[System]
Race : Human

Age : 56

Physical characteristics :

Weight : 200 lbs

Height : 5'11

Body Type : On the heavier side / older and hunched

Eye color : Blue

Hair color : Darker aged brown, with a lot of gray.

Faceclaim (if any is found - can be done at a later date) :

Skills (Up to six skills are allowed.) : Shepherding, cooking, money handling, secret, secret, secret

Job/Previous profession: Shepard

Magic (if any and how it was earned) : Unknown

Character's history (villages/tribes/people is up to you on their names/traditions but this is a western fantasy) : Hulius, an older adult from the western highlands, nearest to the mountains. He grew up the family of herdsmen and Shepards; trading was much of his family's ways as they traveled along the lowest mountains and the highest hills. He grew up quickly and was not able to have a wife due to his brother taking one of the few women in the area.

In his middle ages, he still did not marry, but he did have the possibility of siring children with women of pleasure through his travels to some small cities and towns and spending most of his time traveling with his flock. Getting what he needed, and returning his friends and family with resources that herders normally couldn't get.

When the time came, and the word of the Exodus had come to the western highlands, his people wished to leave in search of a new world and elected him the navigator across the lands. Even though he had never left his homeland.

[User]
Chapter 1 - On the way to Exodus

On the edge of the western highlands and the mountains in the north, a group gathered, it was mainly folk who lived off the lands or traded, but they had heard from several travelers that there was a way to see a better world. A better world was what most of the poor, desperate, or weak could hear, a life away from a monotonous lifestyle of repeating the same actions every day to live. These people did not work that much, the foraged and lead their herds of various animals through the land protecting them. Simple lives on the outskirts of a civilized world.

This society wanted more; they had come back from the mountains to their ancestral homelands when the river returned life and streams to the region. Their leader Hulius was asked to read a map to the exodus and to lead them there. And so he had set off weeks before, leaving the cliffs of the coastline, and heading inland. Ninety-seven people in total, most of them younger folk, the oldest being the elderly Hulius in his late fifties. There were only humans in this close society.

Several days into their journey, they had left their ancestral homeland and entered a territory unknown to most of them. Here, raiders had come to their camp, they took several people, and some were killed when resisting. Their flock of animals had been cut into almost half as well. Hulius had to lead them to a small trading town in which he had used many times before and bought back the people who were taken. Those that were lost to the sword, not much could be done at that time.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Hulius sat on a blanket next to the footpath towards the city, just off the side with his people, they had collected some new members to join them, but he was looking for warriors or just people to help protect the group. The men could always use their slings, as he had done previously, but it was not much help against numbers, or when an opponent came close. To which, not a lot of them knew how to fight in a melee. Several had offered for coin, but he was unable to give that, he only had his people, and the way to get across the continent.

But he would sit, and continue to rest himself there, he had several baskets with him, along with a sling with a pouch of rocks, a skin full of water, and a crooked staff to help him guide the flock of sheep that was spread across the hill which his followers rested upon. Near him, a fire was started as the night was slowly coming over the rolling hills, a beautiful orange sky spread out above them.

[Assistant] Sorry typo

[User]
Kotone walked cautiously through the raiders land she had her swords in their sheath. She spotted people nearby, cautiously walking over she was strained from her backpack and held her hands on her sword handle. Getting closer she deemed the people to be not to malicious and removed her hand from the sword handle. Finally confronting the people she smiled. She politely bowed and looked at the leader.
 "Exsuse me,do you have any will or milk perchance?" she asked.

[Assistant] Traveling from the distance of the footpath, a taller looking man could be spotted from the distance. His figure looking like one of someone who had an aura that felt strong, yet warm. Upon closer inspection as the man got closer, would seem to give off a more magical presence naturally, as the man would finally arrive toward the small encampment placed by Hulius and his people. When Anseyla would arrive to fully take in the sight of what was happening, Anseyla began speaking with people to find out what this was, and of whom was in leadership of this traveling band. Upon finding out the information he needed, Anseyla would eventually arrive in front of Hulius, as he'd wait from acknowledgement from the leader, showing a respect of his authority among these people. Being so close to the man, immediately a sense of ease could be felt in the air, as the man that stood before Hulius exerted such an energy seemingly instinctively. The man would stand with his hands folded in front of him, standing tall and having a small and charming smile coming across his face. Perhaps he put this on to make a good impression, perhaps this was his natural mood. Nonetheless, the man would stand in front of Hulius with his hair gently flowing in the breeze, hoping that Hulius would be interested in speaking with him. During his wait however, he'd also notice the elf standing next to him, as he'd smile and give her a polite nod as they both stood and she asked her question.

[User]
Kotone noticed a male next to her and finished her question, she the waves to the male. Smiling softly and turned towards the leader and inspected the others trying to understand their situation. Then she placed her back pack on the ground tired from carrying it. Pulling out a bag of silver she handed it to the leader of the group. Finally she turned to the other male and looked him over before extending her hand out.
 "Hello I'm kotone." she replied smiling.

[Assistant]
The older man looked up towards the younger elf, "We have milk... but at the moment, not a lot of will to continue." he said as he looked at her, pressing his lips together, "do you have anything to trade for?" he asked, "or instead join an escort until we get out of the highlands?"

"If not, you might be able to find something in the trading town half a quarter of a league down the path on the other side of that hill, and might be able to do more with that coin there... a silver coin from the south could buy most of what everyone here has," he said as he sat there, smiling before looking at the other man who had walked up. His eyes slowly moved as did his torso, his head turning slowly as the smile widened.

"And what can I do for you traveler?" he asked as his eyes landed upon the taller man, "because if you are looking to leave this land, then we will be heading out soon possibly..."

[User]
Kotone nodded and pondered the though of leaving but couldn't bare them being defenseless. And she wanted a fair and even bargain for her service, she looked towards the older leader and smiled. Pulling out a few miscellaneous daggers and handing them to the leader and smiled politely. She stepped back and looked intensely at the leader.
 "I will accept to protect you in addition teach some people to fight in return whatever food or fabric you receive must be split evenly deal?" She asked lightening up and smiling .

[Assistant] Anseyla looked between Kotone and the older leader, as he after allowing Kotone to respond, would reply to the leader's previous question, ''I just was happening to travel by when I saw your encampment, and my curiosity got the better of me, and I was simply curious as to what this exactly was, and what was going on here.'' Anseyla looked around the camp, as he would see how the people were surviving and living, ''Perhaps maybe I'd like to join your group of travelers, as I might be able to add some assistance to your people's cause.'' Anseyla after that gave the leader another smile, as he kept his hands folded as he continued to glance around the camp.

[User] Hulius smiled softly looking between the two, and at the daggers that were given to him, "I thank you for the knives, why you have so many, I don't exactly know… but I thank you nonetheless… and of course, but you will have to put in work for food as well, and learn… fabrics, well it will take time for the wool to grow on the sheep." he would then turn towards the taller man, once more, "I thank you, once again, but we are just Shepards from near the mountain territory along the coast, we mainly travel to the mountain to trade, but I come down to the south badlands to do so… and it is a safer route geographically for my people."

[Assistant] Anseyla listened to the older man intently, as after hearing him out replied, ''I understand, and I hope that by joining you perhaps I can find more of my own reasoning in my travels. I'd be more than happy to tag along with you all, and I appreciate your gracious acceptance of me into your people.'' Anseyla gave a respectful bow of his head, as he'd move his hair slightly out of the way of his face after doing his respectful nod. After a moment Anseyla would also add, ''I just recalled, pardon my manners.. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Anseyla.'' He would give a small smile between the both of them.

[User]
Kotone nodded and smiled placing her hand to her side as she tried to understand what was said. Walking to the people of the group she handed everyone some of her left over food. Handing the lettuce to the sheep's to eat as she petted them. Walking back to the leader she put her backpack back on and looked forward seeing some of the nearby town. The sun was almost about to set in a few hours or so.
 "We should keep moving if you want to get any closer and out of this waste land, and keep the silver you may need for those who can barely move I'll try to carry." she advised.
 She worriedly looked forward at the time and her ears perked up she covered the tips with her hands and turned slight red in the face. Before she turned towards the other male trying to get a read on him, he was obviously a warrior and maybe a half breed. But there was something else that she couldn't quite pin on him, just a feeling of pure strength. Looking forward she stated at the sun and it's lowering before it started to blind her making her look away from it.

[Assistant]
Hulius looked at the girl, "we have food, and know-how to live from the land dear." he said as he laid down, "But the night is about to come... it is better to get rest then it is to move when we cannot see. We are also safe near the town, the warlord does not let anything happen to visitors of his home. "We just seek protection from the world which preys on the weak..."

 He shifted several things on his blanket, "but if you wish to hunt for meat, you may, we do not slaughter an animal unless if it is needed or celebration... We have around ninety people, and several hundred animals, most of the men forage and hunt, picking up the trail we leave behind, they go in small groups or by themselves, so they are harder to track and hunt down. For when they are gone, that is when we need protection the most."

"It is good to have people who wish to join us, Anselya and Kotone.. shall our journies together be fair."

[User] Anseyla gave the man a smile, as he would notice the elf looking him over out of the corner of his eye, but would not acknowledge it. Instead, Anseyla would ask the leader, ''I believe our journey together will be more than fair. However I must ask of you, is there any place in the camp I could stay that would be a bit out of the way? As a newcomer, I wouldn't want to pose any issue to any of your people with my presence.'' Anseyla looked around the forest and camp for a moment, and even looked up at the sky, before finally returning his gaze back to Hulius, as he'd hold his smile from earlier. Anseyla would during his question unfold his hands and allow his arms to rest gently upon his sides, as he'd lean his head a bit closer toward Hulius to better hear his response when he responded.

