[System]
Age: 23

Race: Human

Appearance: Ayse's appearance meets what one would expect from a Salamander of the Endless Ones; a red, scaled, long coat over a white chiton. Her gray eyes only reinforce this image as they smolder like coals when the flames come to her call.

Equipment: Scarlet coat, clerical tunic, sandals, engagement ring, charred staff, dagger, traveler's pack, and a planar compass.

Personality: Ayse is warm, inviting, and carries herself with an easy and unhurried manner. She loves getting to meet new people and hearing their stories as much as she enjoys telling some of her own. She's willing to give almost anyone the benefit of the doubt provided that they treat her the same. It would be wrong to assume this is naivete. Her anger can burn just as hot as the flames she commands.

History: A lifelong native of Apothicus, Ayse was promised to the Endless Ones. This wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Like many other families who lived on the edge of poverty, having a child promised to the church meant one less mouth to feed and a mark of prestige. It left Ayse without any support save for the cold doctrine of the church, unfortunately. She withdrew into herself, isolated as she was, and would have ended up as nothing more than a lowly scribe or clerk if not for a particular misadventure.

Vernon Rouse, a former friend of her mentor Bern Green, sought to gain access to the church's financial records through less than official means. Vernon wanted the documents destroyed so he could begin spreading rumors about misappropriated funds by the church's senior members. Without the documents they wouldn't be able to prove he was lying and he could extort them for money as he wished. The lack of papers would only make them look more guilty, like they were trying to cover it up.

He and some of his associates kidnapped Ayse to force Green to hand over the documents and fled to their hideout in the sewers. Everything had gone spectacularly except for the chance intervention of a tribe of sewer goblins. The fighting was vicious and Vernon's gang was forced to flee, leaving Ayse behind. As all this was happening Bern, unwilling to risk his position within the church for a simple neophyte, informed his superiors of Vernon's desire for the records and Ayse's abduction. He would be safe no matter what happened and from his perspective finding Ayse was the problem of the city's guards now.

Hoquin, a meln boy who was a fellow captive who tried to intervene when he'd heard the whole plot, got left behind with Ayse. Together they braved the tunnels, warrens, pipes in an attempt to return home. Ayse learned much from Hoquin about navigating the under-city and found a solid core of resilience she never knew she had. She discovered her aspect of fire as well and used her new control over flame to protect them in their trek.

Upon their return to the city proper they filled in the gaps in Vernon's plot, although the man still managed to slip through the fingers of justice and remains at large today. Bern, craven as his attitude was, maintained his position as an instructor. Ayse was admitted into the Order of the Salamander and was chosen help heal and purify travelers from the Infinity Bridge. Hoquin was taken in by the Adventures Guild and stayed in touch with her after the ordeal. Their friendship eventually blossomed into a love that resulted in Hoquin's proposal.

Promising to marry her once his latest guild run finished, Hoquin left, but never came back. His soul never returned to the blood crystal and his gear never showed up at the Magi Emporium. He's still out there, somewhere, and Ayse refuses to believe that he would just take off and leave her. Now she travels out into the unknown hoping to find him again.

Guild Ranking: Wood

Misc:
Aspect- A reflection of the true self connected to the greater whole of reality. Aspects are concepts made manifest and allow their users to tap into their innate magic.

Ayse's magic- Her flame is that of the purifier. She can burn away disease, wounds, and the wretched alike. It is a small flame to be sure, but fire readily grows when given the proper fuel.

Meln-

Tall and lithe humanoids that were trapped on this world after being left behind by a rift. They are nimble, quick runners, and good climbers, traits that make them ideal scouts for surveying new terrain. The rediscovery of their old home and people, lost among the infinity, has been the goal of many meln. It occupies a mythical place in their history, not unlike Avalon or Eden.

Planar compass- Unlike normal compasses, which align according to magnetism, a planar compasses point towards a particular person, place, or thing. To activate it, the bearer must procure something intimately related to the thing they are looking for and insert that item into the compass. For Ayse it was a shaving of Hoquin's blood crystal.

Goals: To find Hoquin and beginning their life together. She travels in the hope that in some rift her compass will react and lead her to her love.

[User]
Marianne saw the effect of the roar immediately. The Skavens immediately scattered to the four winds, as fear gripped their hearts and minds. Marianne would have said they were cowards, if not for the fact that she felt fear herself from the roar. And she was standing far away from its source. Imagine what strength would it have on point blank range.

The dwarves used this opportunity to rally their strength and morale, countering back the skavens that had them on the ropes just a while ago. However, they viewed their party as enemies too, as they aimed their crossbows towards Grendrick. She just hoped the lycan could dodge their bolts and get out of there as soon as he could.

The melee fighters of the group charged forward. They attempted to intercept the skavens running across the bridge right towards her and the other support fighters. Most of the skavens would refuse to engage and just ran past them, but a pair of brave, or foolish, skavens thrusted their spears towards the orc.

Marianne knew this would be her time to act.

She willed her insects, all of her bees, towards the approaching skavens. They all eagerly swarmed out from every hole of her dress, from her sleeves, from her feet, and some even crawled out from the white underclothes that covered her chest. They flew with one purpose, to delay the movements of the skavens as much as they could.

Marianne could hear the skavens' horrified shrieks as her bees swarmed over them. They all tried to shoo them off, but their efforts were in vain, as the bees could easily dodge their swings with their superior speed. And just after one minute, and hundreds of bee stings, the skavens could feel their muscles weakening, and their heads turning dizzy. Sluggish and disoriented, they would be an easy prey for the rest of the party.

[Assistant]
He was swept up in the throngs of war and emotion. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands were moist with sweat. In front of him, moving in such a slow state that it could only have been produced by his irrational mind, was Gendrick and the others. Behind him, was those that could not fight in close quarters. Inwardly he wondered who he should protect.

Everyone, was his gentle response.

But he knew that wasn't the priority. Trying to save everyone would lead to mistakes. His mistakes could lead to everyone's death. The decisions were back-breaking, if he was to survive, he needed to silence it all. So he focused on one thing; not letting any rats pass him.

Nove's gaze went dark, a dull copper in spite of his once-lively bronze. His longsword was held at the ready as fleeing skavens started towards him. He raised his buckler in his other arm, prepared to guard if one or more had decided to strike at him.

They rushed by and every time one came close to passing him, he engaged with above-average speed and strength. With every blow he struck, Nove would yell his victory beforehand. A battle-cry of sorts that echoed in his throat.

[User]
As the howl died down, the effects of it became apparent. The ratmen started fleeing the battlefield, all of them scrambling for the bridge. Fariha smirked, as she released her arrow. The arrow whistled through the air before slamming into the heart of a distressed Skaven. The projectile's momentum countering the forward movement of the rat's body, causing it to just flop lifelessly on the spot. The problem with most of the ratkin's movements was that it was awfully erratic. Their nimble feet carried them left and right as they ran in fear of the large beast that howled.

Fariha had disconnected herself from her group for the most part, but support was still around. Marianne's insects were slowing down the Skaven whilst Nove cut them down as they came passed him. Some of the ratkin had reached her position on the bridge, but instead of fleeing in fear, they brandished their weapons, striking out at the elf. While most archers would pull out their knife for a close quarters engagement, Fariha was confident in her agility. The wood elf jumped over a spear thrust before planting her feet into the Skaven's face, pushing off of it like a platform. She somersaulted in the air, pulling another arrow from her hip quiver. Thrum. THWACK! In one swift movement, she had nocked and fired the arrow into the throat of one of the Skaven.

Another ratkin struck out at her with his crude sword, leaping forward with an exaggerated overhead swing. Fariha sidestepped the sloppy attack, grabbing the rat by the arm before pulling him forward to put him further off balance. Her other hand unsheathed her hunting dagger in an icepick grip. In an instant she stepped forward, stabbing the beast clean through the back of the neck. She pivoted sideways, pushing the body away with a kick to the waist as blood poured out of the stab wound. Fariha clicked her tongue in disgust as some of the blood splattered onto her boot.

[Assistant]
Sylvia assessed the situation.

The Skaven swarmed the group, rushing past Grendrick and into the rest of them. For some reason, those dwarves were shooting at him with their crossbows. Idiots.

That orc was demolishing the Skaven that it could catch with his axe, blood and parts flying all around.

The Skaven were rushing towards the back, trying to escape the massacre. Marianne was swarming the rat-men with her insects, distracting and stinging them. Faria was dispatching Skaven to her right with her bow and arrow.

Given the current chaos, it was the perfect situation for someone like Sylvia. She recited an incantation which made her nearly translucent, allowing her to blend in with the nearby environment. She stalked forwards into the fray of the panicked Skaven, and as one of them raised their weapon to attack her, she quickly thrust her dagger through its hairy throat and twisted, killing the rat with relative ease.

Another one came from her left, rusty sword raised over its head. She yanked her dagger out, and sliced the rat's sword arm, through its shoulder. The Skaven's arm fell limp to its side, and Sylvia followed up by jabbing her dagger through its eye and kicking it to the ground, dead.

Thankfully, the Skaven were sloppy fighters, who didn't care about technique nor finesse. Really, they seemed to utilize pure savagery, making them predictable.

She noticed another one sneaking up behind Nove, who was distracted by the Skaven in front of him. She ran forwards and grabbed the thing by its scruff, dragging it back. The Skaven wrenched out of her grip, turning to face her. It had two nasty-looking knives in its hands, both rusted and dripping with Dwarven blood.

Sylvia and the Skaven circled around, waiting for the other to make a move. These sorts of situations were dangerous, especially for her. Her chainmail wouldn't protect much if she was stabbed, a drawback of the armor's design. The Skaven licked its black lips, snarling. Rows of rotten teeth showed through its snout. Evidently, this one was more of a fighter than the others.

[User]
The tip of Ayse staff crackled, sparked, and glowed. With the Skaven bearing down on them there was little reason to hold the flames in anymore. The tip of her staff popped in a whirl of ash and cinders as a bolt of fire raced out towards the din and the one unlucky target she'd picked out. It was hard to do much more.

