[System]
Sorry for taking so long after the interest check, I was having some trouble thinking of what character I'd want to play
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Position: Marines, Private
Personality:
-Nervous if things don't go according to plan
-Obedient, never questions authority
-Friendly and easy to get along with if you can catch him while he's calm
-No ego whatsoever, willing to adapt and be a cog in the machine
-Kind of dumb when not given orders, does what he's told and does not improvise much

Notable Skills, Combat or otherwise:
-He's a very good shot, excelled in marksman training
-One of the best physical specimens coming out of basic training
-Never thinks twice about an order, would charge to his death for the mission

History:
"I'd rather you come back dead than dishonored, I hope you feel the same."

That was the last thing his loving father told him before he was sent off to basic training. Tyrone came from a military family, and his house was certainly run like it. He was always pushed to be in peak physical condition, and was taught how to handle a firearm before high school. Orders in the Harvey household were always answered with a sharp "yes sir". Tyrone never got time to explore much else besides his grueling daily routine, and as a result, he never really found himself. A young interest in poetry was shut down by his father tearing all of his work up and calling him a woman. His 2 brothers were given the same treatment, and while one is younger, his older brother, Marcus, has excelled in his time in the marines, rising through the ranks through a combination of skill and nepotism. As a result of his upbringing, there was little thrown at him in basic that he couldn't handle. Behind the scenes Tyrone would be an utter wreck after even the slightest hint of failure; he dreads the thought of not living up to his father's or brother's legacy, and tarnishing the Harvey name. All he wants is to make them proud of him. When he found out his first deployment would be aboard a starship, he knew that he would finally get his chance to really begin climbing the ranks.

[User]
=========================================
======================================================

S.U.B.J.E.C.T: Sergeant Anan Ihejirika

VITALS: |||||||||||||||||||| 100%

REGISTERED INJURIES: N/A

WEAPON SYSTEM: M19A78 98MM Multi-Purpose Thermal Launcher

AMMUNITION COUNT: 00 / 00

REGISTERED INVENTORY: N/A

GPS LOCATION: Marine Armoury, Convergence of Destiny.

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

Escaping Warrant Officer O'Henessey's macho bull shit was my first victory of the day. Sometimes, there was only so much of that man I could take. He was a good soldier, that was a given, and a finer leader of marines? None that I'd ever seen, but that didn't make it any easier for a vet like me to put up with his incessant bravado.

I laid my Multi-Purpose Thermal Launcher across my metal-clad lap, inspecting it with my obsessive compulsion for perfection. In war, God was a soldier's best friend, but just in case, it was always handy to ensure your weapon was at its best. Especially, my weapon. A blockage in the chamber at the wrong time, could mean the difference between destroying enemy armour, or the enemy armour destroying us.

Thinking back to O'Heneseey, I felt bad dismissing his macho demeanour. Perhaps the eyes of God were on me, no? I mean, it wasn't like he hadn't earned the right. He was brave enough, that much was true, and certainly crazy enough. There was just something about the way he approached people, something belittling, as if his hide would protect him from a rifle round more than ours would. Arrogance? Maybe. Hardened soldiers had a way of believing themselves above anyone who had served a day less than them, even when in most cases, they themselves were shot and killed by an irregular - like the rebels - who possessed idealism in place of advanced combat training.

I swore to myself then, that if I was ever in charge of a unit, I'd run it the way the Lord would agree with. Firm but fair, without the patronising bravado. My men would know that I was just that, a man, and they would come to see my actions as heroic, as opposed to individual segments of my self-reinforced legacy.

My forehead cracked against the barrel of my launcher, partly to test for any shakiness in the weapon's grips and tubing, but partly to stop me from hammering my C.O. He was a good man, and I was a good soldier. Nice and simple, like Moses and Gershom, a Godly affair all told.

And besides, at least his yelling and emasculating of the new guys allowed me to slip away to tend my baby.

I kissed the barrel of my launcher, its chrome plating cold on my lips.

Standing from the bench, I holstered the launcher over my back, where it latched and was held in place. It was time to go and reacquaint myself with my C.O, and see what exactly it was we were heading into. Though as I put one plated foot forwards, clanking on the metal work beneath me, my head felt a rush of dizziness.

It was the lights. They always impaired me after a cryosleep, but not right away. It'd creep up on me, sometimes minutes, sometimes hours after I'd woken up. Docs said it was something to do with my inner ear, but I didn't care so long as it was a passing thing.

I left the armoury, after letting the nausea pass, and exited through the hissing doors. The corridor beyond was starting to buzz with groggy ensigns and nervous marines-- speaking of which, one happened to be a few feet away, looking lost. His insignia denoted his rank as a Private, though I didn't recognise the man. A rush of shame for this too, because us black folks had to stick together.

"Over here, brother," I said with heavily accented English. "Get tooled up and get good to go, we not long off entering shit storm, yes?"

[Assistant]
@FPR

"You two should take a left, go straight for about five doors, take the cargo elevator on your right down eight floors and you will be a to hangar control room who can then direct you to the hangar where everyone is getting ready to load up." Alice appears from nowhere as she always does, "As for you Sergeant Ihejirika, would you like me to request more toilet paper or diapers for the shit storm for personal use?"

Alice was tracking the location of the squad through teh various cameras in the ship, the route she gave the men wouldn't lead them back to their group, but it would be faster towards the hangar and might actually get them a good word depending on who was commanding and how much they liked having soldiers be one step ahead. Of course she was beating on two of the ship's engineers, Donnelly and Daniel not making out in said cargo elevator, but if they were, the gents would have some free entertainment on their way down.

"You two should be prepared for anything down there. Rebels stay alive not because they're good but since they're creative. I'd hate it if you two died down there. Writing the paper work for this stuff is a pain in the ass."

---

With that, Alice disappeared from the sight of the two men, materializing once again in at the bridge next to Captain Sterling. "Captain," Alice looked through her files on the ship including the one that were only meant for Sterling's eyes, "Shouldn't we be telling the crew of what else might be down there? Sending men in to die for an ulterior motive isn't something that is warmly welcomed in the USEA code of military conduct."
Coake

[User]
Selene was among the last to reach the dropship. Some of the medications that she carried required precise temperature limits for long term storage and were only good for a few hours after they were taken from the ships extensive pharmacy. They had to be laboriously loaded into her suits storage magazines, a job that was a real trick without a corpsman or a tech to help. Her suit display read her medical equipment at 95% efficiency, she had switched out some of the recommend load in favor of her personal preference but there was no easy way to correct the suits assessment. She also had to collect hear weapons, a standard service pistol that she wore at her hip and a light carbine that was currently slung behind a shoulder on one of the armors many attachment points. No one expected a medic to really mix it up, but every marine a rifleman blah blah blah.

Marine dropships were big, but there is no space in the universe that is big when it is packed with dozens of Marines and their equipment. O'Henessey was standing outside, presumably to take the last slot in the ship so he could be among the first out. She jostled in past the other Marines as she forced her way into ship. Several Marines greeted her with everything between snarls of annoyance and friendly greetings as she moved down the cramped central gangway. Two black soldiers were sitting across from one another, their bulk blocking further advance. She cast a glance back over her shoulder, she was nearly half way to the back of the dropship. Standing orders dictate that a medic be stationed in the middle of an assault force. This prevented, in theory, the medic being hit immediately on disembarkation and from going down with the ship if it took an AA hit late in the drop.

"Make room!" she called, her helmet speakers projecting the words to be audible above the ambient noise. One of the soldiers reluctantly shifted and she sat down beside him, engaging the restraints that would lock her to the dropship. She cast her eyes over their weapons, one of them had what appeared to be a large thermal launcher, an unusual choice but something one might expect of a veteran.

"Any word on the drop time private?"

@FPR

[Assistant]
The Captain knew exactly what file Alice was referring to, and sighed before answering. "Should we? Maybe. But will I, no, simply because our only orders were to engage the rebels and protect the planet. Now, this does not cover anything UESA Intelligence chooses to investigate during or after the battle, which will most likely be the thing you are referring to." He glanced at the control panel to his side, then keyed the ship's intercom "This is Captain Stirling. We are about to exit hyperspace into the Sotra system, which will be an active combat zone. All crew report to your Battle Stations immediately, and all Marine Dropship and fighter pilots prepare for immediate take-off. Marines, your officers have been given the detailed versions of your ground engagement orders, but the summary is this: Defend the capitol city of New Portland from any and all rebel ground forces. Captain Stirling out."

He observed the main viewscreen as the ship slowly dropped out of hyperspace, and into the Sotra system. The battle had already begun, and it wasn't long before the Convergence of Destiny was engaged with a rebel Frigate. "Fire Rifleman missile pods A1 through B5, and the main cannon. Have half the fighter squadrons begin strafing runs on the enemy, while the rest guard the marine dropships." He keyed a button on his command console, giving the dropship pilots their launch signal. Stirling looked to Alice and said "I want you to make your best judgments, and assist in this engagement both up here and on the ground, but notify me before doing anything drastic."

[User]
Coake
"Copy Captain," Alice began to forward the commands to their respective places. Within seconds, gun turrets fully extended themselves and spinning to prepare for engagement. The last of the fighter pilots dashed to their fighters and buckled themselves in as engineers filled fuel tanks, loaded missiles, check systems and hydraulics and giving them their final approvals as some of them made their way to the launching areas. The last of the marines boarded the drop ships, now clutching their rifles or praying as the ramps closed, hoping it wouldn't become an ariel coffin.

"Roger Captain. I will notify you before I attempt to kamikaze the ship into something else." Alice saw the captain giving her an eye, "That was a joke. I will be using whatever related systems I currently posses and will allocate extra computing space for it. We simply have to hoe for Mr. Sans not to get us killed."