[Assistant]
Kotone nodded in disappointment and smiled bowing before looking away from anseyla. She sat her backpack down and pulled out a blanket and wrapping it over her body and taking a water cantine out . Observing the nearby hill she found a clean patched area, She turned her attention towards the leader gazing at him fiercely but not maliciously. Her head tilted slightly before she in-sheath her sword placing it straight flat against her leg.
 "Ok, I'll take first watch probably all night if anyone needs me I'll be in a tree." She replied. "And also I don't hurt animals or kill them."
 She climbed up the nearby hill, covers herself in a blanket and held her sword firmly. Looking at the terrain from above it had a slight angelic feeling as the sun set and the colors became vibrant. Leaning her head against the soft grass she closed her eyes and felt the light breeze touch her face. She eventually opened her eyes to observe around her again.

[User]
Hulius looked at the girl and smiled softly, "go to sleep dear... we are close enough to the town to be safe." he said looking at her, "and we should all be rested for when we set off tomorrow.." he watched as she went up the hill, before he looked back to the man, "there are several newcomers... I am sure you can find a place on your own."

He turned himself towards the fire, "just find a place to relax and enjoy your time here... tomorrow we will continue, and maybe find travelers along our path. But, I feel as if I must sleep soon... my old body can only handle so much sitting in a day."


[System]
I R L
Age - 20
Place of Origin - Indiana, USA
Occupation - Gas station clerk

A V A T A R

Character's Name - Graves
Pathos Affiliation - Draethir
Role - Melee DPS
Profession - Bounty Hunter
Weapon of Choice - Nodachi
Domains - Water, Darkness; Restoration, Divination, Enhancement

-

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Arrogant
It isn't just that Graves thinks highly of himself. He doesn't believe he's the best- he knows he is, and the only reason he fails is when others are holding him back. There is no challenge he won't take on, no enemy he's afraid to challenge; he has mastered the art of combat in Pariah Online and he's eager to show that off.

Belligerent
His mentors always hammered into his head that the one thing a good fighter had was aggression. A full-bodied willingness to commit violence, directed violence, against their opponents. To hesitate was to admit you were the weaker combatant. To allow the enemy initiative was the equivalent of surrender. Graves has taken those lessons to heart, allowing that belligerence to seep into every aspect of his personality.

Driven
For all his many, many faults, none can deny Graves's desire to succeed. He is driven beyond rational boundaries, to the point where Graves believes he can do anything he wants- often times bending the situation to make this fact true. He doesn't allow himself to slip, to lose, to give in, ever.

B E N C H M A R K S

Violent Transfusion
The linchpin of Graves's fighting style is his ability to heal himself by wounding his enemies. He strikes at them with his signature weapon, drawing the blood from their bodies using his unusual primordial magics, and then transmutes it into a healing energy that stitches up his own wounds at a rapid pace. This allows Graves to maintain full throttle aggression without putting himself in total mortal peril.

Surgical Precision
Studying the anatomy of wayfarers and monsters alike was a necessary component of Graves's chosen battle strategy. He's learned the best places to strike to disable his opponents, or to produce the greatest flow of blood. In addition, He's also internalized where he can safely wound himself if the need ever arises.

Human Bloodhound
Graves pursues his targets like a predator tracks a wounded animal. He treks across great distances, following even the most subtle of clues for weeks at a time. Nothing ever seems to deter or distract him, so singular is his purpose.

Pain, Life's Great Motivator
Pain is something every wayfarer is familiar with. Some shy away from it, while others manage to grit their teeth and soldier onward despite it. Graves revels in it. He practically falls into his attacker's blade at any given opportunity. It makes for a terrifying display when he walks through a debilitating stab wound to make his counterattack.
 | Physical Description
Andrew is unusually tall, measuring more than a few inches over six feet- a trait he inherited from his father. He's far thinner, however, with an unhealthy gauntness to his long face. Dark circles around his eyes stand out against harshly pale skin, and long hair falls down to his shoulders. Most wouldn't regard him as particularly good-looking, owing in no small part to a lack of effort and little self confidence.

His persona's appearance in Pariah differs significantly. While Graves stands just as tall, he's extraordinarily well-built, with a chest as broad as a barrel and muscle coiled like steel cable. Scarring earned from many an encounter pepper his body thanks to his light armor and penchant for reckless aggression. Graves is much better put together, too, with shorter cropped hair and strong features his player could only dream of.
Character Conceptualization
Graves is a controversial bounty hunter whose history stretches back to the first days of Pariah Online. He's renowned for doggedly pursuing his targets no matter where they run or for how long. Quick tempered and arrogant to the core, Graves is a difficult man to work with if he believes you're holding him back- and he thinks everyone does. The few friendships he still holds are troubled, to say the least, yet it wasn't always so.

Back when the game first launched, Graves was a member of a guild called the Strange Reign Club. They were a highly competitive group of raiders and PVPers with a reputation for extraordinaire toxicity. It was hard to argue against their results, however. Graves showed great promise as one of their earliest recruits, competing with some of the Club's best duelists. He'd stay with them for many months before, without much warning, he'd be cut from the team and blacklisted by its raid leaders.

 A solo player ever since, Graves has been quietly grinding away at his profession, stewing on whatever drama had happened behind the scenes...
Other Information
♬

Transfusion: The primary vehicle of Graves's unstoppable aggression and the core aspect of his kit. Transfusion allows Graves to transform any blood into lifeforce, healing physical wounds of nearly any kind. The blood must be drawn through an open wound. The amount of healing received and how quickly it takes to stitch a wound depends on the volume and quality of the blood provided. This ability is typically used by cutting open an enemy's major arteries and healing himself, but it is not limited to this function.

Defiant to the End: One of his strongest abilities, and the most dangerous to utilize. If Graves has suffered enough damage to be near unconsciousness or death's door, he can temporarily convert the flow of blood from all his wounds into life-force, providing an incredible burst of healing power. This magic has the potential to harm or eve kill him if it consumes too great a quantity of his blood.

Meditative Healing: Another aspect of Graves's advanced blood-based restoration magic. By sitting in a meditative trance for at least an hour, he may use his own blood to close his own wounds. This consumes his blood, much like Defiant to the End. How long it takes depends on the severity of said injuries. The stance is extremely taxing, essentially requiring he rest immediately afterward. In addition, it can't repair grievous wounds such as broken bones or eviscerated organs.

Blood In The Water: Using a concoction of a creature's blood and a number of other ingredients, Graves may consume it to cast this spell to locate that creature if they are within a thousand feet of him; if they're moving he knows the direction. This spell can be blocked by most magic or materials meant to disrupt divination.

Sight Beyond Sight: Sight Beyond Sight allows Graves to concentrate, blocking out all other senses to activate a sort of 'sixth sense.' This sixth sense allows him to feel the presence of bleeding targets within a thirty meter radius of himself, though it can be blocked by sufficiently thick walls or anti-divination magic. It acts similarly to echo location, wherein he gets a 'blip' of the target(s)' movement every couple of seconds. |

[User]
Location: The Dungeon -- The City of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

"You seem smart. What do you got in your kit?"

Rael was divvying out whatever she found in her kit, and Benkei joined her, doing the same. Out came various potions, food stuffs and materials. Sharpening stones, small torches, a lantern, and rope. He also produced several potions.

Several health draughts, a few mana draughts, one remaining stoneskin potion and several strength elixirs as well were laid out on the floor. He also placed a few wrapped packages of dried fruit and meat alongside Rael's. One final meal they could all share together before journeying into the deeper dungeon.

"Seele, take some food and drink this mana draught, you burned too much energy in that trap room," Benkei called the girl, knowing how much she'd gone through already. "And don't pull heroic stuff like that again. We need you with us, not half-dead from spell exhaustion."

They needed every ounce of strength.

[Assistant]
---

Thump-thump
Thump-thump
Thump-thump

Kelly couldn't hear anything over her own panicked heartbeat, and the voice that kept replaying:

You will die.
You will die.
You will die.
You will die.

Then she jerked as she felt something touch her knee. At an unknown touch, Alja would probably be fine. She was balanced. If it was a particularly strenuous situation, she might punch the touch. But on the whole, she was pretty hard to shake.

But Kelly was not. Kelly was in a state of perpetual shaken-ness. And so instead of looking sharply up at what was on her knee--her eyes still staring listlessly into nothingness--she only cringed away from the touch, burying herself further into her knees.

"Alja, sweetheart."

Alja.

"Shhh, shh. It's okay. Look at me."

Kelly lifted her--lifted Alja's--head from her--Alja's--knees. Her eyes--Alja's--still streaming tears, met Seele's, and a moment of utter shame ripped through her. She closed her--Alja's--eyes. You're disgusting. Less than nothing. Weak, selfish, useless coward. Who are you to think that you could help these people? Any people? Anybody? Any situation? You can't even help yourself. You lock yourself away in a video game--you neglect your studies--you neglect what few friends you have--you neglect your family. All to fulfil this fantasy of a world where you mean something to somebody. But you don't. You never have. And now you never will.

"Right here, hey. You're okay. You're okay, you're going to be okay. I promise."

I promise.

The two words slashed through the chains of self-pity that were holding her in place. And in front of her in her mind's eye--was Alja.

Oh, shut up.

I...

No. Shut up. You listen to me. You have a chance here. You finally have a chance to do something. Something that really means something. Something that will help people. Isn't that what you always wanted, Kelly? To help people? Why else are you going into medicine? Why else did you roll a tank in Pariah? You finally have that chance. You're good at what you do. And if you die--if--then you'll die in service of helping other people. So get off your whiny ass and do some good, huh?

Then she opened Alja's--her--eyes, and looked around. Seele was comforting her. Rael and Kalie--she almost laughed. She slowly pulled her hands away from her head, and began to uncurl. She met Seele's eyes. Her voice, when she spoke--"Thank you, Seele"--was tiny. It was fragile.

But it was her's.

Then Kelly breathed deeply. And Alja stood.