If she tried a stream of flame then she'd probably end up roasting most of Marianne's bugs. Too aggressive with her bolts? She might catch any one of their fighters with magic intended for another. Sylvia's near invisibility was just an excuse for friendly fire. She wanted to help the dwarves, but without a plan and without a way to show they weren't the enemy she was starting to regret it. Though, as she sent a another bolt out, she'd have more regrets in a moment.

One Skaven slipped through and drew close. Skaven may have been sloppy and craven, but they were also fantastic opportunity hunters. A distracted target like Ayse might as well put on a light-show set out signs. Racing towards her, with a hissing, gurgling, cry it clamped down on her arm with rotten teeth. The force of the blow and the shock of pain sent both tumbling to the ground. Still hanging on with its mouth the beastfolk fished out a dagger and prepared to deal a more fatal blow.

Then the air around the both of them exploded. The Skaven backpedaled wildly, its face replaced by the blackened bone of its skull, over and off the side of the bridge. Ayse struggled up, groaning, as blood slipped from the gnawed flesh of her arm. It was clear that she couldn't be as careful anymore. With the pain also fueling her flame she lashed out again, and again, and again...


[System]
he stands at 6'4" and weighs two hundred and five pounds
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Home: Rockhill, South Carolina
Partner: (Fill out later)

Technicals

Special Talents: Dimitri is a highly adept kick boxer and has comprehensive knowledge of nature
Unique Traits: Dimitri's soul wavelength is unusually dense, and while he cannot attack directly with it, he can use this to make his attacks much heavier and harder than they appear
Skills: Aside from kick boxing, Dimitri is very skilled at sewing and knitting (a secret he'll take to the grave) as well as grilling, horticulture, and general first aid
Weapon Preference: He prefers blunt weapons, but he'll compromise if he has to

Optionals

Personality: Despite his somewhat irritable appearance and stoic demeanor Dimitri is actually a reserved and humble guy. Years of infrequent interaction with people his age group outside of a boxing ring have made him a bit shy and socially awkward. When fighting Dimitri becomes a bit more like what people perceive him as and prefers to dominate the battle field using his size and strength as offensively as he can. If you can get him to actually open up to you Dimitri is that kind of guy that'd take a bullet for a friend if he has to, though he'd much prefer to just knit you a scarf and claim he just bought it for you.

Bio: Dimitri's past isn't exactly the most remarkable one out there. He was born the son of a retired Meister and a park ranger, and as far back as he could remember, Dimitri always had a fair bit of trouble making friends. Being the tallest in every class he went in to meant that he dealt with a fair bit of bullying, something his father thought could be remedied with some boxing lessons. As the years went on and Dimitri started to put on quite a bit of muscle the bullying stopped, though now the issue was that his size actually frightened others in his classes. When he hit seventeen his father decided to enroll him in the DWMA in the hopes that along with learning some useful skills, he'd learn to break out of his shell.
Likes:
-Exercising
-Just about anything lime flavored
-Nature
-Warm climates
Dislikes:
- Cold Climates
-Arrogance
-Procrastinating
Other Facts: No matter the time or place, Dimitri ALWAYS has a pocket full of lime flavored lollipops. No one knows where he gets them all, nor how many he has on his at one time, it's just a universal constant.

[User] Dimitri blazed down the hall way, for once grateful of his bulk as it served as motivation for others to get out of his way. The meister heard his name called a few times, however all it did was cause him to pick up his pace, or rather it did until Kalinda caught up with him. Dimitri skidded to a shaky halt against what he believed to be his better judgment and listened to what his fellow meister had to say. Dimitri desperately wanted to just be anywhere but there, preferably in the library, however it appeared that the only what he'd be able to get some peace would be if he was upfront about his issue "It's not just me tripping over Victorique. It's...well, I was never good with people. All of this- the new classes, the sudden increase in social interaction, the partnering, it's all a bit much for me to take in for one day. It feels like my head's going to pop!" he stated with lightly whacking his head with his open palm for emphasis. Dimitri took a deep breath in and exhaled to try and steady his shaking nerves, "I'm really sorry about this, I want to be friends with you all, but I just...I just need a bit of time to myself right now to try and unwind.".

[Assistant] Can i still join

[User]
Kalinda sighed. She could understand the need for solitary, and so she wouldn't befrude dimitri. So she nodded, as gave him a smile. "alright then. I understand. But it's not like we are going to hog tie you and dangle you above a pool of lava. Go unwind!" she smiled again, and then started back the way she had come, back towards Ju-Long and Victorique. She could at least reasure Victorique that Dimitri was okay.

She stretched out her muscles as she walked, so they wouldn't be sore later. She ran a hand through her hair, which had come lose, and spent a few moments braiding it this time, as she walked, before coming on the duo.

"so, food?" she said, as if nothing had happened. "im starved" which was true. Kalinda was always hungry, as if her years of barely having enough food were making themselves known, now that she had regular meals.

[Assistant]
Victorique

Victorique saw Kalinda run off after Dimitri and felt somehow a little happier knowing she wasn't the only one who cared about their classmates. Soon she couldn't see Kalinda anymore and turned her full attention to Ju-Long. She stepped so close by his back as she possibly could and immediately felt his arms grabbing a hold of her legs. She released a small gasp and quickly grabbed onto his shoulder pressing herself closely towards him. She blushed a little and slowly backed off from his back a little. She could feel his warmth being so close to him, she couldn't deny that it wasn't nice but it was a little embarrassing and guilty, letting him do all the work. Victorique quietly listened to his words she gave a small nod and sound at him "hmm hmm" telling the absolute truth about her wanna be friends with him, but shook her head when he said she could cry "No, I'm not really a person that cries a lot." She looked down for a moment but gave a gentle smile while they both silently walked through the hallway. There weren't much people walking around to their surprise which made it even more embarrassing and awkward to talk. Victorique wasn't so big of a talker so Ju-Long was the only one around here who could make it at least a little remarkable.

Ju-Long suddenly started talking about with who she would like to partner up with. Victorique went quiet for a while "...I like them both. Despites Alisa had already asked Dimitri so it think pairing up with Kalinda might be better." Her voice turned quiet again "...But that doesn't mean I don't mind partnering up with you or Dimitri." There really wasn't much to say and in fact she even noticed she had basically repeated herself again but she had to try and fill in the time a little "I was a NOT student before... and haven't got into much fights." In fact Victorique had to stay back most of the times since she didn't have a fitting meister that could wield her well. But of course that would be private for now. Before they knew it Kalinda had returned from her small hunt. Despites Kalinda immediately began talking about food she still jumped up a little and began talking out of herself which was rather rare "Did you lose him." It was a quite humble voice but she still had that worrisome look on her face from before. However the idea of Kalinda wasn't such a bad one.

[User] Dimitri let loose a sigh of relief when Kalinda chose to respect his wishes rather than pursue the subject. It was admittedly a bit crude to up and refuse an invite to a meal, but when one had enough then that was really all there was to it. After Kalinda left him to his own devices, Dimitri wandered about until a teacher poked her head out from behind a classroom door to inquire about his aimless wandering. One brief explanation and an inquiry of his own later, Dimitri was finally able to locate the school library, wherein he wasted little time tracking down the section that held maps and history books about Death City. Confident that he'd found some books of use, the massive meister plopped three books and two maps down on a vacant table in the library and took a seat to read. "Alright D.C. let's see what you've got..." Dimitri muttered before pulling open a map and cracking open one of the books. With his book and map sprawled out in front of him, Dimitri began to lose himself in the text and pictures, feeling the tenseness in his body dissipate as he took part in an activity much more his speed.

[Assistant]
Ju-Long

Still walking in the direction Dimitri and Kalinda ran off to, Victorique had replied to Ju-Long. "No, I'm not really a person that cries a lot."
"Is that so." he replied with a smile.

Victorique was quiet after Ju-Long's question. When she answered, she would pause in between before continuing.
"...I like them both. Despites Alisa had already asked Dimitri so it think pairing up with Kalinda might be better." Her voice turned quiet again "...But that doesn't mean I don't mind partnering up with you or Dimitri. I was a NOT student before... and haven't got into much fights."
"Alisa ... Alisa .... OH!!! That's her name. Well, anyways ... it's not like it is determined that Dimitri and her will pair up, but you and Kalinda, I think you two will get along. But, two weapons partnering up? Um... Unless you are special in the case of being a weapon that can wield weapons or vice-versa, I must say, I am sorry, but I don't think we can partner up. Not that I don't like you or anything, just the compatability of two weapons. Did they not tell you in the NOT classes? A weapon cannot wield a weapon. No-one knows why, but it just is not possible. The exception lies in when they are family. Well in terms of fighting, I think you will be fine. You will just need time ..."

Ju-Long was about to continue when Kalinda showed up, stopping him mid way. Kalinda suggested food, while Victorique still showed signs of worry. "Yo, guess Dimitri is fine, otherwise I'm sure you would still be chasing him right? Guess he wasn't hungry? Either way, you meisters are sure are fast. Anyway, I'm pretty hungry as well. We should head to the cafeteria." Ju-Long turned around, with Victorique on his back still, and started to walk in the direction of the cafeteria.

[User]
Kalinda shook her head when Victorique asked if she had lost Dimitri, "No I caught him. He just needs some time alone. I think everything's just been overwhelming for him" She gave Victorique what she hoped was a reassuring smile, before looking to Ju-long when he spoke. "I was fast long before I was a miester. Guess that helps"

she followed as he started to head to the cafeteria. She was happy, to get food. When the cafeteria was in site, she jogged on ahead, as if there would be nothing left by the time they got there.

She quickly grabbed some food, and then seemed to hesitate, grabbing another plate, se grabbed some food for Victorique as well, wondering what to get. She wasn't too sure, but figured some foods high in energy might be good, as well as vegetables and the likes, looking to Ju-long, and therefore victorique "is there any foods you particularly like, Victorique?"

[Assistant]
Victorique

Victorique didn't show much emotions while talking and listened to him with a slight open mouth realising what stupid mistake she made. She reddened a little as he even explained the right thing to her "I know but, I already kind of forget that you were a weapon." Victorique didn't say much more and returned her attention back to Kalinda hoping to both forget how stupid she was there for a moment. She relievedly smiled at Kalinda hearing that Dimitri was fine and that she didn't have to worry so much about him anymore.