She turned her attention to the troops and the pilots, some of which will never be able to see the ship again, "Attention all crew, we are going in hot. Prepare for anything. Should you need extra encouragement, there will be drink and better food available when you get back and cake. Lots of cake. Also refrain from dying, paperwork is a bitch at best. For last minute motivation, please enjoy some fine quality banjo music from a few centuries ago. This will be available for purchase at the crew shop after the battle should we live."

With that, the sound of anarchic banjo music resonated throughout the ship and added one last bit as a precaution, "Warrant Officer O'Henessey be prepared to pilot in case our pilot hates this banjo music enough to have you pilot the Destiny instead. I do hope you know how operate such a craft."

[Assistant]
Tyrone sharpened up at the sound of him being addressed as private. That had become his name over the last few months; he barely responded to Harvey at this point, never mind Tyrone.

He turned to meet the gaze of a rather big muscular guy, but the unimposing nature of his greeting made him seem less so, at least as compared to O'Hennessy, who might as well have been ten feet tall with his demeanor. His accent let him know that he was foreign, African probably. He knew as much as the whitest white guy on this ship about that continent, but despite the fact that they probably shared little more culturally than the color of their skin, it was nice to see another dude who looked like him. He felt himself loosening up as he assessed this guy as a potential friend, that was until he remembered he was about to attempt casual small talk with a superior, considering a fellow Private would never address him as such. He stiffened up once more.

"Sounds like a plan..."

He paused to look for a rank on him

"Sergeant"

Just then the ship's AI showed up and began firing off directions before making a snarky comment. He betrayed his own professionalism by turning to the Sergeant and asking casually:

"Who would program an AI for a military starship to be so... sassy? To keep things light perhaps? I guess that's why I'm just a soldier and not a science guy or whatever"

The fact that they were alone and drop time was rapidly approaching dawned on Tyrone once more as he realized he hadn't really absorbed the directions he had been given. Either way, he figured he would follow the sergeant.

"Lead on"


[System]
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 Name
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Replace this line with an X if filled with the help of a scribe, otherwise, remove.

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(Leave this section to be filled by GM)
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From left to right:
Carlisle Flyte, Bosmer, Knight of the Flame
Sir Yusbeck, Orc, Order of the Raven champion
Mistress Solaire, Breton, Synod professor
Everard III, Breton, mercenary captain

[User]
Dibella's House of Common Pleasures

2100, Last Seed 21, 4E 205

---

The sun had set, the curfew had taken effect. Yet in the premiere brothel of Wayrest, the night has just begun. Citizens and occupying soldiers flocked to the "entertainment" district alike, and the latter were more than happy to let their orders slide. Not all who came to one particular brothel, commonly called the House of Commons, came for the bodily pleasures. It was a large three story building of many rooms; many of them housed former pirates trapped between rock and a hard place, while other were occupied by opportunists hoping to pilfer the legendary treasures of the Corsairs.

One such individual was Ander. He had rented a small room three days ago, never requiring any services and never returning until dark. Tonight, he was carried in by a band of mercenaries. Ander was unconscious, but in stable condition. He was soaked liked the mercenaries, though thankfully, only in water. They had emerged from a manhole, guided by receipts in Ander's pocket and Alim's directions.

Overlooking the bustling lobby, where red lights glazed across dark leather, were the premium guest rooms. These weren't the rooms for pirates and scavengers; only the richest (and often the anonymous) could afford them. Sounds of pleasure and pain seeped through the cracks of mostly sound-proof doors. One such room was taken by Relyssa an hour ago. Another was where a Breton man in an ash gray cloak had emerged. This man wore leather armor under his cloak, and partly concealed under his hood was a silver circlet and messy black hair. His relaxed shoulders showed his ease, yet a faint frown made it clear he was not happy. His right hand hovered around his waist, as if protecting an invisible object attached to his belt. The Breton man took out a pipe, lit it with a spark spell and watched the scene below.

"S'toth trusts you were satisfied with his services?" Came a sultry purr from the same room. The Khajiit was a busy one tonight, for his barbed appendages were coveted by curious lords and ladies alike.

"Most enjoyable." The Breton man nodded absentmindedly. Without turning to acknowledge the prostitute, he offered a handful of coins. "Here's your tips."

As S'toth left, the Breton man focused on the newcomers below. He watched Gustav rent a premium room for himself, and cheaper options for his employees. He watched Xenia Richton, madam of the house, chide them for leaving a wet mess (on this already wet mess of an establishment), and redirecting Ander to the nearest clinic. He watched some soldiers cast suspicious glances at the mercenaries (but none of them did anything, since they weren't supposed to be there in the first place). He watched mercenaries from other companies, who were hired by the armies, size up their newest competitors. Finally, he watched the lonesome Nibenese sailor trailing after them.

The Breton man smiled to himself. He made his way downstairs, brushing past the mercenaries and not acknowledging them. He weaved through the sweaty, drunk and aroused mass of people, almost unnoticed, until he was in front of the Nibenese lad.

"You there, come." He gestured. "I have a job for you."

[Assistant]
21st Last Seed,
A house, somewhere in Wayrest.

---

A set of pliers sat askew amidst a pile of silver wire, coiled like a snake but bent and twisted unnaturally. A small vortex that was the circular frame for a diagram on parchment; tea stained, and tickled with cigar ash - smudged just so as to hide the design. The thick tracing that had been made with pencil was etched so confidently on the surface that it had also created an indentation, a river of charcoal creating the image of mastercrafted jewellery.

Holding down the corners of the parchment were crystal tumblers, slabs of solid paint, and a cigar box. Trembling fingers reached out to feel the current, stroking each precise line as a jaw quivered, droplets of a rich liquer clung to the dry lower lip of a mouth held ajar. The red that stained the bloodshot corner of otherwise beautiful eyes were the warning lines of danger at the situation.

A rasping breath heaved from the scrawny gentleman's chest and he swallowed back another gulp of the whisky. He was long past feeling the burn rush down his oesophagus and into his stomach. All that sat there was a bleak emptiness that rumbled and that's where the sting fell. "Did I…?" he wheezed, blinking down at the page as he tried to make sense of the words written before him, and the line-art of the Lover's Knot, half buried under his clutter and stained with his mess.

"Did I do it? Did I steal it?" he whimpered, memories of holding the piece lingering only half there in the darkest corners of his mind, like a ghost. A spectre that elicited a sense of panic and a throbbing anxiety in his chest. His ribcage was too frail to hold such a thunderous heartbeat and he brought down the amber liquid again to drown it, to turn it slick and heavy and bring everything down to the floor. His legs obeyed the command, stop-starting in their movement so it appeared janky and broken. Like a newborn deer finding itself for the first time. His eyes too, were that of a deer as it stared headfirst into danger.

Njall pinched the corner of his sketch, dragging it and the crystal tumbler, the paint, and the cigar box down with it. A smash, and thud, and a clatter. All intrusive sounds that were not so intrusive to a lost and drunken mind, just the perfect kind of ambiance.

"I remember something… I remember something," he muttered, staring at it closely, his pupils dilating into tiny dots the closer he brought the parchment to his face -- stopping it only when it grazed the tip of his aquiline nose. "Diamonds, glass… Something, something." he struggled, desperately gulping down the last drops of his whisky. "I wasn't in Evermore, was I?" he breathed.

Pale and unwashed, Njall could suddenly smell his own breath as it pushed back at him from the paper. A warm and intoxicating fume that it would be dangerous to bring close to a flame.

After a moment or two more of scrutinous inspection, the drunken Nord felt that the best course of action was to carefully fold, and fold again the drawing - before shoving it roughly under the leg of his table, and when he staggered back to his feet to place the items in a heap in the centre, the wobbled the entire structure. "Gone now, gone to someplace…" he mused, scratching his oily hairline with a finger. He turned his face this way and that, careful and suspicious of the shadows that flickered against the walls of his humble lodgings. "Like watchful demons tonight you are," he spoke out to them, narrowing his eyes some. "Don't eat my applause," he cursed, wagging a finger at the moving darkness of a lamp that flickered.

Njall sighed, his shoulders drooping. His lids were heavy as his stupor continued to worsen. The paper under the table leg was all but gone to him now, and instead his focus turned to a canvas propped against the wall. The abstract shape of a feminine figure in black, topped with red like a plumed crown stared back at the palid Nord, at least from where her eyes should have been painted. "I know, I know-misbehaving again," he slurred out, shrugging his shoulders. "Just that, well…"

With yet another sigh, it was clear the man had given up on whatever needed to be said. Instead, retreating once more to the floor, only this time taking to spreading out on the floor beside his mysterious woman. He seemed more relaxed there, the stillness briefly bringing colour back to his complexion. On the ceiling, more strokes of red adorned the beams and careful tiling. An invasion of an artist's colour on an architect's best work. The tendrils and tentacles of red gave his mind something to focus on, and as his head began to spin around, and around, and around, he visualised them peeling away from the ceiling, spiraling down carefully to caress and blanket him.

They cocooned him from whatever it was that had been bothering him only minutes ago.

Njall fell asleep like that, as he so often did.

[User]
8:15pm, Last Seed 21
Dibella's House of Common Pleasures

---

"It's not the type of job you expect here." Everard clarified to Finch. He gestured to the stage, where exotic dancers performed lewd routines. "Let's speak somewhere private, and trust me, it's not what you think it is."

The two men entered the Everard's premium suite, and as expected, it had been cleaned up after his session with S'toth.

"Close the door." Everard instructed. He sat on a leather sofa, and reaching to the table in front, he uncorked a bottle of wine and set down two glasses. "Take a seat when you're done."

