For a little while, at least. And of course, a radio wave system would make it even simpler, not just for the roto-bomber but also for any explosives. Right now, Milly had to rig her traps with complicated long-range ignition methods, but if all she had to do was send a radio wave to them, that would make for even more rapid fiery annihilation!

"Aaaah~ Thank you Johnathan!" she exclaimed cheerfully as she took the device, "I'll take good care of it!"

With that, she headed back to her room to put the roto-bomber down for later tinkering. Perhaps there was an even better way to ensure the explosives had more range without harming the disc itself... For now, she had a job to do. Starting with Charlotte's room.

It was a little while later when Melody returned. She peered over the side of the ship at the captain, and gave her a cheerful wave before setting out to disarm her traps.

Moments later, with a collection of sticky bombs and grenades reclaimed, the white-haired girl couldn't help but ask.

"What did you get?!"


[System]
Appearance: He is consistently seen wearing a black-and-white hood with baggy pants, a metal chain belt and a bare chest. He also has tough leather gloves with the fingers torn off. A black mark in the shape of a triangle sits on the side of his neck, and his chest is covered with small scars from various encounters.
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 143 lbs
Hair Color: dirty blond
Eye Color: neon red
Age: 19
History (Optional): While Mal would describe his history as "foggy", if it were clearer, he would probably tell people he came from a normal looking family with less-than-normal traditions. Both his mother and father were professors at a local university whose studies ventured into two very different types of magic. His father studied the embodiment of spirits and the energy surrounding them, while his mother studied Absence Magic, or magic that dealt with the lack thereof rather than the object itself. Darkness was a specific area of this study, but she also brimmed on other topics like cold, space, and other ideas that could only be defined by their lack of something else.

 Now, since his parents were lovers of the intellectual society, Mal grew up having access to many books and an abundance of tutelage in various subjects, some of which he jumped into excitedly, and others he did for as long as they held his attention (which was not that long, at all). Around eight years old, his parents noticed that he started to veer towards books about Mental Magic, specifically magical hypnosis and manipulation. They would occasionally find him attempting to hypnotize his stuffed animals with a silver coin tied to a string on their return from work.

 He was about twelve when a new Headmaster came into the picture with demands for research that were beyond obscene, and would terminate professors without a moment's notice. Even his ethical standards were quite lower than they should have been. Since their living space and amenities were funded by the school to compensate for the lower salaries, his parents were suddenly under a lot of pressure to perform admirably. Both of them were digging through their leads of spells that their last headmaster had deemed unethical just to make the ends meet on his massive demands.

 The issue was that many of the spells required living test subjects, which was something that neither of them had ever considered.

 Yet, it was Mal that came forward and suggested they test their spells on him.

Now, his parents objected quite heavily at first, as neither of them wanted to try these dangerous spells on their only child, but when the considerate Mal reminded them of their deadlines, and that they really had no choice, he was led into their research facilities late at night.

 Now, in terms of their research, the spells were mostly successful. Both were spells designed to give the target specific abilities for extended periods of time.

 When they hadn't accounted for was the mental strain it placed on the subject.

 Mal left the lab that night considerably different than how he entered. His physical features hadn't changed (save for the triangular mark left on his neck) but there was still something about him that was off. Maybe it was the way his body moved around.

 Or the fact that his face was twisted in a constant smile.

 His parents brought him in a few days later to show their results to the headmaster, presenting their son who donned a monochrome hood.

 The headmaster's mistake was asking for a demonstration… Mal willed his new magic into life, using its power that amplified his own to tear the headmaster apart with the ripples of shadow the ripped off his body. His parents stood with astonished eyes.

 And Mal took off out a window with a gentle wave.

 It was a few months later that a Mercenary guild took him under their wing, his master calling him "his secret weapon" while others claimed he was possessed by a demon.

 It was a year after that when most of them were found dead at the gates to a city.

 Now, Mal works for himself as his own terms. He acquired the title "Astaroth" or "the Demon Prince" due to his cruel and tantalizing methods, but most knew he was successful in the jobs that he took.

 But occasionally, people would find those searching for mercenaries dead in alley ways or in the backs of taverns, with a cacophony of laughter dancing gently across the air.

Personality: Mal has a very twisted sense of justice, and tends to show emotions in unusual bursts. His neutral expression is a large, twisted grin across his features, but usually this is a visual representation of his plucky attitude. This all seems to fall away, however, when he begins to speak. Mal's thoughts are brimming with intellect, but the way he describes them are rather sadistic (or even masochistic in some situations) and scary. He doesn't really have an understanding of what makes people uncomfortable anymore, even as he describes some of the easiest ways to cause pain to someone. Even so, he has an incredible fascination with magic of all kinds, and will pester people consistently with questions about it until someone tells him to lay off. He responds well to politeness, and if you show him the slightest amount of amicability he will treat you with incredible amounts of respect. A simple "please" is all you need to get him to stop asking questions if it's bothering you. Even his sadistic nature seems to be muted when he is in the presence of kids.

 Mal doesn't trust people in positions of power as he responds incredibly negatively towards oppression. This is where his twisted sense of justice comes in. If you offer him any possibility to assume that you might be the source of oppression for a group of people (or specifically children) he will find the quickest way to kill you, or worse, in the least amount of time. Mal has turned down high paying jobs because of their reasons, like a man wanting to kill another man in order to take his land, and instead has made the employer his target. He doesn't stick around for long after that, disappearing into the night like he had all those years ago.

In conclusion, Mal has trouble with people because he could go from friendly to trying to kill for a Freudian slip, lacks a sense of empathy or sympathy for others (especially when discussing blood and murder) but if you prove to be nice to him and to children he will be incrediibly loyal to you.

That is, unless someone tells him that you've supported oppressors, in which case you will have to deal with a very difficult and life-threatening conversation.

Weapons: In his travels, Mal has picked up a set of chains with heavy spear spikes at the ends of them, that he swings around with a little assistance from the spells given to him by his parents. Also, while it isn't necessarily a weapon, Mal carries a flashy red gem attached to a black chain around for "interrogation" purposes.

Abilities (Magic):
- Sigil:
 The mark on his neck recieved from his father's research holds the secrets to this spell. His father used his research in spirits and spiritual energy to seal a dark spirit into his body. While the spirit is not incredibly powerful by any stretch, it can amplify Mal's speed and strength in exchange for part of his life source. The dark spirit also works in conjunction with his mother's magic to fire dark blades of energy off his body when someone makes it past his defenses, despite the damage it does to his own body.

Drawbacks:
- Mal has to flee when an encounter has gone on for too long, as the spirit needs a lot of energy to keep moving.
- the Dark Blades cut Mal's own skin, hence the scars on his chest, and thus shorten the amount of time he can battle.
- Mal's lifespan has taken a permanent toll due to the spirit (he is expected to pass away around age 25)

- Shadow Control:
 Mal combines his Dark Magic with his chains to make them operate almost like living beings at his control. They can strike, wrap around opponents, or even wrap around his own body at command in order to defend him from attacks. In stronger forms, the chains will actually become dark snakes that will chase after prey at his command. In dire situations, he's been known to change his gloves into dark claws to use as melee weapons

Drawbacks:
- At this point, you've probably come to notice that maintaining energy levels is key to his success. He is not great when it comes to stall tactics, especially when both the Sigil and the Shadow Control are eating at his energy.
- Shadow Control requires verbal commands to operate, meaning there will always be a slight delay when it comes to his chains.
- At this level, Mal needs to be physically touching an object in order to operate his Shadow Control. He does this by holding his chain belt. He can get rocks and throwing arms to fly out of his hands at quick speeds, but he cannot control them in the air.

- Oblivion
 Mal's secret technique, saved only for the worst oppressors (in his own mind) or the most desperate of situations. This was the only magical gift he achieved on his own merit without the experimentation of his parents, but the loss of his empathy gave this technique a much larger space to operate. Using the red crystal on the black chain, Mal begins to hypnotize an opponent, using magic to increase his target's suggestability, and force their subconscious to operate outside of the concsiousness' will. With this, he can issue one command that they have no choice but to follow, and it is enacted immediately. The title of this technique comes from the only two times he has used it. With his Mental Magic, he erases sections of the person's mind. Once, he erased someone's memories entirely, another time he simply removed a person's intelligent thought, leaving them with the thought processes of an infant.
This being said, Mal also knows how to perform actual hypnosis, but that only works if the target is both suggestable and willing. It is impossible to naturally hypnotize someone to do something that they are completely opposed to.