Victorique heard the petite girl talking about food again and figured she was pretty hungry after that little exercise she had. Victorique smiled and gave a small chuckle. Once Ju-Long turned around she figured that they all were pretty hungry and with Kalinda walking in such a swift pace made her also wanna speed up a little. Victorique poked him a little with both her feet like they would always do with horses and hugged her upper body close to Ju-Long so she wouldn't fall off so easily "Run, run!" She giggled a little and it wasn't long before they arrived at the cafeteria. Kalinda looked like a little kid in the candy factory. She gently smiled at her once she felt a warm feeling inside her and thought about what she would prefer for food. Victorique raised a finger to her lips pondering what to take but came with a rather swift reply "Pizza." The fast food was a huge preference for most people and it was always tasty so it would work out anyway whatever else she chose for her.

[User]
Allisa

"Is geography really that interesting to you?" Allisa asked Dimitri, leaning over his shoulder to look at the maps before backing up to avoid his expected reaction. "I know people who study maps, but only as their job, not for fun."

She touched his shoulder lightly before moving around the table and taking the seat across from him. "I don't know why... but I want you to tell me about yourself. I'm happy to trade each piece of information with a similar piece from me, or if you'd prefer, I could sit here in silence..."

[Assistant] Having hunched over to read more comfortably, Dimitri sat up and remained ridged as a result of Alisa's sudden appearance. The weapon's touch didn't quite help matters, but there wasn't really much Dimitri could do about it. For a second he considered taking off or asking for his space like he had with Kalinda, however the idea almost instantly struck him as stupid considering he'd more or less agreed to something that required he spend more time in proximity and physical contact with Alisa than anyone else. Dimitri folded the map and placed it in between the pages of the book he was reading and closed it with measured movements before he overlapped his hands on top of the book, taking a few moments to mull over the options presented towards him. "Well..." Dimitri began uncertainly, "I guess there isn't too much harm in us talking. We're supposed to be partners after all.". The words hung in the air as Dimitri thought about where exactly he'd begin, though after drawing several blanks the meister finally opted to take the most direct approach, "What do you want to know exactly? I mean...where do you want me to start?".


[System]
ABSTRACT
 A flamboyant rascal with a fondness for electricity.
DETAIL
-Capable of controlling electricity
-Empowered by electricity and immune from harm caused by it
-Can transform his body into electricity

Tarit is first and foremost a performer. He lives to entertain an audience, whether the onlooker is one of the spectators gathered around the ring or himself doesn't really matter to him; he is content as long as one person is amused. He is carefree and laid-back with the only things he seems to puts much effort into being shocking people. While the performer is cool-headed majority of the time if anyone ever threatens anything he cares about his unconcerned demeanor will vanish, his intentions only becoming clearer as he straps you into old sparky.

HOW DO YOU KNOW LARKUS?
Tarit spoke briefly with Larkus while returning one of his captivating feathered friends. After helping him with his performance, Larkus has earned at least a few friend points.

HOW DO YOU KNOW HYPATE?
Hypate is an old flame that was more attracted to a mirror than Tarit. In spite of her vanity, there may still be something there.

[User]
Oh yes they were. Nora nodded to herself with a smile.

Nora paced around the ring with Dragon Jr. behind her. She said, "Are you sure you don't want your son to come back out Dragon? I think a few children still have their innocence intact." Her words this time met the ears of the crowd. A few laughs, a few nods, and a few parents hugging their children. She smiled and gave a shrug to the Dragon.

Dragon spat back, "After being subjected to Hypate and Tarit, I doubt Jackal's swords can scar them any deeper."

Nora said, "Well actually.." She then paused. Actually that was a fair point. Not that she was going to tell him that. With a shrug she said, "It wasn't the swords that scarred them, it was his likeness to you." Cheap of a shot as it was she was going to take it.

"Right? How about something softer." She walked next to Dragon with Dragon Jr. still forever at her side. With a point to her counterpart she said, "A song?" As though the idea had just dawned on her.

Spotlights in the circles started to move around crazily before settling right where Atla would be making her entrance. Nora whispered to Dragon, "Did you bring tissues? This song always brings a tear to my eye."

Dragon's expression turned poisonous and dark. He did not utter a word. All he did was press the blunt side of his axe into Nora to push her away. Knowing her boundaries she took a step back and rolled her eyes.

Nora for the second to last time tonight raised her voice and said, "Ladies, Gentlemen, children of all ages, and everything in-between! I am incredibly pleased to show to you our final act for tonight. A song so sweet and soulful some say it has made even Dragon shed a single tear." Nora stroked a finger down her cheek for emphasis. "A song masterfully accompanied by an act performed by my son Kendict and grandson Adir. I give to you my beloved granddaughter Atla!"

The heavy heart shaking music that had been played the entire show was now replaced by a slow melody. The music did not come from any sort of instrument but was pure magic. Soft hums played as the spotlights centered on where Atla and her family would make their entrance.

But no one came.

At least from where they were supposed to. A man came running from the opposite side of the ring. He was dressed in robes and scarves of different colors and was a bit taller than Nora. His face was shrouded from the crowd by the dim lighting and a hood he wore. An effect he always refused to get rid of.

It was Kendict.

If Nora's eyes could have shot out of her sockets they would have. Her face scrunched up in annoyance and anger. She was about to yell at her foolish son but stopped when she noticed his worried expression.

Kendict came up to Nora breathless and whispered, "We cannot find Atla. She is missing."

Nora stood still and wordless as she processed the information. She opened her mouth to give some sort of order. But she instead stuttered and found herself opening and closing her mouth like a moronic fish. An annoying buzzing in the back of her mind reminded her of the watching crowd. She turned back around to face them and gave a nervous laugh.

"HOWEVER!" She said. "Before our grand finale how about an encore performance?"

The crowd gave a slow confused clap in response.

Nora quickly turned around and gave her hushed orders to Kendict. The son then ran back behind stage right to the dressing area.

"Atla is missing! Anyone still in costume in the ring now performing. Everyone else get looking for her now." He said. Kendict then rushed off to one of the other tents giving little room for arguing.

The music again started blaring in the main tent, waiting for performers to fill the ring for the improvised grand finale. The confused murmur of the audience was getting louder the longer the ring stood empty.

Atla, the star act, had vanished. The last time anyone had seen her was earlier in the day, when she and Jackal had been seen screaming at one another at lunch.

Dragon stomped backstage with his axe and scanned the faces there with a menacing odd-eyed glare. "Someone took Atla," he snarled. "Come with me if you're up for some skull-splitting." He stormed off down the corridor, never for a moment able to consider that his grandson, Jackal, could possibly have anything to do with this.

[Assistant]
Finn was sitting backstage with the others, enthralled in a rather good book when Dragon came storming through. He looked up yawning, though he was caught of guard by what Dragon said. "Someone took Atla. Come with me if you're up for some skull-splitting." Finn saw a few people follow him, however, Finn figured he'd be more useful searching for the elf's scent around the circus. He quickly made his way outside, commanding his pets to assist the others in any way they could, and then to the back of the circus where he knew there was a secluded area. When he reached the area, confident that no humans would end up near him, he began to strip, taking off his shoes and socks, then his black shirt and pants that he wore for performance. Last he took off the underwear, then placed his clothes in a nice neat pile. Most werewolves learned rather quickly that changing while clothed was a bad idea, one that resulted in many lost articles of clothing.

Finn rolled his shoulders as he felt the transformation coming on. His blood started to pump harder through his body. He grew hot, to the point of sweating. His arms and legs started elongating, and morphing. His teeth lengthened and grew razor sharp, as did his nails. Then came the hair. Patches of brown and auburn hair sprouted up all over Finn's body, until he was covered from head to toe. His snout came in and then the transformation was complete. To anyone looking at him, it would be obvious as to what he was. He was a werewolf.

The transformation wasn't necessarily a painful process. The body flooded itself with so much adrenaline that you never feel the pain. Uncomfortable would be the better word. For Finn, he hated the heat that took over, made him sweat profusely. Most werewolves could control their transformation. All of them turn at the full moon, but it's rare to find a wolf who doesn't have the ability to change at will. He crept around the forest, stretching his new legs before lifting his nose and sniffing. There he thought. He had a faint scent, one that was definitely Atla. He got down on all fours and bounded after it, moving through the night with the swiftness that only came from the best of predators.

[User]
Hypate recoiled at the sight of Tarit bounding into the room with not a stitch of clothes on his skin. No human should have to witness what she saw. No other-human creature, too. The horror! The horror!

Meanwhile, Tarit took the clothes Dragon gave him before promptly walking to a corner. He rushed to put on all his clothes, frowning when he realized they were damp; regardless, they were still better than the burnt remains he was using to cover up. Subsequent to the prankster getting not-naked, Kendict dashed into the preparation tent to order those who were still in costume to return to the ring and for everyone else to go look for the absent Atla; afterword Dragon came in asking for anyone that wants to smash some skulls to come with him. Looking at his fellow circus members, the performer reckoned that most of them would go searching, and that would simply not do. The show must go on!

Hypate's motives were less heroic and gallant; she just didn't want to leave the comfort of the tent. Yes, she could summon some mindless corpses to scourge the circus grounds, but she wasn't in the mood for that either. She settled into a laid-back position and decided she would just wait, unless someone asked her personally.

The male entertainer nearly darted into the ring, but halted right before going through the flaps. He already tricked them once. It would be difficult to deceive them again. Tarit strolled over to his electric chair and sat down; the man knew that he'd need more power to amaze the audience after everything they've seen. Larkus would probably help him if he asked, but the rascal wanted to make his day a bit more interesting.

"Hey Hypate! You wanna strap me in and flick that lever real quick?" Tarit asked with a smirk.

Not particulary inclined to exit her comfortable spot, Hypate paused, wondering if this was going to end well. "It depends! Is this another excuse for me to get electrocuted and ruin my hair?" She replied, eyeballing Tarit. At least he had put some clothes on.