"Summerset Reserve, 176 vintage, Shimmerene export." Everard read off the wine label. He poured himself a glass first, and only when he's satisfied after two drags did he fill Finch's glass. "You don't even know what this is, don't you? Normal people like us can't even afford to look at it."

"I'll jump straight to business." Everard stated plainly. "I heard people call you 'Finch', and you tend to get into places you shouldn't be in."

"I'm Everard, leader of the Blackhounds, and depending on who you ask, the future king of Wayrest or an opportunistic bastard." The Breton man finished his glass. He took the wine bottle and began drinking directly from it. "People say a lot of stuff about me and most of them don't even believe their own words. So don't bother telling anyone about our meeting here; people will laugh you off at best, or worse, may kill you for spreading treasonous rumors."

"Here's where you come in." Everard kicked his feet up on the table. "I had a very valuable sword, one made of gold. Some say it's daedric, but I all I care is that it's mine. However, my spymaster, Mathieu the Whisper, decided to steal it from me! That conniving scum! Fuck!"

Everard threw his wine glass into the wall behind Finch. It shattered.

"Excuse me; I get too attached to things." Everard straightened his jacket collar. He took from big gulp from the wine bottle, and settled back to his previous position as if nothing had happened. "But my loss is your gain, right? We're bloody opportunists, you and I. I have a lot of gold for you, if you can return my sword to me."

"Now, here's what you need to do." Everard went to a book shelf and took out a map of Wayrest. "Mathieu prays every evening at the temple, here, just before they close down. It's in the southern occupation zone. They know me and won't let me through, but Mathieu, he's the religious type and on good terms with the priests, so they let him go."

"You'll catch him in the temple around sunset. Take my sword back, and preferably killing Mathieu in the process." Everard stared at Finch for a second, then he laughed. "Don't even think about doing it alone. Mathieu is one of the best nightblades in High Rock, and the sword will further strengthen him. Remember that group of people ahead of you? They're mercenaries. Sub-contract them."

"On more thing, wait here, and drink the rest if you want." Mathieu pushed the half-drank wine bottle to Finch, and went to a locked chest. He returned with a fabric covered shield. Pulling the cover off, the shield underneath was made of cold gray scales.

"Real dragon hide, only wielded by the elites of Jehanna." Everard explained. "A frost dragon flew there from Skyrim, so they killed it and made equipment from its remains. The previous owner, invincible in combat, died from food poisoning. Now you, a nobody, gets to inherit it."

"This is your down payment. Of course, you can sell it for a pretty sum on the black market. Alternately, you or one of your allies can use it against Mathieu. I recommend giving it to someome with actual upper body strength."

"I want my sword back the morning after tomorrow." Everard declared. He took out his journal and ripped off several pages. "Don't bother asking questions. Everything you need to know is here, including a sketch of that spineless traitor Mathieu. I am much better with written words than spoken ones. Do burn it when you're done."

"Now, get to work, and get out of my room." Everard pointed to the door.


[System]
* Kieran Quinlan
* Mikhail Fox
* Riley Taylor
* Aro Mahmoud
* Isabelle Smith

@AluminumDude@Oliver@Bornlucky@bloonewb@LordofthePies@UmbreonRogue

[User]
"Yeah!" Howl cheered with an equally excited leap in the air. He landed gracefully, did a neat little turn and a twitch of his tail, and raised his paws up against the wall, ears perked. "This is a very special room that has no door -- but you can push one of those buttons there! Do you see them?"

Carved among the intricate patterns on the coppery wall were a series of buttons with strange symbols on them:

---

The button lit up with a gentle green glow; the light spread quickly throughout all the carved lines that networked throughout the walls of the tiny room, until the coppery little room was full of angled patterns of dim neon.

BRRRRRM CLICK!

Above Riley's head, a copper ceiling slid closed, sealing off the room from the water that had been floating overhead.

Howl spun in place and flashed a fangy grin up at Riley. "See you later!" He turned his back to her, coiled his haunches, and leaped through the wall as if he were nothing more than a ghost -- but the wall was completely solid.

The room began to shake and rumble like a very old elevator.

DING!

All of a sudden everything went still and quiet; the lights were gone and the shaking had stopped. For a tense moment, Riley was alone in silence -- until the wall behind her split open like elevator doors, revealing a chaos of muttering and clattering noises and buttery-sweet smells.

"Make way, coming through, out of the way!" called a waitress as she sprinted through the crowd with an enormous tray of covered dishes held over her head. She rushed past the elevator door and disappeared among the filled tables to the right. The tables were all filled with enormous monsters with scales or feathers or fur or spines, all shoveling ravenous forkfuls of savory meats and sweet desserts into their fanged or tentacled mouths.

The waiters and waitresses that darted about, however, were very much human. They wore uniforms of pink and blue, which matched the gaudy decor that gave the huge restaurant a very particularly nostalgic feel.

Directly in front of the elevator was a worn red carpet, which led directly to the hostess' podium, above which glowed a bright green neon sign:

welcome toLilyrose House
The hostess was a teenage girl with flyaway black hair and a pink uniform that was slightly fancier than those of the other wait staff. She wore a patch over her right eye, but her left eye caught quick sight of Riley through the elevator door.

"Hey, there you are!" she hollered, gripping the podium. "You're late!"

---

The black cat tilted his head and swished his tail, and for a moment he waited for this new visitor to finish being scared -- but when the boy showed no signs of anything but distress, the cat lighted up onto the disheveled pile of pillows and craned his neck to peer into the little cave the boy had made in them.

"What's a mommy?" he asked quizzically, triangle ears perked.

[Assistant]
Arthur's mind instantly went to the worst possible scenario. That this place had no mothers. That was tragic and awful. He definitely could not stay here.

Quivering lips, he slowly turned towards the terrifying monster that was the cat. Then the walls. His eyes scanned the walls for any signs of a door. He refused to interact with the speaking animal. If he pretended it did not exist then maybe it would just leave. Besides, damp or not these pillows were actually somewhat comfortable. More comfortable that what this room felt like to him: prison.

He wished he still had Tyrone with him. At least he knew how Tyrone would deal with this. Tyrone always had ideas.

[User]
"Wait, you didn't-" shouted Riley, as the fairy cat jumped away and phased through the far wall. She ran over to the place where he escaped through, but no matter where she touched, it was solid and impassable. Then, there came another mechanical whir, and she could feel the distinct force associated with accelerating downwards. Then, everything goes black. Agonizing seconds pass, and Riley looks around for something, anything, that would shine any light in literal or figurative sense on her situation. Then, the wall parts, revealing a commotion on the other end. Humans rushing about under the lazy eye of horrendous beasts. Riley gasped, and this made one of the human women turn and glare at her.

"Hey, there you are!" she shouts. "You're late!" Riley didn't know what to think.

"I . . . I don't understand," she says, trying to hide her confusion. "I'm not late for anything. You don't know me, you don't even know my name . . . right?"

[Assistant]
The cat blinked its huge eyes. It tilted its head. It backed out of the boy's way and sat down again, curious.

What Arthur would see on the wall were quite a lot of straight lines and neat angles, like the wires on a motherboard, that covered the entirety of the coppery walls as well as the floor. The ceiling, of course, was water -- like an upside-down pool with no bottom in sight.

But also on the wall was a row of circles that might be buttons, lined up just low enough that Arthur could potentially reach them with small effort:

"You wanna get out of this little room, huh?" the cat went on with a fangy grin. "Why not push one of those buttons? I bet they'll take you someplace neat."

---

"Your name's not important," the hostess said testily. She suddenly tossed an apron at Riley's head. "What's important is you get to work. Grab some dirty plates and take them back to the kitchen, and don't talk to the clients no matter what. Skedaddle!"

The monsters, meanwhile, paid no attention to Riley -- they were far too invested in devouring all the food in sight, as quickly and as messily as possible. The room was filled with slurping and chewing and grunting noises.

Suddenly there was a crashing commotion. A few of the monsters lunged over their table, grabbing for something that was running away between the plates. A little white fuzzy animal sprinted along the table, leaping away from their grabbing claws and tentacles -- it tumbled to the floor and skittered away again just out of reach of a hungry monster. The little poofy animal skidded and hid inside an oversized cup on the floor, shivering, unsure what to do.

"Pick up the pace!" the hostess hollered again, and threw a wad of paper at a passing waitress.

[User]
Arthur stared up at the water ceiling. He was puzzled about why the ceiling was water. It should be in this room and he should be swimming in it right now. What if this was actually a dream? That made sense. This was a really really weird dream. He felt himself calming down at that thought. He then decided to try something.

He climbed out of the pillow hole he dug himself and grabbed one of the least heavy pillows. With all of his might he threw it up into the water just to see what would happen. Would it splash? Could he even make the throw? Would it fall out of the water and land back in the pile?
 He had no idea. However, weird water like that in a weird dream like this one could only bring about weird results. At least as far as he could imagine.

The buttons were interesting, but they were going to be there for as long as he was dreaming and with this dream being so weird he had no idea when he would wake up. Either way, the buttons could wait. So could the cat.

[Assistant] Riley barely caught the apron as it arced through the air at her head. She sullenly put it on. What could she do? She, however, didn't really understand what the apron meant. What was she even supposed to do? The questions were answered for her when a white object fell off the table and plopped onto the ground. Then, it came to life and scurried away on short, stumpy legs. It ran itself into a ridiculously scaled cup, and effortlessly vaulted over one of its sides, at least as large as it was. Riley forgot the screaming of the demanding hostess and went over to the cup. It was painted blue and yellow, and a large crack ran through it. Within sat the little creature, shivering from its near miss with death. Riley reached in to pet the little creature. It was odd, looking nothing like anything she'd seen in the normal world, but it looked frightened, and surely something as small as it can't be dangerous.