Drawbacks:
- This spell can and will backfire if Mal tries to use it when exhausted. He can end up trapped in his own mental prison that could take weeks to break free from.
- Even when he has enough energy, Mal will be out of commission for the next few days. He will enter a comatose state as his body tries to recover from the extent of the spell
- He cannot use this magic in conjunction with other magic. The other magic will reject this spell and cause it to backfire as it could deem the spell dangerous to its host
- His target needs to be sitting down and unable to move. Their eyes have to see both the red gem and Mal's eyes perfectly clearly and from up close. This usually means they need to be tied down and forced to look at Mal
- This spell has serious strain on the mind of the user, sometimes forcing him to lose some of his memories, or make them incredibly fuzzy. For example: Mal cannot recall his parents names, faces, most of the rooms in his own house, or even what the city he lived in looked like after the two times he's used it.

Other: Mal has one keepsake from his old life and he has been known to go mental without it (though you could argue that his constant talking with it could be described as mental). It is a stuffed red panda named Buster that is kept in a bag on his back at all times. He grabbed it on his leave from the university.

[User]
Sable saw the hooded boy lashing out with a chain and reacted appropriately. Gripping one of her knives, she hurled it downwards to intercept the attack, deflecting the blow. Now that the air was clear, she focused her descent on snatching the Relic. The Crimson Streak could see it clearly now, reaching out for the treasure…

"There are no do overs."

What?

Caught off guard, Sable instinctive flashed her knife out, slashing once at nothing but thin air. The blade of her dagger clanked against the Relic, sending it flying towards the man with the blindfold. Landing on the ground, she wondered immediately why her legs weren't running after it.

That voice…it took her a second to realize that it was coming from her head. Or rather, it came from her head, as now she heard nothing but the sounds of the external world. How odd. It had sounded…taunting.

Sable frowned, interest in the green Relic gone for now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Want…..Her….."

The voice called out again, except this time in the presence of Yem. It called out, yearning for the boy to find it, to seek it out. Then all things would be aligned once more. The voice seemed to be coming from one of the many cavernous ruins.

A faint purple glow reflected off of the walls.

[Assistant]
Yem looked at the light shining from within the ruins and frowned. He had of course heard about the purple relic as well, and he acknowledged that whatever was in there could be it, but seeking it out now was too risky. He was wounded and had spent his strength fighting the Drider. Using the amulet had saved him, but there were too many unknown factors in using it again while he was in this weakened state. It could also be another trap, or something completely different trying to lure him into its cavern. He would definetly return here later, as he could easily find his way back, but now was not the time. For now he would rest and heal and divine as much as he could about the relic currently in his possession.

He turned away from the light and, supported by his spear, began limping away through the night. He reckoned he could retrace his steps to that old tavern at the crossroads by dawn if he kept up the pace.

[User]
A curse danced on the edge of Mal's tongue as Naga hit dirt instead of the relic. As his swinging slowed, he pulled Crowley from the tree's bark and stumbled to the ground. The shadows gripping his chains dissipated in seconds as he struggled off the ground using the tree as leverage. He grinned at the scarlet warrior who knocked his spearhead out of the way as he started to pull back on the chains and work them into loops. His panting was heavy, and sweat dripped from his brow as he tumbled to the ground and leaned back against the tree.

 He scanned for the Relic. His vision passed over the rocky hands reaching out of the ground with one or two dislodged fingers, and they fell to the blindfolded man once more, who was holding the very same Relic in his hand. When the Crimson Streak's knife hit the relic, it must've knocked it over in that direction. Mal's eyes widened. He may have lost the race, but at least there was hope. Unlike the others, the blindfolded man gave off a somewhat different vibe. Maybe he wouldn't be willing to sell that power to the oppressive rulers of their world. It appeared as though the women in red was distracted by something else at the moment, but that wasn't Mal's concern at the moment.

 As he lay panting against the tree, with most of his energy expunged, he called out to the man.

 "Hey... What're you planning on doing with that relic?" He yelled from his sitting position. He tightened the chains around his waist like a belt of stone, "Coz if you weren't gonna sell it, then it's all yours..."

 He leaned back against the tree, and toyed with the idea of a nap. He could really use it, after all...


[System]
* Age:185
* Gender:Female
* Race: Wood Elf
* Appearance:Grouchy mode activated.
* Personality: Umbra, or Gwathneth as she is known among her kind, has a huge attitude problem. Having being born in a rather closed environment inside the elven forest of Thaln, she has been instilled an exacerbated sense of superiority, and she is rather condescending to anyone who is not a member of the fair folk. Living among humans has fixed this at face value, but it seems that there is an underlying feeling of discomfort and annoyance which makes her appear aloof and dry most of the time. Umbra, does however respect the value of seniority and she will usually listen to those with experience, and the opposite is also true. Umbra also shares somewhat of a hunter's mentality like that of others of her kind, and will not hesitate to kill if need be. She is also highly respectful of nature and the environment, and one could say she is more friendly to beasts than to humans sometimes.

Even so, Umbra is still a well-educated responsible individual, who takes her words and actions rather seriously, befitting her status as daughter of one of the Forest Rulers of Thaln. She also seems to be somewhat ideallistic, a sign of being relatively young as an elven. She also enjoys dancing, singing, and bathing outdoors. (All three activities can be easily seen if her guard is down or if she is drunk). She also prays to the elven forest gods rather the mainstream religion.
* Brief Backstory: Umbra was once upon a time, one of the Forest Queen of Thaln's daughters. Somewhat of a spoiled, rather vivacious child, she nevertheless took to herself to serve her mother and her community as an exemplary individual, even though she could not hide the disdain at the time for other races like humans. Being somewhat talented at archery, she was quickly drafted into patrolling the forests at an early age. This did nothing but enlarge her sense of self-entitlement, to the point that she even snapped badly at some human guests who had been invited to the forest. Her mother, the Elven Queen of the forest, sick and tired of her attitude, commanded her to serve under humans for two centuries, in order to quell her arrogance and xenophobia.

The Queen picked the Order of the Iron Roses, as they were one of the most renowned orders in the era, and it was decided that Gwathneth would be obeying the Knight Captain and the senior knights in every regard. Adopting the name of Umbra Thalnbound because on how often people mispronounced her actual name, she served an inordate amount of time (six or so decades) as an squire, most likely influenced by her haughty attitude. Nevertheless, due to her lifespan and perseverance, she eventually became a full-fledged knight a decade ago.

With the advent of the new captain, however, trouble has stirred. Knowing her discomformity, and attitude some people have begun to whisper in her ear, after finding that she, too, had been born under a full moon like the current captain. And the new addition to the list of captains she has served, Fanilly Danballion, seems like a more annoying and clumsy caricature of a knight than actual one in Umbra's mind. So why not take over the captain spot, and make the rest of her penance a lot easier?
* Equipment: Umbra owns a well worn set of elven leather armor with mithril chainmail, which offers moderate protection with little to no weight. She also owns an exquisitely crafted elven bow and and quiver of arrows, as well as two mithril shortswords. She has a camouflage cloak and hood to compliment the set. She also owns another set of ceremonial full plate armor as well as a dressing sword, but worth noting that she doesn't use those to fight, as they slow her down considerably.

Unusually for a knight, she doesn't possess a steed, as she dislikes animals being kept tied indoors.

She also owns several crafting and herbalism tools, to make poultices and ammo, as well as books in elven and her own diary. She also has a wooden ring, enchanted so it will stay alive and never rot, that shows her connection to the Thaln Elves' ruling caste.
* Skills:Umbra's fighting has been best described it as "climbing atop of trees and shooting arrows like the rest of the wood elves". While the generalization is rather crude and insulting, it has a grain of truth as Umbra boasts excellent sight (even low-level light sight, like cats) and hearing, and she's been training with bows since she was a child. She's one of the top skilled archers of the Iron Roses. In addition to that, she is very quick footed and nimble, able to perform acrobatic feats in the middle of a fight most humans would struggle to never achieve, and move at speeds that the eyes have trouble following. Her fighting style up-close can be described as pouncing fast and hitting before the opponent can know what's coming. She uses her two shortswords for such a purpose, in order to overwhelm her opponent in a flurry of attacks before they can land a hit on her. She has however, trouble with people who are more of stamina and power fighters, and she can't take nor parry many powerful blows before her elven build gives out.