---

"Come on! Do you really think I'm that cruel?" he asked, his grin as wide as ever. Tarit extended his hand invitingly, looking at Hypate and anticipating her response. "Besides, I'm gonna need to charge up a bit if we're going to charm the audience. So... pretty please?"
Regret was already flowing through her, and Hypate couldn't help create far-fetched images of what was to come. Flashbacks stirred in her head, along with a burning odor that she faintly remembered. "Who said we were working together?" she put in weakly, trying a faint excuse. It didn't work, and Tarit continued smiling like a fool and stretching his arm out. He did ask personally. She stood and languidly made her way toward the chair, continuing to hope that he would stop extending his arm and say 'Nevermind!'
"Whatever you say." He chuckled while returning his limb to the armrest. With a poor attempt at a serious expression, Tarit reclined in his seat and closed his eyes. Electricity openly flowed through him, but he didn't feel any pain; instead, invigoration took the place of dying. The lounger idiotically expressed how carefree he was with his now happy face, and no foul darkness could get rid of it. His damp clothing causing his batteries to be charged a bit faster, the man soon stood up and stretched.
"You need to lighten up. Also, you mind turning that off for me?" he asked, gesturing to his beloved chair. The performer was ready to perform and strolled towards the ring, stopping right outside the flaps of the tent and looking back at Hypate. "Ready to shock 'em?"
Hypate witnessed the transformation with an expression of wonder on her face. People with powers such as Tarit's never ceased to amaze her, and for a moment, her bored face was replaced with affection. Then the process was over, and Tarit was already out of the chair, spewing out jests. She flicked the lever back up before calling to him: "Lighten up? Is that supposed to be a pun? "
Despite this, she still followed him out toward the performing ring. "Ready to shock 'em?" Ugh. When would it stop?
"What am I supposed to do?" Hypate hissed, reaching for inspiration in the clouds. "The skeleton shtick won't work, and I can't spare another disapearing audience member!"

And so, Tarit leaned over and began to whisper his scheme into her ear.

---

Pitch black. The audience was incapable of perceiving anything, other than the breathing of their fellow spectators and the footsteps of two performers. The magic that once illuminated the the tent was absent. Several of the onlookers took out their phones, only to find that they wouldn't help them regain visibility. A deathly stillness came over all of the unfortunate beholders; indifferent towards any attempts to move, their limbs would not respond. The screams of fear and gasps of surprise that filled the tent couldn't be heard, for their mouths would not open. Unable to run or scream, the only important thing that the audience retained was their ability to observe.

The tent was brightened by a flash of light prior to a chortling from somewhere within the tent. Lightning struck the ground disorderly.

Then a cry echoed round the tent, a howl most unnatural and spine-chilling, as the lights flickered back on. The cheery, yellow circus lights were gone, and in their place was a dim and unsteady green glow being cast down from the roof.

There, in the center were five figures. One could easily mistake them as humans, but upon closer inspections, it would be revealed that that was not the case. Their skin was of a porcelain quality, with rosy cheeks and empty, blue eyes. The forms wore black jackets and matching trousers, and each had a bowler on top of their too-perfect head. The audience waited.

Then, as what could follow as one of the most bizarre things of the night, music began filling the tent. It was Fred Astaire's 'Putting on the Ritz.' The puppets, if they could be called that, began shuddering in what was a ghastly attempt at a tap-dance routine. The audience continued waiting. How horrifying! But how stylish those jackets were!

The audio abruptly cut out, and the figures swiftly halted their convulsion-dance. The eerie blossom of light was replaced by the amber shine from the original lights, and the audience found that they could once again talk and move freely.

Tarit zapped back into the prep tent, and immediately started clapping along with the audience that reluctantly did the same. "Nice show hmm?" he said once Hypate was inside.

"Irresponsible, dangerous, reckless. Shall I go on?" she said, still stealing glances at the audience who were still clapping. "I only hope that they've managed to find a trace of Atla while I've been dangling these strings. And speaking of strings," With a flourish, Hypate brought up her hands, revealing a tangled knot of strings. "Do you mind getting something to cut these?"

The subtlety of his teasing—if it was ever subtle— vanished as the mischief-maker placed his hands on hers, and started vaporizing some of the rope; taking special care not to shock his fellow entertainer. When enough of the thread singed, Tarit undid the remains of the string. "That better?"

With a mumble of "Good enough." Hypate bowed slightly and promptly vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving the blonde performer alone in the bustling tent.


[System]
"Call me lad- I've heard quite enough giggling for one day"

Age
38

Gender
Male

Height/Weight
5'9 / 160 lbs

Skills
~Acrobatics~
From flip to twirl, aerial maneuvers are a breeze for the well-versed in acrobatics. Somersaults, midair gyros and more, high level movements require almost cat-like reflexes, and masterful precision. That, or just a 'never ending fountain luck,' as Lefonderous puts it.

~Parkour~
What is a wall, if not simply another path for the adventerous and daring? From city walls, to jagged cliff sides, the world is a never ending series of subtle paths that offer a plethora of options for those willing to walk them. Of course, you need a ton of wrist-strength if you don't want to end up falling on your head.

~Sleight of Hand~
You didn't even feel it did you? That subtle brush against your backside, it was just an accident. Well, accidents happen, but without your coin purse, how are you supposed to pay for the damages?

~'Naughty' Alchemy~
Just mix a little of that with a bunch of this, and voila! A tincture capable of stopping a human heart in under 30 seconds. What else can a man with extensive knowledge of the land's plantlife make? You may not want to find out.

~Nobel Tongue~
A ruffian! A scoundrel! Such a bad man!.. 'I believe you may have the wrong fellow' Lefonderous speaks and acts with a distinctive tone that sets him apart from most. How could such a well-spoken nobleman be any kind of bad? Just keep smiling and bowing to the silly little sirs and madames.

~'Restrained' Knife Lore~
Lefonderous doesn't like violence all that much, even when it's warranted. But his precision with a blade, outside of harming others, is impressive. He'd sooner slice off your belt and watch your pants fall to the ground with a stifled giggle, than bring his knives anywhere near your throat. Of course, he also knows quite a bit about his weapons of choice. He's somewhat obsessed with them, actually. 'I fancy larger blades as well. They are rather charming, albeit frightfully stout.'

~Aloof~
Virtually impossible to anger or annoy, Lefonderous often lives in his own little world, and pays almost no attention to the boasting of those he'd consider as his 'opponents'. Fighting is silly, whether it be with weapons or words.

Personality
Elegantly brash, Lefonderous is a paradoxical fellow with a smidgen of adventure tainting his otherwise posh temperament. He movements and behaviour may baffle any who have had the chance to speak to him for more than a moment. Lefonderous spends most of his time flipping about through the streets, keeping out of sight, and sitting on the edge of a rooftop while his peers drink wine, cling to their fancy ornaments and prattle on about nonsense that is neither here nor there. Rich folk, he can't stand them, despite finding himself so caught up in the practices their culture had etched into his body and mind.

Lefonderous is polite, well-spoken with a quick hop in the rhythm of his voice. He speaks quickly, without a care in the world, doing his best to lighten the habitual formality of his lexicon, whilst maintaining a straightened, well chiseled posture. It almost makes it feel as if his speech is one giant mockery of the houses that birthed him. But, despite his own genuine distaste for noble habits, he does value a capacity for formality, and patronises unruly, or otherwise, childish mannerisms.

Morally speaking, he looks out for himself, but wishes no harm on anyone else. Although he tries to stay out of the affairs of strangers, seeing an innocent bystander at the end of a blade may rustle his heroism, if the mood warrants it. Life is precious! Heartbeats and warm breaths, anyone who thinks it necessary to take that away from the living is a scoundrel of the lowest regard. Lefonderous is not one to put himself in danger however, even if it is to help somebody else. He is number one, after all. Everyone else is just a close second.

Considering his drab past, whimsy is triumphant above all else! What is life without a little whimsy, eh? Although he maintains a serious demeanour, Lefonderous is not above witty remarks, or seemingly foolish behaviour. A noble jester, he might say, where there is a time for jokes, as long as they do not pluck at the more idiotic roots of comedy.

Artefact
~Ellegant Gambit~
A golden ring that Lefonderous wears on his right hand's index finger. It's small, subtle, and lined with tiny, intricate carvings. It's not exactly the most flashy artefact around, for good reason. One of the ring's inherent abilities, allows it to go undetected while in use. In conjunction with the fact that Lefonderous wears similar rings on at least 6 other fingers, a few earrings, and two bracelets, disarming this little trinket become virtually impossible without cutting off the hand that bears it.

The effects of the ring grant Lefonderous temporarily improved reflexes and agility, which allow him to perform remarkable feats, such as catching a crossbow bolt out of thin air, or jumping several times higher than a human should be capable of. The ring draws upon Lefonderous' natural stamina while in use, however, tiring him much quicker. If he were to ever fall out of shape, using it would likely be impossible. The ring possesses potential far beyond what can be perceived, but its owner understands very little, and has no desire to learn anything more about magical nicknacks.

History

[User]
The howl shook gideon to the bone. It was a howl unlike any other and could only come from one wolf he was fabled among the clan and went by the moniker BOTUM each letter bore its own meaning (Born of The Undying Moon) This wolf in and of itself was massive and sported fur as black as the night sky but still bore a radiance all its own he was a sight to behold. On this day though Botum was to be respected as any other day however he was now considered prey. Gideon knew he set his sights high but what point was there in one day leading your own Clan of barbarians if you werent ambitious? gideon pulled his cloak close and looked to the top of the mountain where Botum resided, he took a deep breath and began his trek up the mountain. The walk was long not to mention this was but a fools quest. Gideon could have set his sights on something anything smaller and less ferocious and still been considered a mn but it was almost as though he was pulled to the mountaintop.

Arriving at the top Gideon looked out and as able to see more of Lhivoria than he had bargained for. In the moment that Gideon had become enthralled with the view A deafening howl was heard from behind him...

