[System]
Death Korp Trooper Number:
Trooper 17431

Appearance:

Height:
5'6"

Age:
27

Sex:
Male

Class:
Death Korp Grenadier

Equipment:
- Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) -
Also known as a Hellgun or, more rarely, a Hotshot lasgun, the Type XIV (Heavy) is the standard issue weapon for all Grenadiers serving in Death Korp regiments. They are, at least by the Grenadiers themselves, intensely disliked due to perceived unreliability in the field during extended operations and a Krieger's general preference for the default Type XIV Lasgun (More commonly known outside of Krieg as the Lucian Pattern Lasgun). However, with the proper maintence that each Grenadier performs routinely, the weapon performs its intended role as a high power Lasgun, capable of punching through heavier armor and providing, on full auto, a withering rate of fire. The Type XIV (Heavy) utilizes a backpack unit to power it, and a Quick Recharge Generator included in the backpack unit is generally overtaxed, due to the design of the weapon and its power output. Ansgar, like many Grenadiers, would have preferred a Type XIV Lasgun over the Heavy variant, but as a Grenadier, he is required to carry it.

- Grenadier Carapace Armor -
Intended for deployment where the fighting is fiercest, Death Korps Grenadiers are equipped with heavy Carapace Armour that has been integrated into the standard Krieg kit. This comprises the Mark IX helmet, a rebreather facemask, three-piece shoulder guards, a chest plate with additional abdomen plates and shin and knee guards. All are made of Plasteel and reinforced with a layer of Ceramite for additional strength, heat resistance and weight reduction. The armor, coupled with uniform and Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) makes a very heavy loadout, adding in the miscellaneous equipment they carry as well, however, the protection is vastly appreciated by the Grenadiers in general, due to their role as the leading edge in storming trenches and hostile emplacements, needing the protection to get close enough to do their jobs, not so much concerned with survival.

- Explosives -
As his former squads Demolitions expert, Ansgar carried the standard explosives load out alongside extra tools, for when the Engineers could not keep up with the assault but were preoccupied elsewhere. Besides several Frag and Krak grenades, Ansgar also has several demolition charges, rated for taking out hardened bunkers when put in place. Ansgar modified the charges so that, in a hurry, he can pull a detonation cable and heave the charge at a target, the normally delicate and precise procedure for arming the charges ditched in favor of emergency target removal. And, as a Krieg Engineer before he was assigned as a Grenadier, he has learned to build improvised explosives that served him well in the trenches when supplies on conventional explosives were running short, as well as utilize Chemical weapons safely.

- Melee Gear -
Ansgar carries two weapons for melee combat, one obligatory and the other actually used. The obligatory is his bayonet, which the Type XIV Lasgun (Heavy) lacks a mount for, another reason it remains unpopular among Grenadiers, and typically serves as much as a tool and last resort weapon than anything else. His actual go to is a Entrenching Tool, edges sharpened to allow him to carve through hostiles as well as bludgeon them, and retain the intended purpose of digging trenches and other necessary fighting positions.

Notable Deeds:
- Tyranid Assault on Thresis IV -
Raised from birth to be a Death Korp Engineer, Ansgar Staudinger, or known by his Trooper designation 17431, will never state when he was sent to war, something that tends to bother people who ask that are outsiders to Krieg and their necessary methods of providing the Imperium the soldiers it needs. Assigned fresh to an Engineering Platoon, Ansgar would spend a great deal of time digging trenches and laying mines in the defense of a Shrine World, Thresis IV, directly in the path of a Tyranid Hive Fleet Splinter. The Tyranids, despite being vastly reduced in numbers compared to a true Hive Fleet, descended like mad locusts, slaughtering over 90% of the Death Korp forces deployed on the planet. Of that 10%, Ansgar Staudinger was one of the survivors, the only from his platoon, found near death after turning an entire trench line into a raging biochemical inferno, equal parts fire and chemical weapon that was effective on the Tyranids. Sharing the compound make up with other Death Korp Engineers, the biochemical fire was used to great extent to halt and drive back the Tyranids, making the then rookie Staudinger's trial by fire a literal, and resounding, success.

- Nightmares Beneath Thrasis II -
As part of the Thrasis campaign his regiment was assigned to, and the arrival of Tyranid complicating greatly, Ansgar Staudinger was deployed with a fresh Engineering platoon to assist in the breaking of a siege on Chaos held factories on the system's forge world, Thrasis II. Utilizing conventional tunneling and, when they detected they were almost at the entry point, Hades Breaching Drill, to punch into the Chaos held Foundry, Ansgar and his fellow Guardsmen stumbled into something straight out of the most feverish of a heretic's nightmares. The Warp had bled over into the belly of the foundry, with daemons and mutants in equal measures assaulting the woefully unprepared Krieg Guardsmen. However, they had a job to do, and they were able to hold their ground, keeping a secure tunnel long enough for support to arrive and push deep enough into the Chaos corrupted foundry, to the dark heart and plant enough explosives for the resulting explosion spotted from orbit. Whether it was the sheer amount of explosives put in place, or partially due to Chaos corruption was never decided. However, as one of the only survivors again by virtue of Luck or being Blessed, Ansgar was reassigned by a surviving Commissar to the Death Korp Grenadiers.

- Hellscape of Thrasis I -
Nearing the end of the Thrasis System Campaign, Ansgar found himself a freshly minted Grenadier, no longer an Engineer although he often worked closely with them during breaching actions against enemy defensive lines. However, upon touching down on Thrasis I, the Kriegers found something unlike anything anyone could be prepared for. The Foundry was merely a foretaste of what was to come, as planet spanning rituals had allowed the Warp to taint and corrupt great stretches of the planet, forcing Guard forces to struggle through conventional defenses one day, and make a mad dash through Daemon infested hellscapes that should not be the next. What Ansgar refuses to mention to a soul, due to an oath he was put under at the end of the conflict, was the arrival of Grey Knights, of the Emperor's most holy Ordos Malleus. Alongside Adeptus Sororitas support, which Ansgar learned to have a deep, healthy respect for, the combined arms forces stormed the capital of Thrasis I, a den of pure evil and corruption that made the rest of the planet look like a Shrine World in comparison. Once again, whether by luck or the Emperor's own intervention, Ansgar found himself as one of the only Grenadiers, and Krieger's period, to survive the assaults into the city, arriving at the Hall of Governing as it had been christened during Thrasis I's founding as a colony, only to find horrors so unspeakable even the Krieg born Grenadier refuses to speak of them now. But, between the Grey Knights and Sisters of Battle alongside his own humble contributions at that point, which mostly consisted of survival, Ansgar lived to see the end of the hellish campaign on Thrasis I. With literally no regiment to return to, and having become aware of the most secretive of Space Marine chapters, it was decided to induct him into the Inquisition, sending him to serve where needed most.

[User]
"Doesn't matter..." Vala replied to Adrianne with displeased expression." I got tricked, should have stayed back at base. I hoped for nice dinner out and it turns out we are simply going on a raid." The former merc stated with sad voice, regretting her decision. She could have stayed at base and tinker her newest invention... weapon. A weapon perfect for dealing with specific high armored targets. Targets like power armor or warp shielding." I just want now to get this over with and return back..."

 She heard one of the new face say something and then looked up at him. Just the usual poor sod roped into inquisition duties. Vala herself was not given much of a choice in the matter so she at least tried to make the best of it by tinkering like mad on invention she before had not the resources to make. She now wondered what was his story... was he forced.. did he volunteer or something or was he requested specifically...

 "As long as the ammunition isn't defective and the bolter doesn't heat up to a point it causes the bullets to ignite before fired, you should be fine." Vala stated to Ansgar and threw a look at Adrianne.

 "I'm personally fan of heavier hitting weapons... Shotguns... cannons... the higher impact and damage ones that take are focused on high range, velocity and damage instead of speed." She said with a sigh." In fact I'm in the middle of finishing a laser cannon that should be powerful enough to pierce through space marine power armor in a single shot. Granted it's very slow rate of fire, but in return it should be good to go from mile and something. Basically it's an sniper cannon... You'll like the results it gives."

[Assistant]
The Servitor's vox box would automatically crackle into life, using its same, monotone voice to answer the Krieger's comment.

"Clarification: I was suggesting that the analogy used by my mistress may,-"

"Mute!"

Suddenly sounded Adrianne's voice as the Psyker had leaned over to stretch out one arm to press a hidden button on the servitor's back, as its vox box suddenly grew silent. It moved about, shuffling slightly, but not a single sound came from it aside from the occasional whirring sound of gizmos and hydraulics from its body.

Leaning back into her chair, now with a much more satisfied look on her face, Adrianne would turn to look back over at Vala with a smile.

"Heavy hitting? Shotguns? Sweetie, you do realize what a bolter is?!" Adrianne quipped with a mischievous smile!
"It is essentially a direct grenade launcher. And a stormbolter is just two bolters latched together. If you like heavy hitting options, you'd fall in love with it if you tried!"

The Psyker commented with a sly grin.

"And don't you worry about food. House raids are actually quite lucrative on a rich world. Even the heretics around here are bound to be well off! Imagine the foodstuffs we'll be able to find in their larder!" Adrianne said with a glint in her eye! For it had been a thought that had just struck her too!