Perhaps Umbra's most striking feature is her ability to tune in with the nature. She's practically one more of the forest denizens, able to track down and hide with efficiency, as well as having the ability to speak to beasts and animals. This is why she doesn't keep horses. She hates seeing tied animals and she can usually commandeer a stag if need be in a pinch. Even though, her grouchy nature makes it so she can only speak and listen to animals, not convince them to fight for her like other more skilled people in these arts. She also can use herbalism knowledge and treat wounds. She even knows the odd healing spell or two.
* Other: We kinda need some more anti-Fanilly faction.

[User]
Tyaethe spun around, taking stock of the battle and realising things were about to get very messy unless she intervened. That was exactly what she had been trained to do in the first place, though... what good was a defending paladin that couldn't break up a fight without striking a single blow? Her sword was big enough to work as a shield for more than one reason.

Alette's view of the captain was obscured by a looming figure in dull plate, and the incoming attacks impacted instead on a shield far more durable than the squashy mercenary would have been. The Shark wasn't being entirely trusted, either: any attempt to get at someone beyond Tyaethe would have to go through her shield, her sword, or the paladin. None of those options were going to present a clear chance of getting someone on the other side.

"STAND DOWN! That man was a traitor!"

How did she know? Simple: the bodies were several days old. They'd only received word of something happening at the fort today and had arrived to find the mercenaries still finishing off its previous occupants. So either more than one person had suddenly gotten away after days of the garrison being slowly decimated... or the mercenaries were telling the truth. But all the corpses were days old, so that wouldn't hold...

[Assistant]
Klaus
Klaus was about to head for the main gate till she heard an order from her captain to guard her flanks. She was a bit surprised that Alexander survived that charge, but backing away seems like a wise choice for that spear girl. She realized that the Knight on her captain's left flank was a bit too aggressive, so she readied with a more defensive stance, making sure that she got her captain well covered on the right flank.

And which man is the traitor? She got confused over that senior's command.

[User]
---FORT DAELANTINE---

It was clear to Jarde that this woman was dangerous but at least reasonable. "Well, I don't want to fight. It appears we're at a misunderstanding here."

And with a loud yell from one of the knights calling for a ceasefire, Jarde hoped that would get everyone's attention and get everything straight. He wondered though as to what actually happened in the fort. The reason why the mercenaries are here was also a mystery. If they are indeed here not as the enemy, then why are they taking the fort from the attackers? Jarde hoped all these questions can get answered in a table rather than in a cell.

There was also another question in Jarde's mind. "Oh and, what's a stingray?"

[Assistant]
Nori reluctantly lowers her blade, though she fails to put it away completely. She wanted to trust the undead womans words, having heard nothing but good things about her from her mistress. But still, the spear woman was angling a blade at the captain, and she would be derelict in her duties if she allowed someone to kill her current charge. She continues to watch the Shark, moving to Fanlily's side. "Are you uninjured captain?" She asks.

Gillian was less impressed by the claim, failing to lower his weapon entirely. "On what grounds?" He asks angrily, voice carrying across the courtyard as he ignored the looks of concern some of the rank and file knights threw at him. They may have been willing to charge at an unknown enemy, but few in the order were brave (or foolish as the case may be) to ignore an order from the undead sentinel twice.

[User]
Tyaethe's presence and handily halted any attacks coming from either side, it seemed.

"..."

Fanilly lowered her sword.

"Iron Roses," she called, "Stand down."

It was perhaps not the decision she would normally have made. However, these circumstances were strange. Even once the fight had begun, Alette had used only the shaft of her spear and not the tip. She had only brandished the tip once further knights had joined the fight. And many of the mercenary force had seemed rather reluctant... it was a curious circumstance, and in good conscience Fanilly could not push the battle forward any longer, not once Tyaethe had stepped in, in a bid to halt the fighting.

She trusted Tyaethe had seen something to make her certain enough that the battle was in error.

Alette raised her spear and rested it on her shoulder, cocking her head to one side.

"You should be glad someone thought to take a look," the blue-haired girl commented, "Things would've gotten a whole lot messier if it had taken any longer, y'know? I definitely didn't want to have to kill such a girl with such a pretty face."

Doing her best to ignore that last comment, Fanilly stepped towards the spear-wielding mercenary, glancing briefly towards the rabbit-eared swordswoman..

"I am fine, Nori" she began, before turning to face Alette once more. "Show us, then."

Alette simply shrugged, and used her spear to point towards the door that Tyaethe had opened.

Fanilly signaled for her knights to follow, and approached.

Within, her vision was filled with corpses lining the walls. Stripped of all their gear entirely, a few days old judging by the way the blood had dried, their throats uniformly slit. Blue eyes wide with horror, she looked to the left and right. Lines of bound, murdered soldiers continued out of sight. It looked like the entire population of the fort...

"... They... were all tied up and slaughtered..."

"See?" interjected Alette, "We're no fools, why would we kill your soldiers? These bastards are the lowest kind of scum-sucking shitbags to do this kind of bullshit."

She gestured to the corpses scattered across the ground.

Borifos sighed.

"You speak as if you have a distinct advantage," he began, "I cannot claim to be as versed in strategy as Lady Alette, but I cannot help but notice we are evenly matched in terms of numbers. I would advise you to quit your posturing with haste, as I believe it can only cause aggravation in your superior officers."

Alrial, on the other hand, simply stuck her tongue out at the other elf, before letting out a huff and looking away.

"Ah, you're lucky," said the deathly pale girl, placing one hand on her cheek, "My lovely Alette seems no longer to be in danger. Hah~"

The sigh that escaped her lips was one of infatuation as her eyes lingered on the blue-haired girl's body from a distance.

"... A... a stingray? A poisonous fish~ A blade tucked against its tail~ It looks rather harmless, but is in fact deadly," she explained, without looking away from Alette. "I believe I have the title because of my apparent charm masking my lethality, but... haaah~ My charm is nothing compared to Alette's, is it?"

[Assistant]
Silfern Valenthorn

"Lady Radistirin?" She blinked, her concentration fading as the object of her focus became obscured by the intimidating knight.

Silfern lowered her sword at the immortal's behest, but waited for her Captain's word before sheathing her sword completely.

With the tension finally lifted, Silfern returned to her usual easy-going self as she followed after the captain, her signature slight-smile re-emerging on her face before once again disappearing as they finally saw what they were looking for.

It was a scene of brutality. Judging by their wounds and the way they were bound painted a picture of a ruthless mass-execution. Remembering the wounded messenger that prompted this expedition in the first place, Silfern knelt down near one of the corpses.

"I wonder..." She hummed to herself thoughtfully.

[User]
"heh." Umbra just sneered at the comment of the other elf, her hand resting in her hip as she made a motion to pick up her cloak and once again, fasten it. She then began to walk inside the door, in graceful catlike steps. "Sir Borifos, you're also deluded. Do you think that numbers are everything? This little personality-cult you have with that fast mercenary of the spear cannot afford to even lose once, and yet she still acts as if she can defy everyone. Talk about the pot calling the kettle back, it was your leader's refusal to stand down what started this in the first place. We can afford to lose multiple times, as we're the a longstanding order of knights. You simply cannot compete with a knightly order in the long run."

She paused.

"Within a hundred of years this little group of yours will be nothing but bone and ash, and I will be laughing as the Iron Roses will still be standing." She huffed as she went inside, examining the corpses with certain disdain, as if they were just pieces of game meat ready to slaughter. "But go ahead, try to lecture me, try to say you're good enough and puff your chests. Beneath that flippant attitude your dear leader was afraid of getting caught in the middle of something without even wanting it."

Her hands wandered once again, and in a quick gesture, she deftly picked a small critter off the ground. The black puffball of the rat squealed at first, but seemed to settle down as Umbra reached for her pocket, gently offering some bread to the rodent, and scratching the back of its head.

"I'm going to interrogate a witness, don't mind me." She said to her fellow knights, as she stared deep into the squeaking rodent, her mind and senses sharpening.

Tell me what happened here, little one. She conveyed to the rat.


[System]
Nickname(Optional): June Bug

Age: 33

Gender: Female

Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.

Clothing:  Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.

Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.

[User]
Neil did not stay for long.

Taking a heavy wrench, he decided to leave the room untouched except for the one servitor whom he broke apart with a few heavy swings, mostly to see how well built they were and what made them tick with a cursory glance of the fallen corpse. It only took him one or two minutes of bludgeoning and examination before he ran off, leaving the children in the other servitor's care. As much as he wanted to liberate everyone here, the Highlander was not a nursery, and while he was pro-choice, this seemed to be a bit late in the pregnancy. The real injustice was to the women, particularly two he wanted to find pretty badly.