[User]
Isabelle examined the buttons curiously. Those were some strange patterns, and they look old. Some have really pointy patterns, and others are really swirly. There's even one that's both pointy and swirly! The young girl didn't know which one would allow her and the kitty to leave, of course, but Isabelle didn't think it would hurt to try.

"I'mma try pressing this one!" Isabelle declared, pressing the middle button that had two swirls on it.

[Assistant]
The pillow was flung upward, and with a quiet splash a few droplets fell down on Arthur's forehead. The pillow, for a moment, floated upside-down on the watery ceiling until the fabric had soaked through -- then it rose above the surface and continued to float along into the dark watery depths above. Anything more that he might choose to toss into the water would not come back down again.

The cat watched this peculiar behavior with a swishing tail and a twitching ear. Whiskers quivered, and it blinked its big eyes, silently waiting.

Just as the dark silhouette of the pillow had begun to fade into the deep water, something else moved. A sinewy shape swam closer, snatched the pillow and darted away again, silent.

---

The little critter blinked and breathed rapidly, watching as Riley's hand drew closer. Its pink nose quivered, and slowly -- cautiously -- it shifted forward to sniff her outstretched hand, whining, hopeful for her assistance.

Suddenly something big and fleshy grabbed Riley around the middle and yanked her high into the air; one of the monsters had spotted her, and now had her in its scaly grip. The monster held her up to the light, examining her with glazed red eyes for a moment before it tipped its head back and parted its tentacled face, revealing a round mouth lined with rows of razor teeth.

"No eating the help!" the hostess roared in the distance, but the admonishment was too little too late.

The little white critter, meanwhile, skittered up the monster's leg, scaled its putrid back, and crawled along its outstretched arm with flurrying speed. Riley's new furry friend opened wide its big toothy jaws and clamped down on the hand that held her.

The monster gurgled a scream of pain and dropped Riley into a half-empty bowl of custard on the table. The critter dropped down beside her -- and all the monsters at the table, poised and quiet, were now staring at them both.

---

[color=gray]

The button lit up gold and blue and swirling; the light spread along the patterns in the metal walls of her little room. With a bump and a click and a hum, the room began to vibrate; the water above rippled before a metal panel slid suddenly over the surface of the water, securing Isabelle's room into a solid coppery glowing trembling box.

The cat's whiskers twitched, and it grinned fangily. "Good luck!" it called in a voice that almost sounded mocking, and it turned its back on Isabelle and walked cleanly away through the solid wall -- as if the cat had been nothing but a spirit.

The room hummed and creaked and shuddered, the lit-up patterns flashed.

Suddenly, everything went still and dark.

A whining, creaking noise vibrated in the walls. A seam of bright sunlight cut through the wall before her and grew wider as the elevator doors slid open. A cool fragrant wind swirled just outside.

Once her eyes adjusted to the light, Isabelle would find that the elevator was perched upon the sprawling grassy, rocky top of a cliff. The wind whistled and howled, and the sun shone brightly on the waving green grass and jutting stones.

To her right was an old stone windmill, spinning rapidly, strung up with strings of little brightly colored flags that flapped in the wind. The windmill towered high above, and if Isabelle listened carefully she might hear the squeak and grind of machinery inside.

Attached to the windmill was a little stone house with a thatch roof and a cozy porch, presumably where the windmill-keeper lived. On the porch was a bench swing, a rocking chair, and a rather rusty looking robot. The robot was sitting on the porch floor with its legs stretched out and head drooped to its chest. There was a big turnkey in its back. It was about as big as Isabelle herself.

There was only one window on the house, but it was fastened and the curtains were shut inside. The door was closed, but unlocked.

To Isabelle's left, the rocky landscape sloped down, toward the edge of a thick scraggly forest in the distance.

Behind her was the cliff's edge, and a sheer drop from an unknown height; the bottom was hidden behind a mist, and birds flew far below.

Straight ahead, directly across from the open elevator, a winding path led past the windmill and along a narrow stone bridge that stretched across the abyss. On the other end of the bridge -- in the far distance, was a floating island, and on this island was a massive, shimmering mountain of angular pink crystal. The crystal seemed to glow and spark in the sunlight, its size impossible to determine from this distance, only that it dwarfed the spinning windmill.


[System]
Age: 25

Gender: Male

Appearance Without Armor (If they do not wear any):  (Scars all over his back and chest. He has a prosthetic Right hand, and a long scar on his chest where he was almost split open by a pissed off Brute.)

Appearance With Armor (If they do wear it.): (It's Black and Deep Red as a secondary color. Visor is Red)

Homeworld: Luna (Earth's Moon)

Race: Human

Rank: Spartan IV

Position: Demolitions Expert and Exo-Atmospheric Combat Specialist

Primary Weapon: Anti-Vehicle Model 6 Grindell/Galilean Nonlinear Rifle (W/AV M6 G/GNR) A.K.A. Spartan Laser

Secondary Weapon: M395 Designated Marksman Rifle

Personality: Jason is an Extrovert, he is outgoing and often making jokes or just conversation with others, including making Jokes while in combat. He is, however, highly intelligent and efficient. He has an undying loyalty to his comrades and will do anything to protect them. (More than once has he jumped out of an Evac Pelican and single handedly charged charged a Covenant Position in order to save a comrade who he didn't even know. But they were on his side and that's enough for him). He is considered to be one of the adept at dealing with Explosives of any kind in the UNSC, and excelled in his training in Zero Gravity Combat. He is also a bit of a Romantic, though he sure as hell isn't admitting it any time soon. The boy has a bit of a dark side that he refuses to let anybody he isn't close to see, or when it slips sometimes whenever something (like a Covenant Elite executing another human) sets him off.

Bio: Jason was born into an anti-military family on the surface of Luna, the human colony on the moon, he grew up being taught that the military was evil. That all changed when his parents went on a Business trip to a small asteroid mining station turned insurrectionist colony called 'The Rubble'. The Covenant fleet seemed to be in disagreement with each other and attacked the Colony. A group of people escaped the Colony, but Jason's Parents never came home.

Immdiately the boy went and signed up at the nearest recruiting station, and was soon in stated as an ODST. The knowledge that his parents never made it back and the pain he felt at this drove him to protect others at all costs. He never wanted anybody else to know his pain. The boy created his false disguise of Jokes and friendliness to hide the broken person beneath it all.

Jason showed an excellent capacity for disarming, using, modifying in the field, and breaching with Explosives. Which led him to become the Demolitions Expert of the Death's Hand ODST Squad. It wasn't long after his ascendence into this squad that his undying loyalty to his comrades showed. The 2nd battle of New Mombasa, when the flood invaded. A Pelican had come in to get the Squad out, but Jason heard the calls of a Marine who was barely surviving and watching his Squad turn. The boy left his squad and waded through the army of flood in order to get this Marine out. He even saw the Legend itself; S-117. They had met whenever Jason reached the crazed Marine. The boy got the Marine out with the help of the Spartan who cleared a path through the monsters on his way to complete the objective, Jason just followed behind and was picked up by a Pelican searching for survivors.

Shortly after that, he had dropped with his fellow ODSTs to clean up some covenant remnants that were on the Earth, during this battle he lost his hand in a fight with a Brute while trying to save a comrade. The man he was trying to save died before his eyes, then the Brute returning to attacking Jason. It nearly tore him open as it broke multiple rib bones and tore the skin, but his Squad mates had come back for him with the assistance of a Med-Evac Pelican. Brutes don't mix well with high caliber rounds. The boy barely survived as they stitched him up.

These encounters, his unwillingness to give up, and the fact that Jason had managed to survive the flood put the Boy on ONI's radar. He had a small reckless streak for saving others, but that same fault made him SPARTAN material, as he was also completely unwilling to leave without each SPARTAN on his team or without completing the mission. In July of 2553, they approached Jason about becoming a SPARTAN IV. One of the Legends. He accepted without a second thought. The boy excelled in his training and was sent to Zero Grav school. Here he excelled as well, which led to his being drafted into the crew of the UNSC Trinity for her quest to track down the remaining Halos and Shield Worlds. He certainly wasn't expecting where this journey would take him.

Misc: Partnered with Smart AI "Athena" who takes the form of the Greek Goddess.

He also has the Variable Jetpack now being employed by SPARTAN IV'S. (Halo 5 Multiplayer Beta, and Spartan Locke Trailer features it. Mix between Jetpack and Thruster)

[User]
"LT, they're trying to blow the doors on their side of the hangar." 228 confirmed what Alice was saying visually, seeing some of the shield wielding Jackals moving to protect the ones working on the bomb. "Thanks, Alice." Activating his active camouflage module, 228 moves swiftly to the right flank and takes a position further back. Swapping the shotgun out for the sniper rifle, he scopes up and aims through a space between the heads of two shield wielding Jackels and pulls the trigger.

*CRACK*

The Jackel working on the bomb suddenly found himself without a head and fell over to one side. The gun shot had briefly disrupted the camo, but 228 was already moving as the remaining Jackal Marksmen fired on his previous position. {Watch the bomb, they're trying to blow the doors open. If you see a shot, take it, moving to subdue the Elite officer now.} Placing the sniper back on his back, he drew one of his kukri and moved up behind one of the marksman and pulling him back and plunging it into his chest, killing him without a sound. He repeated this with the next one.

"LT, might I suggest shooting out his kneecap from a distance, that'll keep him from fleeing if he realizes things are going south?" Pulling his kukri free of the side of a Grunt's face, he considers before nodding and moving further back again. Pulling out the sniper once more after sheathing the knife, he waits for the right moment.