It had taken a while for her to realize that the average citizen on this planet was actually quite well off compared to other areas of the Imperium. Which meant that when they invariable kicked in the door and the Sister of Battle did her thing and burnt the owner on charges of heresy, that meant they retained the right to confiscate all their stuff! Foodstuff included!
While Adrianne did not consider herself a burglar, it was technically alright in her mind if she confiscated the stuff under imperial or inquisitorial decree! It would technically not be stealing then!

... in theory.

[User]
"I would not be so quick to dismiss a shotgun as not heavy hitting, ma'am. I've seen ammo that the Arbites should know, such as rounds designed to home in on targets. Coupled with slug, various explosive rounds, gas rounds, and stranger that I've seen used, a shotgun can hit well above its weight." Ansgar was rather fond of shotguns, specifically the Krieger favored Lucius Pattern Mark 22c semi-automatic shotgun. Engineers were fond of the revolver style magazine the weapon employed, one could very much treat the things with impromptu grenade launchers, just lower velocity than the common method of likening bolters to high velocity grenade launchers. Engineers loved the Mark 22c, the thing could sweep trenches and tunnels clear in a few blasts, the weapon's lack of range and ferocious kick mattered little to the Kriegers born with a natural talent for combat engineering. And Ansgar was no exception to this, he still missed his shotgun over the hellgun he lugged about still.

Ansgar patiently listened to the merc woman talk to great length about her current project, an amalgamation of las tech that would probably get her strung up by the cogboys if they caught her with the thing. But, thankfully for her, they had no cogboys with them. "That sounds like an attempt to make a single man portable las cannon. Just more unreliable and jury rigged. Why not strip down a lascannon and bulk up a bit, or use a suspender rig to aid in carrying it?" Ansgar was seriously questioning how useful this sniper cannon would be, considering it really sounded like a jury rigged las cannon. The Krieger had seem some strange combinations by desperate soldiers, but this hardly seemed to be a situation fitting for such a jury rigging. Not when, as he pointed out, either stripping down a las cannon, bulking up, or using mechanical assistance could accomplish the same with a far more tried and true method of armor hunting than some amalgamation of parts and circuits.

Ansgar wouldn't be so crass as to go I told you so, when the thing blew up on her, but he would certainly not be within the blast radius when it went critical. He had to admit, it seemed the group had a fetish for heavy firepower, something that, while he could respect and find it useful, he did not share. Each weapon and piece of equipment was a tool, nothing more. If a knife could get job done as serviceably as a heavy bolter, why waste the time, resources, and manpower to use a heavy bolter when the knife would suffice? Perhaps he was being unreasonable, sticking too closely to the common supply problems of siege warfare, and never having the luxury of getting to have such a fetish for heavy firepower. Then again, perhaps it was unhealthy for their focus on such things. But then again, this was a psyker and mercenary he was dealing with, there was never any promises they would be reasonable, sensible, or otherwise sane! With that though, Ansgar maintained his silence, despite the plethora of further commentary he could make on the situaiton.


[System]
Race: Zizz (Human-sized Bipedal Lizards, leaning more towards Lizard than Human; think Dinolfos, as opposed to Argonian )
Gender: Male
Age: 303
Occupation: Hunter, Tracker and occasional Mercenary.

Personality/Interests: Rimau has a rather mercenary approach to life, who desires nothing more than an easygoing job that pays well; preferably one that makes use of his prime talent of 'shooting things'. He's actually quite friendly and chatty if you can get him going, though he has a rather dark sense of humour; he's the sort of fellow who finds flailing burn victims kind of funny, especially if he caused it. Though he can easily come across as cranky and senile (he has a habit of rambling incessantly and ranting about random things), he's actually quite intelligent, at least on a tactical level.

Appearance Details:
Body build: Possesses a rather lean musculature; is quite fit for his age, but that's not saying much.
Hair: What sort of Lizard has hair?
Hair colour: See above.
Skin colour: Dull, dark green. Can appear quite cracked and dry in places due to his age.
Eye colour: Orange.
Height/Weight: About 5'0'', but appears shorter since he's usually hunched over. Quite light.
Notable Features: Has about four 'whiskers' coming off his chin and jaw that resemble a beard. Also has two bullet scars on his chest, near his heart.

Clothing Description: His dress sense could be best described as 'eccentric'. Despite not being an aviator at all, he wears a black leather aviator hat with accompanying goggles, with a set of colourful feathers stitched to the side. He also wears a matching fur-lined leather vest (with the head of a mechanical dinosaur and the words 'Gekko Gras Muriak' stitched to the back), and a bandolier for holding bullets. Aside from this, the rest of him is bare; after all, his kind needs a lot of space to absorb heat. He doesn't have any visible 'equipment', either.
Equipment: He has a belt on which he carries assorted items necessary to make his special ammo, such as gunpowder for explosive hollow-point ammo, oil for incendiary ammo, and so on. Of course, these supplies are limited.
Weapon(s): His weapon of choice is a Repeating Revolver Rifle affectionately dubbed 'Skrin-Ko' ('Smart' in Zizz language). Like most Zizz technology, it is utilitarian in appearance and made of blackened metal and darkened wood (sort of like this), and has a custom scope attached to the top (made from an old telescope). He also has a machete with a splintered handle, which he uses more as a tool than anything else.

Powers: Nothing here. Born on the same level as the rest of his kind.
Abilities: As a Zizz, he possesses a tough, scaly hide that is considerably harder to penetrate than human skin. He also has an enhanced sense of smell (from his tongue) and sight, which is particularly useful for his line of work. The Zizz also have the ability to heal from injuries faster than other species, though due to his age it takes over a week at least, and he can no longer grow back entire limbs or anything similarly major.
Talents: Crack shot with a Rifle. Has shot people from a mile-and-a-half away (or 2.414 kilometres). He is also something of a handyman; besides repairing Skrin-Ko, he can also jury-rig his own ammo and construct and place an assortment of traps (such as Bear Claws, Trip Mines and anything else he can think of), provided he has the right materials, of course.
Magic: While he has no magic of his own, he once hired an enchanter to magically bind Skrin-Ko to him; this means that no-one can fire the Rifle but him. His machete is fair game, however.

Miscellaneous Notes: His name, 'Rimau Ekoy-Rimau Eng-Dasku', translates to 'Rimau, son of Rimau, times twelve'. It's not his full name.
Due to the nature of his work, he often takes medicine to keep him awake for extremely long periods of time. As a consequence, when he's not working, he is something of a heavy sleeper.
He prefers warm, sunny, dry climates. He becomes infinitely more grouchy in cold or wet environments.
He particularly enjoys smoking various herbal substances with a pipe. Keeps him calm and alert.

Sessamaru: "Nice kid. He ain't gonna get far if he don't get more realistic about the ol' warfare, though. Plus, he eats like a Pig."
Historia: "Textbook youngster; friendly, wants to travel, real naïve... she'd better shape up or she'll end up a Sunday roast, heh."
Saha: "Boy, I'd love to hang her picture on the wall."
Katelia: "I like this girl... she ain't got an ounce o' hospitality in her, but fun to watch. Remember to not shoot her cat."
Julio: *cough cough* "Whaddya mean that's a guy?!"
Azzrix: "I can't believe the Rodent ain't been put on the choppin' block yet. What kinda thief acts like this?!"
Margaret: "I see a bit o' myself in this lady... but she's got a long way to go before she can shoot with the best of 'em. Even with that fancy Crossbow."
Naida: "Well, if it ain't my favourite Sprite bartender? I dunno if there's a cocktail she can't make!"
Drubbins: "Most Ogre dumb-asses ain't good for much besides easy target practice. This guy... he's somethin' else."
Mysaren: "Somethin' ain't right about this kid. She's nice, but... nah, probably nothin'."
Tahira: "Not bad, but a bit lackin' in humour, when all's said an' done. I don't think I've ever seen her laugh!"
Claire: "Never 'eard of 'er. Is she a looker?"
Viggo: "Boy, lemme tell ya... Blunderbuss next to the ear drum? That's frickin' Opera compared to the drivel this kid calls music!"
Rouen: "This dumb-ass is pretty funny to listen to. 'Specially his precious Dukedom. The pinnacle of order, huh? Yeah, it's a frickin' circus compared to Tarzblik, kiddo."
Felan (Human): "I dunno 'bout this kid. He ain't a dumb-ass, but he ain't exactly fond of hunters, either."
Felan (Wolf):"I ain't never seen a dog that big. I'll have to clear some space if I wanted to mount his head on the wall."

[User]
Azzrix heard their responses and was slightly disappointed that Mysaren wasn't interested in going on missions with him yet, but he decided that he would have to wait for some other time. Azzrix excused himself to go look at the mission board and then he overheard Naida talking about a mission to find the daughter of a patron to the tavern who had gone missing. Azzrix also heard her mention the possibility of the patron being rich and he became even more interested. He then noticed a commotion going on in the kitchen and saw the weird dog like man run out with a pot of stew with the cooks screaming at him as he fled.

Azzrix shook his head at the foolishness of the man, he would make a terrible thief if that's what he thought was worth stealing. Azzrix was interested in the mission so he followed them to wherever they were headed. He decided to follow Naida and soon saw that she was headed back to her home. Azzrix thought that it would be best to quickly go get his things. He quickly headed back to the place where he was staying to get his things and change his clothes.