Neil went off, searching high and low. Every twenty meters there was an archway; some had nothing but voids behind them, others had similar birthing chambers, and some were essentially armories or storage rooms. No matter where he went, he couldn't find where they held the women, at least until he found an archaic stairway, the railings emblazoned with silver lines and stars in constellations he vaguely recognized. He didn't dally and wait around. Instead he sprinted up the stairs, wondering if he would ever find his fucking girlfriend and Taya.

The first door on floor two, he saw Sayeeda breaking Taya out of stasis. Neil saw Gerome in one of the pods in the midst of the women and he shook his head. The old priest really should have known better than to fuck with his junebug. He couldn't help but admire the sheer audacity. For Neil's part, he lazily leaned against the archway as she unlocked and shut down the stasis chamber, the air depressurizing and opening up for Taya to wobbly fall out of her limp constraints and into Junebug's arms.

"God, you're terrible at this." Neil said, and Sayeeda's combat enhanced reflexes moved with the speed of a hunting cat, her gun barrel pointed at Neil, her recognition of him just a second quicker than her decision to kill whatever made an unexpected noise within her presence. She lowered her gun in relief and smiled. Neil just shook his head. "You're the damsel in distress. You couldn't wait for three minutes before I rescued you. God!"

A 'spring' and a small crater chipping into the steel above his head made him jump, and more gunfire followed as Neil leaped into the room as weapons cracked from the stairway. Neil hugged the wall by the door, and Sayeeda laughed and tossed the 10 mm pistol she had procured from Gerome's companion. "Now's your chance, cowboy." She teased, dragging Taya behind some of the pods while she woke her up.

Shouts were heard down the hall, followed by more gunfire. Neil looked around, looked at his gun, then decided on a course of action. Seconds later, the four colonists, three with handguns and one with a double barreled shotgun entered the room, the first two immediately firing to the left and right. They were the first two to get shot in the head, but from above. The bullets ripping into them sent them into spasms. Swinging his upper body upside down to gaze into the hallway, lower body on the roof of the arch, Neil shot three times, killing the last two colonists. The shotgun went off, cracking apart of the wall and ricocheting pellets across the hall. No one screamed out, so everyone pursing must be dead.

"Clear!" he called.

[Assistant]
It probably said something about the last couple of years that rather than reacting to the sudden flurry of gunfire she merely peered around in confusions.

"What do they want from us," she asked, color slowly returning to her face as the effects of the cryosleep drugs continued to burn off. Junebug peered out into the corridor, finding it clear.

"Worry later, get out of here now," Junebug told her, not wanting to open the can of worms right now. Taya leaned down and scooped up a shotgun from one of the corpses, stepping awkwardly around the spreading pool of blood.

"Right," she murmured, shaking her head to clear it. Despite the fact that she had been training Taya for several months, Sayeeda would have been happier if she hadn't picked up the weapon. A blast from that in these tight quarters might accidentally clip her, or Neil, or both. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling, local allies were usually not to the standard of the mercs they hired, but you had to live with it. Or not of course, but you couldn't think that way.

"Let's move," Junebug declared, leading the way out into the hallway. While the interior of the ship was a warren, it was a simple fact of finding a companionway and heading upwards towards the surface. The ship was big enough that if there were other colonists aboard they couldn't form a clear picture of what was going on. Unfortunately by the the ship only had two exit ports that were easily accessible. One of them had been welded shut, the other had been dressed in the fake stone of the cathedral. A group of confused and nervous looking men, a dozen or so, stood infront of it. They were armed but clearly unsure of what to do. Sayeeda looked speculatively at her pistol and then across at Neil, who screwed up his face in an expression that read: Maybe but Maybe not.

"We can wait for them to try to come in," Junebug suggested, at close range there was a chance that the three of them could take a bunch untrained rustics. Given the shotguns though, there was a fair chance one or all of them would wind up dead.

"Maybe we should go back and try to use the old man as a hostage," Taya suggested. Junebug shook her head.

"Religious types are always willing to die for the cause," she explained. She tapped a finger to her temple.

"Saxon, are you reading me?" she asked through her mastoid implant. There was no response. Stars above where was the lizard? She couldn't imagine these rubes storming the Highlander and taking down the Hex. Perhaps some kind of jamming equipment was at play.

"We need a distraction," she said, eyes flicking to Neil for inspiration.

[User]
Neil looked at his girlfriend with raised brows, then looked at Taya and shrugged, nodding. "Sure, yeah."

Junebug cocked the hammer on her semi-auto and held it up at the ready while Taya wiggled behind her, still half drugged and confused at what exactly was happening. Neil took the moment to look around at their surroundings, up, to the side, and then at the ground. He found a few rocks to the left of the door, likely made of the rockcrete they used to make the archway. One was roughly the size of his fist. He shoot his hand out and grabbed it quickly, and only one man cried out at his exposed flesh, firing at where his hand had been, far too slowly. The others followed suit, firing at the empty entryway, causing the three to pull back as bullets ricocheted off the false granite and steel of the ship's hull. Neil started whistling, idly tossing the rock up and catching it while the fail of gunfire rained around them.

Soon the gunfire abated, loud clicking accompanying uneasy claims of needing to reload. Neil almost felt bad for them, but the fun he was having usually outstripped his guilt, particularly when they were trying to kill him. He cleared his throat, puffing his chest out.

"Grenade!"

The plain rock was openly tossed out of the entryway, sailing through the air. Before it even hit the ground, the brainwashed zealots scattered like mice, devoid of dignity and any hopes of ever getting laid. Neil shook his head, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Junebug didn't hesitate, raising her gun and stepping out like a maiden of war, her 10mm bloodied and pierced any men that looked like there was any hope of resistance. Villagers near where the party was being taken down became utterly scattered, screeching and clutching babies and small children.

Past some of the structures, something lurked. One of the transit vehicles was suddenly pushed on its side by something with immeasurable strength, and suddenly one of the fleeing men was lifted off the ground, impaled by a spike that sent his body in shudders. A saurian thing stepped out into view, and Neil sighed when he realized it was Saxon. A few slugs struck him, most bouncing off his ridged plates, one or two striking flesh but only doing superficial damage. He ignored them and began to devour the man he had on a spit, swallowing him whole. Even as the man's form was washed down his gullet, Saxon was on the move again. He snatched up one of the fleeing children next, his mandibles flexing as he marveled at the morsel.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Neil called, holding his hand out and pointing his gun Saxon's way. The xeno's predatory head switched to Neil, growling at the interruption. Neil glared at him like a dog, and judging by the looks of the crew behind him, he felt like he was vindicated when Saxon gave another growl and idly tossed the child away, causing the boy to roll across the ground relatively unharmed. "You humans are so picky! Adult, babe, they'll all be foes soon."

[Assistant]
Taya looked sick at Saxon's brutal dispatch of the villager. Junebug could remember a time when such a thing would have shocked her, but that was many years and many plasma bolts ago now. She felt a kind of hollowness inside of her as her mind ran through the possibilities of taking children hostage to guarantee safe passage to the ship. It hardly seemed necessary. These people were beaten and broken. There was a grim calculus to it all, the lives they had taken would be very difficult to replace.

"I can't believe you slept with him," Taya muttered, eyes locked on Saxon.

"Watch your sector," Junebug snapped, it was merc slang for mind your own business, but it was practical advice in this context also. The villagers were running but it only took one sniper to ruin your whole life. Junebug didn't glance at Neil but she hoped he hadn't heard that. The last thing she needed was for him to get all mopy about something that was long over and done with.

"Move out," Junebug ordered and the trio broke into a jog heading back west towards where the Highlander lay waiting.

The cathedral tower smoked sullenly, a quarter of its height sheared away by three precisely placed plasma bolts from the Highlander's main battery, the mass of plasteel and masonry had crushed several more houses. Smoke drifted up from several smaller fires where flying debris had set fire to houses but Sayeeda had permitted the locals to form bucket brigades to extinguish them. Even if she decided to ice the lot of them afterwards, it kept them occupied for the moment. The Highlander itself had been shifted to a ridge with a line of sight on the village, its heavy guns able to bear on the whole area. Runners had been sent to the other villages along the valley, warning them that any attempt to intervene would result in complete obliteration. Sayeeda hoped that they would take the warning seriously. She wouldn't take any pleasure in slaughtering a bunch of hapless peasants if they were stupid, but she had done worse, and more than once.

