[System]
Age: 17
Crest: Knowledge
Appearance:
Bio:
 Aaric was born into a very affluent family. His father and mother got along fairly well, and Aaric had neutral (bordering resentment) relationship toward his parents. However, the oddity was that his parents were absent most of the time due to work. Especially coupled with the fact that he was the only child, Aaric had little interaction with other people, minus the occasional silent nanny that came over to clean the house and the family dog. Fortunately Aaric had access to large swaths of books and resources thanks to his parents wealth, odd choices, and lack of computers. Out of the extensive collection, he would usually ignore the more scientific books in favor for more lore intensive studies, including extensive fantasies, historical non-fiction, and even advanced literary works when age permitted him understanding.

 By himself, Aaric had learned to become somewhat independent, learning to cook, to laundry, and to take care of the dog whenever the maids were not present. He even biked to school on most occasions. Though, these skills were gained more out of necessity, as his parents refused to provide him with a myriad butlers or maids to take care of him. More often than not, Aaric was left to his own devices when it came to management of the house. However, despite not providing great amounts of servants, Aaric's parents hired numerous tutors that visited the estate after Aaric went to school, nearly everyday. This left Aaric with a surprising lack of free time.

 With the influences of his somewhat privileged and "freed" life, Aaric gained some amount of independency. However, in school, with tutors, and with the rare servant, Aaric rarely had any real human to human interaction, leaving him inexperienced with conversation and relationship. In addition, because he grew up on literature based on fantasy and history, Aaric had a certain "disposition" that made him a little bit more "romantic" yet "flatter" than others of his age. Often, kids of his age usually stayed away from him due to his eccentricity and inflexibility toward others.

 Now approaching the halfway point of age 17, Aaric is successful in his schooling. However, he is, as of now, ignorant to the fact that there is much more to this life other than eat, study, and sleep.

Name: Hakase
Personality: A easy going yet witty digimon. Often, Hakase will crack sardonic criticism with the worst of it occurring in his rookie form. Despite his habit, however, most of his judgements are actually quite reasonable, albeit in a manner that might not be all that appropriate. In addition, Hakase knows a great deal about the current state of the digital world but chooses not to flaunt his knowledge in favor for more critical assessments of character.

Stage- Baby
Species: Botamon
Attribute: None
Technique-
 1: Acid Bubble - Shoots acid bubbles from his mouth

Stage- In-Training
Species: Koromon
Attribute: Data
Technique-
 1: Acid Bubbles - Shoots acid bubble from his mouth
 2: Soft Tackle - Uses the body to tackle opponent

Stage- Rookie
Species: Hakase Agumon
Attribute: Vaccine
Technique-
 1: Hakase Bo - Employs his professor baton to sway the target.
 2: Baby Flame - Shoots a small flame from his mouth.
 3: Claw Attack - Uses his claw to beat down on an opponent.

Stage- Champion
Species: Wizardmon
Attribute: Data
Technique-
 1: Magical Games - A technique that can have varying mindgame-esque elements
 2: Electro Squall - Releases lighting from hand or staff
 3: Blink Breeze - Release an icy blast of wind from the staff

Stage- Ultimate
Species: Wisemon
Attribute: Virus
Technique-
 1: Pandora Dialogue - Captures and stores the attacks of the opponent that can later be used later with great speed and potency.
 2: Eternal Nirvana - Captures a digimon into the Space-Time stones for any desired time.

Stage- Mega
Species: Ancient Wisemon
Attribute: Virus
Technique-
 1: Proteus Mirror - Can replicate any attack that has been observed and absorbed by his mirror raised to Hakase's power level
 2: Laplace no Ma - Imprisons a digimon into the spirit world for any desired time
 3: Elder Sign - Summons a powerful interdimensional being to fight for Hakase
Other:

[User]
Biance's head shot up as her whole body came to attention. The sound of some commotion, followed by the familiar-growing sound of Haruka shouting, came from the brush, in the general direction of where she had been looking. Now taking a step towards the Forest's edge, Biance prepared to asses the situation. However, a dark blur distracted her from the literal dragon that seemed to be following Haruka. It dashed in to the group, stopping mere feet from Biance, having threatened to plow into her stomach should it have continued.
 "Oi oi! Get out of here! This is mine!" it shouted.
 Biance was, for all appearances, dumbstruck. She actually had nothing to say to this. Before her, raised up aggressively on hind legs, was some kind of... hairy... dinosaur? It had a thick lizard like tail, a broad snout, and reptilian claws, but its body was covered in yellow fur. Well, that is, the parts that weren't covered by frikin samurai armor. Indeed, black, segmented armor coated the creature's head and back, ornamented with red tassels, purple trim, and a large, smooth red gem adorning its forehead. Biance wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but it could talk. That may have been what was throwing her off the most.
 It was then that Haruka and her guest came in to view, and the compound shock broke Biance's mind out of its shock induced state, "Is that a damn dragon!?" she compulsively shouted.
 "You better believe it!" the creature screamed its boastful reply.

[Assistant]
"Quite fucking frankly, I think he's the one who gets it," Dorotea smirked, pointing with her thumb to Carter. Everything about this situation was absolutely ridiculous and she was frankly okay with it. Reinacting The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe? Sure. A box of condoms falling out of some dude's hair and then having it be stolen by a self-implied prostitute? Why not. A bunch of tiny talking abominations of nature, a strange, yellow, vaguely amphibious one moving towards her?

"Honestly, I don't know what the fuck you's yelling about," she said, looking to Biance and Haruka before staring at the creature which now stood at her feet, "nothing about this is any more batshit crazy than everything else that's happened since I've met you merry bunch. Ain't that right bud?"

"I'd...Yes, I suppose this is all quite strange to you. It's strange to us as well, and while I understand your kind's alarm, I think it's unnecessary."

The girl paused for a moment, blinking, before shrugging.

"...Wordy lil bastard you are, but at least you make some bloody sense."

"I'd...also appreciate if you cut your profanities for the comfort of others, ma'am. Or do you prefer partner? I - uh - sorry, I'm not...y'know. I just wasn't expecting our meeting to go like this, pardon if I caused any offense."

Dorotea rolled her eyes. "Call me Tey. And you're not my fucking mom."

"What's a 'mom'?"

The creature spoke with genuine confusion that took her off guard. She opened her mouth dumbly, then closed it, then opened it again.

"Well...fuck. Apparently something we both don't got then."

They cocked their head to the side. "I mean...I suppose?"

"Don't worry your head about that bud, no big deal. Not knowing where we are or who you guys are though? That's kind of a big fuckin' deal. Mind explainin' whatever the hell it is that's going on?"

"Language, please."

"Answers, for fuck's sake."

[User]
When the commotion began with the goggles person, Aaric quickly turned his head towards the direction of the yelling. The sudden appearance of the small dragon creature made Aaric blink once. Then more strange beings began to appear out of nowhere. He began to think.

 "This is supposed to be the place where I start screaming, right?" Though, Aaric's face betrayed no shock. He was simply unsurprised of the sudden drop-ins. What really shocked Aaric more was his lack of shock on his part! It wasn't that often that Aaric evaluated his own feelings, but this occasion was an exception.

 "Why wasn't I shocked by these creatures? Have I read something in the books that depicted such creatures?" Aaric combed through his established knowledge. Nothing but generic sketches and illustrations of dragons and generic monsters appeared in Aaric's mind. However, despite not having anything, Aaric knew that he saw them somewhere. There had to be a reason to why he wasn't entirely surprised by the appearances. He was looking in the wrong place. Within his mind, what Aaric was looking for was not in the deep trenches of his mind but on the surface where he barely took time to look. As he began to ascend from the depths, he saw it.

 "It was that book!" Aaric spoke aloud.

 "Sure was, left a pretty hard hit on my head, you know that, right-gya?" A voice questioned Aaric from behind him. Curious, Aaric turned around. It was a small pink spheroid with what looked like bunny-ears which held a book atop its head. "Caused me to de-digivolve since the hit was that hard-gya." Aaric jumped slightly. Never had he seen in either his recent or older knowledge a talking pink head.

 "Who-who are you?" Aaric asked. Aaric leaned closer to get a closer look on the pink thing. "A-and, what are you?"

 "I'm your partner and a digimon, a Koromon to be exact-gya. You aren't that observant of other digimon, aren't you-gya?" Aaric could only stand there with incredulity.

 "Partner?" Aaric asked. He paused for a second in an attempt to recollect himself, wafting at the air with his hands as if there was a haze of misunderstanding. "Partner." Aaric rearticulated as he raised his eyebrows.

 "Yep-gya."

 "D-d-do you have a name?" Aaric stuttered as he leaned one ear closer towards the koromon.

 "Of course! It's Hakase, at your service-gya." the pink head said while doing a slight bow. Aaric could only stare at Hakase with an incredulous look as the library within Aaric's mind attempted to categorize new information.


[System]
General Information
Age: Late 30's
Class: Mage, specialization in illusion and destruction
Gender: Male
Length(in meters): 1.7
Race: Human

Character Perk: Studious. Dacheus has spent decades in focused study, devoting himself to the arcane arts. If something holds his interest, he has a nigh-supernatural ability to focus and study and retain almost everything he reads.

Character Flaw: Ooh, Shiny! The myopic focus required to learn such advanced techniques comes with a downside. Dacheus is powerfully distractible, not by traditionally shiny things like jewels and coin, but by arcane oddities. Outside of urgent situations like combat, he may need to be physically dragged away from things which capture his attention.