[User]
Location: The Dungeon -- The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

There was work to be done. The party wouldn't get another respite until the dungeon's end, so it was best they prepared for what challenges lay ahead. Their fearless leader, Benkei, was working with Rael to account for all the supplies they had to work with. They'd gotten to work mere moments after the attendant left-- were they just putting on a brave face? Or did a chance encounter with death really not scare them?

"Could use a snack." He cleared his throat on approach, burying his shame for another day. He hadn't expended much energy thus far, but he was still peckish. It was weird. He didn't get nearly so hungry so quickly in the real world. Was it all the extra muscle he'd put on in the game? An odd thing to mull over as he reached down and collected a sizeable bit of food. After a moment's thought and a glance over his shoulder he picked up a second share.

Then his eyes went to the collection of special items and potions they'd laid out. Graves hadn't taken the time to drop by the alchemist in Thorinn before the raid, stupidly enough. He'd gotten cocky, excepted to run through this no problem. "I could use one'a them ironskins too." He reached down and plucked one up, slipping it into a specially made loop in his belt. There was another vial hanging next to it that he pulled from its string. "Don't like takin' without offerin' anything back," he said, tossing it to Rael. "Extracted straight from a basilisk's fang. The guy said the poison's so potent it'll burn you just by lookin' at it too long."

Graves winced just at the memory of it, a hand moving up to rub his shoulder. "Think I believe him, too."

That single, concentrated extract was worth almost a quarter of the kill by itself. It would've made for a hell of a hunting tool in his arsenal if the world hadn't gone to shit. Now, all he could hope was that it saved a couple'a lives before the day was done. "Maybe hand it over to the archer. Can only imagine what a shot of that shit through the eye would feel like. But, y'know," he shrugged, "I trust your judgement any which way."

With a final, over-exaggerated bow, he turned away and was off.

His path brought him over to where Seele was "helping" the much larger Alja to her feet. Evidently they'd managed to work through her panic attack together. That brought some comfort, he had to admit. Alja was good at what she did and they needed her help if they were going to get through this. She might not be back to her usual, chipper self for awhile, but this would have to do. Seele'd done good.

"Here." Graves offered the second serving of food he'd taken over to Alja, plopping down on the ground where she'd once been to scarf down his own meal. "Goshta keep yer shtrengthh up." He sloshed out between chunks of jerky and dried out fruit.


[System]
Age: 29

Appearance:

Human, werewolf, or hunter?: Werewolf

If werewolf: Alpha, beta, or omega? Alpha

Background:
Morgana had always been an odd child. Unlike the other girls, she didn't care about the dolls and pretty dresses. She enjoyed spending her time with boys in the nearby forest. Hunting, fighting, building things...that was her definition of fun. Her father was an alcoholic, and he often took a swing at her and her mother. Morgana hated them both, equally. Father for his violence, and mother for her cowardness. She promised herself that one day she would put an end to all of this. Hanging out with the boys eventually made her stronger, and fearless to a fault, but nothing could equip her for vengeance better than what happened to her on one August's full moon night. She made a bet with the boys that she dares to walk across the forest alone, using only moonlight to light the way. She never thought she would be in danger out there. After all, the woods have been her second home. The place of joy, laughter, and freedom. She knew all the creatures that lived there, from a giant stag to a grumpy boar. But she had no idea that the forest had welcomed a new visitor. It all happened in a second. The sound of growling, ripping, screaming… And then nothing but silent darkness.

She never learnt who was the werewolf that turned her that night. He left her alone in the woods, where she was later found by the local hunters, who took her to the hospital. She was badly wounded, but odly enough, her wounds had healed pretty fast. In just a few days time, she was back home with her parents, but the reunion wasn't quite like she anticipated. Her father hit her in the face, bloodying her nose, for she was misbehaving and needed to be punished. However, It was the last thing he did. Morgana's eyes flared up like fire, and then she throw herself at the old man and began to hit him again and again and again, until the voice of her mother's screaming brought her back to her senses. Upon seeing what she had done, she fled the house, and never returned.

For almost a decade, she roamed the country looking for answers. She met a few packs, and even joined some for a while, but after witnessing too many werewolves being slaughtered by a hunter due to a bad leadership, she decided to create a family of her own. Starting with Ryan, the member of one of those failed packs, called the the Topeka pack. She practically snatched him away from Jared, the pack's alpha', after thoroughly showing them how she felt about their ways. So she had one wolf following around, but she knew that, finding and collecting the lost puppies wouldn't be as easy as joining the already established pack (even though the kind of pack she'd feel confortable in wasn't easy to find). So, after moving to California, she soon found the trail on the newest pack that was in need of another female alpha. The previous one had been killed off by a hunter, and the pack was left chaotic after that. Since the past had shaped her into being a natural leader, with a strong sense for community, she soon claimed her place.

With her parents both dead (her mother killed herself after witnessing Morgana's outrage) and having no other siblings, she would do anything to protect her current pack. They are her only family. Her strength and her weakness. As a leader she can be as motherly as she can be cold and brutal. She is respected for her fairness, cunningness, and fearlessness. She would stand no tratiors, and would advice anyone, who wanted to take her place, to think about it twice. For their own sake.

[User]
Jess reached the cold, refreshing outside unnoticed. The air inside the bar was stagnant as hell, but one didn't notice unless confronted with normal levels of oxygen. The young woman took a few deep breaths, looking like she simply enjoyed the prickly cold sensation. But really, she was sniffing out the trace of Fay and Anton. As soon as she picked up the scent of the latter, her strolling pace turned into a bouncy, accelerated fast-walk. Those two, together in the same place, possibly far off from possible witnesses? That had to end in a bloody mess. There was no way Anton and Fay would have a normal talk ever, Jesse thought. Too much bad blood, omega vs ex-omega tension. A great deal of that instigated by her own petty lies whenever she tried getting Anton to attack someone, no doubt. To be fair, this pairing was the most obvious target for any instigator with half a brain.

Though taking her time at first, Jess soon became impatient. How far had they gone? What where they doing anyway? Did Fay maybe plan to beat up Anton tonight, in secret, so she wouldn't be able to help Jess gang up on her at the noon-beat down? As dishonorable that would be, it was not beyond Fayth. A woman did a lot of despicable things to save her face. A dirty smirk crept on Jess face at the notion, how far the shining example of an omega had fallen.

The scent became stronger around the old dump. Curious place to go at night indeed. Jess felt the cold steel of her brass knuckles and clutched them in her fist, invisibly inside her pocket. She could hear two familiar voices and quietly crept around the piles of trash and junk, not silent enough to properly sneak up on someone with their sense of hearing, but not eagerly giving away her presence either.

[Assistant]
Anthar twisted softly, not expecting the bottle to be closed so tight. It was. Failing to open it the first time, he tried a second time with more force, finally getting it opened. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Now she will think I'm weak.
Trying to hide his embarrassment, Anthar smiled at Mori. "I think we're missing some cups." He turned around searching the shelves around him for cups. He spotted a few glasses sitting next to some utensils on one of the shelves. He took two and set them down on the billiard table, then he poured from the mysterious drink into both glasses. He put down the bottle and handed one glass to Mori and the other he took for himself.
"Cheers!"

He raised his glass high, then put the glass to his lips and took a sip.
"Wow, that is some strong shit!" He exclaimed, scrunching up his face. It was stronger than that vodka Randal gave him when he turned 21. "Anyway, what is a beautiful woman like you doing alone at a bar in the middle of nowhere?" he asked. He could already feel the alcohol starting to take effect.

[User]
Thomas

A steady sound of beeps greeted Thomas as he woke up, the smell of slight death was in the air. Slowly opening his eyes, the sound of beeps was apparently his heart rate, and being strapped in a ton of IV and his arm practically in mummy wear, the white walls and the plain walls quickly made him realize that he was admitted at a Hospital, again.

"Crap, again huh? Well whatever, haha." he said outloud to no one in particular. Noticing no one was really around, he shrugged it off "Well I was never really the popular one." he said then laughed in a slightly sad tone. Lying back down, one of the Nurses entered and became wide eyed at Thomas, quickly running off and fetching one of the doctors. The doctor came in and told him about how he was lucky and the like for surviving with that deep of a wound and blood loss, Well that's not the first time I've heard that. he thought to himself.

After a bit of surprised faces and condemning tone about him not going to the hospital immediately. Thomas just nodded and smiled and they seem to let him off the hook, though one of the Nurses has been glancing at him frequently with a tinge of red. He raised an eyebrow to this and thought, Must be imagining it. After a bit of more talking and the like, they finally let him rest, with a sigh he lied back down on his bed and was about to close his eyes, reaching for his phones where he thought it was, patting around the area he quickly became anxious. That phone... It fucking has all the hunters information. Where did I lose it?

Calling one of the Nurses, the nurse who came was the one who Thomas thought she was glancing at, though she didn't meet his gaze, he sternly said to her, "Would you mind getting the woman who brought me here, right now, there's an issue." with only a wondering gaze, she nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Sighing, he lied back down again.

[Assistant]
The Black
"Follow him."

Sound on the other end of the phone.

"Your wounds will heal. Follow him." Fire glowed around the face of a muscular, powerful man. Scruffy face with the look of a man who had seen far too many winters. Where smiles went to die. Inside one of the caves they found in Greyville, The Black stood amongst his other spies. The entire pack was not present. Just The Black, his son Eric, and another of his trustworthy scouts; Jake. His follower who had escaped Thomas' traps and inflicted wounds on him was Deon. "Deon. I won't ask again." Silence on the other end, then sound. "Good. Text me the address of the hospital he ends up at." Click, the phone slipped into his pocket. One step ahead of everything. The Black turned to his son.

"Put the fire out. We're moving out. I'll need you to keep watch at the hospital for suspicious humans. Notify me immediately."

"Are you going to kill him?"