"You must understand our perspective," Brother Gerome bleated. The priest looked pale, waxy and unhealthy, eyes sunken and with the slight tremble common to poorly preformed cryostasis proccedures. Junebug was kitted out in her full battle dress, battered breastplate and combat helmet with visor down. The boxy brutal form of her disruptor rifle hung from a patrol sling, pointed forward but not aimed anywhere in particular. If the villagers had rushed her all at once, it was possible they might have overwhelmed her, but Junebug didn't think there was much chance of that. Several of the young men were in the process of heaving they cryopods out of the cathedral on hover dollies, sweating and muttering from fighting with the inertia of the things.

"For gods sake at least leave the ones who are with child, those children have fathers here and…" Gerome's entreaty ended in a grunt as Junebug swung the butt of her rifle into his face, sending him reeling back in a spray of blood from a broken nose. She followed him, kicked his legs out from under him and gave him another blow across the back of his head, dropping him senseless to the dirt. Cries of alarms went up and she drew her pistol from her belt and turned so that her rifle covered the villagers while the side arm pointed at the unconscious priests head.

"Keep moving," she said in a tone that was so without inflection it seemed to come from a robot rather than a woman. The pods resumed moving, heading down the road towards the distant highlander.

"That is the last of them," Taya reported, glaring down at Gerome with hatred as hot as Sayeeda's was cold. That was understandable given how close she had come to joining his little breeding program. Junebug lifted the pistol and offered to to Taya, nodding her chin towards Gerome. The blonde woman shook her head.

"Your loss," Junebug said, tucking the weapon back into her belt.

"My father said that revenge is rarely good business," she said quietly, eyes following a cart loaded with bolts of shimmer cloth as it rumbled down the road following the pods. None of them saw any sense in leaving the villagers with any valuables, though they hadn't bothered to search individual houses. Junebug grinned and though the expression was vicious it at least had a hint of humanity to it.

"I suppose that rather depends on the business you are in," she replied philosophically.

"Lets get out of here, I think I have all the bucolic pastoral scenery I need for the moment," she told Taya. As she turned and began walking down the track, her mind turned to Neil and their next destination, thoughts of burning villages dwindling away in her mind.


[System]
Universe: An original fantasy setting
Appearance: She's about 5'10".
Personality: Lucia is generally polite and soft-spoken, especially with those she doesn't know. She has a strong sense of justice and hates seeing innocent people suffer. She is very protective of her allies and willing to throw herself into harm's way to defend them. As a knight, she grew up learning about honour and chivalry. She is always eager to improve her skills, as both a knight and a mage.
Powers/Skills:
Swordsmanship: Lucia is a skilled swordswoman, having trained since childhood. She can easily hold her own against much larger opponents or groups of enemies.
Magic: She is also a capable spellcaster, able to use her sword as a focus to fire off her spells or channel magic through it to enhance her attacks.
* Blazing Heat: Creates a fireball which explodes on impact or used to superheat the blade of Lucia's sword, greatly enhancing its armour piercing ability.
* Fury of the Storm: Creates a bolt of lightning which chains between enemies or sends electricity coursing through her sword, enhancing its damage.
* Frozen Burst: Fires a burst of magic to freeze an area, potentially causing anyone crossing it to lose their footing. Alternatively, causes cold energy to surround her sword, before crystallising into spikes of ice on contact with an enemy, causing massive damage to unarmoured targets.
* Blessing of Might: Enhances her strength and agility.

Brief Bio: Lucia was born to a wealthy noble family in the city of Whitehill, with a history of providing knights for the royal guard. She began her studies in swordsmanship and magic at the age of five. On her eighteenth birthday, she left home and embarked on a heroic journey. She wasn't sure what heroic deeds she was meant to be accomplishing, but it was a tradition stretching back generations and she was happy to go. Since then, she has travelled in search of monsters in need of slaying, damsels in need of a knight in shining armour and other such glorious pursuits.
Equipment: Her sword, which is enchanted to be nigh-indestructible, due to some issues channelling fire and ice magic caused with mundane weapons, and her armour, which is just mundane steel.
Others: Not that I can think of.

[User]
Logan heard the clanking of pots a good distance away. It seemed all his faculties were about him again. He took the shot glass with him as he exited the empty tavern and went to find out the source of the racket--it had begun to give him a headache. Some miles of walking and he began to notice just how empty the streets were. Was this place that desolate? He hadn't seen this few people since Earth-807128. At least he wasn't some old bastard this time. As the clanging continued, Logan roused a growl from his lips. Whoever was making that racket would pay for it! He found the culprit and was ready to give her a mouthful!

"CUT OUT THAT DAMN--" it was a child. Logan huffed, his anger rebuffed by the small girl's joyous face. A smile almost creeped upon his face--then he killed it. He had seen adorable things before, and none of them made him smile. He sure wasn't going to let some small, adorable, innocent girl in a kimono break him. Not after all these years.

"Ey, let me have whatever the hell she's talking about." Logan grizzled.

[Assistant]
Pokémon Trainer Hilda
Hilda couldn't help but notice the redhead was carrying about a large spear. Her head tilted for a moment as she eyed it up, wondering just why she had it. After all, with Pokémon there was no reason to have such a weapon for protection, right? Kyouko didn't seem all that dangerous, but you could never be too cautious; just in case, Hilda placed a hand on her hips, specifically on the Pokéballs strapped to her belt.

"Mmmm, right, right..." Hilda nodded cheerfully, her other hand tipping the brim of her trucker hat. So she was just as lost as she'd looked, huh? "So were you in Castelia City before too or-"

The Pokémon Trainer trailed off as her nostrils twitched, an utterly heavenly smell filling them... And the rumble in her stomach reminded her that she'd never gotten her darned Casteliacone. The awkward singing echoing around only seemed to hammer in the fact, really.

"...Eh, big questions can wait for later, right?" Hilda laughed, not entirely covering up the rumbling. "Whatcha say we get somethin' to eat first? Man, I hope they've got enough for the rest of the team too!"

[User]
Shurelia

Scaramouche? Theatrical introductions aside, that was a name she did not recognize. If it thought that she was a member of royalty then she would not disabuse it of the notion. Though to be honest it was somewhat true, insofar as nobility was a thing. If anyone could be considered on Ar Tonelico, it would be her. Considering the impact she had had on human history, it was understandable that she would be so recognized.

"I do not know," she admitted after a moment. So there was no attack coming? But of course Mir would expect her to react so hostilely. It was probably waiting for her to let her guard down, or something like that. "I had thought I had fallen into the Sea of the Dead, but that seems unlikely." She wasn't about to be frank and admit that she thought this was a trap by Mir. Until she had a better handle on the situation, she would play along with the game.

She did not hide it as well as she could have hoped however, and she mentally cursed as it called her out on her concern. "I am fine," she reassured him curtly. Showing weakness now would just give it an opening to take advantage of. But fortuitously, or not, a distraction rapidly presented itself. A strange voice on the air, singing a bad song about....eating food? Suddenly Shurelia found her mouth watering, even with the business at hand. Getting possessed and fighting a lot before effectively killing yourself really took it out of a Reyvatiel.

"I suggest we see what that is," she decided, and without waiting for it she moved forwards, in the general direction of the voice. She didn't know where she was going but she was sure that she would find it eventually. For now, food called.

@ACHTUNG@VitaVitaAR

[Assistant]
Sakura Kyouko

Kyouko raised an eyebrow. Those were pokeballs, weren't they? This girl totally had pokeballs. Was she some kind of cosplayer or something? Castelia City?

"Nah, dunno anywhere by that name," Kyouko replied, though it did sound strangely familiar somehow, "I'm from Mitakihara, and this place sure as hell ain't Mitakihara."

The redheaded girl let out a huff. Where was this, anyway...? Before she could think on the Pokeballs, or her location, any longer, some horribly off-key singing hit her ears. That was awful, who the hell was caterwauling like that? It was just plain terrible! But that took second place to the amazing smell that hit her nose. Frying dough, sizzling meats... that was an incredible smell. It was like the smells that came out of festivals, the scent of those awesome street snacks that she would absolutely devour every chance she got. Without making a response to Hilda, the redheaded spear-wielder was off like a shot.

---

"A customer?!" The girl stopped her terrible singing and ceased her banging on the pots, quickly sprinting around behind the counter. Whew, nothing had burned, it all looked good! She knew her timing was perfect!