Appearance: Dacheus is a man with a medium, ordinary build. Jet black hair with a streak of white along one side. Rich brown eyes that seem to turn bronze in the right light. Rather than a pale skin characteristic of his profession, he has a mild tan, studying and working outside when he can. Various scars, resulting from arcane mishaps of one kind or another, have been covered and disguised with intricate tattoos.
Looks (and sings) kinda like:

Alignment: The Fools, I'll Show Them All! (Neutral)

Stats

STR(Strength): 10
DEX(Dexterity): 12
CON(Constitution): 12
INT(Intelligence): 18
WIS(Wisdom): 10
CHR(Charisma): 16

Skills:
[WIP]

Spellcraft [50]
Concentration [40]
Disguise [40] - limited to illusions.
Search [30] - Dammit, where did I leave it this time?
Decypher Script [50]
Language: Eldritch [30]
Performance: Dancing [20]
Performance: Singing [50]

Abilities:
[WIP]

Dumb Luck: Most magical progress is made through careful study and practice. Most of the time, Dacheus follows this principle. Once in awhile, he gets an idea and decides to try it out before studying its consequences. Sometimes it works, and he discovers that he can make the illusory dragon breathe fire. Sometimes it doesn't, and he gets a fresh scar to cover up.

Illusory Casting: One such successful experiment taught him how to cast evocation spells (fire, etc) from his more powerful illusions. If he has a Major Illusion cast, he can cast weakened evocation spells which originate from within the illusion. The illusion and the target of the spell must be within the spell's normal range of Dacheus and each other.

Spells:
[WIP]

Lightning Bolt [50] - A simple blast of lightning leaving his hands and traveling in a straight line. For when a single thing (and whatever's standing behind it) needs to suffer.
Fireball [50] - A small ball of flame leaves his hand, flies to a given spot, and detonates. Capable of filling an ordinary room with flames. (20' radius, 8d6)
Firebolt [60] - A more powerful ball of fire which strikes a much smaller area with much greater force. Capable of hitting a single target and people adjacent to it. (10' radius, 12d6)
Telekinesis [40] - Allows the caster to move objects with his mind.
Disguise Self [40] - A simple illusion to change his appearance.
Minor Illusion [20] - Small sounds and images.
Major Illusion [60] - Not-so-small sounds and images. Depending on the time he has to dedicate to crafting the illusion, this might be as simple as a person or animal appearing or as complex as a pair of armies doing battle, though larger illusions will be less believable and easier to see through.
Mirror Image [20] - Several duplicates of the caster appear around him.
Mislead [50] - An image of the caster appears in his place while he turns invisible.

Items
[WIP] (there's a pattern here)

Armour: Very little. Working in his lab/library, he wears an ornate leather jerkin and matching bracers, enchanted to protect him from his own mishaps. Over that, he wears a jacket with at least a dozen pockets. Simple shirt, pants and shoes, usually black and grey.
Weapons: A knife, but it's a tool more than a weapon.
Items: Enchanted knife, writing tools (parchments, quills), spellbook.
Gold: Left it at home.
Miscellaneous:

Biography

Dacheus Zaraphiston liked to tell people he was a wizard. After all, his father had been, and his grandfather, and several others throughout the family tree. And when he'd first started to manifest arcane talent, that's how he'd been treated. Taught to read, to study, to learn from books and rituals and theory.

And it hardly worked. The young mage drove himself to the point of madness, trying to learn to be like his father. He forced himself to sit and read a tome from cover to cover, absorbing everything it contained and yet unable to turn that knowledge into more than slight arcane progress. Months went by like this, even years, before a family visitor finally noticed the problem: Dacheus wasn't a wizard in the first place. He was a sorcerer, and under proper instruction (again, from outside the family, to his father's chagrin), his abilities grew in leaps and bounds.

They weren't royalty, but a family line with a history of wizardry was going to be well off. They may have been the lower part of the aristocracy, but aristocracy they were. Dacheus was accustomed to fine food, fine clothes, and minimal consequences as a young man. When he wasn't studying the arcane arts, he was learning to sing and dance like a proper young man, wooing young women and otherwise getting into trouble.

As a young man, Dacheus had focused primarily on illusions, the sort that could be used to entertain others or to disguise himself. Simple evocations, summoning fire or electricity, augmented this.

The first of his scars came as a result of a mishap shortly before his twentieth birthday, one which burned down much of his family's home and saw him exiled from his home city of Aasleagh. Exactly what he was trying to accomplish, no one ever quite determined. Either way, it saw him turned loose upon the world, making a living by selling his skills, usually as an entertainer, occasionally as a spellslinger. He put more effort into learning his evocations; a surprising number of problems could be solved with the judicious application of fire and lightning.

Over the next nearly twenty years, he traveled around the countries of Tiltha and Ambrogio. He somehow avoided building a reputation by putting on a different illusory mask every time he pulled up stakes. Any time he visited a major city, he would find a library, read for three days straight, and then head back out into the wilderness to experiment with his new knowledge. These days, after discovering a way to cast an evocation spell with an illusion as its origin, he is now working on mastering teleportation as an escape tool while leaving an illusory copy of himself behind.

[User]
Slowly the voices nearby pierced the consciousness of the fair-skinned man in the robe and he began to stir. He picked up his head and glanced around. This was clearly not the valley outside of Kyranholm where he was pretty sure he'd last been. He sat up straighter, rubbed his eyes, and looked around yet again. The greenery, the running water, all that felt right. Right? No, no it's quite wrong. He looked at it again. That is not the same creek, those are not the same trees. And these are not the mercenaries I was with before.

Dacheus Zaraphiston buried his face in his hands and tried to focus, to think. How did he get here? It made no sense. Had he done something wrong? He retraced his steps as best he could. He had been in the valley, right? And he was testing out a new spell, a combination of teleportation with misdirection. Rather than just creating an illusory duplicate of himself while turning invisible, he was actually going to teleport out of harm's way at the same time. It should have worked. He had mastered both spells, mashing them together shouldn't have been a problem, right?

Apparently it had.

Ok, think. Valley. Mercenaries. Spell. Soo… what went wrong? He straightened up and looked around again. This is sooo not the valley. Where in the nine hells am I? Did something go wrong? Is this one of my illusions? He looked at a rock next to him and tried to see through it. It remained where it was, refusing to yield. He rapped his knuckles against it. Still it remained solid. He picked it up and inspected it closely. Sure looks real. For good measure, he bonked it against his forehead. Ouch. Ok, that was stupid. It's real.

Dacheus set the rock down and stood up. Is this my fault? No, it can't be, I'm not bleeding. But how else… no. Just no. Not my fault. He surveyed the room once more. Right?

With the initial shock wearing off, he tried to get his bearings. He was indoors, it was reasonably warm, there were trees and water and other people and none of it made sense. He looked down at himself. Everything was still where it belonged. Wizard's robe, spellbook in its bag on his back. Arcane tools and trinkets in the pockets of his robe. Still fully dressed, unlike his first teleportation mishap that had left him naked in the city square. Thank the gods for invisibility.

And then there was the matter of the other people. Two men, already up, and an unconscious half-elven woman, by the looks of it. Well, could be a man, hard to tell with the elves. Regardless, they weren't the marauding band he'd been working with over the last month. He wouldn't really miss them, but it was nice to be appreciated.

He turned and looked at the two men. "Gentlemen. Do you know where we are?" he asked calmly, bronze eyes flicking between the two. One was large and confident. The other was small and terrified. Dacheus would fit somewhere in between, in both senses.

[Assistant]
Caspian mentally counted his breaths, slowly being successful in calming himself. It was just the confusion, he tells himself, of waking up in the company of beings whom he did not recognize. He listened as the man named Raikon spoke, taking into account how apparently both of them knew nothing of the place they were currently in. It gave him a sense of slight relief that he wasn't alone in his current predicament. Information taken in, the new dominant question in his mind was what or who exactly brought them there. If his newest speculation was right, then the others with them were also from another place.

Oh, he was still cautious and tinged with nervousness, just less. He wasn't alone and that was very relieving to know. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. With a clearer mind, he surveyed his surroundings,more critical this time. Still, he failed to recognize anything. The towering elven figures make it seem like a temple, or a church of sorts. Something nagged in the back of his mind, but he couldn't remember what it was.

"I'm Caspian Fleiyril. I don't know this place, either, or how I got here." He answered, choosing to stay nearer to the man who seemed to not be an enemy at the moment. "I remember I was walking with my companions. It was broad daylight then in Kalakyth." He talked before walking towards the female elven, just to check if she was truly just asleep and alive. It was often his job to do so, and out of habit he felt the need to check on her. He was just about to crouch down to check her manually, and to wake her up, but someone else showed up.

His attention snapped towards the new arrival. The bronze eyes were odd. Very eye-catching. And then, the blackhaired man asked the same question that was voiced out earlier.

"We don't. Not really."

[User]
At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They'd also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably.

Then how did we get here?

With the immediate "Am I going to get stabbed?" concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice.

Wait, what the hell?

He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real.

Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that's real too. Which means…

There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. "What a fascinating little barrier…" he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. "This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!" He dashed to the next window. "But how on earth does it work…"


[System]
Nickname: The Runner
Age: 23
Height: 5' 10"
Weight: 160 lbs
Pilot Class: Rabbit
Nationality: American (MidWestern U.S., under occupation of Warlord)
Appearance:

Bio:

Jimmy was the son of Carlton Tobias Web, a mechanic and former pilot. Carl was a local legend in the small area of "Jonesberg," a smaller region in what was once North-Eastern Ohio. Carlton himself was a Fixer when he used to fly the skies for Thomas Jones, the local warlord. There was peace and prosperity in Jonesberg due to the work of Carl and a few other local pilots. Carl's most prized possession, and one he kept a secret, a 1970s style F/A-18 Hornet he named the Roger Dodger. Jimmy was raised to be a pilot, learning how to fly in some of the older models his father had restored and inherited since the passing of his comrades. Jimmy also learned the basics of aircraft maintenance and repair, helping to modify some of the aircraft in his father's possession.

Jimmy was 17 when Thomas Jones, now in his 50s, came demanding to Carl demanding all of the planes at Carl's hangar be handed over to Jonesberg so that they could go use the planes to spread terror across the American Midwest. Carl's refusal led to Jones to shoot the mechanic in the head on the spot as Jimmy watched from a distance. Jones' men began to scour the hangar for other workers. Jimmy, out of shear desperation, fired up the Roger Dodger hidden behind the hangar under a tarp and took off. Jimmy wasn't used to the speed and agility this aircraft had shown.

For the next five years, Jimmy never stuck in one place long. He came to be known as "The Runner" due to his craft's exceptional speed and Jimmy's emphasis on running over gunning, often aiming to catch his opponents off-guard to take them out. Jimmy has kept in contact with a girlfriend from back home, Jessica, whenever he can. There is a printed picture of her taped inside of the cockpit, along with a picture of Jimmy's father, Carl.

[User]
Roland nodded softly listening to the two men's reasoning. Despite thier lack of direct combat experience they seemed to have an instinct for forward planning. He held his hand to his chin as he mentally calculated the journey, roughly 2 hours with no stops.

Okay, lets move out. We will make for georgia while there is still daylight. I only know of one garage near Bankhead so I hope your planes have been serviced for the stretch.

And with that the 3 men left the gas station. Luckiky for them there was enough fuel at the station to fill all thier tanks up, although Roland left himself till last and wasnt quite filled to 100% but it would have to do for now. He pointed in the direction they would be flying and gave a nod to both Rodriguez and Jimmy before climing in his Iron Jackson. The canopy went shut, and the dull echo of the metal buzzed through his ears. This was it, time to try and do some good for the world again, or die in the attempt.

Prepare for take off.

And with that, the pilots hit the runway and were in the sky. Flying towards Atlanta.

[Assistant]
"Right'o!" Rodriguez exclaimed in agreement.

With their brief interaction discussion concluded, each pilot made their way to their respective aircraft. Arriving back to his machine, he circled Pandora, inspecting it of any physical anomalies that could have incurred during the flight here. As expected, it was a smooth flight and the reinforced airframe was perfectly intact. Sparring no time and eager to get off the ground, Rodriguez climbed back into elevated canopy and sealed the access latch behind him.

He squeezed his way past the amassed instruments of his electronic warfare suite that made up much of the cockpit until and settled in and claimed his seat. It didn't take him line to fire up the aircraft's systems, only a few seconds after sliding the ignition into place, followed by an low awakening whine reverberating throughout the airframe. Rodriguez peered at the gauges and self-inspecting apparatuses of his control board. Everything appeared fully functional with the fuel meter having hardly dropped from the trip and still perfect to crossing several more states.

Reclaiming his flight mask and wrapping the intake loosely over his mouth, Rodriguez prompted Pandora's two turboprop engines to life. The dual-propellers of each engine slowly counter rotated in tandem with one another. Each few seconds, the props spun faster and faster, increase the pitch and loudness of the engines until the revolutions game to a consistent fast-spinning growl. His Super Savage was alive again.

Taxiing the runway took a few minutes to eventually complete. With no air traffic control to guide him through a series of holding patterns and awaiting the imminent return of landing aircraft, none to speak of in this case, taking off with only two other aircraft to note of was easier to manage. Once he was on the runway and clear of any obstacles, he applied the throttle and immediately felt the G-forces kick in as the initial growling of his turboprop engines become a duo or roars. The Pandora, pushed by the propellers cutting into the air and the exhaust acing as a mock jet-engine, streaked down the runway before Rodriguez pulled the flight stick inward, ascending the aircraft.

After several minutes climbing, Rodriguez put his machine meters away from Roland's left flank, merging into formation.

[User]
Jimmy Web: The Jonestown Runner

Jimmy got up from his chair rather slowly once the meeting had concluded. He wanted to enjoy the free air while he could, even if it smelled like absolute garbage in the gas station. He would mosey on over to fuel up his craft, making sure to fill it to the brim. He never turned down free gas, and he always went into a mission on a full tank if he could. After all, if he needed to run... he needed to be prepared to run.

Jimmy hopped up onto the wing and stood there, watching the other two pilots take off first. He felt the sun beating down onto him as he fastened the leather straps to his helmet. He gave it a couple smacks to make sure it was on nice and tight and wouldn't bounce around too much before lowering the shade covering on the front of the helmet, the safest Jimmy could get to sunglasses when flying the way he did. And as he watched the planes cruise up towards the heavens, Jimmy lowered himself into his own cockpit and fastened himself in. He tried activating his jet... and nothing changed. No roar... the systems themselves weren't even booting. Everything remained dead. Jimmy sighed and flicked a few switches that certainly had nothing to do with turning the systems on. With a quick closed-fist smack onto the console in front of him, the Roger Dodger roared to life.

The aircraft began to ease its way down the makeshift runway as Jimmy slowly eased the throttle. By the end of the path, the Roger Dodger climbed into the air at near cruising speed. The young pilot readjusted the pictures in his cockpit that were nestled firmly within some of the instruments on the console in front of him, placing a gloved finger over the picture of his father. He strapped on the mask and intake and quickly set the equipment so he'd be fine as he began climbing towards the formation and the air had become a little thin. Jimmy closed his eyes for a moment and swore at the small mistake and eased the Roger Dodger into formation, ready to fly into his first proper fight.

[Assistant]
It had been a smooth flight, in spite of some delay due to a headwind. A small bazaar with a long airstrip in the suburbs around old Minneapolis had given him a modest deal on fuel and he had even had a lucky find, a P-90 rigged with a pulse laser attachment. Pity it lacked the necessary power pack. Still, it had a couple magazines and one was even full. That was a hundred shots if he got into a crazy tight spot. Ryan Lungfirst hoped that he would never need to use it.

The meeting place was coming up fast, but he knew that he was running behind schedule, so he maintained altitude instead of descending. He searched the sky below him until he saw it, a small group of planes that were on an exit vector from the meeting place. He was late for the meeting, yes, but not late for the job. He adjusted his course slightly to match the direction of the other planes and continued at his cruising speed until he closed the remaining distance. He was still high above the other planes and behind them as his shadow slipped forward until it drifted across first one and then another of them to settle over the canopy of the Iron Jackson. It was then that Ryan Lungfirst broke radio silence with a steady voice muffled by his altitude mask.

"Long-Dive to Iron Jackson. Holding at 6 O-Clock high."

There wasn't that much more for him to say. He didn't know who the other pilots were or even the full details of the job. But, he did know his plane. Lungfirst was not inclined to be overconfident but he had long since learned not to be nervous or worried. Those states of mind made it easier to panic and panic is a killer.

[User]
The all too familiar roar of the Iron Jackson's engines began to gargle and then scream as the jets blasted him off into the sky once again. Rodriguez was on his left flank and Jimmy was on his right. If nobody knew that he literally just met them, they might even look like a legitimate wing squadron. The first couple minutes of flying was smooth but also somewhat depressing as there was destroyed airfield in their path. Roland knew that oil fields were major targets for anyone who flew a plane. So to even begin to think of the horrors that the people who worked there had to endure made his back shiver. And gave him just one more reason to investigate and hopefully stop this bandit army that would make oil fields a weekly if not daily target.

Roland wondered if he should comment on it to his new wingmates, but before he could speak his radar began to beep. The grizzled veteran's finger immediately found itself on the machine gun trigger and he was already getting ready for evasive maneuvers. But despite his instincts he managed to calm himself down and opened the radio link that was being sent to him, it was Ryan Lungfirst.

Roland had specifically remembered requesting this pilot, as he wanted someone who had experience with bandit groups. The fact that Ryan also had worked as a mercenary was a bonus. He had heard many tales of the Alaskan pilot from his contacts in the north, the fact that they were a similar age made him sure of his experience. Roland spoke back into the intercom with partial relief.

Copy Long Dive, join formation on my rear. We are heading to Atlanta. Wingmates Hefferman and Web can fill you in on the details if you need them, good to have you on board Mr Lungfirst.

The after finally getting clear of the damaged oil field, the land was more clear, mainly flatland with some cracked roads networked in patterns over the area. The skies seemed clear, at least for now.

[Assistant]
Ryan Lungfirst was aware that at least one of the dog fighters below him could probably reach his altitude, even if they wouldn't have much maneuverability once they reached it. They were customized planes. He had half expected the group to break formation before he broke radio silence. Unfortunately, they not only held their relatively low altitude formation but their leader ordered him to join it.

"…He didn't get to see my plane…" Lungfirst mumbled to himself, silently cursing the headwind that had made him late. He didn't dare explain his craft's specialized features over the open airwaves. He just had to hope that his temporary comrades were observant enough to detect how vulnerable he was at low altitude. Then he had an idea of how to fix that.

He clicked his radio to transmit. "10-4. Out." His muffled voice was flat and unenthused but a discerning ear might have noticed an edge of worry under the professionalism.