"No. He might lead us right to your sister."

"If she's even here."

"I've been a tracker for many years. The trail continues here… I need to put fear and doubt in these hunters anyway."

The orange glow within the cave snuffed out. Darkness as the men swiftly ran through the woodlands of Greyville. Running with unnatural grace and speed through the forests. Seeing in the night what no one else could see. Smelling and hearing what humans would miss. Soon the text came rolling in. Not long after, The Black appeared at the hospital.

"Look casual." To this, Eric and Jake pulled out cigarettes and smoked. Looking around at anyone walking in or out of the hospital. The Black trotted forward. Boots on his feet. Dark jeans and a tight black shirt. His eyes an unnatural golden color that he couldn't turn off anymore. A trait he had gained from killing too many people. Though, he attributed it to a medical issue. Still, The Black did not fear to be seen by hunters like this. He disappeared into darkness much to quickly. The Black entered the hospital and exchanged looks with Deon who acted as a waiting visitor, sitting on one chair. Hiding the wound on his back and his leg. Healing quick.

"Excuse me, my son was just admitted in here."

"Name?"

"Young. Marcus Young. His name is…"

"Thomas?"

"Yes."

"One moment." The nurse left the desk for a moment. The Black leaned over the desk to see her computer. Thomas' information posted up. Including the room number. Within a moment, The Black was gone as she arrived back at the desk. Moving away and heading up an elevator. He walked down the hall. Boots slammed against the ground with heavy, ominous thuds. Arriving at his room and opening the door once Thomas's nurse had left. The Black strolled in. Grabbing a chair and taking a seat.

"Hello, Thomas." The Black pulled out a cigarette from his pocket. "You don't mind, do you?" He didn't care. The Black lit the cigarette and smoked near Thomas's bed. Even when he lit the cig, his golden glare never left Thomas.

"Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." Deep breath.

"Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"

[User]
Thomas

As he was lying down on his bed, the constant beeps of his heart rate became white noise to him. He was about to fall back to sleep due to the comfy bed he was lying on, this was till an immense feeling of dread filled his being. He looked around and saw a tall, figure, his very presence oozed fear, not towards him, but to others around him. His presence choked up Thomas, if there were ever alarms in your head that tells you something is dangerous, this was the time. He entered the room, then strides to a chair and quickly gets comfortable. Thomas' fight or flight kicked in and his adrenaline started to pump.

"Hello, Thomas." said the tall frame with a cold and menacing tone, "You don't mind, do you?" while lighting a cigarette, with no apparent care for Thomas' consent. His Golden eyes was an oddity that perturbed Thomas, he couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved.

"Those are some wounds on you. Must've been one hell of a knife fight." he said with a deep breath, glare never leaving his own, "Unless it was an animal you were hunting. A wolf maybe…"

Through general conception and judging by his demeanor and cold eyes, he had already figured out this intimidating stranger was infact a werewolf.

"Who are you." was the only phrase Thomas was able to choke out, practically glaring at him at this point.

[Assistant]
Oh, for God's sake, you don't have to pretend. I know you hunters aren't as strong. She thought while observing him struggle with opening that bottle. While he was searching for the cups, Mori listened to the sounds coming from the bar, trying to distinguish what was going on in there. Since there was no sound of screaming, yelling or breaking things, she concluded that everything was alright.

With hidden disgust she took the cup Anthar had given her, and clenched her fingers around it, wondering how could she get herself out of drinking alcohol. She followed Anthar's example, and raised her cup high in the air, only to then lower it again, far from her lips. His particular facial expression was enough proof to her, that she made a right decision not taking a sip. If Jet Fuel did that to him, God knows what would have done to Mori. But since she couldn't just stand there with a full cup in her hands, she had to act quickly. After his question, she took a few steps forward, and landed her hand gently on his chest. She licked her lips while observing his, and then raise her gaze up to his eyes. ''Me? Oh, I just come here to lure good looking men into this room, and then tricking them into drinking that awefully strong shit of a vodka,'' she smiled temptingly, sliding her hands to the sides of his waist as she was slowly to hug him.


[System]
Race: Beastmen Leporidae
Gender: Biologically Male
Age: 20

Kaeci stands at 4'10 in a pair of insulated steel-toe'd knee-high boots with a flat heel elevating an extra inch and a half. From this, thick black thighhigh socks extend up just past the edge of a large, beaten, gray, canvas coat. Layered sections of a black leather armor is clipped into place over the lacing on the shins of their boots, hinting to their style of armor. Under their coat, snug black booty shorts are designed not to get in the way of armor similar to their chestpiece, riveted to a broad belt and strapped to their thighs. Some liberties were taken with the design to leave the sides of the chest piece open while still closely fitted to their abdomen and back, held in place with belts on the side of their ribs. This masterwork leather armor terminates in a turtleneck-type design reminiscent of a collar. This part, however, is covered by multiple wraps of a black, blue and red plaid scarf often kept pulled up to their nose bearing numerous faint scents of myriad perfumes and other curious scents. Fingerless gauntlets matching the set emerge from the cut-down sleeves of the coat. These gauntlets have a series of three belts around the fore and upper arms to tighten them in place as the armor otherwise functions like long gloves, ending just below the shoulders.
Curiously, in the armor's design, aside from lacking sides, more exceptions were taken around joints such as the elbows and knees that remain largely unprotected. The only benefits this seems to offer is an allowance of a full range of motion under some assumption that the wearer is uncommonly flexible.
Two small nubs grow from his head, antlers usually kept filed down.
Service. I do not remember the days when I did not serve. I cleaned, I cooked and, in darker moments, I bled. Master Sinclair was the world I knew, and thought nothing of what life was outside of the estate. Rarely I would know the pain of starvation or exposure to the elements for my mistakes, but such was the terms of punishment for failure. I held the lessons dear and improved myself as to earn meals and a place to sleep, and I was rewarded for my work.
Requests to sing, prepare specialties for honored guests or even...well...assisting the younger Master was less than my preferred activity. We would fence, as I had been trained, though the hardship that lingered on the other servants' lips was made clear from the beatings I received when the boy would get carried away. He taught me about the concept of justice, and how we deserved it; he taught me what contrivances invented my place beneath his heel...he taught me how to hate.
None of this was what I wanted, you have to understand me. It was still my home that went up in flames, the night the Master was murdered. I had no clue how to be free, or what free people did or how they lived outside walls, and now suddenly I was one of them. I gathered what I could, rescuing the Old Lord's crossbow from the flames...and wrenching the blade from the younger's beaten body. Then I was gone.
There used to be more of us in the first week. Jaakob and Marlowe were cut down by the guards to buy time for the rest of us to escape. They were the better of us, and losing them left its scar. Many tried to turn themselves in, a number meeting the same fate or being put back into irons, never to be seen again. I had...skills...and upon hearing of the Bloodrose Irregulars, I hoped to once again serve in exchange for protection. Perhaps, by being a part of something, I would not be made to be a part of something else against my will. While I hoped my first real choice as a free man would pay off, my friends moved on towards their own goal in seeking a peaceful home of their own. I do not hold ill will against them, but I still have questions about that night.

Who murdered Jericho Sinclair?
Fighting Style: Crossbow Marksmanship, Fencing

Equipment
- 'Rogue Custom' - A set of form-fitting black leather armor commissioned for Kaeci by his former master. Its design contains many shortcomings in practicality and was mostly intended for aesthetic purposes, though the sturdy material and craftsmanship makes for a quality defence...where the armor actually covers. (Details in Appearance)
- 'The Hunter's Crutch' - A repeating crossbow of Dwarven design fitted with a foregrip to add leverage for its sophisticated lever-action priming system. The build focuses on speed and reliability.
- 'Black Ambers' - His deceased master's favorite rapier and now Kaeciel's treasure.

Skills/Abilities
- Demihuman Traits - Tall, keen ears that are remarkably sensitive to sound and eyes capable of cutting through twilight make beastmen like Kaeciel exceptional at playing roles as a scout or watchman. While his type is hardly physically formidable, their evolution forced a greater focus on evading danger than outwardly dealing with it.
- Lithe - Impressively flexible and capable of partial dislocation and relocation of joints, Kaeci has much experience with fitting in tight spaces. They're no contortionist by any means, but their size has its benefits, and this skill only accentuates the utility of their stature. Great at hiding...maybe a tiny bit claustrophobic, though. Useful for slipping out of restraints or just grossing people out a little.
- A Servant's Slight - Life experience of being a slave to House Sinclair has gifted Kaeciel with culinary skills as well as an attention to detail and a deceptively sharp wit and empathetic intuition. He often portrays himself as being more meek and naive than he truly is, though he is still vastly unfamiliar with the doings of life beyond the walls.

Other Information:

1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, If you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC

[User]
Sanada Estates, Honimora, The Empire

 "Now don't listen to Stephan your team is by no means "The B Team" You have proven yourself in these last few months and so I am trusting you with a mission of your own. As I said Alm shall join your team as a second in command, he has been around long enough to know how we do things and has access to all our resources out in the field. Aside from him I will be handing you a few new recruits along with some of our other members. Make this team your own and I expect great things from you all."
 Olivia, once of House Blackmoore, raised a clenched fist to her breastplate in salute, "I understand, sir. I will deliver results that meet your expectations."
 Having been raised to speak and act properly, the black knight often came across as rigid and even casually arrogant in the way that only those brought up among nobility can manage. Those who pushed past her practiced distance usually came to respect her deeply-rooted sense of duty, even if her dedication to laws and etiquette made her an oddity among mercenaries.
 With a few final remarks, Jing dismissed those gathered to prepare for their mission.

A week and a half later, at the Lost Oasis of the Black Desert.