Once in his room he put on his darker robes and traveling cloak which were his thieving clothes when he wasn't robbing people in plain sight. Azzrix attached his rapier and Parrying Dagger to his belt and got his throwing knives and hand crossbow. Once he got the arrows for his crossbow Azzrix left his home and went look for Naida. He eventually found her waiting around and walked up to her calmly.

"If you don't mind I would like to partake in this mission, a person with my kind of talents would be a great asset on a mission like this" he said to her with a polite tone to his voice.

[Assistant]
"If y'say so, m'good... person." Rimau said after listening to what the Priest had to say, still unsure over what pronouns to use. He scratched his head as the Priest's words came tumbling into his mind, and back out again. 'Heh... poor kid.' He thought, remembering the standards of life set for him and the rest of his kind. 'Where I come from, people who try an' see the light usually end up makin' a bloody mess of 'emselves on the streets, heheh.'

He was about to shake his hand, until his attention was stolen by the big-pauldron dumbass. The Zizz squinted at that man with suspicion for a good while, listening in on his words. He didn't say that much, but he had a blank expression of purpose on his face, something Rimau was all too familiar with, to the point of it seemingly transcending the racial boundaries. It was the sort of expression made by a dedicated servant. A loyal attack dog. There was something about him that Rimau just didn't like, beyond simply looking ridiculous with his oversized equipment.

Rimau decided to turn away from him until he walked away from the nearby mission board, slapping the side of his head. He was worrying too much. Once he was out the way, Rimau took the opportunity to leave a coin on the bar (with the face of someone he didn't recognise on it) and turn his head around to inspect the board; his eyesight enabled him to see what was on the papers without having to clamber down and navigate the masses again; it wasn't that far away, anyways.

"Well now, what do we 'ave 'ere?" He muttered to himself as he took a look, scratching the side of his chin. There were a few jobs in the city, which weren't really his thing; he'd seen enough of urban warfare in his time, and none of them seemed suited to his skillset anyway. Ignoring the fetch-quests, there were a couple of jobs offered by some local noblemen.

They both demanded the return of something, that something having been stolen from them. One of them, a golden mask, and the other, his daughter. The rescue mission seemed easier, with the tribe responsible for the kidnapping in open territory, but Rimau was never one for babysitting spoilt princess-types. Plus, if he knew human nobility, they'd pay a lot more for a trinket than for their trophy daughters. Tough decision.

[User]
Mysaren stood to stretch, noticing the mission board cleared up a bit. Fine, she'd go look. She waltzed over, to looking at the papers curiously. She noticed a specific mission, one about a thief and a golden mask. Seemed easy enough, and returning something that expensive had to have a good reward for it. She grabbed the paper, looking at it curiously before smiling. Yeah, she could do this. She needed someone to do it with though, she knew that. As helpful as necromancy was, it wasn't exactly the most useful of powers in combat. Talking with the dead and raising them to fight for her was great, and bodies were kinda plentiful around these parts, but it required a lot of energy, and she wasn't the best of controlling them.

She felt someone staring at her, and she turned, her eyes darting to the lizard guy. Oh yeah, that ass. Well, maybe he was nice, just a bit rude in the "don't blow smoke all around the tavern." department. Was he looking at her, or... Surely his eyesight couldn't be that good? She didn't really know anything about whatever species he was, besides, well, they were obviously rather large lizards.

[Assistant]
Rimau was about to look further into the job about the golden mask when the paper was suddenly taken off the board by some kid in fancy robes. He attempted to position himself in such a manner that he could continue reading, but no such luck; the kid was simply too big for him to not obscure Rimau's vision. He screwed up his face and grumbled for a brief moment. Alas, if he could see through solid objects, not only would he be the world's greatest marksman, without a doubt, but this sort of annoyance wouldn't happen.

Soon, however, the kid suddenly turned around and looked Rimau directly in the eyes, the invisible 'force' of which prompted Rimau's own eyes to widen and his the line that was his mouth to upturn in a more friendly manner. It was then he realised something; the kid was actually a woman. A square-jawed woman, sure, but still a woman. Those were some thick robes. The sort of robes Rimau would die in if he wore them.

Deciding that you can always get more done in life if you're nice to people, Rimau decided to clamber down off of his stool and make his way over to the lady; as fun as it was to keep rivalries, most of the time it tended to be impractical and juvenile to insist on a professional rivalry with a specific individual, especially if the job was well-paying. Merely competing with other mercs and hunters was a fact of business. But 'sportsmanlike' rivalry? Laughable.

"Heyo there, kid. Couldn't 'elp but notice y'took down that mighty interestin' job proposition off the wall. ...Can't say I've seen y'round 'ere before, either." He said as he approached the lady, that weird muffle effect the Tavern seemed to have turning on. He stopped to look her over, see if she was the trustworthy type. She was certainly a lot taller than she looked, even taller than most humans he'd seen, who all tended to be taller than Rimau anyway. Made them easier to target.

Raising one brow, he looked over her scars; clearly, she had experience with fighting, then. You don't get the sorts of scars on her face from cutting yourself while shaving... not that she'd need to shave, but still. Her attire seemed to suggest a magic user; magic and him didn't get along too well, but its practitioners had their uses. Their flashy tricks were very distracting for most people, and Skrin'Ko was indeed bound to him by an enchantier. Very nice fellow, he was.

After a few seconds, Rimau decided he may as well introduce himself; after all, a name doesn't convey much. But he kept his hands close to his body, in case she was the twitchy kind.

"...Th'name's Rimau. Rimau Ekoy-Rimau Eng-Dasku, but that's, uh... well, y'don't wanna know m'full name. Believe me, some'un once asked for it, an' lemme tell ya... uh, never mind. What's your name, kid?" He asked, smiling a little.


[System]
* Age: 16
* Gender: Female
* Race: Human
* Appearance: Armored, Unarmored. She is 5'1, with pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. Her armor is silver with gold decorations. Her sword has a golden hilt.
* Personality: Fanilly is one to take her duty seriously. This is both due to a belief in the cause of the Iron Rose Knights, and a severe insecurity and self-consciousness about her position. She is well aware that she is young and comparatively inexperienced. She knows that she is only in the position she is because of her birth, as she was born under a full moon. This only makes her feel worse about it. For Fanilly Danbalion, captain of the Iron Rose Knights, she can't help but feel that they have a point. She's young. And even though the founder was the same age, she was viewed as something miraculous, almost a saint. Should Fanilly truly be leading them? This weighs heavily on her mind, and thus one of her biggest desires is to prove that she is. In spite of her young age, in spite of how this tradition has worn thin for some, Fanilly wants to prove that she is a worthy captain of the Iron Rose Knights above all else. Aside from this desire, the girl is somewhat socially awkard, sometimes unprepared for conversation. However, she is not really shy and can generally deal with attending various functions in the capital, as is expected of the Iron Rose Knights. She is dedicated to the purpose of the order, to defend the innocent and protect the land of Thaln. However, the doubts surrounding her have lead to a lack of confidence in herself. Fanilly has a younger sister and as a result has a somewhat stronger affinity for children and desire to keep the safe, but as someone dedicated to the Iron Rose Knights' cause she wishes to protect all those in need. While she has a lacking in confidence, she retains some pride in her training, as she has proven to be skilled at swordplay in spite of her youth.
* Brief Backstory: Fanilly was a daughter of the Danbalion family, a noble family already. While they had never been knights, her birth on a full moon immediately made her a potential future candidate for the Iron Rose Knights' captain. She was simply needed sooner then many expected. And so she experienced training for several years leading up to her instatement as the Captain of the Iron Rose Knights. Initially she was confident in herself, but it quickly became clear that even some within the Knights had grown tired of the tradition of selecting a maiden born on a full moon to be the captain. This wore on her quickly, and has lead to her desperation to prove herself.
* Equipment: Fanilly wears a well-made set of somewhat ornate armor. She wields a fine longsword in her right hand and a dagger with a curved hilt for trapping weapons in her left.
* Skills: Fanilly has experienced extensive training in swordplay, specifically in the use of a longsword in both hands, or paired with a unique parrying dagger.

[User]
"A-ah?"

Surprised, Fanilly stumbled a little bit when she saw someone stop directly in front of her. Looking up, it became apparent quite quickly that it was Marianne, who evidently had intended to take a bath herself. As she apologized, Fanilly shook her head with a small smile. To get angry over such a thing would simply have been absurd, it was an honest mistake, wasn't it? The smallish blonde girl gave the other girl a smile.

"You don't need to apologize, it was an honest mistake," she explained, "Besides, it may be for the best if I attend-"

She paused for a moment when she heard the voices of the maids, peering past Marianne as she did.

"Er, yes, yes, I am the captain of the Iron-"

Marianne, this time, cut her off, telling her to... run? Why?

Moments later, Fanilly found herself surrounded by maids, girls commenting on her hair, her eyes, touching her, speaking about how small she is, how young she is... The girl's cheeks grew hot, bright red, and one could almost see the steam pouring from her ears. Congratulations?

"Th... thank you..." she said, weakly, stammering as she tried to get the words out. "Er... I'm... sixteen, I..."