{In position to cripple HVT. Signal when you want me to take the shot, Commander.}

[Assistant] As Khazo stood in the maintenance shaft he went through the channels in his communicator to get a report of the situation. "Shayan, report. How far are you from my position?", it didn't take long to get a reply but what he heard was less than comforting. The sounds of rifle fire and the panicked voices of the nearby troops only confirmed Khazo's belief that he was on his own, "Khazo, the engine room is under attack! My men were working on getting through but the rear doors have been locked down! Right now we are trying to blast the doors open but-wait...What was that?". The connection ended and Khazo slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. Not long then did he recieve a transmission from another soldier in the field, this one by the name of Major 'Mosam. "Major, I am carrying a hostage and an artifact. Both are vital to our cause, at the moment my extraction team is thought to be dead and I require escort to the nearest hanger. Meet me at my current location and from there we wi-", Khazo stopped speaking once he noticed the two humans surrounding him. To his rear was a demon who was taking aim as he looked over the other. The human he was facing was different from most, unlike those he fought before this one wore robes instead of armor, and her weapon was a blade much like his energy sword. She spoke to him, demanding that he release the captive and hand over the artifact. For a moment he felt the urge to do just that but he was able to shake the feeling off. "Return what I have stolen? Ignorant fool! This artifact is one of many left behind by the gods for my people! Your kin took them from us and you have to gall to declare me a thief?!". Khazo raised his energy sword to the throat of his captive and laid his back against the wall, giving himself sight over both humans. "Know this human, the demon you serve is the true thief. Stand aside and let me pass or I kill us all". Khazo twisted his wrist to show his last plasma grenade in hand.

[User]
The Major and his squadmate started quietly down the hall as Khazo was giving them orders. However, when he abruptly stopped talking, that caused the two to look at each other before sprinting down the hallway to Khazo's location. They eventually stopped atop of his location, the minor looking puzzled, "How is he in the floor? Isn't the next floor a further distance away than that?"

Reza nodded, "Correct. There must be a shaft of some kind here." Reza holstered his plasma rifles and pulled his plasma launcher from his back, "I'm going to blast my way through and provide cover-fire for 'Tevum, you remain here and assist him out of the breach I make. After that, keep up with him while I slow down the heretics before joining you."

With a nod of confirmation from the minor, Reza fired two explosive plasma bolts onto the floor before backing away. At the safer distance, the Major holstered his weapon and drew out his two plasma rifles again. When the plasma bolts finally blew, they made an awkwardly sized hole that Reza now dropped down into. Taking a quick glance around, Reza noticed the demon and a human wielding an odd colored beam on either side of himself, along with Khazo and the hostage just to his left. Without much thought, the Major pointed one plasma rifle at the demon and the other at the human with the oddly colored beam and started to fire. He then spoke quickly to Khazo in his native tongue, "Go."

[Assistant]
Jason appeared in the hallway behind Spartan Watters. "Coming up on your right" He said in a statement to ensure the Spartan didn't turn on him or anything. The boy stopped and looked at the elite holding onto the scientist. Jason very calmly took his Spartan Laser off his back. "Let the lady and the high tech thingy go, Split Jaw. You know exactly what this is gonna do to you" He said calmly.

The Spartan then changes to the private Comm Link with his fellow Spartan. "Watters who's the person in the odd armor. Should I be worried about her or is she one of the guys lending us a hand?" He says simply as he keeps his focus on the Elite. Hoping the stupid dinosaur was dumb enough to make a move a with the woman. He hadn't killed any Split Jaws today.

When the firing started, Jason raised his Spartan Laser and started teasing the charge on it, letting the Elite with the rifles see the laser on his chest. "Please. Make my day" Jason said calmly. Hoping that his fellow Spartan would take the Hostage. The much bigger Spartan was probably better to take on the Elite at close range than Jason was.

[User]
Felicia deflected the projectile the alien shot at her back to him. She then turned her Lightsaber back into blaster form and fired both at the aliens not holding the hostage.

Taber informed Athena about what little she knew of the person in the odd armor. Watters decided to take advantage of the distraction, she slightly shifted her rifle. "Sorry." She then fired one bullet into the scientist's head then fired another bullet at the plasma grenade the elite was holding. The resulting explosion would destroy all the research, hopefully the eggheads made a backup. The actual device who knows.

"Trinity this is Taly the second in command of the Steele Falcon. The Sith are sending boarding parties now as well. Get your ship out of here now! You won't survive much longer." She turned to HK cancel Felicia's prior order, shoot to destroy, concentrate on the Sith boarding ships." HK-51 was more than happy to agree.

[Assistant] The blast created Reza caused Khazo to be disoriented for a moment but in that moment so much happened. Weapon fire came from both sides and Khazo tried his best to protect the hostage from fire as well as himself. The deflected round hit Khazo but only brought down his shield, the next two shots from the demon landed in the scientists head, thanks to her struggling to get free, allowing Khazo to toss the body to focus on his escape. The second shot meant for the plasma grenade landed in his wrist and exited out of his forearm. Khazo howled as the shots landed and he quickly threw the hostage up through the hole. When Khazo went to exit himself another shot landed in his arm, freeing his last plasma grenade from his grip and accidentally arming it. Khazo managed to exit the maintenance shaft but Reza was still in there. While in any other situation he would have left his comrade to die but seeing as he was wounded and desperately in need of backup he leaned his rifle into the shaft and blind fired in the direction of the heretics. "Major, the grenade!", Khazo yelled into the shaft before pulling his arm back up so as to avoid the blast. From what he could guess Reza had about four seconds to exit the shaft or be killed.

[User]
"What the FUCK was that? We had them!" Jason growled as he looked at the grenade and ducked from pot shots. The young Spartan popped back out from cover and charged his laser, firing off a deadly shot towards where Khazo was hiding. Hoping to at least hit near enough to take out the stupid Split-Jaw's shield.

The boy didn't waste time waiting to see how his Shot had done. He threw a grenade at Khazo, trying to get it through the hole that Khazo was near. Then the Spartan turned and ducked into cover. Bracing himself for the blasts


[System]
Title: She has had many titles, including Slayer, Twilight Vanquisher , Tiller, and more, all pertaining to different parts of her life and the adventures she has experienced. She is, at her roots, one of the Illidari.

Species: Night Elf born Demon Hunter (that specification will become clear later in the profile)

Age: She was considered a youngster by night elf standards- about 20ish- during the War of the Ancients which destroyed so much of what she knew. Currently, she is 10K+, most of which was spent imprisoned by the Wardens. Night Elves are an ancient race, and were originally immortal. Due to the destruction of the Well of Eternity, they have lost their immortality- HOWEVER, Arancathria became a Demon Hunter long before that tragedy. She is still, technically, immortal- thanks to her demon soul. She can be killed- it means her demon soul is cast back into the Twisting Nether, and it takes her some time to return to her body, but return she does. (Interestingly, not all Demon Hunters have immortal souls. She is one of the few that do.)

Gender: Female

Appearance: About 7 feet tall, lean and hard muscled. Not much spare to her body. A once gracefully featured face is now marred by scarring and runic tattoos overlying what were once the traditional facial tattoos of a female night elf. Her ears are long and come to elegant points, she has long silky eyebrow tufts, and a heavy pair of gleaming black horns curl out from her skull, similar to that of a mountain ram, but spikier. Her skin is a kind of dark lavender color, her hair a turquoise green and kept in a long plait that trails down her back, and glowing green tattoos cover her body. Small black spikes and scales adorn parts of her body, creating patterns over her arms and legs. A pair of large, leathery bat-like wings with tattered edges sprout from her back, which she uses more for gliding rather than powered flight. Among the other demonic features, her transformation into a demon hunter also sharpened and elongated her teeth and nails, leaving her with fangs and talons. She, like many of her kind, doesn't wear much in the way of clothing, and in fact often goes nearly naked, especially in battle situations. Sometimes she wears a heavy hooded greatcloak, which can cover everything, even her wings, but she dislikes it, and only uses it when she is forced to enter towns or cities where the citizenry are likely to make a scene. Instead of boots and gloves, she wraps her feet, legs, and hands with simple cloth wraps. (Her talons make gloves and boots impractical.) Her most distinctive- and feared- feature is her eyes... or the lack thereof. Her empty eye sockets burn with green fel energy, and unlike other demon hunters who wear blindfolds or veils to hide their disfigurement, she does not. Her preferred weapons are dual wield war glaives, and are carried on her back.

Personality: She is a lonely person as most demon hunters are, often vengeful and bitter, and at her very worst is dangerously schizophrenic and almost suicidal, a condition caused by the fel energy that surges through her body and aggravated by the demon that shares space in her head, whispering to her in her unguarded moments as it tries to talk her into joining the Burning Legion and becoming a full demon herself. Her life was built on a savagely violent past, her actions fueled by heart breaking losses, terrible sacrifice, and her endless drive for revenge, and yet she still (on the very odd occasion) displays a surprising gentleness and compassion, for a creature that has suffered so much. However, beneath the anger, ferocity and air of aggression, there lies a deep tiredness, not physical, but of the mind and what is left of her night elven soul. She has a strong sense of justice (what else could fuel a body for ten thousand years), even if her sense of right and wrong is a little blurry sometimes- she will very much do whatever it takes to solve a problem, even if that means doing things that are morally questionable in the eyes of others. She does not suffer fools, but will never hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it.