He pushed the nose of his XB-35-M4 into a measured descent, pacing it so that he would match altitude and pass the formation 200 feet in front of the Iron Jackson. Then he would drop back behind and rise to join the formation smoothly from beneath. He didn't like fancy flying but these other pilots needed to know how different his plane was from theirs without discussing it over the radio in uncertain airspace. This way, they could all get a good view from below and then from above. Hopefully that would answer questions without them having to be asked. And, if one of them was a scanner, they'd have a perfect opportunity to get an accurate and detailed readout on the Long-Dive.

There was one other matter too. He couldn't fit on the Iron Jackson's six unless the other two moved. His wingspan was almost as wide as their entire formation at present. He could come in at the back, and that would be his target location, if the other two pilots didn't loosen up the formation, since he had no intention of ramming them.

[User]
Jimmy Web: The Jonestown Runner

Jimmy watched the behemoth approaching and gave a small smile. He could outrun it if need be, and his Wing Leader wasn't firing anything up. Certainly the craft was another of the legend's friends... or he was asleep in the cockpit. Honestly, at this point, perhaps the older legend was...

When the call came through, Jimmy gave a sigh of relief. He eyed the XB-35-M4 carefully, making note of its weapons placements. He wasn't a genius, but he remembered the first rule in preparing for a fight: Know what you're fighting with and know what you're fighting against. It was an impressive aircraft, and it's ability to fly at the altitude it could maintain was... well, practically impossible. Maybe. Physics wasn't his strong suit.

When Lungfirst's bird began to get into position, Jimmy's lips curled into a small smile. He flipped a switch, and a loud buzz of static would easily come in through the radios of the other pilots. "Bzzzzttttt..." A loud pop would then blare through the radio as Jimmy bashed the console with his fist, a good solution to fixing anything in the cockpit easily. He shook his head. "Sorry, been meaning to fix that. This is Jimmy. I'd recommend keeping this formation loose and diamond right here buddy. Don't want you trying to sneak into any backdoors now." He gave a small chuckle to himself as he gave a small turn of the stick to the right. The Roger Dodger loosened up the formation to give a bit of breathing room as the jet rolled to the right slightly before readjusting.


[System]
"Jester" by Ninjatic licensed under CC BY-NC-ND 3.0
Age: 22
Gender: Female
Race: Mundane
Tale: N/A

Appearance: Roxana has a petite build, standing at of 5'4". She is usually elaborately dressed, to the point that she is almost identifiable by her true facial features. Ironically, her dressing is what causes her to stand out in most situations. She has a youthful look, making her seem younger than she actually is, and is slightly tanned with dark, wavy hair.

Powers/Skills:

* Acrobatics - Roxana is very agile and can perform stunts due to her training. She is also proficient with small weapons.
* Sleight of Hand - Roxana can leave, take, or conceal objects without being seen.
* Performance - Roxana is a charismatic individual from far, and can effectively entertain.

Personality:
Roxana does not speak much, but she is abundantly expressive in other ways. Giving off a playful and whimsical, yet unsettling vibe, her mannerisms are elaborate and rather eccentric, and her actions can be unpredictable at times. She is a child at heart, being a curious and excitable individual. She enjoys getting acquainted with new people, though, that might not often be too apparent, and is rarely ever outwardly aggressive.

Her tendency to be rather difficult to read, as well as the mischief that she would occasionally be up to contributes to her discomforting aura. Although quite a few would not fancy spending a long period of time with her up close, they are always impressed watching her from afar, in awe of her proficiency and elegance as she displays her skills. However, there are some who are able to make a friend of her, and she would often make known her appreciation for their company.

History:
Roxana was born and raised in a family of travelling street performers, and trained to do dangerous stunts from an early age. They moved from town to town, entertaining the crowds for whatever they would pay them. Seeing the looks of admiration and appreciation on the faces of the people who watched her perform was everything to her. It was how she felt accepted by the public. However, due to her consistent moving, she rarely had the opportunity to interact with the 'normal folk', and never understood their true feelings towards her and her family.

It all changed for her one night when her family stopped their caravan on a path through some woods. A bunch of bandits attacked without warning, catching them completely off guard. Although the bandits only intended to rob them, the lives of her parents were not spared. They must not have wanted to deal with the skills of stunt performers, and took the chance that the element of surprise had given them to take out the obstacle. Roxana would have been killed as well, if she had not managed to escape on time.

The then teenage girl was left to travel by herself, using the skills she had learned to get by. She found it difficult to explain her situation to anyone she came across, due to her lack of experience in communicating with people who lived such different lives. In addition, she was perceived as bizarre and unusual by many. She continued to stick to her performances, though, she would at times resort to betting games and petty scams to get her hands on some extra coin.

She continued in such a way on her own for years, until she stumbled upon a desolated, miserable town one day. The air was heavy with the ambiance of death, decay and despair. Curious to find out the reason for the state of the town, she proceeded to make her way through it, though, her efforts to obtain the answers that she had sought were unavailing. Deciding to leave, she wondered if there were any clues in the next place she went to. Her wandering eventually brought her to Ravenport, and she would get by in the place the same way she had always done, unless of course, there was something better for her.

[User]
~Elizabeth~

Squelch

"Ugh, filthy..."

Pulling her boot out of the muddy puddle, Elizabeth gave a small grimace. The dreary day outside was no consequence. The city of Ravenport was always like this. The coast it was built on seemed to always have near constant rain. There was an odd calmness to it, really, and if she was doing anything other than walking through it, she was quite sure she'd be relaxing to the sound of rain on the window with some tea. What was of consequence however, was that she was walking. Walking. With just an admittedly well made cloak to protect her from the rain. Pathetic that's what that was. If anyone from her old life saw her, she'd be a laughing stock.

"Working at some shady detective agency no less..." The noblewoman muttered quietly. Had she a choice, she'd be doing anything but this. She wasn't someone who should have too. Chase down criminals, crawl through mud and muck to reach a goal. No, that was what her maids, attendants, and subordinates were for. Or at least, they would have, had she any left. At least what she was being told to do was somewhat easy and up her alley. She was nothing, if not studious about her objectives and goals. She read the files backwards, forwards, and asked Rolfe about the temperaments of each people involved to get a general idea of their attitudes.

She did not have confidence this could be resolved quickly and cleanly after what she had been told, that much was certain.

By now, Elizabeth had reached the waterfront, stopping for a moment on the docks to look out over the sea. Smelled like fish, and would otherwise be fairly picturesque in the melancholic gloomy way. Hm, perhaps when she had her titles and fortunes returned she'd commission a painting? Idle thought. Back on the task at hand. Making her way along the dock, eyeing one of her destinations in the distance. A ship by the name of the Bloated Barge. A rather detestable looking den of degenerates and lowlifes, also known as a tavern. An establishment she'd normally not be caught dead in. She'd head there after the Crabbyshack pub and getting the details from Merkle. As long as she kept a level head this should be easy enough to deal with some unruly plebs.

"Nothing you can't handle Eliza..." Finally reaching her destination, Elizabeth looked up at the sign hanging above the door. One of her 'colleagues' should be here soon, but she'd only wait for a few moments before heading inside and taking care of this herself.

[Assistant]
Gordon Edwards

Rain was like a way of reminding people that god cried too.

At least, that's how Gordon sometimes saw it, most of the time however, all he could see was pouring rain coming from the clouds above as constant reminder that life went on, and that he was glad he wore a trench coat.

The droplets of water would hit him, only to slide off like tiny waterfalls, as the wind occasionally swiped at his scarf. Wind was never really an issue in a city such as Ravenport, as even on windy days the buildings gave some cover from it. Windy days were chilly, at least that's what he had heard others complain. The only thing he could possibly complain about was his new position in the sketchy detective agency and the case file he'd been handed. Earlier that day, he'd been given his first assignment, an investigation into a possible act of sabotage over at a local pub. It was a place he'd been at least once before, though he hadn't been there long. Something about live sea creatures unsettled him, and although he had been hungry, he decided to skip lunch and left before he'd even heard the specials.

Tugging his hood slightly more over his head, the young man stepped over one of the larger puddles that had formed on the road, his boots hitting the wet cobblestone with muffled thuds. He was looking forward to the case, at least in some sense. From the look of Rolfe when he handed him the files, this kinda thing had happened before, he could tell that much even before he looked the two characters over. Neither one looked the type, but competition sometimes changed people, but for all he knew, it really could be just another stupid coincidence that Barker's seafood were dying.

He'd find out sooner or later, as he rounded a corner and out from the dark buildings of the main streets, his eyes landed on another figure, standing just outside the pub known as the 'Crabbyshack'. Crabby was right, the woman who ran it didn't sound to cheerful. Judging from the way they stood, and the fact that he knew he had a partner on this particular mission, Gordon lightly jogged towards the figure, his boots kicking up small splashes behind him.

Slowing to a stop before the figure, He nodded at them, as he pushed open the door to the better off tavern. Comparing the Crabbyshack to it's competitor, the Bloated Barge, there was honestly no real contest, though he wasn't fond of either. Stepping inside and throwing off his hood with one hand while leaving the door open with the other, he gestured for his college to follow, while running a quick once over of the one he'd be working with.

She seemed somewhat impatient, obviously not fond of rain, or being in such a place, not to mention, even under his cloak, she seemed to be of noble birth, not exactly someone he'd expect to see working such a job, but she was there, she was easy on the eyes, and she seemed to have an air of intelligence to her. Good, he'd been worried he'd be sent in with some mindless brute who ended up breaking everything.