Fanilly's cheeks grew hotter as the maids continued to surround her, bombarding her with so many questions from every angle. What could she do? This was so embarrassing... A... a boyfriend?

"N... n-no, I... I..."

The short girl shook her head, taking a deep breath. Space, she needed space!

Breaking away from the crowd, blushing furiously, Fanilly tore towards the first door she saw and forced it open.

---

As Tiral opened the door, what greeted him was the sight of a girl in her twenties, with long, blonde hair and a slightly tanned complexion. She wore a rather elaborate outfit with a quite puffy hat upon her head.

"Ah, hello, I was expecting the Captain, er," she gave a slightly awkward laugh, "No matter, I'm certain a loyal knight can pass along the information to her."

She cleared her through, then reached into a pouch hanging from her waist and withdrew a sheet of parchment. Unraveling it, she read it aloud.

"The Presence of Knight-Captain Fanilly Danbalion and her Iron Rose Knights is cordially requested tomorrow at Princess Eliabelle Tanenway Falthaen's Royal Ball," she began, "The Princess understands that you may not be able to bring every knight, and as such you may choose whomever you desire from your order to accompany you. Please come in your finest attire, though the Princess desires to see Knight-Captain Danbalion in armor, and eagerly desires to see an assortment of weaponry used by knights."

[Assistant]
Gillian sighed as he relaxed, arms hanging loosely over the sides of the tub.If he was being honest, baths were the one thing about polite society that he missed. There was little better than one after a hard job, especially if that job involved the general chaos of a battle. "Hmph, now if only Mayon would bless the forest with a natural bath," he sighs, demonic arm idly scratching his face. "But then I suppose I'd have to take note of her rites more often if she did." Quickly he finished cleaning, wanting to enjoy the heat of the bath for as long as he could.

Something, however, disturbs his bliss. From the other side of the door he could hear a loud squeal followed by the excited chittering of some group. "Look at her hair, it's so pretty!" he hears, muffled from the doorway. He rolls his eyes, writing off the minor disruption as gossiping maids. He sinks his head below the waterline, drowning out the chatter.

He lets his mind wander for a few moments, trying to decide if visiting Parnella tonight would be the wisest choice. He'd want the boy to stay for dinner, and that undoubtly meant other guest as well, for there were few days where his mentor did not elect to play host in some fashion or another. As much as he loved his mentor, Gillian could not begin to imagine how deep his capacity (or patience for that matter) for hospitality ran. No, visiting while he was on his way out tomorrow morning would be best. Just a quick stop to pay his respect, perhaps a drink with his aged master, and then out the door before he could become entangled in some get-together.

He is snapped out of his internal debate as his lungs begin to scream for breath, the air cold against his skin as he breaches the surface. It was time to get out anyway; he'd need the warm water to wash his clothing. He climbs out of the small tub, stretching to work out the craps as he begins to drip dry. He was about to begin cleaning when his door is suddenly and violently forced open, the door creaking in protest. He turns on the door out of instinct; arms raised and ready to tear into whatever poor fool who thought they could get the jump on him.

Gillian's mild paranoia prepared him for a lot of things. A maid with the wrong door, knights seeking to cleanse their order of him, and so forth. The young blonde captain throwing open his door though was not one of those things. The normally hostile glint in his eyes fades to utter bewilderment. "I…uh…yes captain?" he asks, forgetting his state of dress, arms dropping a bit as he unintentionally relaxed.

[User]
"..."

For a few moments, Fanilly was too stunned to react to anything. Instead, she stood, looking on in shock, for several moments. Finally, she bowed her head, her embarrassment in no way helped by this situation. Cheeks deeply red, the short blonde stared down at her feet and mumbled for a few moments, stumbling over her words. A captain of the Iron Roses shouldn't be so... things shouldn't end up so... Regardless, she swiftly turned away.

"I... sh... should have knocked," she said, flatly. The statement, deep down, sounded kind of stupid given the situation. She hadn't been looking where she was going, after all. This intensely awkward situation was definitely not anything she wanted to repeat, at any rate, and so she just remained firmly looking away. Fanilly could have gone her whole life without experiencing anything like this. She strongly wished that had been the case.

At the very least, there was no way this situation could get any more awkward. She would simply walk away and head to the baths herself. She'd been considering proceeding to the female baths rather then her own private one, as embarrassing as the thought was, but now she was not at all certain this was a good idea.

No, returning to her room immediately and burying her face in a pillow seemed like the better one, but Fanilly still wanted to bathe.


[System]
Derrix "Nightbane" Herchiv

Age: Early thirties

Alignment: Lawful good

Race: Human

Class: Holy Warrior

Appearance/Clothing:

 Derrix is tall and built for long and harsh battles. Spider webbing from his seasoned face, and down from under his short dark hair to the bottom of his booted feet is one continuous spiraling and zig zagging red scar, menacing and marking his body even to his fingertips.

 His eyes are a golden hue and glow softly in the dark along with his exposed skin. He wears a simple pale green tunic cut at the sleeves and dark pants over his masculine frame. On each cheek there is a tattoo of a bull's horn pointing to his eyes.

Skills: Riding, sword/axe/dagger/hammer/lance, survival, holy knowledge, concentration, diplomacy, script, heraldry, tracking, horse archery

Natural Abilities: Glowstick(can call this HolyLight, would make more sense in this setting[boo]), divine health, divine grace

Magic/Spells: Detect Evil, Smite Evil(once per day), remove fatigue(twice per day), divine grace, break enchantment(twice a week), lay hands on(three times a day), turn undead

Additional Information: Derrix "Nightbane" Herchiv follows a strict and foreign code of honor.

Charlin Honor Code

To refuse a Duel of Righteous intent is dishonorable
To abuse children is dishonorable
To mistreat prisoners of war is dishonorable
To keep prisoners of war in peacetime is dishonorable
To refuse a gift is dishonorable
To murder in cold blood is dishonorable
To steal is dishonorable
To lie is dishonorable
To abuse women is dishonorable
To usurp anothers power without right is dishonorable
To own another is dishonorable
To deny your own work is dishonorable
To allow your family's destruction is dishonorable
To insult is to take another's honor
To allow an insult is to lose your honor

The Honorable Duel of Righteousness can be called at anytime, anywhere, to settle disputes of honor, in which transgressions are paid with blood.

Weapons: Lance, Sword, Bow and quiver

Armor: plated armor with a thick helmet fitted with an interior padded mask with a bizarre breath filtering function, a laminated wooden kite shield trimmed with metal.

Possessions: A large white destrier, Living supplies and sundries(Clothes, a bar of soap, spare cotton cloth, wool blanket, water canteen, dried meats and flatbreads) , a quill, an ink well, and a stack of paper.

Personality:serious and orderly

History: Derrix claims to those who ask that he is merely a poet, and nothing more.
Age: 18

Alignment: neutral

Race: Human

Class: Shepherd

Appearance/Clothing: Illyd Dyill stands a modest six and has a wiry yet firm frame. His body is covered in old tan robes draped over loose pants and worn fur boots.

 He has shaggy black hair much like the sheep he used to herd, and two light brown eyes that peek out from his youthful and defined tanned face.

Skills: farming, understanding of animal anatomy, mundane understanding of self defense and fighting with a crook, tracking,

Natural Abilities: In depth thinking, to the point that this guy might be possessed

Magic/Spells:

Additional Information: He was a shepherd as long as he could remember, and as long as he could remember, he wanted to be a hero, but this one tiny voice in his head prefers a different direction

Weapons: A Shepherd's crook

Possessed: Yes

Personality: He is curious, adventurous, slightly lazy, and naive. However, a secondary thinking voice in his head is definitely different than his usual gentle nature; as it is aggressive, violent, lustful and greedy.. Luckily this isn't the voice that controls the body, mostly.

History: A simple Shepherd's son, out in the big world to become an adventurer

(possessions: Crook, clothes, worn out harp)

So I already have a bunch of ideas on how this guy's posts would look, a lot of in mind arguing and play, as well as crude suggestions and general character development

[User]
When Lob left to retrieve the rabbits, Vaeri set off to gather some supplies she'd need of her own. To properly cook these rodents she would need a fire, and a fire required firewood. Thankfully, it was rather late and the weather had been sunny for several days, so finding dry wood was a simple task in a forest such as this. It took a mere 20 minutes to find what she estimated to be enough fire to last long enough to properly cook the hares. She found a clear spot near enough to the wagon and set up the wood in a clean circle.

From her bag, Vaeri retrieved a set of cooking utensils. They were used to only preparing food for herself, a large group such as this would take more time, but she was certain that once she got moving it would be smooth going. For this, she pulled out a pan, a set of stands that would allow it to safely rest right at the top of where she estimated the flames would reach, a small cooking knife she used for skinning animals she hunted and general purpose cooking and a small container of salt. She then pulled out a piece of flint and a steel fire starter. With 3 decisive strikes, Vaeri created enough sparks to catch the wood on fire. She gently blew into it to strengthen the fire, but soon enough it came to a healthy blaze that quickly warmed the iron pan above.