"GIDEON" he tossed a bit and turned facing a wall in the much larger Bed that he had bought in awhile back. He was Perfectly happy sleeping on the floor but Mirage wouldnt allow it, hence the purchsing of a much larger bed. Gideon rarely complained though i mean all he had to do was heavy lifting here and there and help around the house, From time to tim they would take on a job to keep a form of income and had today been like any other thats what they would have done. This day however was the day she had been telling him about "Something something something meeting announcement."

He heard the door close and it was that, that caused him to awaken. Moments later gideon found himself getting up and readying himself and grabbing his armor and wolf cloak Gideon followed behind he couldnt have been more than an hr behind.

Arriving in town there was already a lrge gathering, and there on the podium did the tin foil guard stand as he began spouting bullshit but backpedaled trying to cover his ass. Looking around and sniffing the air it was faint almost impossible but gideon caught Mirages scent and positioned himself to keep an eye on her although he kind of stuck out like a sore thumb there werent too many hear that stood 6ft 7in and whats more he was clad in Obsidian wolf fur. Out of the corner of his eye Gideon saw a woman approaching the stage. "This could get ugly" Gideon Said as he continued to look on to see how the scene would unfold.

[Assistant]
"better, thank you."

As the words left her mouth the man behind the podium began his delivery. "We've summoned you this day, to address the sudden influx of refuges that hail from Arngrim." So this explains the crowd, Yyma thought. The man continued on, his obnoxious tone and loudness was to Yyma a rather poor attempt to feign deceit, but he listened on intently until, "They speak of magic, and mayhem.." the man continued on but Yyma began to spin, magic and mayhem, magic and mayhem, the phrase caused his mind to spiral. Why was this so familiar, what was this feeling, an existential dread came over him.. magic and mayhem, magic and mayhem, darkness creeped about his mind's eye, over and over the tapeloop ran. Visions began manifesting themselves within his mind, the reflections of metal, fire, fire everywhere, a woman, who was that woman. "That woman, who was that- the thought was interrupted as the visions intensified, the smell of blood, bodies littered across the earth, armoured men hacking and slashing at anyone within reach. Fumbling for the artefact around his neck his fingers finally managed to grip the magical heirloom, immediately dissolving the daymare and bringing him back into his being, albeit disturbed. He remembered something, that woman, a tale his grandfather told, it was slowly coming back to him, but as it was he saw the woman he assisted marching fists clenched towards the man delivering the speech. "Oh no" he thought silently, she must be from Arngrim.

Not willing to further expose himself if anyone did notice the interaction earlier, Yyma instead took position to maintain a clear line of sight of the girl, he would ensure her protection. Inhaling deeply he grounded himself and using pranayam unlocked internal gates to heighten his awareness and focus. Playing out a multitude of scenarios in his mind with renewed focus and keeping both hands together on the center of his chest for ease of access to the artefact, Yyma awaited for the unfolding of events releasing all internal resistance for what was to come.

[User]
Kevin took a step back and sighed as a man in the crowd began to relent against his message. Following her, several others began to speak up. Shouts of irritation and disbelief, one after another, they built into a slow roar. Although the majority was silent, and seemed more than willing to believe his news, a great enough crowd of naysayers was beginning to rear its ugly head. "Drat," he grunted, turning to one of the two guards at attention on either side of him. "I owe you a coin, Erik," He whispered, turning to the opposite guard while dragging one of his armoured fingers across his neck. The guard nodded and turned towards the caravan. From inside of the open backed cart, another guard stepped forward. She grabbed one of the banners above her, at the lip of the cart's back entrance, and hung over Kevin like a hawk.

 "Tough crowd," She groaned, audible enough for her commanding officer to hear. Kevin spun around and motioned her back into the cart, swatting at the air.

 "Come off it," Kevin insisted, "I'll be finishing up quicker than expected. Tell Linda to prep for departure. We're leaving."

 "Ferdinand still isn't here."

 "I don't bloody care. Ship up and ship out. The yokels are getting restless, and I'll not be ending up like Johan today." The armoured woman granted him an irritated glare that burned through her face plate, but nodded and pulled herself back with a hefty tug of the banner above her. The entire cart shook slightly from her overwhelming stature. Kevin shuddered. He hated having that woman around. She wasn't much for following orders quietly. It wasn't very becoming of a lady knight, especially not one that towered over most men. Kevin turned back to the crowd and motioned his hands downwards, in front of him, like he was lightly patting the side of an angry horse. "Settle down," he commanded, "I'll have no talk of magic-"

 "Then how about a show?" Lefonderous shouted, hanging from the side of a nearby building, where he clung tightly to a second story windowsill with his right hand. "I'm sure they'll grasp the thesis of your little announcement if you'd be willing to just show them."

 "Who in blazes?" Kevin whimpered. Lefonderous motioned towards the sky with a sly smile. Kevin hesitated for a moment, and then looked upwards. There was nothing there. Lefonderous quickly stuffed his index finger and thumb between his lips, and let out a deafening whistle. Kevin's neck darted back towards him, but the man still offered him an index finger that pointed towards the sky. Kevin grunted and pointed towards him. "Would you?" He asked, looking towards Erik expectantly. Erik didn't respond at first, but when Kevin smacked the side of his helmet, the man looked to him, and then to Lefonderous.

 "Oh!" He grumbled, "Oh, oh dear, uh..." Erik froze for a moment, but then turned to the knight on Kevin's left and beckoned him to follow. The two men headed towards the building quickly, all while Kevin was left to pinch the bridge of his nose in annoyance. Lefonderous didn't move. How were the two armoured knights going to scale a vertical incline? They weren't. Whatever they planned on doing was probably stupid. "You there!" Erik shouted, "Get down at once, by the order of his royal majesty's armed guard!" Lefonderous rose an eyebrow.

 "You're rather ill-equipped to make me," He taunted, pointing up at the sky again. The two men looked at each other, befuddled. Usually people just listened to them. They weren't very well prepared for somebody to just say... No. Kevin's frustrations were beginning to get the better of him. They were only a 6 person squad. They were suppose to be in, and out.

 "Sod it," Kevin grumbled. He was about to call back his men, realising that this entire quarrel was a waste of time. But as he rose his arm, something hit his shoulder. A heavy splash of water struck his face and drenched part of his curly hair. When he looked up again, the clouds that had once been a warning of bad weather, had amassed into an unnatural black vortex above them. And then, it started raining. But it wasn't any ordinary rain. The drops came down hard, and in great volume, like cups of water, and began to bombard the entire crowd. Although they were relatively harmless, the spiralling storm clouds above them were beginning to amass an alarming crackle. Kevin looked to Lefonderous again, who was shrugging off the water striking him. The hanging man offered Kevin his index finger again, pointing upwards and smiling with his eyebrows raised.

 'See?' He mouthed, chuckling to himself.


[System]
Age: Happens to be 709. Looks around 27.
Gender: Male.
Species: Vampire

Appearance: Mithias an pass for human, but definitely draws attention if anyone pays attention for too long. He is around 6'2" with a fit build. His skin is as you can imagine very light. He has unique long, straight black hair that ends unevenly around lower-back, and his eyes are a flashy, gold-yellow. Usually he keeps his eyes hidden, but if seen briefly, one might think they are probably just a bright genetic variation of hazel color... it's probably related to his apparent skin disease. *person goes back to whatever they were doing*
Other than that, you really don't expect Mithias to hang out in the daylight. In a public place, he'd probably be wearing a modern suit. Humans usually don't bother a busy businessman. He changes with the common fashion of the times. Shirt and tie, t-shirt and ripped jeans, leather jacket and riding boots... whatever is acceptable to the creatures around him, although he prefers to be the one better dressed. Top hats were nice, but they've been out of style for a long time. If Mithias is intentionally avoiding humans, he'll probably wear a long back jacket and jeans. Jeans are an amazing material.

Background: It was the decline of the era of the Templar knights. The holy land had been lost, more than once, and the Turks had forced the order entirely out of the Middle East. Despite a blackening name and recent losses in war, the Templars were actually quite successful on another front. It was back home in what is now modern western Germany where Mithias and his order served God, King, and Pope by defending humanity itself. Unbeknownst to the rest of the world, The Templar Knights had a secretive sect that was specifically charged with hunting down supernatural beings. Witches, undead, abhorrent spirits, werewolves (or shifters), and of course vampires, were their targets. These occult hunters took their orders directly from His Holiness. Their ranks were usually filled by family members alone, yet rarely a gifted outsider would pass initiation. It was this inheritance and line of work that brought Mithias across the path of the vampire that would change him forever.

Mithias was a young man, a hunter, a knight, and also soon to be a father. He lived in a small town near the boarder with France. One day, he attracted the attention of a particularly powerful vampire, by comitting an unexpected act. He questioned his purpose. Rather than killing a young vampire, as his order commanded of him, he secretly let her go. Witnessing that incident, the elder vampire took an interest in him, leading him on futile chases into the wilderness several times and playing games with him. Mithias never had any chance of catching him, not really, and eventually, they began having conversations. The human was an interesting subject. One day, the vampire tricked him into enthralling himself and manipulated him. The conclusion of this little dance however was rushed the day the Templars were abolished.

It was Friday the 13th, October, when Mithias' life was turned upside down. The Pope had denounced them. Knights and anyone associated with them were being attacked, killed, their lands and gold confiscated, and their families imprisoned on suspicion of heresy and treason. Mithias fled but could not stop his pregnant wife from being taken. Knowing she would be tortured and imprisoned he was desperate for help. He turned to the only one he knew who might aid him, the mysterious one in the woods at night who existed above all this human mayhem.

In short, the vampire delighted in Mithias' plea. The formed an unwritten pact of blood and Mithias was given the power to save his family. He rescued his wife and saw her to safety and protected her. He killed anyone in his path.