Traits: Apart from her distinctive physical features, she is a powerful magic user as well. She uses fel energy (a type of chaos magic), kept partly in check by the arcane runes tattooed into her very flesh, and partly through sheer mental will power, which helps to restrain her from becoming a full demon. She has well honed battle skills that focus on agility, speed and ambush, and she can deal shocking amounts of damage in a fight. Her most noteworthy ability is her spectral sight. This is the ability that replaced her mundane eyesight when she gouged her own eyes out during the throes of her initiation. Spectral sight allows her to see all forms of magic, be it in a creature or object. While it is not hindered by intervening objects or blind folds (allowing her to see a being on the other side of a wall, for example), it does make "seeing" difficult- impossible, even- in other ways. She can no longer see a person for who they are physically (their facial expressions, what they wear, etc) and can only "see" the largest of basic body language movements. All of the usual face to face communication that normally sighted creatures use is lost to her (as a result, this can cause misunderstandings in communication). Mundane objects are a continuous nightmare. She can't even read simple penned messages, unless an enchanted ink is used. While people, animals and specific magical objects are bright in her vision, everything else recedes into a murky gray darkness. Trees and plants are only slightly brighter than rocks and soil, since the oldest and most basic types of nature magic flow through them, and it's the only reason why she isn't constantly running into things in the landscape. She has, however, stumbled over far too many tavern chairs in her time, much to her frustration and chagrine.

Family: She had a mother (Sephala), a father (Malador) and an older brother (Verendis). They all belonged to the small, closely related Moonwhisper clan. All are deceased. Her family, her clan, everyone she knew in her previous life, were murdered by the Burning Legion. They are the reason why she has made the sacrifices she has to end up where she is.

Known History: Before the War of the Ancients, she had been an apprentice mage, studying the magics of the Well of Eternity. At this time, there were two factions of night elves: those who reveled in and were often even addicted to the power of the Well, and those who foresaw it leading them to ruin and who warned against over exposure and over use, some even going so far as to say that they should stop using it entirely. It wasn't until the Well's powers drew the attention of the greedy and savage titan god Sargeras, that they realized just how true the warnings were. Sargeras, hungry for the power source the Well promised and assisted by the evil Queen Azshara, traveled across the void with his legion of demons, and sent them through the Well and into the world of Azeroth to wreak havoc, destruction and death. Arancathria's family, among countless other living beings, were slaughtered like beasts, and Arancathria herself wounded so badly it was a wonder she had even survived. Left for dead, the Burning Legion passed on, and were finally defeated. Arancathria, now alone, was saved by a healer picking over the wreckage of their home.

When she had regained her health and strength, spurred on by grief and anger, Aran sought out the only creature that she thought could help- Illidan Stormrage, the first demon hunter. The ritual was complex, but basically amounted to her killing a demon, ripping out it's heart and eating it, then drinking it's blood, in order to gain the powers of her enemy. The demons essence flooded her body, and its soul filled her mind with images of horrifying graphic death and destruction, of the Burning Legion as it slaughtered its way across the universe. The images were so awful that in her desperation to make them stop she gouged out her own eyes, and then fell into a coma. Only about 1 in 5 demon hunters survives the initiation, and she was one of the ones who did. She woke a changed creature, completely blind at first, but over the following weeks her spectral sight set in and allowed her "see" again, and she trained and fought, and slaughtered demons to take on more power with which she could bolster her own strength. She was in the Battle for the Black Temple, when Illidan sent her and the others away to fight elsewhere. That was when Illidan, considered an abomination and a monster despite all he had done to fight the Legion and protect Azeroth- was defeated and imprisoned by the Wardens. Aran and her other demon hunters were captured upon their return as well, and were caged, immobile and semi-conscious, in the prison pit of the tower, for ten thousand years. When the Legion returned for a fresh assault upon their world, the Wardens freed them, and released them into the world to fight once more.

Anything Else: Arancathria is a character I play on World of Warcraft, so her photos aren't perfectly how I'd want her to look for a role play, but they are close. There is so much I could say, as the Lore behind her race, her class, and the world she comes from is heavy and in-depth stuff, but I'll just leave that to come out in bits as I go. I will leave you with this video to watch to get an idea of what a demon hunter is though:

youtube.com/watch?v=YRNBtaHPkZU

Character Images:
Without wings:

With wings:
i.imgur.com/4r9SeVf.png
i.imgur.com/uTLih0j.png

[User]
Johns brow furrowed, not in hostility or sheer anger, but in irritation.

"Well somebody dragged me here while knocked out and was dumb enough to let me keep my weapons, then I saw someone brandishing katanas. I think attacking was a perfectly reasonable response."

John knew he would have to do something about his arm.

"Now that thats out of the way, one of you got his throat cut and is still standing. One of you got stabbed and ripped open with a knife and lived. A girl has wings and is throwing balls of light. Where am I?"

[Assistant]
"Your guess is a good as mine," Aran answered idly. She rubbed her thumb and fingers together. The pins and needles tingling of the portal effect was only just passing. "Perhaps we are all here by accident. Or perhaps some greater power is at work."

If this was some kind of divine intervention, that greater power had a lot of explaining to do.

She remembered the face of the Pandaren merchant who had sold her those faulty portal shards. Had that actually been a look of entrepreneurial smugness... or was it a knowing expression? She struggled to remember the conversation they'd had in the inn. She vaguely recalled saying something to the effect of how weary she was of fighting an endless enemy, and may have suggested she'd prefer to go anywhere but back to another pointless battlefield.

She hadn't been in the best frame of mind at the time. They had just lost Ysera, tragically. She'd felt the blow of the great drakes passing as if she herself had been the one who cast the deathblow. In fact, it was quite possible she had- they'd been fighting for their lives against the corruption they had made of her. When Ysera finally fell, Aran had felt a devastation the like of which had been rivaled only by the loss of her family.

Maybe that merchant knew exactly what he had been selling her after all.

[User]
Wearing: X | Location: Forest

"So you guys are, like, from another world? That's, uh… wild."

Logically, this wasn't much of a stretch. He met magic users constantly; he just turned into a possum a few minutes ago! Alternate universes shouldn't have surprised him, but here he was, completely flummoxed.

"Well, if it helps at all, my name's Skye and I'm a familiar. I can, uh, turn into animals and eventually I'm going to work for a magic user and make their spells more powerful."

He didn't know if his identity would be of any use to them, but at least it was something.

[Assistant] Venson smiles. "What use are spells to a shapeshifter? Are you a shapeshifter too? Why do you need someone else to use your powers?" His eyes slide into slits, glowing a burning blue. He grins, bearing a mouth of razor fangs. He grows claws, and rakes them down a tree, leaving deep gorges.

[User]
Wearing: X | Location: Forest

"Well, I can't really cast spells myself. It's just what a familiar does, really; I don't exactly question it," Skye shrugged.

It looked like Scythe-guy could shapeshift as well; though much more freely. Skye flinched a little as the man scratched down a tree trunk, showing off his power.

"Yeah, I can't do anything like that…"

To demonstrate, he poofed into the shape of a crow. He fluttered down to the ground, then turned back to human.

"That's basically the extent of it. Also, I can talk to animals, which is nice. Crows are really cool."

[Assistant]
There was a pause in conversation, and it may or not have just been John, but it seemed a little longer than it probably actually was.

"Different dimensions?" He half spoke, half thought to himself. Where he was from, countless people and factions spent a great deal of time and resources digging up the past. This included not only history but also different methods of education, medicine, and science. The only time he had heard or read the word dimension was when he tried to learn mathematics, but he preferred to learn about combat and gaining physical strength instead.

He turned to the rest of the group "So are any of you from around here? Where is the nearest town?"

[User] "i think most of us are from around here. the nearest town is a mile away or less" she made the light in her hand dissapear. "i think you might want to keep a distance seeing as you'll obviously be seen as a wierdo"

[Assistant]
She was vaguely amused by the displays of shape-shifting being done. It was not an unknown thing in her world. Many people were capable of changing their forms, but the most famous for it were the druids, and the Kirin Tor mages. Or at least, Khadgar had a penchant for turning into a raven when he had to travel long distances. Even she could metamorphose into a demon in battle, although she wasn't about to demonstrate that here unless she was forced to. She didn't know anyone who was a true polymorph though. The boy seemed to be such, and she was intrigued.

"It's hard to say where or what this place is," Aran said when the general inquiry about their origins was posed. She glanced about at the trees. Even the magic here felt... different. "But I know it's not home. I arrived here more through mishap than intention. So... no. I'm not from around here. You could say I was a very long way from home."

At least she knew there was civilization nearby, or whatever this world's approximation of it was anyway.

"My name is Arancathria," she said then. "But most find it's easier to say Aran."


[System]
"Ah... that's a bother."
Magic name

Tentai564, "In heavens name, I defeat you"

Gender

Female

Nationality

Japanese

Characterization

---

Affiliation

None, her own family

Personality

While normally gentle and soft spoken, she absolutely dislikes doing unnecessary things, or things that annoys her, especially anything that disrupts her normally peaceful life. Once something like that happens, she turns into someone so far removed from her usual personality that one would be hard pressed to associate that with her usual self. Brash, loudmouth, and foulmouthed, Himiko becomes a rather impetuous individual, while still having the same morals and kindness, could and would be described as cruel, bad or irritated.

It was a good thing that doesn't happen much in Academy City, and most would know her to be the only shrine maiden in a small shrine in a corner of the city.

History

She was born into an old family with traditions older than themselves, one that was particularly religious. From her mother, she learned of her duties, becoming a shrine maiden in training almost as soon as she could walk. From her father, she learned of the world, of how people worked, its wonders, as well as his own brand of magic.

Himiko had never really liked tedious things, and started developing shortcuts for everything. While tradition dictates she must carefully write the meaning of each paper talisman on them, she could simply slap one out with the kanji for money on it and it would work just as well as it would with more carefully written words. Her exorcisms included her outright punching the ghosts out of someone, her divinations were just her plucking out a card and finangling a divination out of it, and their ill attempted effort to get her into a magicians team of hunters as a support lead to her coming back dragging the rest of the injured team back after she punched out the target by herself. While her methods were direct and inelegant, it always yielded results.

While her parents never really minded, the family's main branch were displeased at the utter disregard for tradition, and sent her to manage a small shrine in Academy City, reasoning that there, she would do the least damage to the family's reputation.