 Though it didn't show through her carefully cultivated stoicism, Olivia was relieved when Alm came to her with a suggestion to rest. Since she was in command, her pride demanded that she be an example to her subordinates and not be the first to concede defeat to something as simple as the heat. If she was being honest with herself, she was probably more beat than most of her squad with their comparatively lighter equipment. Her armor was warded against magical fire, but did nothing against an overly-persistent sun and its black coloration certainly wasn't doing her any favors. If someone put their hand on her shoulder, they'd probably come away with minor burns.
 As the group settled into their various roles, Stephan couldn't help but open his mouth, "So I'll take bets will we find this noble alive or dead? My money is on dead 50 Sovern at that," he jested. Olivia eyed him from behind her hair and a small scowl crept past her defenses. Her initial impression of the man, such as he was, was thoroughly negative and hadn't improved much since. To be sure, she understood that unconventional tactics and skills like his could well turn the tide of battle, or even avoid a battle entirely, but he was a mercenary in the truest sense. If the money ever ran dry, he'd quickly follow, and that lack of a sense of loyalty made him distinctly distasteful to the errant knight.
 "Have some respect for the dead, soldier," Olivia ordered, pointedly looking at an apparently fascinating piece of horizon, "and if they're not, I don't want our employer hearing that we gambled over her husband's fate."
 Olivia offhandedly accepted the waterskin from Varo, "Oh Your Grace, I've been meaning to ask," She said, half teasingly as she 'bowed'. "Do you know why Lord Whoever was out here?"
 "Practice more," Olivia started, "someone might think you were being facetious, and that will reflect on the company." She took out a small handcloth and wet it. "The whys aren't our concern. All that we need do is confirm their deaths or escort the survivors." She carefully dabbed her brow and cheeks with the cloth before wringing it out and stashing it away.

[Assistant]
Ariel, who had joined Iroryn in the water, gladly accepted the water skin and drank deeply. The cold water felt like the nectar of the gods in the scorching heat, sweat clearly visible on her forehead. She had been under no illusions that her journeys with the Company would be any kind of pleasant, and this was clearly no exception. But she had swallowed her apparent discomfort, not wishing to be seen as weak by the more senior members who had accompanied them. This, however, did not stop her from releasing her hair from its leather tie, proceeding to dunk her head in the water. When she pulled her face back out, water streamed down her face, leaving wet spots on the back of her shirt as they dripped off the metallic shoulder plates.
 Hearing Stephan's words, she scoffed. "I don't doubt that he's dead, but life is full of surprises. And I'll be damned if I lose out on drinking money because this nobleman happened to be some kind of Ice mage like Ioryn and was able to keep himself cool in this damned heat, or stumbled upon a cache of liquor." What she left unsaid however was that she silently agreed with Olivia. This nobleman's wife must have loved her husband greatly to drop the amount of money that would have been necessary to send them searching for him, and she knew how painful the loss of a loved one was all too well.
 Shaking herself from her grim thoughts, Ariel wrung her hair out and pulled it back into its usual pony tail and tied it up with a leather strap, the tie almost invisible as it blended in with her hair. "Now isn't the time to indulge in self pity. We have a mission to accomplish." She chided herself silenty as she pulled one of her daggers from its leather sheathe, examining the edge for signs of dullness.

[User]
Black was probably not the best of colors, but it helped that there was so little of it as Kaeci had already dumped his coat and armor back in the tent, leaving him in little more than short shorts, a tanktop and sandals along with the collar section of armor. It was probably outwardly unnecessary, but he lived his entire life with one and felt weirdly naked without it. Compulsion had driven him to help Alm with assisting with prep for that night's meal. The beastman hadn't spoken much since they joined, just enough to acknowledge the oaths (since even mercenaries had honor, or these ones did, at least) and accept the orders. To be honest, he was greatly enthused by the mission being out to the middle of nowhere, a paranoid person that he was, fearing that he may be being followed. Still, the carousing alongside the desert's rippling mirror brought out a bit of him, especially with talk of their target being already dead.
Not wanting to contribute to the speculation, he delighted in a reason not to engage until seeing how his associate beside him reacted to such grim gambling. "S..." Kaeci started with his thick accent, his first attempts at words in the last week, "Sehr Elm...I pray zeht zehy are all safe."
His words were soft and concise with a wave of knowing worry, genuinely hoping things went well, a tone kept low in the hopes Oliva wouldn't hear him. The woman with her attitude and intimidating black armor scared him enough when they first met that, aside from formal introductions, he merely followed orders given with a nod. In all honesty, he felt a bit out of place with the stronger personalities even going about joining in on the bet before being barked down by Oliva with her sensibilities.

Between all of the talk of death and his recent courage to talk, Kaeci was spurred on to say more, still getting used to the idea of speaking freely. "A-and I vould be villink to place fifty ouf Soverns on zee hope zehy are blessed vith good fortune!" they added in an announcement to the rest, not wholly possessing a grasp on the concept of money but willing to at least rest his earned coin on the side of optimism. Their ears folded back as they shrunk down to continue their work on slicing produce. He wanted to make a joke about 'soldiers of fortune' and the irony of them finding the expedition group being a technicality that fed into the bet, but Kaeci had the draw to silence out of his self-perceived outburst. So much noise...


[System]
Age: 37

Gender: Male

Bio: Before the complete obliteration of order, society and life as everyone knew it, Quinn was just a contractor going from site to site, just making enough money to make each mortgage repayment and keep his wife and kids fed. Suffice it to say, he no longer needed to worry about his mortgage, and his family would never eat again. After at least a year of aimless wandering, Quinn's humanity had shed to the point where he became a recruit for the Blood Army.
In the years to come, he found himself a perpetrator of atrocity and hatred that left the scars on his body looking pale in comparison to the ones on his soul.

Time came when his fragile mind could no longer be held together by acts of violence and in a fit of tormented rage, he attempted to desert the Blood Army. It was a long night of heated pursuit, but eventually Quinn managed to scrap his way tooth and nail away from them. Not without them leaving a permanent mark on him. A combination of a hunting knife, a vicious dog and a grenade had left him short one eye, an arm torn open and a hideous burn to the left side of his face (though in a morbid twist of fate, the burn he sustained aided the cauterization of his gaping eye wound).
In the following days stumbling through the wastes in a septic daze, he eventually collapsed along the path of a traveling caravan. The goodly folk cared for him and nurtured him as much as they could.
He traveled with them for a time, before deciding that they were better off without the danger he would bring them.

Personality: Quinn is a man who says little, yet never minces his words. He's a very cold, closed-off man. The type of guy who has lost everything twice over, so tries to gain as little as possible.
Clinging to his oldest habits, Quinn is not at all above a bit of honest labour to pay his way. A life of hard work left him with a good physique and has managed to keep him from feeling his age too much.
He has been trying to atone for all the terrible things he did as a member of the Blood Army, and will often help those in need almost unconditionally.

Gear:
-Weapon 1 (optional): A simple colt revolver, chambered with .44 rounds.

-Weapon 2 (optional): A machete, equally useful for utility and combat.

-Clothing: All of Quinn's clothing is quite tattered and bears evidence of numerous repairs. A pair of heavy combat boots, sturdy jeans, a simple tee and a very crude yet heavy duty poncho, a strip of which has been cut off to fashion a face wrapping which covers his missing eye and the burn he sustained to that side of his face.

-Items: A set of basic tools (screwdrivers, wrench, hammer etc.), a pair of spare bootlaces, 17 rounds of .44 ammunition (including what's already chambered), a water skin, simple flashlight and a rucksack.

Role: Quinn is a drifter, who doesn't like to remain tethered to any place for too long. He makes his way from settlement to settlement, offering his skills and services as a contractor to whoever may need repairs or handy work done. Sometimes, an assassination may be requested. Quinn tends to turn these offers down...most of the time.

[User]
Hunter Monroe

Inspection was over. They seemed friendly enough. "What brings me out here? uh, lack of food and desperation? That seems about right." Hunter looked at the guns they were holding. Decent bits of firepower. Someone's been stocking up. Maintaining them though must be a pain. Then the rain started to come in. Not a lot but getting sick now was a death sentence for anyone with out proper medication or proper conditions.

The place was nice on the inside. Still decently furnished, the building was standing. And guess what, more people. Things seemed tense though.

[Assistant]
Jake nodded and looked to the door. He walked to it and gently placed a hand on the metal knob and turned it. He opened the door, a small burst of warm air escaping the house. Jake motioned for the two to come inside, the storm getting a bit more rough. Wind blew hard and rain finally fell, the size of the drops making noise. Jake then looked at Quinn against the wall as Alyssa stood against him.

"What the hell...?!"

[User]
Celty stood behind him a bit confused. "Looks like this isn't the best of times. I can wait outside," she offered pointing back at the door. She wasn't about to get involved in someone else's fight. She had already done that once, and it ended terribly. Three dead and one had an arrow through their eye socket, her arrow.

Celty sighed and walked back out the door. "I'll be out here when you guys are done." she sat down on one of the steps and leaned against the porch railing. "One hell of a day." she muttered to herself. The rain was starting to get harder and pour more now. The porch kept her dry though, all but her boots she had sticking out from under the cover. "Hell of a day." she repeated.

[Assistant] Jakes voice sent a chill down her spine but she didn't move the knife away or anything. She glared Quin the anger building up inside her. She gritted her teeth as she scolded Jake," Shut up, you don't know anything." It may of been hard to understand. She could barely prevent her self from crying and the words were forced out. "Get out!" She told him. She had no intention of following his rules and such as.

[User]
Quinn's one good eye suddenly darted briefly to Jake as he came back inside. The tense moment between Quinn and Alyssa had completely shut off the world around him, to the point where it was like he had been inside a fathomless black void. One comprised of rage, regret and bitter, bitter guilt.
The sight of Jake was like a punch to the gut. Quinn felt limp, numbness overcoming him.
A torrential flood of thoughts and emotions assaulted him in the span of only a few seconds, causing his head to start pounding. He briefly considered attempting to apologize, but he knew he was far beyond that. Far beyond any sort of restitution, or redemption.