On display were a variety of snacks, some freshly prepared and some in the process of being being readied. On display were taiyaki and meat buns, takoyaki was frying away, meats were sizzling... indeed, the array of scents matched the array of foods on display. This guy was pretty grizzly, but he seemed hungry. She'd make the boss proud!

"If Yu-chan can make a recommendation, oji-san, the takoyaki is perfect!" Yu cheerily declared, her pigtails bobbing, As if on que, some of the takoyaki was finished frying. The small brunette swiftly placed two sets in a paper tray, skewering them and laying takoyaki sauce and various other toppings across them. "The boss might not be here, but Yu-chan is confident in her preparation!"

Hopefully it would be better then her singing.

... And suddenly, Kyouko was at the stand, immediately snatching up one of the takoyaki trays and devouring several of the octopus balls. The delicious flavor that flooded her mouth was exactly what she'd hoped for, even with the blazing heat of the freshly prepared street food.

"A-ah?! Hey, wait, you should pay first!" cried the girl at the counter.

"You shouldn't just leave it lying out where I can grab if if that's what you want," Kyouko replied, simply, before engulfing the remaining takoyaki with speed many people would believe impossible, especially when it came to such a hot food.

Samurai@Rin@Flamelord

[User]
Scaramouche

@ACHTUNG@VitaVitaAR

The toothy android simply rubs his chin as he absorbs the information told by Shurelia, followed by a rough response in being fine.

"So it seems you're lost as I am." he answers back, "Good to know. Sea of the Dead huh, sounds intriguing if you ask me, babe."

Scaramouche noticed a hint of something coming from her emotions. It was cloudy and hazy, but regardless she wasn't of any concern, at least he believed she isn't so. But even he can be seen with a hint of personal discomfort in regards to the place he is in.

"Great." he thinks to himself with frustrated grief, "Just great. How the blip-blippity-blamy hell am I going to go back to Lord Aku now?"

The next thing he sees is Shurelia's mouth beginning to water. At first, Scaramouche didn't know why she was doing that, until his smelling enhancers picked up the smell of something quite tasty.

"Huh?" he wonders as he takes two sniffs of the smell, "Ooh, what is that smell? That smells rather delicious babe! Looks like someone is cooking something nearby."

The female android suggests that they go see where it's coming from. Scaramouche agrees as he follows her to where the smell is coming from...

Even though he can't eat really.

[Assistant]
Lucia frowned at the news that these girls were just as lost as she was. At the very least, it showed her that who or whatever had brought them here must have been taking victims from more than just one plane. She raised an eyebrow as electricity sparked off of Mikoto's head. Was she another mage? The thought of learning about magic from another world danced in her mind for a brief moment...

Only to be replaced by the scent of...whatever it was and a young girl's attempt at singing. The knight placed a hand over her stomach, she had been waiting for her allies to return for dinner when she was taken, so the delicious aroma was rather distracting. Besides, someone who was setting up a shop and selling food couldn't be as lost as they were, right? So investigating the source was the most reasonable course of action.

"Shall we take a closer look?" she asked.

She was hesitant to invite herself to join the duo, as it seemed a little rude in her mind. However, with the alternative being leaving a pair of unarmed children (even if one seemed to be a magic-user) in a strange, mostly abandoned town like this, with goddess-knows-what potentially arriving from different realities, it was her duty as a knight to accompany them. And maybe she could ask about that magic later.


[System]
"My people's concerns come first. Everything else, second."

---

---

Character Summary
Aliases: N/A
Age: 24
Birthday: December 21st
Race/Species: Glacian
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Arduenia
Jewel color: Purple Dusk - Sapphire
Class/Caste: Prince
Languages: Common, Glacian
Occupation: Ambassador

---

---

Appearance
Height: 5'09"
Weight: 146lbs.
Body Type: Athletic
Eye Color: Blue-Gray
Hair Color: Platinum Blonde
Skin Tone: Pale

---

---

Psychology
Sexuality:
Bisexual - Claims asexual
Relationship Status:
Single
Personality:
Arsenio is a self-described high functioning sociopath, a well-founded assumption of himself given his distance with his own emotions. They're a foreign concept to him, and it takes a lot to get a reaction out of him beyond passing curiosity. He sees the world as a tactical map and bases every decision on it. He places his people's interests far above his own and does almost everything on their behalf. He keeps everyone at arm's length aside from his pet owl, Zedreus, who stays at home most of the time. He has a good ear for music and commonly has a violin with him.
Habits:
Arsenio tends to chew on the inside of his lips when in deep thought.
His left hand typically hovers around his sword, either resting on the crossguard or gripping the hilt.
Hobbies:
Arsenio enjoys practicing swordplay and sharpening his tongue.
He plays the violin in his free time, and is considered good at it by most standards.
Fears:
Failure - A primal fear that manages to get an emotional response from Arsenio.
Zedreus' Safety - As one of the few beings he cares about as an individual, Arsenio fears for the safety of his beloved pet.
Likes:
Logic and Reason
Swordplay
Cold Weather
Dislikes:
Hot Weather
Irrationality
The concept of luck.
Skills
General Skills
Negotiation
Etiquette
Financials
Combat Skills
Martial Arts
Swords
Daggers
Magic skills
Arsenio's magic is typically used for offensive blasts, increased movement capability, and improving his balance.

---

---

History
Background
Arsenio Michalis Graves was born on the Winter Solstice, youngest of four siblings and the only male one at that. His mother was a Healer as were his sisters, and as the sole male in the family he recieved the brunt of all their fury. However, that of his siblings never seemed to bother him at all, and that of his mother broke him down. That said, he didn't have the healthiest home life. The mother-son relationship was fear and acknowledgement, not love and support.

During his Birthright ceremony, Arsenio's father was sent away from the family, strange considering he had been allowed to stay for his daughters previously. Whatever her motivation, he left when told. Meanwhile, Arsenio himself had a significant hold on magic which was recognized during his ceremony. As such, he recieved a Purple Dusk jewel, not quite an Opal rignt off the bat but a half-step below. From here, a plan to raise the social status of the Graves family began.

The youngest Graves sibling was raised with a level of abuse that ingrained a toxic mentality in him: His life didn't matter, but others did. As such, he took every fall for his sisters and friends, quickly becoming the problem child in any sort of schooling he was granted. Quite frankly though, it didn't matter to him, as long as he was alive for the next day.

His Offering took place on his 17th birthday, during which more of his magic potential was unlocked to him. He traded out his Purple Dusk jewel for a Sapphire, a dull blue that actually matched his eyes quite well. Almost as an act of good will, his normally indifferent-at-best mother made a purchase on his behalf: the snowy owl Zedreus, a young bird that could potentially grow up to be a fierce hunter. He didn't, instead existing to bring Arsenio some level of peace.

Some years later, he was picked up by Arduenia's Court for the purpose of becoming an ambassador, something Glacia was strangely short on. He gladly accepted, not that he had much choice, and started as soon as possible. Since then, for around four years, he's travelled all over in an effort to improve Glacia's relations with the world, with varying results.

Even someone as logical as Arsenio can't garauntee success.

---

---

Additional Information
Other
Arsenio lacks almost all emotion on the surface, which he considers a boon.
He has three older sisters that regularly harass him, wherever he may be.
Theme Song:

"The Coven will benefit from a blank mind like yours..."

---

[User]
Onyx Bright

---

The markets of Hayll were honestly one of the best places to go if one was looking to buy some pretty awesome things. Onyx wove her way through the cobbled streets, a grey and white Scelt padding along at her side, easily keeping pace with her even though his stride was so short compared to hers. Glancing down at the pup, Onyx slowed down slightly so he wouldn't have to run to keep up with her- but instead of slowing down to stay with her, he just kept running, making circles around her now as they walked. Kirara's energy really was boundless.

Onyx shook her head at the Kindred as the two made their way from shop to shop. They were looking for one specific item today- a set of paints made to glimmer and shine on the paper. Eventually they'd find the right store, but for now Onyx was enjoying spending time with Kirara, wandering the winding roads through the city and looking through all the amazing, interesting things that the many shops would sell.

After a few hours, they found the store that had what they were looking for. As Onyx left the shop, a drawstring bag filled with a rainbow-and-a-half's worth of small jars of paint in her hands, the sun was high in the sky. "Well then little brother. What should we do next?"

"Food! It's food-time!" Kirara's voice rang out happily as he began to sniff the air around them, his ears perking up once he found what direction the nearest scents were coming from. "There's food this way! Follow!"