There she sat and tended to the fires until Lob returned with six rabbits in hand and maw. A smile on her face, the cleric stood up and clapped her hands before took the dead beasts from the half orc. She walked back to her little clearing and dropped their bodies next to the fire. She felt like she was stalling progress on making it back to the village, but really everyone here could use a rest after the day's events. Expertly, she cut up the little animals' bodies into easily eaten cuts that could be consumed by even the weak prisoners that were travelling in the wagon. She didn't have time or mental acuity to do anything particularly special with the meat, so she seared the meat in batches on the pan, salting them as she cooked. Each batch took about 5 to 10 minutes and there were 3 batches in total, within the half hour, the cooking was complete and the food was passed out to everyone present. Hopefully it would be worth the delay in travel and hold everyone until they could reach the village. With her job as chef complete, Vaeri put out the fire and put away her stuff back into her bag before taking part in the meal she had prepared.

[Assistant]
"Much obliged, Sister," Tobias said as the healing completed. Rolling his invisible shoulders, the thief leaned against a wall. The fight was winding down, and now all the brave warrior men were queuing up for healing. He heard Hugh shouting something at nobody in particular from some distance away - hopefully this would be a better outlet for his... random aggression than Tobias's face.

Someone new had arrived, and from the look of him, he'd done his fair share of the work. He seemed to want to know what was going on, which was a sentiment that Tobias could at least understand as he surveyed the destruction. Nothing could make this make sense.

Tobias had no interest in speaking to any of these people just now - especially being a disembodied voice as he was. He had no idea how such a conversation would pan out. Doubtless it would be far too comical for the mood Tobias was in.

The invisible thief wandered off silently, his feet taking him back to the scene of his battle without him really telling them to. Almost automatically, he began examining the pockets of the still-unconscious men, doing his absolute best to avoid looking at the headless, pantsless corpse. A memory filled his mind.

He was a much younger man - a child really - in that memory, in a city not so far from here. He was talking to three other children, bigger and stronger than him, bullies with matching tattoos. A gang that had heard about the silent thief you lived in the alleyways, and wanted to recruit him.

"Sorry," he was saying to them as he prepared to run, a glib expression on his face. "I don't hurt people for their stuff. I just take it. And more importantly..." he proclaimed as he snatched a coinpurse from the one in front. "I don't share."

They'd caught him, he remembered. Gave him two black eyes and a broken arm for his trouble. Yeah, there was definitely a reason he'd given up on ideals early on.

He looked down at the haul he's been blithely collecting. A purse full of gold, two funny-smelling potions, a magicy looking scroll and - holy shit, a diamond the size of his goddamn palm. At least, it looked like a diamond - experience had taught him to get these things appraised before he let his eyes bug out of his head at the size of his haul.

Narrowing his eyes, he read the inscription on one of the potions. Restoration. He didn't know what the damn thing restored, but he had a hunch he was lacking it at the moment, and he poured the potion down his mouth quickly.

Tobias scooped the rest of his loot into his bag and stood up, feet taking him nowhere in particular. This time he arrived in the inn without really knowing why. Food and drink was being served, but Tobias was neither hungry nor thirsty. Without really knowing what he was doing, the rogue shoved a chair aside, crawled under a table, and pulled his knees up to his chest, rested his head and back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

[User]
Derrix turned away from the busy old woman, content with her answer. He stared at the bloodied men he had slaughtered, and knowing now that they were dishonorable men he simply nodded in recognition of them rather than make a fuss about their gruesome deaths.

 The golden eyed stranger tapped the body of the dead bard with the toe of his boot, and his eyes wandered over the dead man's possessions. There were two magical scrolls, a hefty and very valuable ring on his finger, and who knows what kind of priceless potions filled the man's knapsack.

 Clearly slavery was a lucrative business around this town, Derrix concluded silently as he leaned over to place the dead man in a more dignified pose, rather than splayed out. Even if they had broken a code they didn't even know of and fell as dishonorable in Derrix's eyes, he wished he had a shovel, to at least put them out of sight for the town's people.

 He looked around quickly for a place to at least drag the fallen men, after all these corpses were by his hand.


[System]
Appearance:

Apparent Age: Young Adult

Gender: Male

Nation: Renais

Class: Cavalier

Weapon Mastery:

Sword C

Lance D

Level: 4

Background: The youngest child of Ginnava, Marwood was her bundle of joy and baby of the family. She actually took the time to teach him to ride herself. As such he desires to make her proud yet at the same time with age came distance and difference. While his mother relies on codes and formal declarations Marwood is normally on his horse with a squad of knights by the time she starts issuing orders. This has caused much division between mother and son, with Marwood often leading knights into battle against horrors without having approval from his mother.

Aside from that, he is good friends with both generals, he often finds himself in their company or training with them. While many of his men pass around rumors he is to be engaged to one the generals there is little no proof of that claims. As a prince, he received a formal education with lessons in history, strategy, and etiquette. He threw away etiquette preferring to spend many a night out defending villages or celebrating victories with his knights. He even formed a special group of cavaliers that ride with him to villages and towns under assault, thus with almost all his training being done on horseback his skills off it is lowered.

Currently, Marwood most trusted knights are Hodge, Ismay, and Mylle. Each of them is a cavalier from the standing army of Renais and all of them make up the Renais riders. These four often leave the moment word of trouble sounds moving between towns, attacking bandits, monsters, and horrors. They have saved hundreds of lives alone, yet while hailed as hero's it troubles his mother that his free-form fighting is not proper of a prince. He has a history of being rather bold and challenging letting nothing stand between him and his moral compass, politics be damned.

This has caused quite a lot of trouble when he chased a band of bandits into Jehanna where he killed them. Upon his return, the generals and his mother both gave him an earful which he quickly ignored, thought the punishments did last for months. Undeterred Marwood freely admits he would do it again in an instant, he cares not for the borders only saving lives which Jehanna eventually let slide understanding he believed he was doing the right thing.

Recently Ginnava, has announced that she plans to marry off the younger prince and is currently eyeing Jehanna's princess as the best candidate due to the politic and military benefits of the relationship. Marwood meanwhile has been as far from the castle as possible, and away from the Jehanna border. He is not happy about an arranged marriage with a princess, he would prefer a natural romance. His mother meanwhile has been dispatching riders to drag him back if needed. Marwood needed to be tamed and Ginnava thought a wife would be perfect for the job.

However, with the recent threat to Grado, he abandoned Renais to go and help the kingdom. Renais and Grado were historically close and he feels he must do as his great ancestor would have done and journey to help the Emperor who he admires as a good leader and warrior. He hopes to help drive back the attacks and force Renais into action and perhaps Frelia as well.

Plot-Susceptive: Yes

Equipment and Items: Reginleif, Steel Sword

Personality: Brash, Marwood is nothing if not bold in his ability to face danger or trouble with a smile on his face and honesty in his heart, he is a caring and kind young man who refuses to let politics get in the way of caring about people. To Marwood politics and the chain of command as things that slow down helping people, thus to the frustration of his teachers and his family Marwood continues to ignore anything but what he believes is morally right. While many outside the castle think much of the younger kind-hearted prince others feel he is too rebellious and daft to ever be allowed near the throne.

Ability Assessment: Marwood strength and skill are his best qualities, his speed and defense are good as well though not as great primary attributes. This is due to Marwood focusing on fast devastating blows to bring down a target depending on his armor and his mount in combat. Marwoods luck and stamina are average or just below with his magical resistance being well below the norm as he rarely ever encountered an enemy mage. The rest of his skills had some development throughout his training but a lack of magical counter training his given him a glaring and little-known weakness.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other: An avid singer and storyteller Marwood spent his younger days sneaking out and telling singing and telling stories at the local tavern. He has secretly wanted to be a bard but royal duties prevent that and he also wishes to marry someone he loves rather than an arranged marriage like his mother has in mind, possibly to secure a new ally. He is a sucker for a good romance book, though he doesn't like people to know. He gets very nervous around women and has never been good at flirting at all. Marwood also has an aversion to a certain Princess of Jehanna, in fact when anyone brings up an arranged marriage between him and a princess or noble Marwood can usually be found trying to slip towards the door to make a hasty retreat.

R-button Summarization: The prince of Renais with a good heart and a rebellious streak, cares deeply for others.

Level Up Quotes

0-1 Points: "Melinda and Leoma would laugh if they saw this."
0-1 Points: "This isn't really very princely is it?"
2-3 Points: "I must do better for Renais!"
2-3 Points: "Oh and after all that work?
4-5 Points: "My brother isn't the only one to take after father."
4-5 Points: "Ha, that'll show Rylan won't it Fiona?"
6+ Points: "Alright Fiona, I've earned an ale and you've earned a apple."
6+ Points: "I almost feel like singing! I won't of course... Bad time for it..."
Capped Stats: "How am I supposed to match Rylan now?!"
Capped Stats: "But I can't stop now! I don't wanna stop being a knight of Renais!
Changed Class: "A knight of Renais is always ready to learn."
Changed Class: Rafaela might not recognize me in this...

Critical Hit Quotes

"May the Gods have mercy on you, I won't!"
"You are in my way, that's a bad place to be friend."
"I'll drink to you and your fallen comrades."
"I do not hate you. I simply must kill you."
"Somebody has to win and guess what? It's me."
"I just stab people, what happens next is between them and the gods."

[User]
Isolde

---

---

"Eh!? Zane!?"

This had just gotten ten times worse. A former knight of Grado, but defected because he couldn't sate his battle lust just by being on guard duty. She never did like him, and her dad always commented he was always bad news. She was honestly surprised he even protected his ally.