His shoulders slumped, and at length he let out a small sound.
"Fine then," barely more than a whisper.
It was just another storm for him to face alone. His fate, his sentence, his fault.
Quinn gathered his things and turned to leave, pausing a moment by Jake's side, but not looking at him at all.
"See you round, officer. Sorry it had to end this way. Promise me, when the day comes that I'm staring down your barrel...don't hesitate."

[Assistant]
Jake was way beyond confused. "Wh...what the hell...?" He asked, not understanding what just happened. Did Quinn try to touch her or something? Maybe got a bit physical? Jake looked to Celty, then Alyssa, then back at Quinn. This was odd. Jake rubbed his head and sighed. He hesitated, but followed Quinn.

"Hey. What the hell just happened?" Jake asked, trying to piece together events to try and figure something out. He couldn't do it. Jake found nothing out of the ordinary, but apparently this wasn't the case.

[User]
"I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't think I needed to tell you, but..." He paused, unsure of how to proceed. He decided it was best to just tell Jake everything.
"Alyssa knows me. She knows me because I used to be a part of the Blood Army. She was a captive of my platoon. I thought I had left it behind, thought I was out. They left me with this," he turned his head and pointed at the scars on his face, "my punishment for desertion."
Quinn turned his head back, unable to look at Jake.
"I've done...I've done terrible things. No matter how many of those bastards I kill, it doesn't go away."

[Assistant] Aly backed away from Quinn as he began to move keeping the knife in her hand till he left. He sighed as she closed the knife and placed it in her pocket when he was by the door. She sank down on the wall and placed her head on her knees, letting a few of her tears slip as the images she tried to forget played on and on in her head.

[User]
Jake was appalled from Quinn's confession. He felt sick to his stomach. "Y-you...? In the Blood Army...?" Jake asked, both stunned and confused. He tried to remain calm and not jump to conclusions. He took a deep breath. He felt angry when he learned he had taken Alyssa hostage before. He took another deep breath, still in a bit of disbelief.

"Quinn..." Jake started, turning away from him. But then something clicked. Desertion. Quinn wasn't affiliated. "Wait. Desertion?" He asked, trying to find the good in the situation. If there was any at least.

[Assistant]
Celty heard parts of their conversation and didn't know what to think. Blood Army, desertion, all kinds of different things. She just sighed and watched as the rain fell. There were a few flashes of lightning and booms of thunder.

"It's getting pretty messy out there. It's best everyone stays in till this storm passes." Celty said with a sigh and sat against the wall next to the door. "Who's taking which watch? I don't mind taking a double, don't sleep much these days anyways." she offered holding her rifle against her shoulder.

[User]
"I couldn't stand it anymore...the killing, the torturing...the raping. I tried to run away after dark, but they followed me. They don't punish desertion lightly. I barely got away, nearly died. I wish I had."
That night had been a blur of running, gunfire and explosions. He could clearly recall blinking through hot, sticky blood as it poured down his face. His breath grew more and more labored as his legs burned and turned to jelly.

When they eventually gave up the ghost it was because he managed to reach the city limits and steal away into the night. Guess they figured that the shambling freaks of the night would have gotten to him.
Instead, he survived until morning until the caravan of merchants rolled by and got him. It felt like a dream, they seemed so damn out of place. Quinn spent almost three weeks drifting in and out of consciousness before finally awakening free of pain and infection.

"I'm sorry you had to find out like this. Were it up to me, I would never have even told you."

[Assistant]
"We've all had to do things" came Charlotte's sudden voice from the doorway, the young woman stepping into the room from where she had been lurking in the darkness listening to the heated conversation. Raised voices and the distant rumbling of thunder had kept her from sleep, then upon venturing down she had hear new voices and silently had made her way down the stairs before stopping to listen.

Her gaze was fixed on Quinn but her expression was not one of anger or fear. She understood the desire to keep the things you regretted clutched close and hidden from those who knew you, and after everything that had happened since the world went to hell it never seemed to surprise her what she'd seen other people do, sometimes what she had done. Her expression was more one of thorough appraisal, as her eyes bore into his face like she was trying to see into his very depths. After a few moments she stated flatly "Quinn saved me, Jake too. I owe them both as much as each other, together we've all found this place. He hasn't given us a reason to kick him out, and I think every one of us could benefit from at least one good night's sleep before we decide who exactly is leaving and who is going with who." At that point she glanced around at the rest of them, particularly the two new faces that were awkwardly listening to what was being said wondering who they were.

It wasn't that Charlotte didn't feel for whatever exactly it was that Alyssa had been through at his hands, in fact quite the opposite. If she was face to face with anyone who had done... whatever it was that he had done to her, well suffice to say there wouldn't have been much talking. But the young woman hadn't done that, and Charlotte didn't think she would. Either Alyssa would do something or she wouldn't, but Charlotte figured that was her own business to deal with. The time she had spent alone had definitely dulled her sense of compassion, and more so her own actions too had shown her that people were capable of anything and without the boundaries of society you had to do what you had to do to stay alive. As she saw it Quinn was out of the Blood Army, he'd done the hard thing and left instead of staying with that band of demented sadists, and he'd paid a high price for it. She accepted him for what he was now, despite what he had been. More than that though she suddenly felt a sense of attachment to him, and to a lesser extent Jake too. She'd only suddenly realised it when it looked for a moment that he was about to walk out of the door, and a strong desire to leave with him had overtaken her.

As she stood silent again her gaze went back to him before again returning to staring off distantly as she listened and thought, realising that despite the number of relative strangers around her for the first time in a long time she felt safe.

[User]
It was enough to make his head spin.
He had held onto Charlotte's gaze for as long as he could, before he lowered his eyes like a damn coward. He was suddenly aware of the two new faces in the room, and how the attention was focused on him. His face flushed red, and the heat made his scars itch like made. It was everything he could do to keep from scratching them like a feverish junkie. He was thankful for the poor light.
He shook his head.

"Jake," he said at last, "You used to be a policeman. You're the closest thing we have to law right now. If you let me walk out now, I'll never come back and you'll never have any trouble from me. Though, I'll be the last person to argue against you executing me right now."
It was living with himself that he struggled with so much. Every good deed done, every life saved, or settlement helped was an act of atonement. He never accepted any remuneration for his work unless he was truly desperate and even in those circumstances he only took the bare minimum.

The question remained his mind.
Is it enough? Will it ever be enough?
There was no taking away from the terrible things he had done, no excuses. He could try and preach survival, but the reality of it was that he had been too dead inside to fight it. The loss of his wife and two daughters had been devastating.
Lastly, the thing he would never admit to anyone for as long as he drew breath.
He had gotten to the point where he had liked it. The rush he got from killing, or dominating another human being, stripping them of their worth...it had become intoxicating.
That was when he had left as pleasure turned to disgust and his nauseating conscience had seeped back in through his skin.


[System]
Age: 18
Appearance:

On the taller side, Victoria has almost waist length black hair that contrasts with her naturally pale complexion. Her hazel eyes can look a little odd under the right lighting, and with her complexion and demeanor only add to the air of detachment. She usually dresses well, albeit casually, and most of the accessories on her person have some manner of emergency use if cornered by a supernatural foe.

Specialty: Victoria is gifted at dealing with supernatural foes personally, through both research, and as she might dryly remark, "the power of violence". Rather than face threats through brute force or charge in without prior knowledge, she firmly believes that pre-planning is critical. To this end she researches her foes tirelessly, and would rather invoke the better part of valor than charge into a fight that she does not understand. Her martial prowess is considerable, both with her weapons of choice and her bare hands. Necessities of being a potentially high profile target.

Bio: Victoria Cross is the daughter of a reasonably successful news producer who's job keeps him away from home almost all of the time. She moved to Washington about eighteen months ago from further east, and her transcripts reflect the grades of a gifted student. She's friendly enough, though quiet and a little distant, but not much of a talker when it comes to her past. She describes a fairly average childhood with a hobby for martial arts, but tends to be fairly vague when it comes to specifics.

Her fight against the things going bump in the night extends almost to when she moved into the apartments near the top of the Halifax building, as does her part time job at Halifax Coffee.

[User]
Ash Pierce did not smile, nor did he blink--let alone flinch. "I learned about him during my training to become a member of my Order. Our whisperers informed me he is likely in Washington a few days ago. No offense meant, but I assessed your group to be, frankly, not enough of a threat to warrant his notice. I'm still not sure you are; he very well could have been using all of you to get to her. That might explain the afore mentioned spotters; it might not. Just as possible he meant that trap for each of you, separate from the Slayer. For your sakes I genuinely hope not."

The man's back slid back into the back of the chair, as his eyes addressed Danny for a moment in silence. Then he shrugged, in answer, his face cold. "As some of you have indicated, you would be fighting this fight with or without me. Your fates are yours to own. I believe my culpability absolved by breaking with my Order's traditions and engaging all of you this morning. I have said my peace, what each of you does with it is your choice. Go back out, or don't. Seek out the Slayer, or don't. Believe her a monster, or don't. Take heed from my warning, or don't."

The tension, and silence, shattered at the sound of the electronic bell sounding from the school's general PA speaker in the room; First Period was over. Ash Pierce stood, tucked in his chair, and smiled casually. "On to your second periods, then." He turned on his leather loafered heel, and walked out, leaving the door open in his wake as the library outside the room stirred with motion and activity.

[Assistant]
Amid the sudden influx of students into the library, Dana Griese had shuffled surreptitiously in front of the table occupied by the group, pretending to pore over some tome laid out for inspection by the vampire hunting club - while, in reality, she was hastily stuffing a pair of large handguns into the bundle that had been made of her pea coat. She had gleefully laid them out at the librarian's request, sure he was testing each of them on their capabilities and methodologies. She had thought for sure her assumption was proven correct when Blaine pulled out his small crystal trinket.