"Okay, lead on little brother." Onyx smiled brightly as the Scelt wove around the legs of those around them, finding a path for himself and Onyx now since she'd finished her task for the day. Soon they came to a tavern that didn't look too bad from the outside. Onyx was about to open the door for herself and Kirara to enter, but suddenly Kirara wasn't by her anymore. She looked around frantically for a moment, wondering where her little brother had gone, until she noticed him making his way through the crowd to where a gap had formed around one man as he walked down the street.

"Kirara!" She called after him, but he didn't turn around. She began making her way towards him and the man.

---

Kirara didn't mean to walk away from big sister, it just sort of, happened. As the two were reaching the door to the food-place, he noticed a different smell on the air. A very angry man was walking down the road, and that wasn't good. People should be happy! Like him and Onyx! He knew Onyx would want to help him, Onyx likes helping people, so Kirara was going to just tell her about the man. But, by the time the thought registered in his mind, he was halfway through the crowd already.

He heard Onyx call after him. He just kept walking now though, calling back to her a second before he made it to the man. "Follow!"

"Prince! Why are you angry? Angry is not good!" Kirara sat on the ground in front of the man-prince and cocked his head to the side as a woman appeared behind the man. She began talking to the man-prince and dragging him in a different direction than he had been walking. After a second, Kirara spoke up again. "You should come eat food with us. Food is good!"

As if on cue, Onyx appeared from the crowd behind Kirara just as he finished speaking. It took her a second to realize what was going on, and she bowed slightly to the man-prince before she spoke.

"I'm sorry if Kirara is bugging you..." She glanced over at the Scelt before saying more quietly to just him, "Were you bugging them?"

"No! I'm helping! Angry prince needs food." Kirara answered, way too loudly. "Food always helps."

[Assistant]
Mikahiel Zypheros
Dirt was lifted into the air as the galloping hooves of a horse trampled the ground at a great speed. It was then that the sight of the dark brown horse nearing the entrance to Hayll. A tattered scarf danced in the violent winds created by such rushing speed. The figure that rode atop the steed was blurred in the dark cloak that wrapped his face and body. He brought his horse to a slow gallop as he neared the entrance where people congested the path he was taking. He maneuvered past these people with the elegant steps of his horse and made his way to a unoccupied stable. There he swiftly rolled off his horse with a kicked out leg and brought its reigns to a pole and wrapped it around the pole. He patted the large head of the animal before letting it dip its head into the water for a drink. "Drink up ol boy you deserve it."He muttered before checking his hip for his blade which was safely sheathed on his side and walking off.

Mikahiel Zypheros untied the tattered black cloth from around his face and lifted the cloak off his shoulders. He placed it into his bag which sat on his horse and then lifted the bag from off the horse and carried it with some effort on his back. He made his way down the busy street and found a kind inn. Inside he rented a room and dropped his items off and locked the door for safety. He then looked at the sun as it was still bright within the sky. "I need a hot meal." He muttered to himself with a sigh and came from the halls of the inn and out the door. He moved some of his disheveled strands of hair out of his face and stood at the front of the inn trying to figure out which direction to go. Never has he been here before but it was simple. Almost too simple for his tastes.

"A decent bite is all I ask." He spoke before steadily making his way down the street to observe the shops.

[User]
Location - Hyall
On a long road from places unknown came a pale figure, appropriately cloaked due to the beating sun and dry air. He was used to the latter of these, but the former was making him sweat much more than he would like. Never again would he volunteer to come to this end of the world, someone else can take the walk from the city to here. He stopped for a moment and put a gloved hand up against the sun, shielding his eyes from the star's harsh rays, and ahead of him he saw a settlement of sorts. "...Good a place to stop as any..." he mumbled, confident that there was no one around to hear him. With a grasp of the canteen on his hip, the man set out for this town, glad to know he's been going in the right direction for the last few hours. The metal container rose to his lips and poured out some life-giving water into his mouth, which was quickly swallowed.

The rest of his walk later, Arsenio Graves began to regret leaving the Winds as early as he did. There was no threat here, this town was actually quite bustling, the dead opposite of what he expected from a town with no shade whatsoever. Based on the heat, he doubted this settlement even had a winter! It wasn't an issue though, he was where he needed to be. He started to look for the nearest inn, disregarding the hole that had formed in the street, or the tall woman chasing after something in the middle of it all, instead following the stride of a man in a blue coat with brown hair. Sure, it was from a distance, but he seemed to know what direction he was headed in. Hopefully it lead to a place to stay for a little while.

Thankfully, it did. Arsenio entered behind the man and booked himself a room, heading up to it soon after. He opened up the door and peered inside, pleasantly surprised to find that it was well-furnished for such a small village. A nice bed, a desk, a dresser even, a room fit for someone on important business. He set down his cloak and some of his traveling gear, keeping his sword and dagger on him as always before heading back down to the first floor. Once there, he sat at the bar and ordered himself a drink before sitting back and engaging in one of his favorite pass times: People watching.


[System]
Appearance

Age 24

Role I'd love to be Assault, but that's taken.

Personality Alexander is embittered and cynical, as well as someone who feels guilt over crimes he committed in his old life, back when he was brainwashed - said crimes involve sending a captured 16-year old pilot to be tortured and enslaved just after his first mission, an action repeated many times in his career as a corporate slave. Even now, he is skeptical of New Anchorage's intentions, as well as its prospects of being a world power; he can see how power can corrupt even the most well-meaning, as well as the odds stacked against the settlement. However, he resents the corporations, especially Red-Star, more, and is willing to work for New Anchorage because it really is a better alternative.

Backstory Alexander Sky's parents were Europeans from Paragon or Volkov who had been captured by Red-Star in inter-corporate struggles, and enslaved (not that they weren't slaves already). Forced to breed in captivity, they concieved Alexander, who, from a young age, was, yes, precociously intelligent, but also obedient, with a submissiveness enhanced through brainwashing that began from a young age (six or so). He was taught that he was an inferior being due to his European origins as well as his parents' prior opposition to Red-Star, and that the only way he can make up for his inferiority is to obey his masters in all things, including piloting an NC one day against the enemies of Red-Star.

One day, he got that chance, being given an NC called the Phoenix, which he customized to his specifications; his first taste of freedom. Piloting it through several missions where he served the Red-Star faithfully, capturing many pilots to share his fate of enslavement, while at the same time...doubt grew in his mind, doubt that he was doing the right thing. Even 'remedial' brainwashing seemed to delay the onset of the doubts only slightly, but as his successes grew, Red-Star decided to use Alexander for as long as possible, then kill him once he was no longer useful and take his mech to give to another. But not even they can count on the speed with which their 'pet' pilot just...snapped.

One day, on one of his last solo missions, a solo mission intended to be a suicide operation, Alexander vanished. His tracking devices just no longer worked, his mech no longer sent in comms, to everyone, the only proof that he wasn't dead were the fact that they never found the mech or his corpse, as well as a message of apology he sent his former Operator, a message that said:

I am sorry, but I realize now, that I cannot be a slave anymore, that freedom and independence, although they carry risks, are sweet for those who would hold on to them. That I no longer want to serve Red-Star and make war for them. I want to fight for myself now, no one else. You have been a kinder person than my other masters, but I want no master now, no one to bind me.

Rumors would appear of Alexander acting as an Independent, attacking Red-Star assets as a mercenary. In time, however, his first true concrete appearance would be at New Anchorage, offering his services as a pilot in exchange for sanctuary...

Tactical Preference & Skills Alexander is a jack-of-all-trades, master of one - assault and melee combat, where he excels in tearing off the weapons of enemy mechs, so as to enable them to be captured. Away from his mech, the young man has picked up an array of skills both combat and non-combat; combat ones include pistols, and carbines; no harder arms, although Alexander is good with the Jian (Chinese Longsword). He is also moderately skilled in unarmed combat (a mix of various martial arts). However, where he truly shines is outside of combat, where he knows History (at least what can be known), Cooking, and playing the Violin.

Notes Alexander has a 90% Sync Ratio.

Alexander is Bisexual, but this will be rarely explored, as this is an Action RP. Nope, Alexander is one of those 'Lovable Sex Maniacs'.

Alexander's Theme Song

Text Color Default

NC
Codename Phoenix
Appearance vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/codegeass..
Body & Type Bipedal-Hover
Equipment & Armaments Anti-laser/sensor Chaff launchers, wheeled feet. Weapons: Righthand Thermal-claw gauntlet, Heatray, Armor-piercing grappling hook, Left-arm internal SMG

[User]
PERCY MOOREMESS HALL, NEW ANCHORAGE FACILITY

SEVERAL MINUTES AGO

---

Ana nearly slid right into a table as she arrived in the mess hall; she didn't mind, though, cause she definitely won the race. She looked back and grinned at the blonde tailing just behind her. "You're a rotten egg!" Ana teased.