"Sorry for the wait." His voice was sincere, though he meant it as more of a formality then anything.

[User]
~ℌ𝔞𝔯𝔢~

Location: Ravenport Central Square

Mission: Cat Herding

---

Harry gripped the small bottle tied about his neck. It contained several ingredients including herbs and a tiny tuft of his fur. A service provided by a witch for a price. For the mundanes, the bottle necklace appeared to be a plain trinket. No worth or significance to its purpose, other than his personal attachment. The actual truth was that it was the only thing allowing him to walk around without a lynching mob hot on his white cottontail.

He had been worried all day about his glamour failing. When he originally bought the thing, he felt the price was far too cheap for the quality. Even for the bare minimum requirements, the more you had to change then the pricier it got.

Most the time he could make do. A bit of his voice behind a corner, dash underneath the furniture or out of sight had saved him lots on needing a glamour. However, he couldn't interact directly without one.

At the thought, Harry ran his fingers through his light brown hair. The locks unfurled then fell to frame his face's soft curves. This glamour failed to hide everything from his original form though. His figure was still considered rather short for a human and pretty lanky. The face was cleanly shaven for a youthful appearance, but his two front teeth stuck too far past his lip. He tried not to look at anyone for too long because he knew his eyes were a bit too golden causing his anxiety to rise. He couldn't risk Basil and Rolfe deciding he was too much of a liability to their business before deciding to let him go.

Idly he continued to hold the trinket for a few more moments before he shoved it underneath his shirt, hiding it from sight. Harry swallowed a tightness at the back of his throat as his right foot thumped the dirt. A bunch of time had passed now, but no sign of any fellow co-workers. His ears swayed about alongside his eyes, both sight and hearing were surveying the scenery.

When he received the case, Harry thought it was some sort of cruel joke. A hare chasing cats was not likely to go over well.

He doubted the glamour would cover his scent and the feline fiends might start chasing him instead. That's when all bets were off. Cats liked to play with their prey and that fact disgusted him, his lip curled up with a twitch.

"Where the hell are you?" Harry muttered.

[Assistant]
~Elizabeth~
Location: CrabbyShack
Sabotage investigation

---

At least she didn't have to wait long for her colleague. A man, slightly older than her and more than a little rough around the edges was running towards her. Not fond of the rain, was he? Should probably move somewhere else in that case, but she spared little thoughts on such a matter. He probably though she wasn't cut out for this job, and likely expected someone such as herself not to be working on something so mundane. It was easy to tell she wasn't a common rabble. A pleb, a merchant or a slum dweller. Well, she'd just prove this man wrong.

"No matter," She said, stepping inside the so called tavern. At least he had the proper manners to hold the door open for her. "Just be sure to be faster next time." Immediately her nose was assaulted by an unpleasant odor, causing her to grimace and scrunch her face slightly. Ugh. Smelled of fish, wasted life and sweat. Definitely a place where dockworkers and laborers would hang out. Sharply exhaling, she brushed her nose with her hand, doing her best not to appear too put off. Didn't want to make an unpleasant impression on madam Merkle.

"Elizabeth Keeler." She said to Gordon, boots dully thudding against the floor as she walked. "In case you forgot. Lets make one thing clear before we start this. I don't want to be here, but due to certain circumstances I am obligated to put forth my effort into this little detective agency." She turned to face her colleague, a bored expression clear on her features. "So I'm going to be calling the shots here, understand? I'm not going to have some uneducated commoner to muck things up for me."

[User]
Ever since the street performer had arrived in Ravenport, the town square had been a regular location where she would entertain crowds with her acrobatic skills as well as play an occasional game with those who would decide to bet their wealth on one. They would always pick the correct shell, until the stakes were sufficiently raised, of course. Things had been rather routine for her at Ravenport before hearing about the Wolf's Den Agency jolted her memory about that mysterious, deserted town she had come across before ending up here. It had been rather convenient that they were hiring, and Roxana had decided to take up the offer in hopes that they would one day stumble upon some clues about that neighboring town.

That was exactly why she was currently at the town square for a reason that was completely different from the usual. She had just been assigned her first case - one about an old woman's missing cats, and those working on it were instructed to meet at this very place. However, she had hardly strayed from her usual manner of dress, and few of the folk who passed by recognized her and shot her confused looks, wondering why the performer was present yet not up to her usual antics. She soon spotted a small, brunet man who looked as if he was waiting for someone, and skipped over to him. He seemed to be rather on edge, but she would dismiss that observation for now.

She gave a theatrical bow before gesturing to herself while she began with an introduction. "Roxana Tolbert. We shall be working on Granny Mildred's case, yes?"

Roxana could not help but feel that the case was way more than it appeared to be. A bunch of missing cats did not seem like much on the surface, but figuring out the 'why', 'how', and possibly 'who' could lead to something a whole lot bigger.


[System]
Username: Jbcool
Race/Species: Woad (Wood) Elf

Gender: Female

Age: Around the 250ish mark

Career/Class: All-round exceptional scout, guerilla fighter, survivalist and first-class archer

Weapons:

* A 'classic' Elvish longbow, similar to the comparable Human weapon, around six-feet from top to bottom and etched with swirling designs – oddly, the bow is constructed from a wood that cannot readily be identified but seems to stretch with extreme ease; to the Elves of the woodlands this is known as 'Wyrdwood' a special kind of wood from a tree that is both flexible, has the blessing of the forest God, and has limited regeneration if the object is damaged. The string is made of a hair from the mane of a unicorn.
* Quiver or arrows – within this quiver, worn across the back, contains numerous arrows of varying designs. From the most common arrow, a simple triangular-headed shaft, to bodkin arrows more capable of piercing thick flesh and armour. These tips are usually crafted from bone, runes into tips that would otherwise be unable to penetrate anything more than leather armour.
* Elvish short-sword – This weapon is usually worn concealed beneath the flowing cloak worn by Arassel, around eighty centimetres in length it has a leaf-shaped blade of bronze (all the better for causing grievous wounds), and an edge that is always sharp.
* A small flint hatchet/hand-axe that can be used as both a utility tool, as well as a more 'fearsome' weapon in combat.

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.):

Arassel could almost be the quintessential Elf in appearance; around 5' 8" in height, yet possessing a graceful and sylphlike form of packed muscle – her limbs like coiled springs of corded muscle and her overall frame not as 'light' as one might expect from an Elf – she is nevertheless broader than her Silver Elven cousins across the shoulder, and owns the athletic form of one who has spent their entire life in a constant state of exercise and readiness for conflict.

In the face it is hard to tell whether she is male or female for those not of her own race - her almond eyes of emerald green, elongated and pointed features covered by flesh which appears constantly 'dirty', but in actuality is simply a deep tan, and the locks of auburn hair – complete with leaves woven into the strands and around her ears - flowing between her shoulder-blades all plausibly able to be found on any of the rather androgynous Elven peoples.

Yet it is her lilting and enticing voice (as well as the more...obvious points of anatomy) that show her as nothing but female; as with many of her people, she is versed in the songs and ballads of both the Kaelic Isles and her forest-dwelling kinsfolk, capable of silencing entire halls and bending the ear of most to her will.

One thing that does mark her out from any other Elf are the various tattoos and markings patterning her body and face using a method unknown to man, but probably carved into the flesh at a young age. These designs vary from appearing as the veins of forest leaves, to the swirls and interlocking variations more often seen among the tribal Kaelic peoples. These patterns are generally varying hues of green, giving Arassel a more natural camouflage as well as accentuating her already otherworldly look.

Armour: Woad Elves are often seen as backward and primitive, compared to their more civilised relatives at least, and this particular Elf does nothing to dispel that notion by way of her attire.

Needing to move with fluidity, and capable of avoiding most damage in melee combat, she clothes herself in loose-fitting robes of gossamer layered over the top of solid but flexible bark – these reinforced sections mostly covering her shoulders and around the waist area, as well as being crafted from the same unique material as her bow – a cloak of tawny deerskin hanging from her shoulders, covered over with leaves, pieces of bark and hanging moss.

She wears nothing upon her hardened feet, capable of walking over most things without damage.

All-in-all, to those not 'in the know', she often appears as a living embodiment of the forests fury and indeed counts herself as a guardian of nature and the natural world in general

Equipment/Other Nothing, really...perhaps a few herbs carried in a small leather pouch, as well as a wooden figure of Sendarius worn about her neck. That's about it.

Mental Description/Personality: Wary and withdrawn would be the best way to describe her, a tough nut to crack, but once someone has managed to prize her out of her shell they may well find a hospitable and good-natured person there to meet them. Unlike many of her kind she has left the Forest and seen much of the world, both the good and the bad, and it has allowed her to produce a more balanced view of it in general. Nevertheless, friend or foe, get on the wrong side of her and she will have no qualms about returning someone to the ground from whence they came – there to feed the Earth and rejuvenate the nature she worships as a deity itself.

Goals: To learn more about the world outside Vérna'thelan, to safeguard her kith and kin through any means necessary, and to exterminate demonic forces wherever she may find them.