After all, these could make a Holy Flash...

Buuuuuut she was not about to take the chance that the entire school was filled with supernatural minders that would turn a blind eye on weaponry within the school. Clearly America's happy-go-lucky munitions laws, though less stringent than those of her homeland, stopped applying when she took a step inside the school. And the exchange student possessing at least two hand cannons and a V-42 stiletto on her person at all times would no doubt raise questions, even among the jaded populace of Washington's local high school.

How foolish.

Bloodsucking demons could breach school grounds with little difficulty, of that Dana had no doubt. If they ever stayed at school late one night, and one were to approach her charge and attack, what means would Dana have to defend her with? A jury-rigged stake, fashioned from rulers and No. 2 pencils? Nonsense. She would need something to carry on her person in case of a bind. But this school had - for good reason - not ever been proofed against the supernatural, and Dana lacked both the patience and the English to make a gripping appeal to the school board. So, in the meantime, a few little weapons!

...

(Big weapons have to stay in the trunk.)

Only because Vicci-chan said so.

Speaking of, Dana needed to talk to her about this new series of developments later. While she had always been pigmentally challenged (which meant less than crap to Dana, who came from a country where pale skin very much remained a traditional sign of beauty) the dark-haired girl she protected looked positively rattled, having ceded even the usual faint red blush of her cheeks to a fearful porcelain color. It seemed as though the bullet points of this Slayer's life had adversely affected Victoria.

Dana thought it was awesome - almost as awesome as the fact that US Army tactics apparently worked on vampires?

This country is the best archenemy I could ever ask for!

Of course, hotblooded as she was, Dana was not so blinded by her want of a good fight that she couldn't notice the reactions of those around her. It seemed that nobody else was taking news of the Slayer as well as she was - even Casey and Danny's glib, prying replies had been fraught with tension, suspicious and aloof.

"Well, so much for Sailor Moon," Dana scoffed, having bundled her weaponry safely in her coat and bundled that coat between her arms and abdomen. "Did you see? She ran away as soon as she saw us. Slayer. She needs a spine. And Dior. She needs Dior in her life."

Her delivery of English, though still retaining the unfamiliar staccato of her learning days, had grown fluid and forceful; she seemed grouchy that she had been in the same room with the Slayer without either of them being tossed bodily through three bookcases.

"And the...library man," she continued. "I don't care what he says. If his job is...this Slayer. The Slayer will be his priority. We will be...afterthought. Afterthoughts. Did you see? He's already absolved himself. In case we die. Or in case she lets us die."

Dana pulled on her coat, after making sure that both her pistols were safely fastened from the inside.

"Fuck that," the Japanese exchange student grumbled. "This Slayer. This library man. They need us too. And I'm going to go tell the Slayer that today. Welcoming committee."

[User]
Everything spoken by Ash Pierce rung a bell internally for Adam. It was time for a wake-up call but not necessarily the kind most would have. Not even the kind that his family would have preferred. It sounded like a war was about to start in the secret dark alleys of Washington and it meant Adam's business might suffer for it or it might have benefited from it. Of course there was the whole pesky demon hunting thing that his family would have nagged him about now that this 'Crowe' was becoming a bigger issue. That wasn't really what bothered him though. Truly it was his reputation as 'The Man Who Can Get You Anything' that can get you anything coming to harm that actually worried him. He was a bit gallant that way.

"Mister Ash Pierce, the man of the hour." Adam muttered to himself and let out a slightly less than subtle laugh, never bothering to mention what was so hilarious in the first place. He shook his head before moving his head over to his fellow occult-dabbler-ites. His head first focusing on Dana. He stared at her with a rather confused look on his face before actually speaking, something was rather obviously bothering him. "So you find out about an entity dangerous more than all of us combined and you want to challenge it to a fight? Hey, I'm all for showing courage. Just let me know where you have this fight, I want to hold a betting ring... Just don't be offended if I say that the smart money's on the new girl."

He clapped his hands once, moving on from the subject swiftly, preferring not to invoke the ire of the Japanese fashion police. At least not too much of it. He turned his head to Danny. "Hey, thanks for calling that old coot out on his crap, one of us needs to have the cojones to do it." He snapped his fingers and picked his bag up from under the table, taking a deep sniff of the middle pocket. "Ah! Time for some good old-fashioned education, I'm off to photography class, children, let me know by text if you want me to get you anything by fourth period." He slung the backpack over his back nonchalantly as he spoke.

He began walking off in somewhat of a hurry, remarkably contradictory to his calm demeanor but he did stop just short of exiting the class and pointed at Casey. "Don't ask me for a family album of the Averys again." He stretched his arms out and yawned. "It's too expensive anyway." He said before turning and making his leave out of the library, proceeding to go to his photography class. No one really knows why he took it, some thought it's because he had some particular customers he took orders from during class but the truth was far more mundane... He just liked photography as an art, his secret hobby was making collages.

[Assistant]
The librarian didn't hear any more from Victoria, not before he left. Her eyes had steadily narrowed as he spoke, taking in and processing the information given. She didn't move, not an inch, until well after he had left. It was hard to tell she was even breathing, her movements had slowed and quieted to the point that she seemed more statue than woman. Pallor lent her the appearance of marble, as though she'd turned to stone before their very eyes.

Her eyes, in fact, were the easiest way to tell she was listening at all. The way they narrowed, shifted, moved from point to point with an undeniable intensity. Dana's behavior elicited the phantom of a smile, but her focus was absolute. Caution crept into her features, into her body language, just like the chill settled deep in her bones again.

The vampire, Crowe, didn't worry her. Maybe he should have, if Pierce was right, but he didn't. A man fearsome in life would be fearsome in undeath, but at the end of the day he was a vampire. Not an especially old one, either. The only worrisome thing was his intellect. That was where the danger lay, if he was as dangerous as the librarian thought. He didn't lack for cunning, if last night was any indication. Simple though it may have been leading the group into a trap like that had certainly caught them off guard. Vampires usually operated with little more than thuggish coordination, alliances through common goals rather than any real ideology.

If Crowe's gang was more militaristic, that could be a problem.

Still, he wasn't on her mind. The Slayer was. The girl with military training, inhuman abilities, and a willingness to use them both. Washington, as strange as it was to say, had felt... Safe. The vampires were a threat, but they were a threat everywhere. And in Washington, she had a team. A group, ragtag though it may be, to watch each other's backs. And they were good at it, too. That didn't bring fear; hearing the librarian cast doubt on their abilities made her angry. She didn't particularly care what he claimed to know. Or who he claimed to be. His knowledge was an asset, but one that had been vague at best up until now. He could claim responsibility for their success if he liked, but it was meaningless. He was hands off. Laissez-faire. He wasn't in the trenches with them each night, fighting for his life and the lives around him. He didn't watch her back, and he didn't watch their backs either. Her trust was theirs, when it came down to it. They'd earned it. Her life was as much in their hands as theirs in hers and they hadn't given Victoria any reason to doubt them.

Dana was right. He was covering his own ass.

And she could see why. The Slayer had not been the picture of stability, and she was the source of her fear. That their 'ally' might decide they weren't her concern after all. Or, even worse, that they were in her way. Casey's support for her hadn't been a surprise; he'd always struck her as the most trigger-happy when it came to the supernatural. If he couldn't look at it and see a white hat, something he could empathize with, it was the enemy. That was what she'd seen, at least. He'd probably put it a different way. The reservations others had, though... They'd all made good points. Showed yet again that they could be trusted.

That was something the librarian and this Slayer would have to earn, though given the choice she'd rather they were both three states away.

Victoria moved for the first time since Pierce left, stepping forward to briefly lay a hand on Dana's shoulder. She did give a faint smile this time, one earned by her friend's comments. Having her around fought off the chill, just a little.

"Easy, Dana. Time enough to make enemies later." She looked, briefly, at the other people in the room. Adam had left, but she knew how to reach him later. If she needed to. It was the others she wanted to say a few words to. "But I think Dana's right. If Mr. Pierce and this Slayer are allies, great. But I don't trust either of them. Pierce kept us in the dark, and his intentions had nothing to do with keeping us safe. Leveling with us when he realized what was going on would have saved a lot of trouble. His intentions are his own, and they're not necessarily the same as ours."

"And I'd prefer this Slayer was nowhere near here. I'm going to try and do some research later. Blaine, if you end up doing some, let me know what you find. Please. Dana... I think I'd be happier if we kept some of your toys a little closer to hand than normal."


[System]
Species: Human

Age: 18

Appearance:

Faction: Believers

Equipment:

Dual Vibroswords - Two blades of sharp metal that vibrate at high speeds, widening any cuts made by them.

Jetpack - A crude jetpack salvaged from a bounty hunter's kit, this well-maintained piece of junk allows Ken an added mobility advantage; useful for sudden strikes against enemy installations.

Shield Belt - As Ken prefers to travel light, he does not carry much in the way of armor. A belt containing a small shield generator, however, can more than make up for that. Made up of jury-rigged components taken from slain slavers, the belt can handle a few volleys of blasterfire before it overheats. This, when combined with Ken's high mobility, makes him as lethal as possible in combat.

Skills:

Melee Combat - Ken is skilled in the art of cutting up his foes.

Agility - Ken is as fast as humanly possible at peak human strength and speed.

Piloting and Mechanics - Ken is a skilled pilot of airspeeders, shuttles, and (obsolete or cobbled-together) starfighters. He also knows how to repair and maintain them, the only reason he had much of an education.

Weaknesses:

Mistrustful - Years of slavery had left their mark on Ken, and so have the years of fighting for freedom. Ken hates the Empire and the Hutts as much as anyone could, but thinks that the New Republic would just absent itself from the affairs of the Outer Rim like the Galactic Republic of old had before.