"ANA," Percy's exasperated voice rose over the two girls laughing about the race. He lowered his shout to more of an angry whisper, "You get over here right now, young lady."

Ana's beaming smile turned into a very small frown; she knew she was in trouble just by the way Percy spoke. However, before Percy could make another comment towards his daughter, a loud yet irritable sigh became apparent. Percy caught the eyes of a command officer of which he wasn't particularly familiar of who had been put in charge of making sure himself and the other NC pilots had kept to the mandatory scheduling that Graham had ordered.

"Moore. Jackspar."

The man was not thrilled about what he was seeing here and up until today he had never even engaged with any of the NC pilots due to the fact that he was Alvarez's underling who kept the files archived in perfect order. While he was probably thrilled to get out of the databanks and away from the servers his new responsibilities irritated him. Alvarez had deemed him worthy of being a "babysitter" and even Percy could tell he wasn't a fan.

"The mess hall is not a playground. See to it that your wards understand that." He looked at his watch. "You are the first, but there is still plenty of time for the rest of your unit. Let us hope they are on time. You may receive your rations in fifteen minutes."

Percy nodded curtly in response before dealing with his child, having her sit down at the closest table, back to the table. Percy then knelt down in front of her so he could make focused eye contact. "You know better than that," his voice was stern - a possible surprise to anyone listening. Who knew Percy, of all people, could actually sound like he actually meant business?

Ana looked confused for a moment - she had been listening to Jon speak and got side tracked - before understanding, "Sorry."

"You know better than that! You could've bumped into someone. You could have slipped and fell. You could have cracked your head open! These are metal floors! Do you know what metal would do to your pretty little head, Ana!?" Percy held her loosely by her arms, making sure she's paying attention.

"I know, dad," Ana's voice was small, "sorry."

Percy let the words sink in for a moment before he continued, his voice softer.

"Let's not race in the hall anymore. Okay? Please?" Percy smiled, letting go of Ana's shoulders.

Ana nodded, looking at Vera briefly before settling her gaze to the floor, noting the little pattern of the metal. She winced a little as she thought about how bad that'd hurt if she did fall.

As Percy stood up and sat down next to her, he spoke again, "I'm not mad. I was just a little worried. It's fine."

The little redhead girl turned around so she'd be facing the table, looking up at the clock: 11:46. She let out a tiny groan - she had to wait fourteen more minutes to eat?

[Assistant]
Yeshua shifted into the cramp cubicle, the sepia yellow dominating and also receding at the same time. The walls were peeling off like a snake's skin, revealing the grainy cement beneath it. Lights had been left on for far too long, and most of all, the stall was hot. It was creeping down his neck, and made his hair sticky. He tore a few rolls of paper off the bacteria-ridden handle. Damp toilet roll dabbed at his cut, removing the blood and hopefully keeping the wound clean. The glass had been on the floor, Yeshua remarked, which meant it might as well have been covered with every known disease to man.

He was in a rush. If his guessing was right, the stop would be coming up any second now. Looking down to his magnum opus, he tried to remove all visual information from the accident. He scrubbed and rubbed and eventually ripped off his trousers in a fit of muscle-worked rage. The front of the trousers was hot, like an iron, and had been worn away to just a thin sheet. Thumping his forehead, he scrunched his hair into a ball and wish he could throw that in the corner, too.

Knock on the door. It surrounded him, pinned him to the ground, and froze him. The entire carriage, the stall, the outside world, his mind, was silent.

Another knock. His tongue begged for action, his feet begged to run, while his eyes remained fixed on the door. His glasses fell onto his nose.

The door crept open, against the heat. His foot flung forward. It smashed closed, catching the intruder's fingers at the closing bang.

"Ah, jeez! Sawrry bud, make shurr ya lawck it next time, OK?"
The murmurings trailed off as he felt pressure lift up from his shoulders. His hair flopped down once again.

He had nothing else to wear.

Through the misted window, where one would expect the Pacific wildlife, he noticed that the countryside and desert was devoid of all colour. The tidal forces of the carriage had ceased carrying him. They had left him alone, in his boxers, in this cubicle. They were waiting for him.

He had carried nothing else into the cubicle apart from himself, and now his trousers were truly ruined. The only pair was in his travel bag. He heard the commotion of every passenger heaving themselves off, thudding like a herd of wildebeest to the watering hole. Yeshua waited in angst, in denial.

The toilet flushed behind any unwanted remnants.

The door, with the smallest of moments, became open, and the strangely naked being crept out of it.

Outside, the brilliant blue sky was smiling down on the world, the sun so clearly unaffected by personal troubles. It remained steadfast above the fast-forming queue, ready to be taken to the New Anchorage base, wherever it may be. Wildlife was far behind them, but still visible, as even the most average birds flew in the sky, their deformities obsolete and unnoticeable.

In the last few seconds before perfection, Yeshua triumphantly strolled out of the tram, his eyes intent on his soon-to-be unit. He lifted his head in visual and audible range, smiling.

"Oh dear, oh dear, I shall be too late! Yeshua Horowitz, NC pilot of the Anzu."

[User]
---

---

ALVAREZDEPOT STATION, NEW ANCHORAGE

AROUND NOON

---

---

His hand flipped to her dossier on his datapad as he looked to the individuals that took initiative in their posture and form, but Matthew Alvarez wasn't from a military background so it didn't invoke much for him personally. There were a lot of interesting individuals even discarding their appearance of a disorganized motley crew of lost discarded toys. But in a lot of ways they were to become Graham's toys now, assuming they agreed to his terms— though the reality was that they were already famillar with the contract New Anchorage gave them and they signed eagerly. He wondered if anyone of them had read it in greater detail when most of them were so ridiculously desperate. But desperation led to many things such Graham's operation. But they could always resign from their position if they wished. He wondered which ones would actually stay on for more than a week given his overview of what Graham had planned for them.

Heh.

Not all of them were NC pilots though. Graham had sent out contracts for people in financial, military, logistic, and maintenance fields as well as asked for people by name such as his various children. When Graham arrived Matthew was to direct the non-pilots to their designations and familiarize them with their accommodations and responsibilities. He stopped to think what could've been taking Graham so long? But before he could pursue the thought for much longer a voice cut from behind him. Graham's.

"Alvarez."

Matthew turned his head and there he was, as expected. Graham must've done a routine check to see if everything was in order before meeting with the recruits.

"Bring me up to speed."

"No absences. But they seem to be as heterogeneous as described by our reports— their dossiers are up-to-date excluding information we could not acquire from Red-Star that they deemed confidential about Styles and Sky. I have read up on their contractual information as well and they have all agreed to the contract New Anchorage sent them so there shouldn't be any issues going forward." Matthew stated as he pointed to the two aforementioned pilots as if making a note of them with the datapen before handing over the datapad to Graham.

He nodded as he looked to the group.

"Non-pilot staff will go with Alvarez. Pilots will come with me. Any questions?"

[Assistant]
ALEXANDER SKYLOCATION, NEW ANCHORAGE

The clause allowing Alexander to resign at any time was a comfort to the 24-year old as he watched the other pilots gather around him. Right now, he felt comfort in their presence, except for Tahlia's, but he supposed he had all the time in the world to repair relations. Of course, he was more than certain that the piss had come from the sixteen-year old among them, but he was not going to betray the kid, not unless he asked for it.

Then, he saw Graham, and his thoughts were: Wow, that man is attractive. Did he just age well, or did he use medical tech? Of course, Alexander wasn't dumb, he felt like Graham was someone who took advantage of the pilots' desperation to give them a contract that signed away their rights, as well as a hard man who was a former elite pilot of Denver-Vegas for a reason. But still, that face, those looks! And he was meeting them as soon as possible! Now, time to think up questions, questions that would hopefully not betray his hopefully temporary infatuation.

He needed something related to military matters and the base, something actually relevant and not a waste of time.

"Sir," he said, "What is the military history of New Anchorage? All I know is that it is an independent outfit that takes on mercenary jobs with a complement of skilled pilots and that it has a feud with more than one of the Mega-Corps." There, something relevant and useful for new pilots to know. Also, Alex was sure his voice was even, that his eyes were level and not too wide, and of course, that he wasn't sweating with tension.