"Geh-!"

The two exchanged blows, Zane's heavy blows threatening to knock both her and Kergin back. Her advantage being the only thing keeping her from getting killed in an unspectacular fashion. If this kept up, there was no way she was going to be able to fight him. Not one on one like this, maybe if she could flank him but not in a crowded, narrow street.

Aldo was right, though. They didn't have to fight, and if they kept fighting, things were likely not going to end well for them. They were both outnumbered and out skilled here. As much as she'd like to shove this traitor in his place, she was in no way skilled or strong enough to do so.

"Urgh - I don't think we can handle Zane!" Isolde grimaced, attempting to deflect Zane's charge. Isolde yanked up on Kering's reigns. The Wyevern hissed lightly before rearing back as Isolde swung her Halberd to try and deflect Zane's blow. He was likely going to hit, but she could at least mitigate the damage. "Titania, get on! We need to get out of here!"

[Assistant]
Kara

@Eklispe@Rune_Alchemist@PlatinumSkink@Apollosarcher

Kara hated it when prey got away. Watching that soldier leg it irritated her to no end, but she knew it would be difficult to catch up. To the left, she noticed the cart, and several figures around it, including one tne that looked to be Hevel. She released her dragon form with some reluctance to lessen the strain on her stone. She turned to Marwood pointed at the fleeing soldier in the distance, shouting, Cavalier! It would be most troublesome if that soldier called for reinforcements. Set spur to that nag of yours and run him down! I will personally clear you a path, so ride after me!" She spun on a heel and pointed her draconic hand at Osmond. "You. Put that shiny exterior of yours and handle those mercs and thief so that they don't cut off our retreat. Girl, you've got a stick, help him out. Just be aware that one of those thieves is an ally." If Marwood agreed to her plan, she would rush forward in front of him to engage the axman, as he was blocking the best path, and might be a hassle to handle for the lance-using Prince.

She was also worried for the Fire Emblem's safety, having lost sight of Titania, and seeing soldiers pile out and spilling out of an alleyway, with the sounds of fighting echoing from deeper in. She ground her teeth and could only hope the humans had enough fight in them to hold out.

[User]
Titania

---

---

Titania was surprised to see the knight Isolode was fighting tossed aside to be replaced by a more important looking individual who had some sort of grudge to bear. "Alright let's get out of here!" Titania said in response to Isolode's suggestion. She carefully jumped onto the much faster Wyvern's back, hoping that her additional weight wouldn't be too much of a burden to prevent it from outrunning their enemies. This guy was heavily armored at least so he should have a hard time keeping up with them. It was possible they could keep fighting with Titania providing support, but she would trust Isolode's judgement, plus their goal was to get out of here with the Fire Emblem not take every fight they found.

[Assistant]
Marwood gave a curt nod as he cleaned the blood from his blade with a swift flick. Turning his eyes back to Viridia he smiled, giving her a thumbs up as he sheathed the blade. "Good work soldier, little more experience you'd fit in right at home with the Knights of Renais." He offered the praise as picked up his lance turning his head back towards Kara.

"Aye Lady Manakete! But she's a charger, not a nag don't insult Fiona. Dragon or not I won't have it." Marwood called setting his sights on the soldiers he angled the lance from the saddle taking aim for the fleeing soldiers back, planning on burying his lance in it. Fiona's dash a frightening sight to any he passed.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 21
Description: 4'5'' Elf, slender with sharp features, piercingly solid green eyes, platinum blonde hair usually tied in a high pont tail, wears conservative clothing
Bio: A novice wizard, magic always came easily to her, mastering concepts much faster than her class mates. An accident occured when she was 14, in which she accidentally summoned a demon. In the attack she lost 2 fingers on her left hand. Despite this, she received a full scholarship to study at a major magic academy in a far off land.
Purpose of travel: Travelling to her new academy to further study and master magic
Other info: At first she is very shy, speaking very professionally to anyone she doesnt know. Once she opens up she reveals her excitement for whatever she is studying at the time. She speaks with a slight lisp.

[User]
Ember awoke in a tangled mat of brown, slimy, and not pleasant to smell seaweed. It clung around and to him, in a mockery of the mermaid costume he had conjured up for his "Maiden voyage" send off.

Now, "Sent Off".

Groaning, and with aches in places he had no clue one could even ache in, he staggered to his knees, and reeled against the beating sun, as the waves lapped at his legs and feet. His skin was raw, and his pajamas were soaked, stained, and torn.

Feeling about himself, he found he still had his wand, though it too was completely enmeshed in the brown ball of gooey plantlife he found himself bound up in-- as if the ocean had heaved back, and coughed up a giant festering ball of snot, with him inside it.

He was still clutching the foot locker, but one would never have been able to tell. The weedy growth had nucleated around it, which is how he himself had become so entangled. Traces of the ice raft melted under the gentle lapping of the surf, as it swished the slimy mass this way and that around him.

Disgustedly, he retched, and heaved up a stomach of swallowed sea water.

He felt well and truly miserable.

Casting a dour expression out at the sea, he raised a fist at the now sublime and calm blue-green ocean, and raged at it.

"Blast you, you fickle, deep-trenched watery tart! Go and cough *ME* up in this ball of filth from your nethers, and not a single one of my babies! I'd tell you to go suck a whale, but you do it every day, you filthy whore! You've dragged more men down there than--"

He cut off, as he heard a strained, gurgling coughing sound coming from further up the beach.

"--DONT think I'm finished with you, you soggy strumpet! I'll have my vengeance yet!" he spat, then struggled to his feet, then up the shore, pausing only momentarily to summon the (still completely ensnared in seaweed) foot locker to follow behind him, illiciting an image of a demented seamonster slithering behind him, rather than a levitating trunk.

Wandering toward the coughing, ember lurched and staggered in the sand, with the undulating mass following in his wake.

[Assistant]
Someone ascending from the water onto the shore. It is Nanashi who is carrying freshly caught edible sea fishes and octopuses. He also got some seaweeds too. He then proceed from one spot to a preparation to cook it for everyone.

He is willing to accept anyone who want to help him for the preparation.

[User]
The young elf girl's head was still spinning. The world was a blur, crashing waves, splintering wood, the salty embrace of the ocean, the grit of the sand. She lay there for some time, in a world between awareness and the void. At some point she received assistance from someone else, perhaps the woman she had offered residence in her cabin. Sonia. Where had she gone?

Finally, Viviana blinked, clearing all manner of fog. She was on a beach, soaked, parched, hungry, and far from where she was meant to be. Looking around she saw a gathering a short distance away, the likes of Sonia and Wheelo among them. Close by she also saw that other man she knew, Nanashi. There was one other person she felt the need to seek out, and after not too long she spotted him.

"E-Ember?" She croaked out, her throat betraying her attempt to call out to the one person she felt could offer guidance. After a fit of coughing she tried again, "What… where are we? What do I do?"

[Assistant]
@Remuri @Pakde

Ezekiel had a shocked look on his face as he saw the wheelchair bound man start walking. He felt kind of stupid for helping him. But the feeling of fatigue from before helped with his theory, that he could only move if he stole enough energy from other people. He would have to be careful of this man, he seemed more dangerous than he looked. However, he could be of use if he or any of the others died. They would make for good zombies, but that would be a last resort if he is the last one alive. Being more than disappointed that the demoness was not from Carcosa, if she was he was going to ask her if she knew if Heyl'r was here. But searching for this place could be more successful than asking others where it could be. "My name is Ezekiel Jarret, and we are pleased to meet you." Being sadden that he could not make pleasantries with the interesting demoness, but there were more important things than making friends.

Walking towards the man with the bundle of fish and octopus. "We would be more than happy to assist you in cooking this aquatic fauna." Despite being a necromancer he was a good cook, or so he thought. He had never had anyone taste his cooking before, so he hoped they would like the meal. But perhaps he could assist in cooking, so that no one blames him if they get sick. Looking around quickly figuring out that he was not going to find any edible spices on the island. "First we should find some dry wood, leaves, and flint or rocks. Would someone please assist us in finding supplies to start a fire?" He looked around at the group. Finding similar interest from Sonia towards the snake woman. Being reminded of the Nazamines from the deserts of Ka'ta. He wondered if she was related to them.

[User]
Sonia had returned to check on the elf girl, who seemed to have awakened in panic. The demoness decided to not interfere immediately, and wait until the girl could partially grasp the situation.

"Where indeed, I wonder?" Sonia sat next to Vivian, handing her the opened coconut when she was sure the elven girl had calmed down."Looks like we have deviated far from our route. The sea water is warm, and the sun is burning. We don't have anything like this near the continent." She glanced at the horizon, wind fluttering her red hair. Despite acknowledging the bad news, she realized the local climate might have contributed greatly to their chance of survival. This coconut, for example, you might find them growing in coastal regions, but never in this abundance, and immediately having something to combat dehydration was a godsend.

"But please, take heart, Miss Vivian, the rescuer could be on their way. There were important figures boarded on our ship, and given enough time, their disappearance couldn't be any less noticeable.

Sonia pointed at the skinny man dragging something that looked like a very weedy container. "And I believe Master Ember is over there. Want to catch up with him? Go ahead, I will be with you in a moment."