Time went by. Evelyn soon died of disease and his orphan son had to be raised by a church with nothing but a name given to him. It was difficult for Mithias to be a father looking as he did, needing blood, but Mithias was still ever grateful to the vampire that had changed him. He was able to oversee his family lineage from the shadows for many, many generations. He literally spent hundreds of years following them, keeping track of the ever growing tree and paying little attention to the rest of the world. A lot of his energy was spent on assuring their survival and success, protecting them from the supernatural forces he had become so familiar with but also with keeping himself fed and settled and closely monitoring the corruption of the large human organizations in the area. Kings and Popes and wars came and went. Plagues, the Renaissance, the colonization era and industrialization... Mithias bore witness and influenced here and there. If Mithias could have taken out Hitler, he would have, but he had already relocated to the US and traveling overseas as a vampire was a bit difficult, not to mention the army Hitler was surrounded by. Same goes for other evil dictators. Humans, Mithias concluded, bore an innate evil that was just as bad if not worse than the witches and vampires etc. that they despised.

After 30 generations or so, following all members of a family becomes impossible, even for a vampire. Mithias had to give up. He had spent an unlife in love and had learned a lot. Now it was time, he felt, to take his place as the immortal supernatural entity that he was, an overseer, a watcher, and a protector of balance. All humans became in his eyes his potential descendants, and yet, he could not bear the threat they posed in their ever growing population and power in technology and science to what little remained of magic and other species. Internally, he struggles with morality and defining his new role.

Current Life: Mithias has established himself in a small private mansion in the upstate wilderness of NY where he runs an investment firm using multiple aliases and primarily online only interactions, and he's got a big charity thing going with the red cross. That keeps him going while he attends to his other, actual interests.

Mithias studies the arcane. His first interaction with magic was as a young naive knight back at his initiation ceremony in 1298, which mind you was very poorly done by over-zealous religious fanatics in the middle of the night while high on psychedelic mushrooms and alcohol. Ahem, but some of it was real. Human arcanists and alchemists were only in their earliest stages of understanding in their fields back then, and granted, Mithias was only the equivalent of a soldier, not a bookworm. Once he became a vampire, Mithias realized immediately that he had some kind of unexplained inclination to magic that he hadn't realized before. He could charm and mesmerize others. It took a few centuries for him to quit worrying about his family before he officially began to study it, but I'll cover what he's learned in the spells section. His sources of study have been other supernaturals, books, personal experiments, and historical research. He did do a stint of world traveling in the era of world colonialism, around the 1500's, to further his knowledge.

So of course it attracted his attention when he became aware of a private investigation firm that focused on magic and the occult. After looking into them for himself, Mithias was shocked at how much knowledge they had discovered and collected and how advanced their team members were in their specialties. Keeping a lot of his own knowledge and past private initially, he approached them with a letter explaining that he wanted to offer his services, but that they would have to accept that he wasn't human. His true goal was twofold. He wanted to learn more about magic, just out of natural scientific curiosity. Mithias is the kind to grow and change with the times. But also, the guardian in him wanted to make sure this human organization didn't amass too much power and fall to corruption down the road. He had to keep an eye on them.

I'd be ok with having Mithias know anybody's characters or have a history with them if anybody wants.

Personality: Mithias is moral, protective of the innocent and weak, vivacious, and curious. He was a knight, afterall. Unlike many other vampires, Mithias is comfortable with his nature and has accepted it. He pretty much drinks only human blood, but feeds exclusively on the wicked and they dying or donated blood. He cares very much about where his meals come from, but will chose to survive if he is forced to feed on an innocent or an animal. Is he evil? Is a lion evil for eating a baby waterbuffalo? That alone can't define him. He isn't decided whether or not there's a god, but in all his years no god has made itself evident to him. He considers that perhaps vampires are gods who just don't realize it, stewards of humankind, judges and cullers, rulers of the night. But not everything that lives is human and not every being with magic is vampiric. There is so much more to know, and curiosity drives him. He would like to know where arcane power comes from, what vampirism is, and what are the heights of such power.

Schools of Study: Arcanology, Hunter.

Specialization: Pyrokinesis/heat manipulation, plus his vampiric ability to ward his mind. Maybe that's a form of psyonics?

Spells:

Charm and Mesmerize - Personally, I'm not big on this, but it seems to be an inherent ability for vampires.

Mind Ward - Can resist attempts by other vampires, or witches, fey, whatever, to try to influence his self control. This includes possession, domination, control, emotional manipulation, suggestion, telepathy, and illusions. This power is very strong, and so far, Mithias believes it cannot be overpowered, but there could be a being powerful enough to get through it.

Fire Starter- Can start and stop fires.

Flame Shield - Mithias can redirect intense heat or flame away from him, bending it to avoid burning himself should he get too close.

Heat Sink - An offshoot of his pyrokinesis is heat manipulation. Mithias can concentrate or disperse heat in any location he concentrates on. He can boil water, or freeze water. He can do this through walls, even though he may not be able to see what he is affecting.

Abilities:

Vampire - Vampire speed and strength and senses.
One with the Machine - Likes to drive cars, motorcycles, big machinery, and small planes.
Ex-Knight - Can ride horses, but doesn't.
Voice of the Soul - Vampire-level good at violin.
Twin Fangs - Vampire-level swordskill.
Undead Tasebuds - Terrible cook.
Too-old-for-this-shit - Speaks a few European languages, but not all equally well. (German, English, French, Spanish)
Secret Sadist - Knows how to use a whip.

Weaknesses: Judeo-Christian holy stuff. Holy water. Weakened by holy ground. Slowed, pained, and half-blind in sunlight.

Equipment:

He wears a necklace with a small silver cross under his shirt that actually burns him constantly.
He has access to some guns or weapons.
Has a motorbike.
His books and computers would of course be at his primary home. He's memorized the little magic he knows so far.
Cellphone.

Other: Mithias had some involvement in stopping Dracula, he's not sure he doesn't regret it. His vampire sire was extremely good at mental manipulation.

[User]
"Oh you pitiable mortals. Not even the demon that dragged me here could trick me. Immortality has its costs but eternal knowledge is priceless. That child on the other hand… well you needn't worry about him any longer." The shade had a rasping manic laugh echoing behind his voice even though he spoke clearly.

The shade mocked taking a deep breath.

"Oh yes, yet more tinder for hell's fire. His soul is likely in the depths of tartarus by now. A shame he had such potential and was so eager to learn. If only he asked better questions. He didn't even let me get to golem seals." The shade feigned sympathy and sorrow, but it was clear he was delighted by the events, "Did you think a child could design such things? All of you mourn while I reap. Such simple minds can never stay ahead of a demon, much less my own."

The demonic entity laughed and cackled before vanishing into the pits of hell once again.

===========================================

Jaklo muttered something along the lines of "gottem' coach" in response to the general reactions around him.

[Assistant]
"That went about as I expected," Max muttered to himself. Truth be told, he felt a little shaky. He never got used to dealing with shades, and even that brief encounter had drained him somewhat.

Still, he had a job to do. Max pulled out his phone once again and dialed Mithias. "Hey, so, I might've, uh, gotten the attention of the demon that was backing that kid. But on the plus side, they've removed their sponsorship so the spell should be collapsing. How are things going over on your end?"

[User]
Mithias had dashed to the right as the back of the golem spewed up sharp spikes of ice. Keeping a hold with one hand on the hilt of his right sword, he swung to the side. The left sword came tumbling down to the ground in a burst of ice shards, lost to his reach for the time being. Mithias held onto the remaining sword that was still deeply lodged into the ice golem, finding footholds on the giant's shoulder as the final attack was made. There was a big explosion, and the orb compartment was breached, exposing the body of the mage inside. As the defeated construct came tumbling forward, Mithias touched down to the safety of the ground. The scent of blood did not escape him, of course, and he knew Jaklo had been hurt. To what degree, he did not know, but Cassandra had rushed instinctively to his side. Mithias stood observing curiously for a moment, then turned to recover his blades.

Mithias caught Baron's eye as he entered Cassandra's circle while wiping off his blades with a dry cloth. Baron had just convinced Drake to drop the shivering mage. The vampire's eyes had a touch of a red glow in them, famed by dark brows and snowy skin. "It's alright. I've fed." He holstered the sword, taking note of the seemingly injured wolf creature. He looked back to Baron. "I'm sorry about your fox and weasel."

Drake asked about Jaklo, a question everyone was thinking, so rather than repeat the question, Mithias simply awaited a response to it. Meanwhile, he could address the issue of the wannabe Evangelion. "One must always remember to ask questions, THEN kill, not kill, then try to ask questions." he said this mostly for his own amusement. "The young man is no longer a threat. We should take him back to the office. Speaking of which, does anyone have a portal out of this cold, damp place?"


[System]
Yo, here it is!!!
Age: 24

Gender: Male

Race: Mura

Appearance:

I did warn you not to look... haha

Element Affinity: Edos, the Luminous Saint (Priest)

Magic: Seals (used in healing)

Gear: Alezander only carries with him his pure white hoodie and wears wooden sandals and a white bottom kimono. He has a stave strapped to his back and wears black gloves on his hands. He also has a pouch that carries his Seal Paper with pre-written glyphs for healing and warding off evil spirits.

Brief history:

Born into a family that still prays to Edos and has a small shrine on their property to their Patron Saint. He was raised from a young age in believing he was no Magi and would never be a Magi. His father's harsh words were not far from the mark. Alezander, Zander to friends, holds a small grudge against those who are pure Magi and need no extra items to use their magic. His father being the one he holds the biggest grudge against. His father is at large known as a master healer and doctor for his ability to make most ailments go away with a simple wave of his hand and soaked brow. Zander's mother, is a Priestess of Edos and pretends to not understand why the Church does what it does and why people have turned their back on it. Zander will not acknowledge he even has a living mother just for that notion of pure blindness.

For years Zander kept his head down, did his chores around the household. Pretended that everything was fine and nothing was wrong. He studied under his father to learn the glyphs used to heal people and animals alike. To chase away dark spirits and to never turn his back on the Church. If there was on thing that Zander needed, it was more training on creating his own glyphs to force his own magic to awaken, if it ever would.

At age 24, Zander's life came crashing down. His whole life had been a lie. He was a Magi alright, but his father was not. He only claimed to be one. He used the same glyphs, hidden around the room he treated his patient in. He called upon them and had one on his forehead to make sweet appear as if he himself was the focal point of the spell being cast. His disgust for all things related to the church and his own hatred for what he himself had become and had been his whole life.