Background/History:

* Born in a small settlement in Vérna'thelan, she was raised, as with any other of her kind, to respect nature and to be forever on her guard against the evils of the world. Hence she grew into a suspicious, yet not entirely xenophobic, member of her race.
* As she grew, her parents relocated to one of the few Elven enclaves on the more northerly part of the Kaelic Isles, constructing their own long-house within the branches of the towering trees there and conversing often with the marked Humans that they encountered. Trade of all manner of things was commonplace, and Arassel warmed to these fiery but lovable islanders, a gift of a bronze sword made to her in return for helping a local village fend off a raiding party of Vretonnians – men who had just happened to get lost on the waves of the sea, but who had decided to try their luck against the primitives of the island.
* Upon reaching maturity, and with the consent of her parents, she returned to Vérna'thelan to seek the permission of the ruling elders to partake in a rite of passage known as the 'forest pilgrimage'; an undertaking practiced in some of the wide-spread villages upon the Kaelic Isle (less prone to xenophobia and paranoia than their forest-bound relatives) which involved young Woodland Elves travelling from forest-to-forest across both the island and further beyond, learning what one can before deciding ultimately whether to return to the Great Forest or not.
* Granted approval she set out almost at once, taking little with her save for what was essential, and before long – well, almost a century and after experiences of every type later – she is walking down the road toward Dethu'lun and her future.

[User]
Zin entered the abandoned and falling apart guard tower with a casual stride. His hands sat lazily on the hilts of his kukri. He was ready to grip them at a moment's notice. His eyes darted across the fire lit room taking in the appearance and measure of each individual inside. The room was mostly dominated by humans, though that seemed to be a normal occurrence in these parts. There were a few interesting fellows who's kind Zin had never met before. However, the wood Elf had been a small surprise as he did not meet many of his cousins this far out.

"Greetings," Zin nodded in greeting but did not take a seat at the table. Instead, he found a section of wall that appeared to be stable and leaned up against it.

A few more humans would arrive shortly and take their seats. It was then that the man near the back of the room would stand. He introduced himself as Kayden and possibly this gatherings new Captain. The Dwarf from outside then entered the room and strode up to Kayden.

"Before we begin, there are a couple of things. First I'll speak about what is on everyone's mind. Loot." Kayden continued on and several people murmured their approval. "You get the bounty for what you kill yourself, but if we find loot somewhere, we save it, put it in a pile, and distribute it evenly... "

Though it would shock many here, Zin really had no interest in the getting of loot. Yes, he took bounties and turned them in, but never so much that it would fill his coin purse. More often than not, Zin took the bounties that no one else thought worthy of their time.

"Well Met..." Kayden's Dwarf companion, Morek, said.

Zin's ears twitched moments too late as a large creature landed behind the so-called Captain. In reaction, Zin pushed himself upright off the wall. His hands firmly gripped around the hilts of his kukri. If it were not for the unsurprised Kayden Zin might have launched himself to protect the man. Kayden didn't turn around, but glanced backwards and gave a pleased smile. "Meet fail-safe number two. His name is Jex."

Zin relaxed his grip on his weapons and leaned back onto the wall, albeit still slightly agitated. It was then that Kayden actually explained the reason for their rather unusual gathering. He wanted them to take on a band of 50 men, who had wronged Jex. Zin thought it a suicide mission. Even with their numbers they had little chance of taking out that many opponents, especially if they had the advantage of the Keep.

"...However, there is something we must speak of first."

Morek turned and strode over to a shadowed corner of the tower only to reveal a giant treasure chest. Morek then set it behind Kayden and bashed the lock apart with his axe. The captain turned around and nodded to Morek. The Dwarf opened up the chest, to reveal not treasure, but a man with tousled hair bound and gagged. Zin raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"This is one of the bandits…." Kayden explained hastily. The information they had gathered said that tomorrow a group of 30 of the bandits would be ambushing a Lord on his travels. "If you're not with me, leave now..."

Up until this last bit of information, Zin was of the mind to do just that. However, with innocent life so clearly in danger, he could not leave them to that fate.

"Would we not be better served to attack the keep while their main force is away from their stronghold? Then when the others return, their numbers thinned, laden down with loot, we can mop them up." The woman who identified herself as Cassilda said.

"perhaps myself and a few of the stealthier of our number could go round up my crew tonight and together we could lie in wait for tomorrow's bandit ambush party and ambush them before they even have a chance to ambush the lord!" the small man named Hobnob added.

"If I might suggest another option, the lord will have fifteen good fighting men with him. Another dozen or so surely would not be remiss, and would help even out the numbers against thirty or so bandits quite handily. A keep storming against twenty men very likely to still be unaware if we move quickly after our initial battle, considering how slow thirty gold-laden men are likely to travel- ought to be fairly simple compared to the same battle against fifty men." The man named Nuva suggested.

"I have come to be known as Zin. I am inclined to agree with Doer," Was all Zin said.

Zin had reservations about this entire situation. He was unsure of the group's capabilities and feared the group could be headed to their slaughter. The young Warrior, Kayden seemed enthusiastically ready to lead. But was he? Why was he so eager to lead people to their possible deaths or worse? Zin had never heard of this man before and thus could not accurately judge his ability or motives.

There was only one way to find out.

[Assistant]
Halbark gave a big laugh before heading down from his dramatic entry position, dousing the flames of his steel gauntlets with a couple of pats on his trousers. With a nod towards the armoured Dwarf and Kayden and got to a seat to drink the already poured ale.

"A good touch on the whole thing, having ready poured ale."

He said to no one in particular as he made a show of pouring the liquid through the gaping hole of his mask in long gulps. Absentmindedly he watched as the others entered and only a small sign of clarity came in his eyes when Kayden started speaking of the terms of their agreement. He never cared much for strategy or the larger picture and Halbark didn't even notice he was saying just that out loud after the wood elf did his say.

"Me, I Don't care much for strategy, that's for you to decide Capt'n, I am more of the 'set-me-loose' mentality if you catch my draft."

Somehow that made him thirsty and he snatched another mug of ale from the table to take a good gulp. Even Halbark didn't know if that was all of his say, but he kept it at that for now.

[User]
The Wood Elf listened intently to everything that was being said, relegating herself to standing in the shadows and sipping at her ale from time-to-time, her eyes flickering back and forth between the assembled sell-swords in a somewhat absent minded manner. Some might think that she was nervous and on edge in the company of so many, and they would be right! She had never liked spaces surrounded by walls - not even toppled and ruined ones - and certainly held no love for being squashed together with such an assemblage of bodies, armour and weapons as this.

"Arassel," she offered to those about her, and to the self-proclaimed Captain, her voice like the tinkling of glass pieces or wind-chimes in a breeze, "archer, tracker and woodsman."

Apart from that she was loathe to offer anything to the current discussion, partly because she was too busy staring at the Elf from her distant kindred who spoke before the flaming Dwarf, and secondly because she couldn't care any less for the lives of this 'lord' or his underlings, in fact she would have been quite happy to sacrifice them all if it helped them get rid of the bandits afterwards.

Taking another draught of ale, and becoming quite used to the rather beige taste - not like Elven ale...not at all - she knew that if anyone wished to address her then they would; until then she would go back to her silent vigil at the rear of the group.


[System]
Age: 27

Gender: Female

Occupation in the group: Techie

Fears: Experiencing intense pain, watching her loved ones suffer, bugs,

Bio: Born and raised in a fairly strict household as an only-child, Denise was heavily disciplined from a young age. Her parents were well off, but that didn't mean they allowed her to slack off. Due to her upbringing, when she was in high school, Denise got drawn to the wrong crowd. She gained street smarts, that which is learned from experience. One of the kids in her group, Jason, had a crush on her. In order for him to spend more time with her, he asked her if she wanted a part-time job at the repair shop his dad owned. It was easy money, and the workload was extremely light, almost non-existent. Denise agreed, figuring she could use her own money without having to go ask her parents.

Currently, Denise is working as an IT manager at the hospital. She stayed in the field throughout the years and she never looked back. Bored one evening, she saw an online post regarding a replacement needed for a tech position, Denise figured the experience might be fun, and decided to respond.

Looks: A small-framed woman, Denise is not the least bit intimidating. She stands at 5'3 and weighs roughly 115 lbs. Despite spending quite a bit of time outside on a regular basis, her skin is fairly light. Denise has brown hair as well as brown eyes, though she may decide to switch up her look by adding some highlights to her hair depending on the time of year. She has no tattoos and no additional piercings aside from those on her ears. Her style can best be described as modern and comfortable with the occasional eye-catching accessory.

[User]
"Joe's DEAD, Denise!" Philip said with eyes strained wide, "The trees ATE him. Do you understand?" He was making an immense effort to maintain control but loosing rabidly. "Your body was taken over already, there's no time to ask if this is real or staged like some kind of murder mystery."

 He snapped his head towards TJ, fear overwhelming his rational mind. "You keep stepping up like your still in charge of this fuck fest! This place is a goddam mouse trap! We are Walking Dead!" He grabbed TJ by the collar of his jacket, "I'm tired of your fucking 'reasonable' recommendations! I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING DIE!!!" He screamed into TJ's face and then dropped to his knees, his breath heaving in and out of his chest.

 Demons, that was his obsession. If demon's were real, then God was real, and then there was hope and meaning to life. Find the monster, find the hero, that was his plan, but everything was going so very wrong. In the video's and the training the monsters had always been distant, maybe affecting some poor innocent person by possessing them or making a book fly across the room; there was no precedent for the power of the evil of this place, and they had only seen the beginning! How could no one know what was possible? How could the church be so ignorant of the truth? Maybe, just maybe, evil kept the truth of its power a secret by killing everyone who ever saw it. That did not bode well for the team's chance of surviving through the night!

 "I'm sorry TJ," Philip said weakly from his position on the ground, "I'm so sorry... I'm just really scared, I... i.... don't know..." Philip moved to try and stand up.