Still sitting there, Sonia recalled her training. This wasn't the first time she was stranded in a wilderness, and will not likely be the last. Same situation, same rules, different place, and the first thing she needed to do was to assess the situation as much as she could, then plan ahead and study the terrain.

Some other survivors had made an initiative to prepare food using various fish catches. Not the first thing she would do in this situation, but okay. Couldn't expect people to do anything with an empty stomach anyway, but time was running, and soon there would be a time when food became the third or fourth priority.

[Assistant]
This black-haired man who's not on a wheelchair and is instead using a raw greenish cane of wood, slowly paced around the beach looking for his wheelchair. It's futile to use his eyesight on this, it seems every meter there's a piece of wood sticking out of the sand. It's almost prescient that he reinforced his wheelchair with several bars of iron, so he could detect it with this... strange, innate metal sense that he has, instead.

 Nothing's come up with this however, and it's come to a point where he reaches Ember's immediate location, with this strange seaweed-covered chest crawling behind her. Ember herself, with this disheveled, sodden, seaweed-covered look. He pointed with his left hand, "You have a leaf on your shoulder."

 He looks at the sky, in a combination of perhaps trying to find a celestial body, like a moon, and mainly trying not to even chuckle at Ember's situation. "Hey... How possible do you think it is that we're in a different planet?"

[User]
Ember made a scowl at the foul man's cheeky attempt at humor at his expense, and sent a sticky glob of the seaweed clinging to him in the man's direction with a forceful extension of his wand, while continuing his struggle to get further up the beach.

"Really, I hadn't noticed." he snarked, before continuing. "And thinking of such extreme, outlandish prospects is foolish. If it WERE another planet, I very much doubt it would look like anything we are used to."

and with that, he mentally tuned the man out. Seeing Vivian and her former bunkmate up ahead, his heart lifted. At least there would be some INTELLIGENT company to while away the time with. The memory that her companion was a professional huntress flicked in his mind, and it gave him a momentary bit of relief. He knew full well he had no clue how to rough it out here. ...

...Wherever "here" was...

He turned back at the stiff gaited man, now removing seaweed from the back of his head. Ember was positive this was NOT "another planet."

"Vivian, dahling--- I'm SOOO happy to see you--- And you too dear--- Sonia was it?"

Vivian was sipping water from a halved coconut,and he was immediately jealous. His mouth was parched, and his insides literally ached from having been full of seawater earlier.

"You don't have another of those do you dahling?"

[Assistant]
Nanashi help the necromancer to sort things to cook, the only need is fire. He noticed the two mages that already present on the resting shelter. He decided to speak with them.

"Need fire." He talked to Ember pointing the cooking spot."We shall fill up first before we proceed inside the forest. Where may be there is a flat terrain for the. settlement camp. There is no good here to make camp here. High tides will flood the shore. Then we can discuss how to get out" He continued.

Head counting the survivors. He noticed the small figure with skull headwear is not present in the area.

"I haven't seen. The snake woman in a while. With her unique prowess. She can take the lead for venturing. Same thing as. Scanning something that are aware from us." He said.

[User]
"Ah of course!" Sonia expeditiously grabbed a green coconut and slice the lower part of the fruit like peeling a potato. It was effortless, courtesy of her above-average arm strength, and her trusty dagger; manufactured by Alhazen.co, Urstad.

That small surge of information brought up a brief sense of deja vu in her.

"Here you go... si- madam?" She offered almost like whispering at the end of her sentence. What to call him now, she wasn't so sure. The slender mage was very different now without all of his makeup and flamboyant getups, so Sonia tried to play safe by not being so obvious with her choice of pronoun.

Somebody was approaching. A strange fisherman, not sure why Sonia would refer to him as such, likely because she saw him go fishing in the very first minutes of their awakening. A vagrant, or adventurer? His general attire suggested so. Not that there was a stark diffrence between the two anyway.

The man asked rather crudely, and it didn't improve her opinion of him a bit. Without waiting for anyone to answer, he continued

For the first half of it, Sonia had no comment, everyone might do whatever they wanted at this point. However, the second half of his opinion made her feel a bit restive.

"Appreciate your concern, but the gentleman need not worry about the high tide here, for this area is far from the waters and sufficiently elevated." Sonia sheathed and strapped her dagger to her waist. Averting her gaze from the man, skipping her usual introductry but still trying to remain thoughtful with her words.

"As for the urgency to move to the forest," she turned to the green unknown behind them and shook her head. "I think we should remain here for a while. We don't know where, or how far we are from the rescue. And I believe everyone would prefer to stay in a place where the rescuer could easily see them."

Now sitting on a nearby boulder, Sonia swept the remained sand from her scraped knee and then gave the man one of her less-than-genuine smiles.

"Of course, I am not completely dismissing the notion to explore the interior of this... place, but we need to lay out a plan before making any decision. And first thing first, to gather everyone and discuss that plan. Means we all need to find a common ground first, savvy?"

[Assistant] "I see. My apologies on my rudeness... Qi from those sailors and others seems out of my range right now. It felt like we got split from getting drove to the shore. They are probably drowned or maybe drove on other side. We regroup here to wait for the rescuer." He said stil standing nearby the demoness turning his eyes on the far ocean.

[User]
Ember's kind words reassured her and fully brought her to the present situation. Looking down into the coconut she noticed a reasonable amount remained, enough at least to grant the older wizard some measure of relief.

"You can have the rest of this, I am fine for now," She offered the fruit with a hint of a smile, her dried lips barely resisting a crack.

She turned to the 'fisherman'. "Oh, hello Nanashi, thank you for getting food. I can help you cook that," She intensely focused on the palm of her right hand, eventually sparking a meager flame. She let out a small sigh, mildly dissapointed with what she had been able to produce. Her thoughts went to her foot locker, her collection of notebooks was lost somewhere beneath the waves. All her notes on hand movements and incantations were lost. She was on her own, magically speaking. At the very least the one person who seemed to be able to teach her in spite of such a loss was also on the island.


[System]
Dove Character Sheet

Appearance: A young man of quite evidently foreign descent, Hisoka has yet to lose his youthful appearance, standing at around 5'8. He has very bushy eyebrows.
Nicknames: N/A

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Rank: Rank 3 Ghoul Investigator

Quinque: N/A due to being a Rank 3 Investigator

Personality: It cannot be said that Hisoka hates ghouls, but he does view them simply as an enemy. He shows little to no remorse in his work, but he does not seem overly eager unlike some other young investigators. However, Hisoka seems to lack the concept of 'going easy' on an opponent, trying to fight until they are in his mind beaten - which usually involves broken limbs. Outside of his new work as a Ghoul Investigator, Hisoka is a peaceful youth who speaks in a kind if somewhat lazy tone. He goes above and beyond his calling as a 'junior' investigator, following the instructions of his superiors and then some in order to please them. In that sense he is an ideal subordinate, but his clumsy and slow streak outside of anything involving field work balances that out.

Biography: Born and raised in Tokyo, Hisoka is the son of a Brazillian jiu-jitsu instructor. Hisoka, being the son of a foreigner, was unfortunately the victim of bullying through out his time in regular schooling. Although rather vicious at times, Hisoka never once raised a fist in self defence on the word of his father. But why would his father of all people allow this to continue? It was not that he was not concerned for his son, no, he was concerned for the other children and their safety.

To say Hisoka is decent at fighting would be like saying a fish is decent at swimming, and Hisoka's father realised this early in his son's youth. Movements and techniques which would otherwise take weeks or months to get a completely functional grasp on were down to a T in only a days work with Hisoka. Perhaps his fathers greatest hubris was taking advantage of this seemingly eidetic muscle memory to teach the still young Hisoka joint locks, both dangerous and complex techniques within martial arts, long before the appropriate time. Pitting him against other children would have been anything but fair, especially with his personality.

Hisoka may have had a career in professional martial arts had life continued in that manner, but that is not the case. The truth is that Hisoka's father was a less than kosher man, involving himself in dodgy business in order to help sustain a living for his family. One facet of this underground life was connected to a ghoul labelled 'Marrow'. A dispute between Marrow and Hisoka's father soon found its self in their living room, Hisoka's father laying on the floor with a bloodied head and a 16 year old Hisoka seeing the whole incident.

The oddest thing, which even Hisoka realises, was that he did not panic, feel fear, or even sadness. There was only a weird serenity which came him over when Marrow moved towards him, ready to clean up the rest of the mess. What happened next felt like clockwork for Hisoka. Marrow's fist came shooting out towards the boy, but he was already on the move - the fist grazed Hisoka's cheek with enough force to rip the flesh, leaving a small wound which would scar, but he moved forward none the less. Step in with the right leg, impact shoulder with chest, clinch hands around the back, hook with the left leg around his calf and pull; a takedown which used the attackers punch to bring them to the ground. With Marrow in a position of weakness and clearly surprised, Hisoka took the opportunity to get him into the first lock which came to mind - the inescapable triangle choke, all within a second and a half.

Even ghouls can't survive without air and blood circulation, nor can they properly form their kagune in such a state.