"I'm a Magi..." he muttered to himself. He was bruised and bloody from the thrashing given to him by his father. "I'll set out, away from the Church and it's reach... I'll heal those I can. If I truly have to I'll use my own power as a Magi... through these glyphs."

Additional info:

Alezander likes to be called Zander. He is a Magi just repressed by his father trying to protect him from the outside world. He still holds a grudge against other Magi though to cover for himself. He uses the seals out of habit and only in an emergency will he use his own body as the conduit for his healing magics.

Name: Geoffrey

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Race: Mura

Appearance:

Element Affinity: None

Magic: N/A

Gear: Wearing citizen garbs, brown pants and a single black shirt. He has a pair of fingerless leather gloves on each hand to help with his Archery. Wearing a pair of simple sandals, and usually keeps his bow un-strung in his quiver along with arrows.

Brief history:
Geoffrey has no idea who his father is, and it doesn't bother him in the least. He's unsure of what he wants to do with his life, but he's always felt the call of the wind. The urge to go out and see what the world has. When a young Priest appeared at his Inn Doorstep, offering healing in exchange for a room over a week ago, Geoffrey took him directly to his mother.

Later that night, the two bonded over ale and Zander for once let his walls down and let Geoffrey into his life. That same night brought them even closer together. Before all that; however, Geoffrey helps his mother and his not really twin sister's who are quite a bit older than him. "Thirty-five is OLD!"

Having worked at the Golden Coffer Inn most his life, he's heard wild tales of adventurer's, guard patrols, and a few bandit's that his mother, Olga turns a blind eye too. A few have helped him learn the ways of a bow, a few have offered to make it Demacite Arrows and Shafts and has always refused. He has nothing against Magi or Demacite users, but finds it a bit cheap to hard work with his weapon.

With a choice before him that he doesn't even realize, he tends to his few time lover in hopes he'll awaken.

Additional info:

Geoffrey HATES being called Geo. His mother and Zander are the only two he allows, save for the two barmaids who call him that in a mocking tone and luscious winks. His bow is re-curve, a throw back to earlier hunters and his want to show people hard work earns more. Though he will defend Zander, he doesn't agree with the way he treats others.

Editted to change the backstory a little to match and show he is a Magi not Mundane... heh Mundane I like that.

[User] A man had approached the group, and the party stopped again. Wyth's tail lashed. His girl was in trouble, and why wouldn't they hurry up and find her?! And then the Dimuran was back, and with someone new -- another Ydran. Was she going to help too? The cobra fox with her went right up to Ethan, and while Wyth didn't attack her, he moved to loom over her and show just enough fang to make it clear these were /his/ people, and he was protecting them.

[Assistant]
"Asta huh? Well nice to meet you, and thank you again for helping us. We really appreciate it!" The woman had no reason to do this other than the fact Amuné was one of her own, but then that was all the reason they needed. "Right, we should get moving as soon as we can, before they get too far away. Which means sir...? Do you know where their hideout is?" Ethan sure hoped so, otherwise they were wandering blindly for a little while longer.

The guard nodded his head before glancing around to get his bearings. "Let me see... They've been spotted about four streets over fairly often, coming and going from some unknown building there. We haven't quite singled out which one it is yet, but we know the general area. I'm sure if we went around and looked we'd stumble upon it." The guards had to have explicit permission from the mayor to do anything, but with these children outside of the man's command they were free to come and go as they pleased, and he would be there to make sure they didn't do anything drastic. "I should warn you though, there's been more than one man we've had reports of, several in fact. It could mean there's quite a few slavers waiting for us and I doubt they're going to hand over their cargo if we ask nicely."

"It won't be our first time dealing with some bad people, don't worry. Everything will turn out just fine," Ethan said confidently, smiling as he prepared himself to get moving along. When something cool and damp brushed against his ankle he jumped slightly and looked back, puzzled to see Asta's pet sniffing at him. Just what kind of animal was that? He'd never seen anything like it, and if he weren't so uncertain about it he'd probably give it a petting. "O-Oh, she won't attack me? Well then I guess it's a good thing she likes me!" he laughed, thanking his lucky stars he hadn't inadvertently done anything to earn the animal's ire.

"Yes yes, everyone loves you. Now if we're done could we get moving? We're wasting time, and if you know where to go," Nymira said as she looked to the guard, "We should get to work. Please, lead the way if you could."

"Of course." If they could successfully find these men then it would solve a huge string of crimes and kidnappings, a lot was riding on their victory today. Taking the children along with him he led them further up the road and over to the next, getting some strange looks from passerby and fellow guards alike; a Ydran woman, two animals, a Dimuran and two Muran boys, it was as motley a group as one could have. Fortunately no one would get in their way as they crossed street after street, at last reaching the neighborhood that should be housing their base of operations. Before bringing the group any further along he stopped at the mouth of the road and held up a hand to signal for them to stop.

"Before we go on I must make something perfectly clear to you all. I'm willing to help, but know that we are technically doing something illegal. If we succeed and we save your friend then I'm sure no one will mind. If things should go south though there's little I can do to get you out of trouble, I'll be in trouble as well but I accept that. If it means bringing these men in then I'm willing to risk my career for it. Are you still willing to go through with this, knowing all of that?"

That wasn't even a question, of course they were willing to do it. Amuné was in trouble and they had to rescue her, there was no backing out even if someone was having second thoughts. When no voices of dissent were heard Ethan inhaled silently through his nose before putting on a smile, nodding to the guard before looking past him down the road. So she was down there somewhere, in one of those buildings or another one nearby. He didn't care how many men might be waiting or who might be among them, they were going to save Amuné no matter what came up.

"It may be best we split up then into pairs, search the buildings and then report back to the others if you find something," Nymira spoke aloud, figuring that was their best course of action. She already had pairs in mind as well, and she doubted there would be any complaints. "Geoffrey and Zander, you two should work together, since you know each other so well. Ethan, why not work with the guard? Even if you find it I want to make sure you can actually find your way back to us. And take Wyth with you," she added, glancing at Cecil then before frowning, "And take Cecil as well, since you're unarmed. I'll work with Asta."

[User]
Zander tapped Geoffrey upside the head when they gathered again and smiled at the Muran. Geoffrey just smirked back, silent chatter going between the two. They both nodded at each other, message sent and received and both seemed to relax around one another again. Zander took the small silence between everyone was they headed towards the area running his hand down Wyth's fur one last time, checking to make sure nothing was still locked in his system. Stress he could feel easily, but that was a given with the events unfolding and quickly at that.

He cut a look towards Cecil and offered a strained smile, his eyes slid right off Asta and her Cobra Fox and decided for now he'd let it go. His own magic gave a slight whine inside his head sensing old wounds on the woman's body that wanted to be looked at and learn how they were made. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts of that he returned to the present when the group stopped.

Geoffrey nodded, agreeing to the decision to split up and cover more ground, "Ya sure ya wanna go wit' 'er m'lady?" Geoffrey grinned and grabbed the back of Zander's hoodie, dragging the slightly shorting Muran with him. "Listen for my grass whistle if we find anything, otherwise we'll come huntin' fer ya," Geoffrey called over his shoulder. Zander struggled half heartily and let out a sigh as he was pulled away from the group.

"The thistle whistle of yours," Zander was heard saying. "Is going to get us into trouble one of these days..."

Geoffrey ignored him, taking a corner and letting his hand fall from Zander's hoodie giving him a look over his shoulder, "Slavers in these parts... Kind o strange, ya? Didn' ya say sumthin 'bout ya fath'r--"

"I doubt it," Zander cut him off. "Come on, let's find the brat and get out of this town. I've got a sinking feeling about being here, I have a feeling it's going to get worse."

Geoffrey shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and motioned for Zander to walk side by side with him as a few people looked out their curtained windows to see who was walking by. The street crowd was a lot thinner in this area and Geoffrey wasn't sure what to fully expect. The few times he had come this way was to deal with one of his Aunt's employee's who was in the gutter half drunk, half naked and red sores all over his body. It took little imagination to know his Aunt had probably turned said employee into the guard for something she planted on him.

Zander watched around them, pulling his staff from it's holster and using it as a walking stick. He'd follow quietly for once, seeing where the "guide" was going to take him. He noticed a few warehouses in this area, and fewer people as well and kept pace besides Geoffrey as they headed towards on to the far right, warehouse that is, taking a few back alleys and Geoffrey stopping him once by gripping his arm to keep him from stepping into the street.

Zander grumbled under his breath, "Daylight is a blessing... Stop tugging..."


[System]
Age: 26
Gender: Female.
Race/Nationality: Irish-born, with Roman lineages. Weak accent.

5'8", 166 lb, slender physique. Heterochromic, with one blue eye and one normally green eye, the latter changing color upon her power's influence. Her very light blonde hair covers that green eye, and shines an almost white color under certain lights. Typically wears in either neutral color schemes, very regal clothing or military uniform.

---

Personality:
In this world full of sorcerers, heathens, god-maniacs and skeptics, she is perhaps one of the very, very few to worship God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, let alone any god or godly spirit. Even while the Vatican is now all but a tiny institution, Margaret herself remains firmly rooted in her Catholic faith, and still puts much of its devotional principles into practice. As such, Margaret can often be seen contemplating on the mysteries of the Rosary in the morning, suddenly stopping to pray exactly at noon and 6 in the evening, fervently praying when encountered with adversary, and carrying devotional scapulars, prayer leaflets and relics of saints. Her continuous faith can be attributed to an incredible coincidence of her family's deep religious traditions and the holy-like nature of her power, and even her family continues to hide any trace of their newfound irreligion should she contact them.

Consequently enough, this deep devotion has also compelled her to gain some notorious traits of the typical zealous Middle Ages crusader. In particular, Margaret often believes herself to have the right to damn anyone to Hell, and most especially condemns Novodeans, GAUs, and, to much hypocrisy, self-righteous people. Margaret believes the rise of humanity's power as God's test on whoever is virtuous enough to use God's gift wisely and gain right to Heaven, and whoever is wicked enough to use God's gift for nefarious intentions and earn damnation. Among Margaret's list of what constitutes as virtue is the fervency to purge whatever she deems as sin... which would in turn spell quite some trouble in this age.