[Assistant]
None of the others seemed too concerned about Joe, but her vision weighed heavily on Pandora's mind for the entire walk back to the vehicles. It was easy enough for them to ignore, to choose to focus on the phenomena they had actually seen, but the young psychic had gotten a better look at Joe than even Denise. She could still hear the wet sound of freshly-peeled skin hitting the floor, hear his strained breathing, his screams...

the sight of the vehicles finally pulled her from her dark thoughts with a shot of adrenaline. This was no time to be freaking out - like TJ said, this was life or death. Her powers weren't some party trick anymore, now they could potentially be the thing to save her life or the lives of her friends. Memories of the car accident all those years ago sprang into her head, but she pushed them down again. She could not, would not, dare fail again.

"Denise will be my partner," She told their self-elected leader in a voice that wasn't taking any arguments. "She's the most vulnerable to psychic attack, and I'd rather pee in front of another girl, thanks." Trying to look braver than she felt, the blonde stepped over to the other woman, giving her a reassuring smile. Pandora couldn't imagine how she was feeling right now, but surely having another woman with her after such a traumatic event would be a little easier, not to mention having a psychic around in case it came back.

Another vision came to her abruptly, disorienting her entirely with the smell of smoke & burning flesh and the sensation of heat against her face. When she finally managed to make out a clear image it was Maxwell's face, staring at her from one of the second story windows. The building was dark, illuminated only by Maxwell's burning body. In a matter of seconds hair and skin were reduced to ash, their body blackening and crumbling leaving only their eyes, which glowed a demonic red and hung in midair for a few moments even after their body was gone.

Coughing and gasping for fresh air, Pandora came back to reality to find herself on her knees, trying to breathe through the thick clouds of smoke that were never physically there. "Maxwell," She sputtered. "Where's Max?!" She needed to warn them, to tell everyone what she saw so they could stop it from coming true.

[User]
Between what happened to Joe, Denise, Phillip and Pandora, the equipment being destroyed, and now with the more than likely scenario that Maxwell was dead (if he was lucky) TJ reached his breaking point. Without saying a word he went to the back of the SUV and pulled out his baseball bat. It was metal, black with gold lettering on it and TJ was twirling it along his right side. He found a large piece of equipment that was pretty much wiped out in the sabotage, and TJ decided it was time to finish the job. With a primal scream he let loose with five solid shots yelling with each blow and obliterated the broken tool into a pile of useless plastic and wires. The driver's window to the SUV was already smashed so TJ just threw his bat back into the SUV through it smashing what was left of it.

TJ took a deep breath and looked over to Phillip and said, "So much for me being the reasonable one." He nodded and said, "You're scared? Join the club. I am scared out of my fucking mind Phillip! Anyone with three working brain cells would be scared. Hell I'd be more worried if you weren't, but we need to work the situation so we have at least a fighting chance to live."

He looked over to Pandora and said, "You and Denise? Works for me."

TJ closed his eyes and then reopened them and said, "Look, I know that when we agreed to this we knew somethings could go wrong even the possibility that one or all of us could die. I doubt though we thought that it would actually become reality, but it has. So now we all have to do something about it. I know that I'm being a jackass right now spouting off suggestions and so on but I wasn't hearing anyone else give any ideas." TJ exhaled and said, "If you got an idea then damnit say something! I don't have all the answers! We all bring something to the table. This thing got off the ground because we worked together, and now we have to do that again. I'm bankrolling this yes, but that doesn't mean I am the Dictator. We have to work together or we might as well go our separate ways right now and take our chances out in the woods."

Looking around TJ said, "Before we left I called Beth and left her a phone number. It's to a friend of mine at the FBI field office. He and his partner like to dabble in paranormal studies. I told her if she didn't hear from me in three days she was to call them. Whether or not they come looking for us is an entirely different subject, but there are those who know where we are and Beth can be a force of nature." He showed his Fitbit and said, "This has a GPS embedded in it they would be able to find me. That's one reason I'm thinking we should stay together so that if I'm found they'll find you all as well." Walking over to the SUV he said, "We have three days to try and tough it out. I'm also aware that we might not last those three days. Hell we might not even last the next three hours but by God I'm not going down without saying I did everything I could to survive." TJ walked over to one of the bags and looked it over and said, "There's some salvageable gear in here." He slung it over his shoulder, walked over to the SUV and grabbed his bat, and said, "Here ends the speech. You can help me out by grabbing a bag or some gear and heading inside." He then gave a look as if to say "whatever" and said, "Or you can do whatever you want." With that he began to head towards the Orphanage.

[Assistant]
Philip, ashamed and red faced, dusted himself off and grabbed what he thought was one of the bags with infrared cameras and a display monitor. There might be time to set up some of the cameras and at least have something of an idea if things started going 'fucky.' He looked at the others in their turn, "I haven't seen Max," he said shyly, "I... i don't know what to think," then he turned and jogged to catch up with TJ.

 The forest was getting darker by the dusky evening but surprisingly there were no sounds of birds or insects. Philip's eyes shot from bush to bush, unsure if he saw movement, the only noise the crackle of leaves under his and TJ's boots. "I'm sorry I freaked out," he said, steeling himself, "you're right, we need to focus and remain rational. This is just.. this is my first.." he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I've never encountered anything real like this, only the reading. I thought I was prepared, but it's different when things happen that are like magic."

 He adjusted the bag to a more comfortable position on his shoulder, "I've read a lot about demons and the like, and I know they feed off negative energy, they like when people are afraid and suffering, it seems to give them... I don't know, it's like food maybe. I think the witch who was here might've summoned something that protects the land. I don't know why it doesn't just take us all unless it's limited on how much it can do at one time or maybe it's playing with us. It might've been saving the energy to take Joe and possible Max for a century, I just don't know." Philip looked serious, "I think maybe the strength you and Denise showed might have scared it away, or taken its battery away, which was me, I was feeding right into it." He looked back down at his feet as he walked.

 "I'll keep a cool head, I promise," he said, "and if I have any thoughts that might be helpful I'll share them. I'm sorry I fucked up, I'll keep it together from here on out." He stepped resolutely, assured by his own pronouncement that he was going to do better.

[User]
"Hey, Pandora just breathe!" Denise rushed to her side, ignoring the pain shooting up her ankle. It seemed as if none of them could catch a break, with one event after the other. Denise started panicking even more—if that was possible—though this time she remained silent. It appeared as if bodies were dropping left and right, leaving those in the group feeling vulnerable, confused, and just about ready to lose their minds. In the midst of it all, Pandora had advised that them two would be pairing up. Denise noticed how it wasn't merely a suggestion, though she was fine with it and obviously was in agreement. She was, after all, someone that could keep Denise safe on some level.

"We're sticking together in there then," she informed TJ. "You have GPS capabilities and that helps tremendously given our situation. We take shifts, with our partners of course, and keep all the equipment with us if we decide to make ourselves comfortable elsewhere." Denise then looked around. "The radios, were they destroyed?" She went on to one of the equipment bags, hoping that what she was looking for was still intact. "It's best we stay in communication if two of us go to the bathroom or something. To save battery, I suggest we keep one radio with the main group and the other one with with whichever two of us steps out of the room."

Denise then picked up a back and swung it onto her shoulder. She also grabbed some more of the equipment to hand it off to Pandora, hoping that it would somehow help her shake off whatever she just experienced.

"Hey, come on, let's head inside."


[System]
Pilot Character Sheet
Appearance:  5 foot 5 inches.

Age: 22

Personality: Kxeyun is very clingy, due to her past and her separation anxiety. To help cope with this, she can be found playing with dolls in her room and has named one after herself. When someone tries to leave her alone she immediately goes for a hug and begs them to stay. If she likes said person as a close friend she panics when they leave, thinking she's done something wrong, only comforted by reassuring words or their return. To stay close to people, she strives to outperform her whole team, thinking it'll help her be liked.

For other interactions, she tends to be really open about herself and arches her back to show off her body. Her goal in life seems to be getting as many friends as humanly possible and never leave them behind. She's also very kind but will kill to protect her friends. She likes sharing with her friends, like food, music, toys, and random facts. Some of her hobbies is making food and giving little treats. Due to her past, she is VERY strong willed.

Backstory: Kxeyun's history beyond being part of Denver is unknown due to family-hopping and being in a rural area. Originally part of Denver-Vegas, Kxeyun was in the Reality Games for recognition, as an NC pilot. However, her effectiveness with her Reality Game NC was noted to be above the norm. Due to her efficiency in the hunting grounds and exceptionally high killstreaks, she was offered a slot into the military despite being extremely competitive with other NCs, unsurprisingly as a pilot. she was part of the force dealing with other corps, specifically NCs and large force movements.

Her NC was a prototype, essentially a Pseudo Hunter-Killer NC. They never expected it to work well, considering Denver uses ranged weapons and this NC called "Sahaquiel", meaning "Ingenuity of God", is an all melee build. It is not known if the NC manufacturer is religious or not, though Kxeyun isn't, leading the name to probably just be a stylistic point. When placed in battle, upon recognizing how well it worked against other NCs, they put development into new equipment for it. One of these equipment pieces was a mouth, added in case if an enemy restrained both arms.