Ten minutes passed before Hisoka let up on the hold, the ghoul having already gone limp and turned an odd colour in his constrictor-like hold minutes ago. It was only after the act that Hisoka felt the impact of what he had done, the adrenaline fading away to be replaced with a paralysing dread. A few hours after, the CCG found a teenager kneeling over the still bodies of two people - one being B-rating ghoul 'Marrow', more a criminal than a ghoul, who had evaded CCG investigators for months.

Despite being older, Hisoka was enrolled into the CCG academy, and then two years later promoted to Rank 3 Investigator by the Chairman himself. Although he lacks a Quinque, large amounts of practical experience and a reputation of a higher ranked investigator, Hisoka is undoubtedly a threat to ghouls short of those S-rating and above, a rare anomaly of a purely 'anti-ghoul' individual, talented in all fields so long as it pertains to ghouls. Outside of that...well. No one's perfect.

Hisoka's father, while still alive, has been in a comatose state since that night. For whatever reason Hisoka has not visited his father once. Who knows what went on between them.

tl;dr MMA prodigy kid chokes a ghoul out and here we are

[User]
Bakura roamed through the sewers, staggering and crashing into the walls as he walked aimlessly. He pulled off his mask, dry blood still around his mouth. He wiped it away before falling against a wall and slumping to his ass. He looked up at the roof of the sewers, the sound of rats squeaking and water dripping was all he could hear. "Like hell I'm gonna let myself die here" He staggered up, continuing to walk through the sewers. This time he knew where to go. Bakura had previously taken out numerous cameras at certain spots for him to use as passages between the sewers and the streets. He removed the manhole and climbed up the ladder with his one good arm, struggling the entire time and even falling down once.

From there, he walked back to Meat! Meat! MEAT! everything seeming to be a blur. To the cameras, he would look like just every other drunk person while in reality he was a Ghoul in critical condition. He walked up the front door of the shop, hitting it open. The bell's chime rang through the room as Bakura entered, holding his broken left arm and still with his hood on. He lifted his head, blood and bruises all over his face. His eyes were cold as he looked at Edward "I...need some help" He collapsed forward, his snow white hair breaking out of its ponytail and flying out into the open. He thudded on the ground, only with enough strength to barely keep his consciousness.

[Assistant]
Ishin spun on his chair as Chou began to get changed. He placed his mask in his lap and looked over the metal surface. A few nicks and scratches marred the appearance of the stained glass section. He sighed gently. He really needed to finish his other mask, he spun around one of the walls that held a collection of masks. Fallen ghoul masks was his excuse to any and all CCG that walked into his office. He remembered one such meeting with the rumoured 'Race Traitor' Dove. That was sure an interesting encounter. He sympathised with her more that he disliked that Investigator. He knew full well how it was to be caught between two worlds. Every humane Ghoul knew the struggle. He allowed himself a brief smile after entertaining the idea of attempting to convince that Dove to fall from the lofty heights. He laughed gently to himself before looking to Chou "Yes, let's go." Ishin stood, throwing on his customary black trench coat and wrapping his neck in a crimson bandage.

Mask in one hand, Chou's hand in the other, Ishin pushed through the crowds and out into the fresh air. People had entered the club and the line was now very thin. He could smell only a single human…and they were drunk. He could hear a gentle heartbeat. He sighed softly…drunk humans were the worst to have laying around. He looked at Chou "wait here."

Making his way to the lain out form, he sighed. A passed out woman. He lifted her into his arms and made his way back to Chou and the bouncer "Put her up in the drunk tank" he said as he hefted her into the bouncer's arms. The bouncer nodded and left, allowing Ishin to walk back to Chou "apologies…" he grabbed her hand once more and walked out of sight of humans, down an alley near one of the taller buildings of the neighbourhood. Slipping on the plated metal helmet, his kagune ripped forward. Using his wings he looked up and shot into the air, landing in a crouch on the roof. His kagune settled back down and he looked out over the expanse of ward 8. Here were three large factions that held dominion over the Ward. His eyes shifted to the ghoul restaurant. An alliance between him and them was yet to be struck without some apprehension. His eyes then flicked to the monstrous eyesore that was CCG headquarters. He gave a short soft growl before looking around. The Hunt was on….

[User]
Akurai made his way through the ward and with every step he felt a bit more hopeless. It was only a question of time before someone would find his parents and the bloody mess on the floor and contact the cops or better yet the CCG. 19 years had passed in his life and not once had he hunted down a human for food, he had just eaten the scraps his dad managed to drag home. So now after 19 years of living undercover in safety everything was going to get blow because some asshole had to eat his parents."Congratulations Aku, your officially a murderer" but saying it only brought a small smile onto his face "Well... a ghoul murderer"

The bag felt heavy after a while and he had to sit down somewhere. The bag was filled with every piece of clothing and every shred of cash he could find in the house so it being heavy was a given. He sank down at the corner of a small shop and just sat there and looked up at the sky, it looked so peaceful up there. "Is heaven a thing mom ?"

[Assistant]
Totsuka Chou
Chou followed after Ishin, and hand in hand they walked through the crowd of people. As they made their way to the exit, the smell of a drunk human filled her nose, which was rather expected given their location. Chou tensed, but rather than step for the easy kill, Ishin told Chou to stand back. Idly standing, Chou picked at her dress as she wondered how anyone thought frills were ever a good idea to wear, looking up at the reappearance of her guardian.

He smelled even more strongly of human, but she knew he didn't kill whatever drunkard he'd come across. It was too close to home, and too boring of an adventure. "Un," she nodded with affirmation as her hand reached for Ishin's hand, the two rising to the sky with the older ghoul's aid. Chou, despite her wings, couldn't fly, and scaling the walls- while easy- wouldve hindered Ishin's speed. So, she gratefully accepted the free ride, her hands slipping on her mask after he did. It was one of her own design, crudely coloured with a crayon she'd found in the streets.

As her focus heightened with the placement of the mask, her nose twitched at the scent of blood- human. Her gaze wandered alongside Ishin's before pointing towards a lone figure leaning against a closed shop, unsuspecting. "There's one," she noted, excitement too great to stop her from dropping down, forgetting that Ishin was supposed to be making calls and that she was supposed to be hunting girls for her attire issues. Her kagune escaped from her back, shielding her fall by pushing her up and throwing her further over rooftops, her feet never touching the ground, stopping on the rooftop just before the boy as their eyes made contact. She stilled, wondering how he knew she was coming, frowning as the mix of human blood mixed with something more foul.

Ghoul.

Leaping down the final rooftop, she stepped in front of the blonde teen, her wings hovering intimidatingly before her. "No hunting here," she warned, "This isn't your hunting ground."

[User]
Meat, Meat, MEAT!

As Edward got out of the kitchen carrying the menus, he raised his head to see what he first thought to be another late customer. It took him a moment to realize that it was his co-worker Bakura. After a couple of slow steps, the cook heard the faint plea for help, rushing over to his side. As Bakura's body fell, Edward kneeled by his side. He lifted the half-conscious young man and quickly set him on a secluded booth's seats. Pushing the swinging door, he rushed into the kitchen and ran his hand through some packages in the storage room. He grabbed one and made his way back to the room, grabbing the two menus that he'd dropped on the counter and carelessly tossing them at a table as he kept moving towards Bakura. Edward pushed the table aside and unwrapped the tip of the package, placing the open part right in front of the young man's mouth from which some condensed human flesh leaded. "Eat up. I'll pour you some coffee," the boy said quietly and walked over to the other two, waiting for their order.

[Assistant]
CCG Headquarters

Yuuka chuckled. "You think he's weird? You're an investigator now, kid. Trust me, things are about to get a whole lot weirder. Now let's see what we've got here."

Yuuka grabbed a pile of papers and began power-reading them, showing incredible focus unlike anything Hisoka had seen from her so far. When it came to Ghouls, Special Investigator Matsuoka was all business.

"A-rank Knight, real name and/or other aliases unknown. Male, six foot four, other distinguishing characteristics unknown. Koukaku-user. Kagune takes the form of a black elongated spear which he wields riding atop a large black horse or motorcycle. Subject has proven evasive, most likely knows the locations of all the cameras in the city. I think we can infer an ambush. Our best bet is to lure him out of hiding so we can face him on equal footing. What do you think, 3rd rank investigator Hisoka?"

[User]
There were a few things about Knight which really stuck out to Hisoka, taking a few moments of silence to contemplate the information, ensuring what he was about to say was not utterly mad.

"...A ghoul that owns both a horse and motorcycle and can afford to maintain them to the point of being able to shake pursuit. Properly looking after a horse in this climate can be anything from 170,000 yen upwards a year, and motorcycles are incredibly costly in their own right. We're looking for a person who is relatively comfortable, six foot, and possibly has an interest in Western History given their dedication to the role. Is there a blacksmith in either this District or the neighbouring ones?"

It was verbal diarrhoea for the most part, but she did ask for his thoughts. Hisoka bit down on his thumb, more ideas coming to mind. It was difficult to know what exact year Knight became active, but a first recorded incident would be enough to work backwards from - enough to create a good assumption.

"I think we should ambush the ambusher..." He started, looking up into the eyes of Yuuka. It appeared they were similar in some way, his red orbs carrying a completely different feeling than the kind, if confused, look that was in them before. "If we can start to figure out his identity, then we can catch him unaware in the middle of his cover life. More likely to bring him back in alive, less likely to be ready for a fight."