Cross-Purposes - Ken merely wants to liberate Hutt Space; he does not want to take the fight to the rest of the Empire and New Republic. In fact, he doesn't care about the Galaxy outside Hutt Space at all; they can go hang as far as he's concerned.

History:

Ken's father and mother were minor officers in a Seperatist ship, one of the few not crewed by droids or using droid brains. They fought in several fleet actions in the Outer Rim, and were on the verge of promotion when the droid armies were suddenly deactivated all over CIS space. Forced into a rout by the emerging Galactic Empire, Ken's parents retreated with their ship to the Western Reaches, where with several other holdouts, they were faced with the overwhelming might of the enemy. For a while, they managed to inflict some casualties on the aeging clone troopers and the cheaper, more expendable recruit armies of the Empire before being forced to go on the run again, this time heading to Hutt Space. There, they planned to work as mercenaries and build up new strength to fight against the Galactic Empire.

This strategy worked for a time, but then the Hutts decided that Ex-Seperatists with a political agenda and without tactical skills were too much trouble for the cost. And so, in a startling (to them) betrayal, Ken's parents were attacked by Hutt-allied mercenaries and enslaved. Some years later, Ken himself was born into a life of servitude.

The resulting childhood was rough, and Ken's parents knew that their son would not have much of an education at all if he didn't show any skill at anything that involved mechanics and technology. So, they, in what time they were allowed for themselves, tried to encourage Ken in that direction. They partially succeeded when it turned out that Ken, though not a genius, showed an early interest in speeders and racing them. He was then allowed by the local overseer to learn from the nearby slave-mechanics.

Ken thus lived a less hard life than other slaves, but still with its share of struggle. He hated it. He hated the life he lived and wished to be free. And that was when he encountered Cinder's messages exhorting the slaves of the Hutt Empire to revolt. And a flame grew within him, a flame that cannot be silenced quickly, and he and other mechanics who've heard Cinder's words began planning a revolt of their own.

They made blasters and explosives from spare parts, as well as tracked the location where the tracking devices and kill-switches of each slave were receiving their signals. All the while, they kept their group small, in order to prevent betrayal from within. Finally, when word arrived of Jabba the Hutt's death, and the Battle of Endor mere days after that; they struck, destroying the place where their metaphorical leashes were kept by remote-piloting a cargo vessel packed with explosives straight through the comms tower.

After that, the planet began to erupt in rebellion; several other cells had the same idea of revolution inspired by Cinder. And so, in a chaotic few weeks, a planet was freed from the Hutt Cartel and slavers, Cipher had more followers, and Ken gained valuable combat experience.

However, Ken knew that more was needed; a planet can be bombarded or blockaded from orbit, and so the Believers needed their own starships. So he, along with members of other cells, formed a team dedicated to seizing as many vessels as possible, and the tech to repair them. That way, they can have a fleet that may one day contest the New Republic and the Empire, and drive them out of Hutt Space...

Ken's parents are alive and in a secret sanctuary, btw.

[User]
Elias Joranis|Did Someone Say FUBAR?

Elias grunted as a bolt struck his armor, ricocheting off of it into a nearby crate as Sirka said to run to her. Glancing around his cover, firing three shots at the pirates ahead, and noting that the giant lizard was already closer to them than he was. "Yeah, no, you come to me." If she were to turn around, she'd have spotted his twin blaster pistols making pirates and others dive for cover, because if a bolt found it's mark, they didn't get back up. When the flashbang went off, Elias fired off another rocket into the area, not aiming for kills so much as effect as it detonated and added more bang to the grenade's.

The giant lizard then moved to Elias's location and the pair made a break for it, vanishing into an alleyway with blaster fire peppering the area around them. Once he was sure they were out of sight, he began to lead them towards Docking Bay c-12. "Just gotta pick up what Koren sent me here for, and then we can argue about why your sister is on Circumtore with me. Now's not a great time."

[Assistant]
Circumtore

Between Sirka's powerful legs and Elias' jetpack, the pair were able to put quite a bit of distance between them and the remaining pirates rather quickly, particularly with the pirates having been stunned by the flash grenade. They weaved between crates to keep the line-of-sight broken, then tried to keep their path unpredictable once they were in the city. Sirka was absolutely not someone who could hide in a crowd, so their only option to get away from the fight was to simply keep distance from the pirates. Hopefully, with all of the confusion that had been stirred up at the warehouse, the pirates would not be effectively following.

Eventually, Sirka and Elias were able to holster their weapons and continue to walk somewhat less conspicuously towards the docking bay. Predictably, Sirka was none too happy about much of what Elias had to say to her. There was a low, rumbling growl from her throat while she stared him down with her black eyes. "I'll argue whenever, and wherever I damn well please." She asserted, though despite her words, she did not immediately begin to shout at him. "I just want to get my sister back home, but for reasons I can't comprehend, she was adamant that I stick my neck out for you. She insists that it would impress Koren for me to help his interests here, so against my better judgement, I'm going to get you and that package back to your ship. Even if I have to drag both of you there myself. Then, we can have a nice, looong chat, just you and me." As she finished speaking, Sirka reached out and placed her oversized hand on Elias' shoulder. She did not squeeze tightly enough to harm him, but at the same time, she kept her grip firm enough that he would absolutely not be able to remove her hand on his own.

[User]
Elias Joranis|Did Someone Say FUBAR?

Elias rounded on the lizard, using momentum and a nerve pinch to slip free of Sirka's grip, and locked a glare on her. "There IS no discussion to be had. I'm going to finish this job and I'm going to get you and your sister back to Paradise. Hold your petty grudge if you want, but I'm not going to spend the time after this job wondering if you're going to try and kill me. Believe it or not, shit happens." Turning away from her, the Mandalorian continued forwards until he could hear the sound of Sol'id's jetpack. "We're getting close."

[Assistant]
Bee

---

---

Lez was restless as she finished using the strigil to scrape the cleansing oil from her golden skin which she enjoyed for how smooth and silky it left her feeling.

She walked from the pad to a large mirror and seemed to enjoy the act of vanity as she inspected every inch with critical detail looking at her muscle tone, any developing blemishes, or anything out of the ordinary. Then she dressed and returned to the mirror and inspected herself once more taking inventory of what she had on, it's condition, it's position, if it's best use is blocked by any other articles she wore.

A few adjustments later she left her room and went on a search for her partner Ken Neumann to whom she'd been assigned by those who she now worked for.

---

---

She watched as the trusted smuggler who'd been paid to deliver her to a location far from the hidden base her new partner ran. She only knew him as an eager student who'd joined her in a small class of people who sought her skill with melee weapons, she'd barely had to correct him and had he been given her as a protege in the arena she'd have consider him not a waste of her time.

Like any former slave or abused animal the young male displayed a weariness of those around him which was to be expected and needed hiding; "You never trusted anyone but yourself when you have worn the collar".

Lez had to cover 60 kilometers in 22 hours through uncharted swamp but had paced it to 16 due to averaging 3.75 per hour covering 7 kilometers an hour twice to make up for the slower legs. She slowed pace only when she came to within 3 kilometers of the base; she didn't want to startle the youth at this base knowing that their inexperience could get her shot but wanting to get close enough to make sure the short range link she had hidden on her person wasn't intercepted by those with their auditory organs pressed to the door.

It took her 2 hours to cover the ground between herself and the camp twice coming close to what she thought might be listening points or warning sensors. Her form till she found herself at her limit of intrusion had been hidden by a camouflaged long hooded cloak was instantly exposed as she spread it out in a sunlit glade which was caused by the collapse of an old tree.

Her oiled skin now would make sense as chemicals in it drove off the swarms of insect life and her body coloration the same effect any bright colored poisonous creature. She stretched languidly before tapping the center of her headpiece and activating the comms so that any of the base who might have already spotted her she showed no weapons and was in a relaxed non threatening pose.

"Sunset, I repeat this is Sunset, one ping position exposed" she said before closing the link and going silent.

She had learned well that the thing in her headpiece was as deadly as any blade so rarely enjoyed activating it and felt mildly safer that depowered it couldn't be used against her by the clever. She prefered the older ways of communication for they brought she and who she was speaking with closer so she could read their body language.

[User]
Sunset. Ken's former mentor in the use of Vibroblades, Lez, to the boy, was a frightening person. Capable, yes, but Ken was still frightened of her. Nevertheless, as he sat in the comms suite, the young man would say (once he made sure Elias was no longer being commed), "Sunset, your transmission is acknowledged. Move over to the base right away; I'll have Puevi prepare some extra quarters. If you need exact directions, we're in..." he then gave a set of coordinates leading to the three giant hollow strangler figs that hid his arsenal, living quarters, and comm suite.

Switching the frequency to Puevi's comm, Ken would say: "Oi, Puevi, wake up! Cinder sent us a new guest!" He would then give a hurried summary of who Sunset/Lez was, before continuing, "Hold on, I'll be coming to help; I am in currently in the comm room." And with that, Ken Neumann would close the comm suite and walk back to the living quarters.

The lower floor of the makeshift facility was where the refreshers/showers were; the younger ones bathed together while Ken and Puevi had seperate areas. Now, one of the refreshers had to be moved via repulsorlift to the very edge of the floor, close to the wall, to make a more private space for Lez. That said, though, Ken thought it was more for his' sake than Lez's; he was attracted to the female form but felt awkward about the possibility of seeing his mentor's...ugh. Either way, Lez had enough time to arrive while the preperations were being done.

Once she entered, Ken would ask the Twi'lek: "So, Sunset, have you come as support, or to take over leadership of the cell?" Mere formalities; Ken knew Sunset did not want to be a leader and had other capabilities. "Either way, I'll be candid; I was just in the middle of negotiating an arrangement for information and offworld opportunities with a group of mercs; newbies to Hutt Space. This might be our ticket to more ships and credits, if I am allowed to be optimistic..."