Shintoism

---

A type of magic learned by shrine maidens, closely resembling shamanism. It is a system often needing specific arrangements of certain items to activate their magical effects as well as an emphasis on invoking gods. For instance a simple square of four(less or more depending on the size of the boundary) paper talismans could be used to create a boundary to invigorate anyone the caster targets as long as they are within it, or a small table, a cup of sake and a two candles could be used to hold a seance. Calling upon the dead, or even kami to talk to was normal for her. Even the future can be divined through various methods, though almost all were time consuming methods. More direct methods would just be throwing a paper talisman that explodes, or sweeping a gohei around to dispell negative energy. She did manage to make a method to mass produce talismans on the fly through sheer laziness as well.

Magical Items

She only has some small prepared papers for talismans. There's also a holy sword in her shrine, but it wasn't really something she'd use on a whim considering it was the only object enshrined at her place.

Expertise

Her amazing health, athleticism and intuition, honed through the various traditional defense arts included in her trainings, almost indefatigable stamina, a loud voice strong enough to make one's ears ring, as well as an offertory box that remained mostly empty for some undiscernible reason.

Relationships

---

Family

None relevant.

Organisations

None

[User]
Lazing around in Kuuro's apartment!

"Ehhhhh!?"

A voice from the living room called out to Kuuro, seemingly annoyed by his "demand" assistance in the kitchen to help with the groceries. A seemingly simple enough request from a seemingly simple enough individual, and perhaps to an average individual it would not have been too much effort to assist in this way to someone who had been providing her with room and board for this short period of time.

...Of course, the level of hospitality and humility that one might expect from one who seemed to owe the other for providing them with a roof over their head and even went out of their way to cook for them. Such was the individual with the name "Nero Etheldreda Kagami", whom of which had been living with Kuuro for almost a week now after a certain "incident" left Kuuro with what Nero considers to be an "obligation" and what Kuuro considered to be an "annoyance".

A self-proclaimed "Sister" without a lick of dignity about her. Though she was not currently wearing the … "outfit" … that Kuuro had met her in, forcing the uniform of the school he went to on the girl at this time, she still seemed to not have any dignity, her legs open at a wider angle than one might expect a lady to show.

To Kuuro, it might have spelled out a rather luscious nature behind her act - especially if one considers how the two had originally met, though to Nero there was no other choice to her. If asked, she might say something along the lines of "It just felt better this way."

"I don't want to! I'm busy with this level! I started my own playthrough on this "Schatten 4" game you had here while you were busy doing… whatever it is boys like you do during the day."

Unfortunately for Kuuro, this particular game only had one option for a saved game.

"Where were you, though? You said you'd come home early today, but I guess you took your time today, didn't you? You scolded me yesterday about "being punctual", but I bet you were just going around picking up strange women again, you perv. I guess a boy like you is growing, so you should enjoy your youth while you have the chance~."

Nero called with the grin only a cat would wear.

The other day Kuuro scolded Nero about "being punctual" when in reality it was about him asking her to take out their dinner out of the oven while he was at the store or it was going to burn. Thus, she considered her actions here right, despite, as per usual, being in the obvious wrong here.

... The fact of the matter is that the two had takeout that day.

However, her own statement seemed to invoke a sense of discomfort within Nero, forcing her to think about the time she and Kuuro had met only a week ago.

"Perv," Nero simply repeated, taking her gaze away from the man, a feverish red strip taking residence upon her face.

"Ah, please forget about that. Just thinking about that makes me want to die," Nero said, her eyes glazing over for but a moment before returning to normal.

...The least that the brute could do was knock!

The momentary reliving of what could be considered Nero's worst day was the only thing that could take her eyes away from the game, a [Game Over] screen plastering itself on the television due to her distracted nature at the time. She didn't seem to mind, nor give that any thought as she left from the living room-like area of the apartment to the kitchen located in the same room divided solely by a counter that sat abnormally tall at chest level to Nero with barstools that lined the side facing the living room.

Nero got up to go watch Kuuro put away the groceries.

Not help Kuuro put away the groceries. Simply watch.

"I want meat tonight, by the way. You promised me meat yesterday but you never gave me it, after all~. Men need to keep their word, do they not?"

[Assistant]
April 26th 2011

---

District 11: Investigating the Breach
9:10am

---

"You know, Martha. When you said you had an idea of who the culprit was, giving me a doodle of you fighting a dragon doesn't really help at all." The man said staring at the doodle in his hand as he rolled his eyes, talking to one of his officers over the radio.

"Bloody Nora, King If I actually knew whodunnit I woulda already beat em up for ya." The woman said through her gas-mask. She looked back at her squad and rubbed her temple. "Who'eva did this was too fast for us though, since Im getting nothing, bar blurs from my power." The Yellowjacket agent known as Martha would stand up, looking back at her squad as she shook her head.

The two other yellowjacket agents rolled their eyes. "Y'know you two could talk a little more." Martha said, only to recieve a simple phrase back from one of them. "Stop. Breathing." It was as if a plead or a beg. One which Martha would ignore all the way back to rendezvous.

---

Surprise Attacks
~Who is the pray and who is the hunter~
District 19: Surprise Attack
6:10pm

---

The Crackling of electrical lamps and the flickering of their bulbs may of been indication enough that something was about to happen. If Sieglinde was observant she'd have noticed the sudden shift in atmosphere. The crackling of atoms that were trying to figure out if the thing should even exist permeating around its existence. It seems anomalous, hard to look at. Its shape was shifting and warping. It was humanoid and yet at the same time, its arms were mishapen and it was limbering towards her like an zombie composed out of clay that was constantly being battered blended and reshaped.

The creature was lumbering towards her with a unnatural hunger. It let out a scream that would make not a sound yet would pain the mind of those that observed it screaming. A mental anomaly...

Miko Shrine: Surprise Attack!

5:54pm[/center]

A soft hissing could be heard from around the parameter of the Miko's shrine, whatever it was that had been in the cargo and brought here had stumbled upon this shrine. The lupine creature with its silvery shroud would be hungrily studying the Miko upon the steps. It would let out a growl, her only alert. As it would begin to move on its padded feet. Building up speed. Ah, it was flesh and blood at least. Even if and that was big if the miko noticed that it appeared to be getting unnaturally fast with each step as if normal rules did not apply, denoting it as a magical beast. She had a second or two before it was upon her position.

And it looked like it had been starved for years with how thin it was.

---

The Train station
6:00pm sharp

Standing at the train station, or rather squatting at the train station was a A girl young enough to be a student was wearing a particular garb. Certainly a member of the church is not a standard one. Her blue hair was her most noticeable feature. It appeared she was spacing out a bit though as she was busy staring at the gear on the train. Always curious about how all this machinery worked. It seemed it was best if he approached her first because otherwise she was going to be lost in thought for another 30 minutes~!

[User]
Miko the local Miko
Shrine

---

She sighed.

"I don't know who you are but... you've made a very bad mistake."

Miko did not even need to verify who it was or what it was; her shrine's reaction was all she needed to know about the thing currently trying to attack or even eat her.

By herself, and with just her family's training, she could probably tear apart a boulder with her bare hands and move fast enough to befuddle the sights of any untrained person, but within the boundaries of her own shrine, within the protection of its charms, talismans, and territory... Well, it did not bode well for anyone trying to fight her, much less something that was essentially close to a youkai in existence.

Almost as soon as Miko recognized the danger, the boundaries around the shrine closed to the beast, the wards and talismans exerting an enourmous pressure upon the foreign entity inside it, sapping its strength. In the space of a mere moment, she had already moved towards its side leveraging a powerful kick towards its face, her movements and abilities augmented far beyond her normal from the various wards and talismans within her shrine's territory.

The beast would learn that fighting a shrine maiden in her own territory surrounded by her wards was a bad idea.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon:
Two metal tonfas, Artorius and Gwenhwyfar (formerly Lawnslot). Both are identical, visually, save perhaps a few differences in internal mechanism. In the traditionally held position, the longest part of the body aligning along the forearm, the forward facing post is actually a shotgun barrel; though standard shells are the usual ammunition, dust rounds can be loaded instead. The storage area expands along the spine of the weapon. The recoil is often used for propulsion when useful. The primary length of each tonfa actually has a blade running along it, resembling one half of a sword, to be specific.

This is because both weapons are capable of combining into a large, long sword; Caledfwlch. The two weapons reconfigure in such a way as to create a long, straight two-handed sword with a straight crossguard. The shotgun barrels are reoriented as the crossguard, one pointing to the left and the other to the right, used to enhance the power behind his swings.

Artorius and Gwenhwyfar both have one other unique attribute; high capacity batteries built into their frame. Each battery continuously siphons a supply of Aura from Benjamin, building the energy up so long as they are, in some way, upon his person. This energy can be released with a button built in below the shotguns' triggers, on the handle of the combined blade, or on the handle of the smaller tonfas. The release of this energy usually is used to power his Semblance, and must be replenished over time when discharged.

Joyous Guard
Expansion Calibrated for Ultimate Resistance
B. Lloyd #8 of 7

An expansion device manufactured to work in conjunction with Artorius and Gwenhwyfar. In its default form the Joyous Guard is a tower shield, large and incredibly heavy. Two racks are integrated into its back side for holding the two tonfa when not in use. It can be held in hand, affixed to the forearm (vertically or horizontally) or stored on Benjamin's back. The top and bottom sides taper off into wedges, enabling it to be used as an offensive bludgeoning weapon when affixed horizontally to the forearm. Its connection to the forearm is carefully designed to ensure that both tonfa are compatible in use when the shield is in play, though Joyous Guard is primarily intended for use with Caletfwlch. The shield is manufactured from dense, durable metals, making it even heavier than it looks. For this reason Gravity Dust was used in its construction, making it nearly weightless in Ben's hand. Notably, however, it is Aura-coded to Ben's Aura; in the hands of anyone not on its whitelist, the Gravity Dust reverses and makes it too heavy to be lifted.