In general, Margaret is very disdainful to the brash, but kind to the gentle. She, in turn, is gentle-natured most of the time, but thinks highly about herself and can come off as arrogant occasionally. Margaret, though, is willing to rend her abilities, especially the Spirit, in servicing people for the better.

Besides religion, Margaret has actually quite a knack for games both video and board (though not really good with the former), drinking, and dining to the point of gluttony (while surprisingly staying fit). It seems much of her morals are simply quite focused on the issue of superhumanity and is willing to let it be loose, if not totally absent, when it comes to other aspects.

Abilities:
 Divinity
A luminous form of magic that comes in three forms, altogether making Margaret angel-like in power. She has named the forms after the aspects of the Holy Trinity:

The Power of the Father - Simply referred to as the Father, the energy of Divinity is conjured into forms able to hurt and kill. The Father can damage anything that lives with extra effectiveness against any creature of a summoned background (except intelligents), but is not capable of doing damage to nonliving things.

The Wisdom of the Son - Simply referred to as the Son. Luminous wings made out of Divinity and capable of flight and highly effective shielding.

The Love of the Holy Spirit - Simply referred to as the Holy Spirit or Spirit. Performs the exact opposite purpose of the Father: to heal. Rends wounds at a very quick rate, but may not be able to resurrect one that has sustained an injury severe enough to deliver quick or instant death.

All three abilities derive from the same energy pool. Should one ability sustain overuse, other abilities may be rendered unusable upon the depletion of Divinity. One can read how exhausted her reserves are by her heterochromic green left eye: increased use reddens it, and turns black as her energies go less and less.

Biography:
Born within the more Catholic confines of Ireland, Margaret was raised by a wealthy family whose faith was rather empty; despite a large collection of religious icons and even relics of saints, most of them simply didn't have the motivation to attend regular Masses nor take any prayer seriously. This was Margaret, too; the girl used not to have a care in anything.

Around 11, however, Margaret suddenly started heading to a life of "sainthood". From a simple fascination with icons and relics, it all then spiraled into full-blown devotion, something so sudden her parents started thinking what the hell has gone wrong.

Cue hell breaking loose.

Concerns grew even deeper. What if Margaret was to become one of those maniacs on the news? Her family had already began packing their bags in case she did prove herself to be one. And when they finally saw her floating around the rooms, bearing wings of light, it was then decided that it was high time they got the hell out of here.

Just as they were about to leave, however, a crazed telekinetic decided it would be fun to join on the rampage, starting with the Vergilias. When they were then cornered and as her father had just sustained a blow to his shoulder with a rock, Margaret raced quickly out of the house, struck the attacker in the face with a beam of light, and fixed his father's shoulder in a snap.

Though some of the rest of the family acquired their powers, Margaret was still best suited to guide her family while they roamed around, before settling on Mundin months later. This proved to be a wise choice; the city-state would later become one of the few remaining safe havens of the world, and for the rest of the years the Vergilias would then live in peace without a care in the world... while Margaret had her own duties to pursue, as a soldier of the Defense Unit and "most importantly, as a soldier of God".

---

Specialties:
Adept at memorization, and knows the entirety of the Catholic Pastoral Editon Bible, all known Catholic prayers, and the encyclicals of St. John Paul II. Strong-willed and motivated. Fluent in Latin and English.

Equipment:
Regularly keeps with herself scapulars, a Rosary and a Miraculous Medal, along with money, IDs and other necessities.

Has tons of religious icons and relics of saints in her home. Mostly retrieved from her old home, but some new ones are in there as well.

Other:
Margaret is stationed at the long-range defense placements on the coast facing Britain.

Prefers wines, but will still occasionally take beer.

Very much loves steaks. Dislikes fruits, but likes leafy greens.

[User]
The evening looms, ahead...

---

Within the horizon, the sun was already well on its way to setting, as brilliant hues of red and orange lit up the western sky. The celebrations were to begin at evening, and already St. Jeanne's Plaza was bustled with thousands.

There were those eager to see stunning firework displays, and then there were those awaiting the massive feast of sumptuous meals within the stalls. Some were eager to set up shop and earn bucks big time, and some were awaiting the massive sale of whatever bits and pieces they wanted within the stalls.

A long day awaits.

---

The Prime Minister was a rather seclusive man, still reluctant to attend the festivities. And though he had tried to have that hidden, one could still clearly see his displeasure from, well, the fact that his left hand was shifting repeatedly to molten claws and back. He had the irritability of a demon, but had, otherwise, the heart of a kind man.

But he had no choice; he was the star of this grand celebration, and shame was on him if he didn't hold that true.

In front of his office, hundreds of Defense and Police Unit men stand guard. They were to escort the Prime Minister soon and partake in the ceremonies afterward. The Prime Minister was taking too long, however, and in the meantime the impatient infantrymen had gone to doing their own respective businesses, while he was still preparing himself and his attire rather... sluggishly.

[Assistant]
GILBERT HALLORAN

Every now and then, Gilbert wondered if the end was nigh — or if that Biblical end was already upon them. He could not but help himself as he looked over the scene in the plaza. Thousands crowded the heart of Mundin to experience the celebration of its founding, a popular event, of course. The sun loomed in the sky for the final stretch of daylight, filled with a bubbly, orange energy which characterized that day quite nicely. The tentative peace, which the government labored so much for, was so heart-warming.

Still, with beating hearts and beaming faces, Gilbert, who counted himself among them, was all too full of ennui at the same time. Painful dissonance in his mind — did others ever tire of the almost utopian atmosphere? 'Mundin remains secure; but threats knock on PM's door,' the headlines read on the newsstands. Wrinkling his nose with skepticism, Gilbert also eyed a neighboring tabloid which described 'the Prime Minister's secret love affairs.' Sighing and reaching into his pocket, he spared the peddler some currency, and he took one of the leading newspapers. Things aren't ever all that perfect, are they? The college student mustered up a weak smile and whispered to himself, Relax. Today is supposed to be about joy.

For now, Gilbert eased into one of his few days when he could unfocus, unwind, and think about something that was not a homework assignment for a weed-out course. He saw some fellow students, some old acquaintances, all blended in the sea of strangers. This was as good as it got, a small, relatively privileged (to the rest of the world), and peaceful existence. No grand adventure or pursuit for thrill. No oppressive, tyrannical government. Mr. Halloran looked up to the sky and remained optimistic about the future. In fact, he joined the crowd — most gladly, in fact! — in awaiting for the fanfare and fireworks. Though he knew this good time was doomed to a short life, the inevitable misfortune was conquerable.

[User]
Janice raised her goggles off from her eyes, inspecting her work. She was already a bit late to get going, truth be told(as the ringing egg timer furiously reminded her), but she wanted to make sure the last few adjustments were working right. She had a shipment of shielded vests and pulse batons for the MDU, as it was, which meant that as much as she needed to get going, she needed to make sure there weren't any defects more. The basic design wasn't hers, but she always made a couple of improvements in the process of manufacturing on the house...The Inspiration didn't come as easily for her while working off a blueprint, but small whispers came, finding small ways to improve efficiency and make a better product. The hard part was always filtering out the ones that she couldn't produce en-mass or would be too difficult for the troopers to maintain...but she felt this iteration was a good compromise between ease of maintenance and functionality. Now, all that was left was to pack everything up, throw that damned egg timer at a wall, and get going to make the delivery-according to the instructions, they should be gearing up in front of the PM's office.

The drive was fairly boring, if long. She'd debated just taking out her Jetwings to bypass all the traffic, but on a day like this the police would be enough on edge without worrying about identifying people flying around on jetpacks(also, the cargo was heavy and she hadn't quite worked out the kinks on that Hammerspace tote bag yet), so she'd have to make do with a hovertruck and get stuck in traffic for a while. Figures, holidays are always among the busier days of the year. Nevertheless, she slowly managed to inch across the byways and may have possibly taken a couple less than acceptable shortcuts through a alleyway or two, and cut off a couple of people with a probably-not-legal red-light left turn, but she made it only ten minutes later than the agreed upon delivery time and, fortunately for her, it looked like the good ol' minister was taking his sweet time as well. She found a place to park the truck and practically jumped out of the front seat before walking up to one of the troops with a smile on her face and laid back demeanor-she had enough goodwill built up with the police and defense departments from building equipment for them(sometimes at cost, no less) that she felt she could usually be casual dealing with them.

"'Evening boys and girls! I know I'm a bit late, but the new toys are ready. Don't suppose one of you can point me over to the officer on duty? I know they'll want to make sure to get the new inventory logged before I start unloading for you all to pass out the new vests."

[Assistant]
Nothing can stop Margaret from kneeling on a corner and recite the Memorare, not even anyone thinking she should've already put her imaginary friends back in the past. And this was what the girl had just finished wrapping up. Today's special requests for intercession was, of course, for things to run smoothly as the city-- the country, begins busying itself for its annual celebrations. Not to mention, too, an intercession for the Prime Minister to just finish picking his clothes and combing his hair already. She had on herself the Memorare leaflet among countless other leaflets in her front pocket, the white devotional scapular of the Most Blessed Trinity, and a relic of St. John Paul II, a tiny strand of hair encased in glass and decorated with a wooden inscription bearing the pope's name. Whether they actually had mysterious powers, most especially in this age of warring wizards and psychics, is subject to dispute.

Going back to the parliament's courtyard, a bored platoon of troops continued to lie in wait while the good 'ol PM was still wrapping up things on his end. In fact, even the officer on duty himself was keeping himself entertained through his holophone, playing the latest installment in his fancied side-scroller franchise. Though as soon as someone-- one who appeared to be their supplier of sophisticated equipment and gizmos, came hurrying right up to Margaret's face and asked where he was, the officer on duty put his holophone aside and started making his approach as the girl started to explain things back.

"The officer is just right there, walking to you." she replied, her voice faltering faintly as she pointed a finger.

The officer, a tall and mustached, but rather lean man in his late thirties, briefly flashed a small grimace of slight annoyance before walking up to the lady.

"...and you're the one making shipments, I suppose. Where's your load?"