During that time, an unknown individual approached Kxeyun and taught her of Haven and Red-Star. They offered her and Sahaquiel a way to get to Haven too, she regrettably accepted. On her way to Haven via a cargo ship, a Denver-Vegas capture NC intercepted, they CLEARLY didn't want her to escape. The Denver NC reportedly boarded the ship and began scanning. Kxeyun managed to sneak into her NC and engage the Denver NC, which didn't expect it to be ready to fight. Sahaquiel reportedly tore the capture NC to bits in a surprise attack. No surviving pilot of the capture NC was found. Denver gave up after that.

Since then, Sahaquiel and Kxeyun were left alone and got to Haven safely, they were accepted. Kxeyun was checked and has a high synch rate with Sahaquiel, 89.6. Other NCs drop considerably lower, 76.5 on average. As such, she has Sahaquiel as her designated NC.

Tactical Preferences and Skills: Kxeyun's personality makes it hard for her to stay at a distance, she WANTS to charge in and rip an NC to shreds. Her vision with an NC is solid, same with outside one. She's a good assistant for Sniper NCs as she can get up close and distract the enemy, or grab and position them to be hit by long-range units.

Notes: Kxeyun has a favorite song.

------

NC Character Sheet

Code-name: Sahaquiel, Ingenuity of God.

Appearance:  (ignore scale models in the corner)

Body Type: Bipedal, bulky.

Type of NC: Heavy Melee

Equipment & Armaments:
Dual Engines: This mecha has 2 engines. Primary is for main body functions, the secondary is for the thrusters and arm-mounted shield piercers.

Shield Piercers: This mecha has reverse engineered shield modules in the heavily armored arms, allowing the arms to bypass shields entirely. However, notably, this means the arms are unprotected when the shield piercers are in use.

Heavy Claws: This mecha has heavy claws, designed for ripping through buildings and other NCs. However, notably, this prevents the NC from using traditional weaponry like assault rifles or pistols.

Shields: This mecha has a set of energy shields, designed to stop kinetic and energy rounds. When the shield piercers are active, this NC cannot extend these shields to the arms, leaving the body and legs shielded.

Mouth: This mecha has a mouth, not meant for consuming things, but meant to rip through things with a powerful bite. This mouth is nearly impossible to see when closed and near undetectable on sensors.

Viper Thrusters: This mecha is equipped with hidden Viper Thrusters, giving it additional temporary boosts of speed and punching power when activated, this helps make the mecha faster than normal Heavy Class NCs

Ejection Pod: This mecha is equipped with an ejection pod, that ejects Pilot (and Passenger) with core system data, to prevent capture by the enemy. The pod is boosted by rockets and lands 80-150 meters away from the NC, depending on the firing angle. When it fires, a large metal plate on the back slides down, and if it cannot, it is ejected by separation thrusters.
Notes: This mecha is unusual, it stands at 6 meters for normal height and when it stands fully up 8 meters. It also has a 3 jointed leg system.
The mecha also has a secondary passenger seat where someone can accompany the pilot in battles. It serves no function other than showing camera and sensor feed to the passenger.
It has been noted that the Pilot tends to vocalize growling/roaring and has it come out of the loudspeakers, the reason for this is unknown.
Sahaquiel's roars sounds like this.

[User]
Mariano flinched as she was given a warning by Theodore. In this, she bowed her head deeper and said

"I do apologize, Sir. I had to because I felt too troubled to come back without doing so. Forgive me for this." And afterwards, she rose up from her place and joined the other Volunteers, taking a vacant seat close to the girls of the team, especially Anna. She smiled at her and said, with a bit of nervousness

"Do forgive me. I may have made a terrible impression." She tried to be friendly, extending her hand to her. She told her

"My name is Encarnacion Mariano, the Queen of the Spaniards living here. Nice to have you here with us, Anna. Welcome to the war."

She then smiled and turned to Seamus and asked him

"Good day. You wish to team up?"

[Assistant]
Seamus was the new kid on the block. But that didn't deter him yet. Isaac LaBelle already made his first impression to the Irish lad. Either a traitor or an untalented hack (for being caught) that deserved to have his kneecaps blown out. Execution would be too merciful. He spoke out regarding Mr. Labelle in a pithy manner.

"Back in my home, traitors have their kneecaps blown out. But what am I to say? I'm just an Irishman." If only he brought some Guinness with him. He'd be offering a few drinks to socialize with his compatriots. But he'd be pushing his luck, as he realized that not everyone shares the same tastes as he does when it comes to alcohol. While he was neither a drunkard nor a glutton, he did like to socialize over a pint. But that's for another time. He was about to sit down and chat up with nearby people...

Until he was suddenly shocked when the queen acknowledged him. "Begorrah! It would be an honor to team up with you, your highness. However, I do hope it would not be too troublesome." The tone of his voice indicated a sober sense. Seamus hoped that an alliance with Paragon-origin royalty didn't conflict directly with his mission. His facial expressions did express some skepticism as he overheard Encarnacion's speech as he was listening to the brief.

This was a critical point. As the son of Mr. O'Sullivan, he had big shoes to fill in. Inheriting an agent status was no small amount of luck. His perception allowed him to pick up cues from the body language. It was time to play the cards right. After this, Guinness time. After some first impressions, he hoped that Her royal highness was one to hold her liquor.

After the acknowledgement, he resumed to waiting for the next assignment, asking nearly pilots a question. "So what's your story?" The Irishman spoke with a informal yet welcoming tone. It was too early to hold grudges. For now that is. But if anyone mocks his father's death, that'll bring out the fighting Irish in Seamus.

[User]
@Psychic Loser @ArmorPlated

The Queen smiled at the somewhat loud but friendly and new volunteer. She approached him and offered her hand to the man, saying to him gently

"It is not too much trouble, really. Anyway, my name is Mariano. Just call me that. Anyway, I am from Spain. I'm volunteering here in order to get back my country from the Paragon Corp. In addition, I hope to befriend you over the course of this great war."

Then she turned to the other people in the room, telling them with the same smile

"Hello again! I hope we can all work together and better this time. I hope I could find that person who saved me from that battle. I owe them my life and my NC!"

After she said that, she chuckled and turned back to Seamus, telling him

"You were asking me about my story right? Or did you mean someone else?"

[Assistant]
Cody Ang

Loser

Cody had a look of surprise on his face, fortunately no one could see it. He would now be part of, no, commanding, a squad of his own. Though he has worked as a leader in the past, being assigned one this quick is unexpected to say the least. At least he didn't have any problems with his teammates. Of course he trusted TABRIS, and wouldn't find any sort of difficulty fighting alongside her. The other name however, was that of the newcomer from Denver-Vegas who was going to be replacing their former sniper. The news accompanying Mustang's arrival was actually a distressing one, looks like Red-Star wasn't the only one with traitors in their midst.

We were lucky that we caught him before he could wreak any damage, but next time...

Cody was going have to be more vigilant this time around, any of his comrades could be a suspect at this point, especially the newcomer, he would have to keep a close eye on them. He would then turn around and start walking towards his new teammate, stopping in front of her seat.

Cody: So, you're the newcomer huh?

[User]
Anna Mustang

Anna smiled to herself. Things were looking good so far. Her introduction had gone without a hitch... at least so far. However, when one of her teammates came up to address her directly, some part of her knew it was some kind of red flag. She ignored her instincts, looked up at Cody, and chuckled.

"Nice outfit," she said. "As you probably got from the introduction, I'm Anna. I originally hail from Denver-Vagas and I pilot the Lug. I know that may come off as alarming, but trust me, I'm ready to shoot some baddies! The Lug has all you could ever want in an NC and I'm ready to give it a spin." Anna stood up from her own chair and held out her hand. "I know I look good, but I won't be afraid to chip a nail if need be."

Anna a paused for a moment and thought about that last sentence. Did that make her sound to vain? Judging by the crowd, it was probably alright.

[Assistant]
"Someone almost betrayed us? That's not good..." Kxeyun thinks, the faint holographic figure of her over in a corner of the room, her hologram was tuned to be lifelike as possible. A silent, breathless, huff is let out, she also looks a bit frustrated. She looks towards Cody, thoughts prowling in her head. "So he's leading the other group, huh. Guess he's good, although I know nada about him." Her eyes continue gazing over everyone else, locking onto Terra. Her gaze softens instantly. "Terra... Terra... I like her, she's nice." her eyes close, relaxing just a bit. "She's more than just a friend... Close friend? Nah... Best friend. Yeah, that makes sense, best friend." she lets her eyes open a bit

She noticed Anna almost burst into the room, which gets her to let out a loose giggle "So we got someone who wants to show themselves too? Cute." A wide grin spreads across her face, she finds this strangely funny, perhaps a bit embarrassing for Anna. Seamus however, grabbed her attention like a large black bear on a sheet of ice. Despite his question, she keeps her silence, unwilling to repeat that story again. She gazes away, pretty stoked that she's with Terra next battle. Hopefully, she doesn't be stupid and tries to assault the big baddie head-on next time. She still has leftover faint phantom pain from that knife...

However, upon hearing Anna speak again, Kxeyun perks up and the hologram brightens a bit to make her more noticeable. The hologram walks over to Anna and she says "Really? Another Denver-Vegas defector? I'm Kxeyun, Kxeyun Amarati. I pilot Sahaquiel. Currently, I'm in the medbay." A sheepish giggle escapes her lips as her hand reaches up and rubs her neck. "I sorta... Attacked Red-Star's biggest combatant head on, I almost won too... Anyways, yeah. I'm not sure if you know of Sahaquiel. She's very powerful up close, being a melee fighter of course, I just hope she's all fixed up for next fight... Even if I'm not totally ready, I'll still fight!" Seems like she's back to her cheery self.