Joyous Guard's secondary configuration requires the use of Artorius and Gwenhwyfar. The shield unfolds, incorporating the transformation mechanisms in both tonfa to provide the necessary components for the configuration. Namely they provide part of the edges and part of the hilt of the immense two-handed sword Joyous Guard becomes. The effects of the Dust carry over in this form, ensuring that Ben can swing it almost as easily as he would Caletfwlch. In fact, due to the nature of F=ma, a swing from it will be many times as devastating with a fraction of the effort. Like Caleftwlch, the shotgun barrels incorporated into the hilt aid in granting increased force to its swings.

Finally, in a tertiary configuration, Joyous Guard can convert while affixed to Ben's forearm by splitting down the middle and orienting the magnetic racks used to hold Artorius and Lawnslot along the two horizontal halves. The Lightning Dust used to generate that magnetic field, in this form, cranks into overdrive to turn the shield into a forearm mounted electromagnetic cannon. Slow-firing, but incredibly potent in its offensive power. Artorius and Lawnslot are absolutely necessary for this configuration, as they provide the additional structural stability needed to let Joyous Guard withstand the considerable forces exerted. As a bonus, however, this makes their shotgun barrels useful in this configuration.
Specialty: Benjamin is a highly adaptable fighter. He lacks dedicated defensive capabilities, but his weapons serve very well as augmentation to forearm blocks. The lightweight nature of his weapons, however, also means that he is a highly agile fighter. His preference is to move as quickly as possible, landing strikes when opportunities present themselves and evading blows (blocking if absolutely unavoidable).

Use of both his Semblance and Caledfwlch is exceedingly rare, to the point that they have not yet been used during his career at Beacon. Both are abilities and options he keeps to himself, aces up the sleeve. Ultimately, his style permits him to act as the situation demands, though the drawback to the continuous siphoning of his Aura, as well as his lack of any dedicated defensive tools, is that his personal defenses are noticeably lower than others'.

Semblance: Deinamig: Benjamin is capable of using Aura to fuel an individual section of his body to well beyond its usual limits. Fueling his legs, for example, will drastically increase both speed and power of his legs, and fueling his arms will do much the same. This can, theoretically, be applied to any section of his body. The Aura for this is usually provided by the resevoirs built up within his weapons, but that supply is not infinite. If a situation arises where he is unable to tap into it (or it runs out) he can directly fuel his Semblance with his present Aura.

Personality: Benjamin is a friendly guy. He also, at first glance through his performance in school, nothing to write home about. Average or slightly above in all his classes, with the only oddities appearing once one takes a closer look. His homework assignments represent minimal effort, while all examination scores actually place him near the top of the grading scale. Between the two, depending on how the class is run, they average out to roughly average grades. In short, Benjamin doesn't bother to do his homework until the last minute, if at all. He conforms to a decidedly nonstandard view of what is important, and what is not. Things he views as "busy work", such as most homework assignments, are treated with at best casual disregard, while things he views as important (tests, examinations, practice, getting to know people) works at. His strange views actually are rooted in a single opinion; if it isn't something he needs to do in order to do well in his life, it doesn't really matter. People skills will be important, combat skills will be important, all of the knowledge he amasses will be important. So he takes his tests and exams seriously, but at the end of the day… Who's going to care, once he leaves Beacon, whether or not his did his vocabulary flash cards?

This practical viewpoint extends to many aspects of his life, but he will always make an effort to get to know people. His wit might be a little sarcastic at times, but anyone who he views as a friend will find that few will go to greater lengths for their friends. Aside from his practicality, which more than a few teachers might instead term "laziness", Ben has one other notable quirk. He seldom fights at full capacity. He believes it is always best to have an ace or two tucked away up the sleeve, so that if a situation ever arises where he simply can't handle it, or needs just a little more power… He has something to draw on.

Color: Steel Gray

Emblem: A single inverted sword set behind a shield emblazoned with a crown device.

Appearance: Benjamin is a few inches short of six feet, making about average height for his gender. He has an athletic build, obviously necessary given his school, but he isn't overly muscular.The fighting style he prefers requires nimble movements, mandating that he maintain both a reasonable muscle mass as well as his agility. A faint grin is his default expression, blue-gray eyes bright with life under slightly messy light brown hair. He wears the Beacon school uniform completely unmodified, though it isn't at all uncommon to see him take the coat off and carry it around. When not attending class (and thus not required to wear his uniform), he tends to default to jeans paired with a black or gray long sleeved shirt. Light but durable boots are his footwear of choice, as his usual field attire simply adds some lightweight gray armor over his torso, and perhaps greaves to his shins. Artorius and Lawsnlot are carried at his belt, one on either side.

[User]
Jack Orpheus | Brewing Storm Mission

This thick air was taking time to get used to, but eventually he managed. He did find himself getting tired a little more quickly, but it wasn't too much of an issue. Looks like being the leader meant he got the flare gun too to use in case of an emergency. As the trekked through the area, they eventually came to a gate, with a terminal beside it. He began examining the terminal, but all he gathered was that it was off... He had no deep understanding of the parts within. Maybe Cian had better luck?

"Hey Cian, can you take a look at this?", he called over to her. Though as he did, Luke blurted out that he spotted something around the corner, and the moment he did, Jack also looked... Or rather, he looked before Luke said anything. His keen senses felt it too, and his eyes caught the movement...

"That couldn't be a survivor... I don't think they'd skulk around in the shadows like that. We should keep an eye out, might be some kind of sneaky Grimm", that said, they shouldn't go looking for it either unless they absolutely have to. If it was the sneaky kind, they would try and ambush the team.

"Well... let's see what we can do about the terminal", he said, referring not just to his team, but also Bastille.

[Assistant]
Kuhaku Shiro - Mission Control -> Airship

 When Abel arrived, Shiro was a little surprised to see him so flustered. It was seemed so unlike him. Had he been busy with something else beforehand? Ah, well. Nonetheless, it seemed his friend was having a rough morning. So, what was Shiro to do? Well, he already had his fill of Gren's tea. He was sure Gren wouldn't mind if he offered what was left to his pal and thusly presented it to the large human with a warm smile. Once all were present and accounted for, Sapphire gave the command to head out. Shiro relinquished the tea into Abel's possession to consume as he quietly following alongside his teammates.

Airship -> Trawl

 Team Swansong all loaded up and en route to their mission location, the effects of the tea Gren had given him quickly wore off. Any moment of peace and quiet and Shiro found himself fading in and out of consciousness. His head sleepily bobbing before repeatedly jolting himself awake and shaking his head to try to cling to the living world. When Sapphire handed him and Abel a pair of earplugs, he took them without thinking and stared at them in his hand. It wasn't until Sapphire gave her explanation that he figured out what she had given it to him for. Unfortunately, they were regular earbuds. Unfit for his faunus ears. Rummaging through his pack in front of him, he came to realize that he had completely forgotten to bring his own pair and left them behind at Beacon.

"Gah, I'm such an idiot!"
Shiro berated himself.

 Frowning and trying the earbuds on anyways, he was a bit worried when they wouldn't stay in very well and constantly fell out with the slightest movement. Removing them for now, he tried his best to not let on that they weren't fitting right. Listening as Sapphire spoke, Shiro realized two new things about his team leader. 1. She was afraid of water. 2. The person that she trusted the most out of the three of them appeared to be Abel when she named him their leader should anything happen to her. The tidbit about her having a phobia of water and drowning was interesting to say the least. He just shrugged when Abel was selected as the backup or co-leader. It didn't matter much to him. Looking up as Gren handed them all a newer version of the Rebreathers he had crafted, Shiro looked over the device in his hand and chuckled.

"Man, this would've come in handy a little while back."
Shaking his head, Shiro found the mask a home in his pack and put it away.

 Yawning, Shiro struggled to remain awake, but only really caught bits and pieces of Gren's words. He and Sapphire seemed to be going over details, plans, advantages and disadvantages. None of which clearly got through to Shiro. Sapphire can't swim, got it. Gren sinks like a rock, got it. Something about some of Gren's weapons functioning and not, got it. Grimm. Missing people. Yawn. Yeah, yeah, yeah. He got the basic gist. To avoid letting on that Shiro preferred to just enter into a temporary coma, he decided to chime in about what he could contribute.

"I'm a pretty good swimmer myself, so if we need to go underwater I can tag-team with Abel. I won't be able to use my Dust attacks underwater, but everything else should be fine. On land I can maybe tag with someone else to track down the missing people. Really, it's all up to Sapphire where she wants to put me."

 Him speaking probably only served to clearly show to everyone that he was ridiculously and unexplainably tired. His speech slurred and mumbling here and there. That was it. That was all the energy he had at the moment to utilize. Yawning again, Shiro immediately clocked out. Pulling his pack into his lap as a makeshift pillow, he stuffed his face into it as muffled snores were heard coming from him.

[User]
"Out here, it's either our imagination or a Grimm." The comment was more curt than anything Ben usually said, but he wasn't exactly in a joking mood. Their mission was a hell of a lot more difficult than he expected, and after seeing the Grimm scans he wasn't taking any chances. He kept Artorius and Lawnslot at the ready, eyes panning slowly across the landscape outside the refinery. Everything was still. Without any sign of their new friend, the land was as still as the grave.

But that was more worrying. If a Grimm had seen them without attacking, then they were dealing with a smart variety. Would have been a whole lot nicer if it was just a pack of Beowolves. "Amy, keep your ears open."

"Is the terminal off or locked, Jack?"