[System]
Alias: Blitz

Position: eleventh grade (high school junior)

Abilities/powers: Electricity manipulation/generation - Shawn has the ability to control, direct, and create electricity from his body. He is essentially a living, rechargeable battery

Electromagnetic manipulation - a sub power to his electricity manipulation, Shawn has also started to learn how to control electromagnetic fields, using them and warping them to his aid. This is very much a lesser power to Shawn, and he can only use it to assist with his electricity manipulation.

Plasma Absorption- Shawn can absorb any form of plasma and take it into his body, storing it for later use. However, he can only hold so much before it starts to have negative effects on his body, warping his senses and even causing body spasms. The level of plasma he is holding can usually be discovered through his eyes.

electrical immunity- due to his abilities, Shawn does not feel pain from electricity, nor to outside electrical forces have any effect on his body, unless it is an inhuman amount and something not even he can contain.

Sex: Male

Age/Date of Birth: 16 - May 7th, 1983

General appearance:

Shawn stands at five feet, eight inches, Not as tall as his titan of a mother, but he is already taller than his father. Though he has a rather lithe build, he's strong enough to tackle most problems with his body, though he prefers to use his powers over brute force.

Additional Appearance/costume:

More of a prototype than anything, Shawn rigged up his own suit with the assistance of those in the school. The faceplate beneath the visor of the motorcycle helmet has small nodes on the inside to interact with Shawn's powers, allowing him to change the colors of the mask at will. The entire suit is lined in a similar way, the crevasses glowing with the activation of his powers, much like the suits from the movie TRON.

Personality:  Though a self proclaimed 'chiller', Shawn is at the point in his life where he is so stressed out that it has made him numb and even. He swears that he's listening, especially when his head is propped up with his arm and there's a trail of droll leaking from his mouth. He does try, though. He is a bit of a perfectionist in the few things he can actually focus on, but otherwise airy to the world around him. He is the worst combination of "driven to take on the world" and "could not get off the couch for unlimited money". He likes to talk, mindless chatter and banter during fights, but mostly just whispering conversations and thoughts to himself, slinging thoughts and ideas around from him to himself.

Special Skills: Escrima Stick proficiency, Tonfa proficiency, moderate athleticism, moderate wiring skills.

Place of birth: Massachusetts, USA

Weapon(s) of choice: Shawn... borrowed, two old police batons to work with his powers, juicing them up with delicious electricty to pack an extra punch.

Medical information: Fit as a fiddle.

Brief History:Born to a hearty Irish mother and immigrant father, Shawn was raised in a house of mixed cultures was was spectacularly odd. Both of his parents were mutants, his mutations being an amalgamation of theirs. When his powers came, his family welcomed them with open arms, and the town was curious, but not negative of his abilities. However, his parents could only teach him so much. He was sent off to the Xavier school to further hone his powers and help those in need.

Relatives: (Any living, dead, or important relatives your character may have)

Name: Doctor Booker "Blake" Smith, PhD

Alias: Lightsmith

Position: Student Councilor, Therapist, Substitute Teacher

Abilities/powers: Light Manipulation, "Hard Light Constructs" - Blake has the ability to channel "Mana" and create solid structures out of light. The strength of the constructs depends on how much mana he makes it out of, and is also dependent on his physical energy. His constructs can shatter if he is not strong enough, and he can make them move and morph at will.

Sex: Male

Age/Date of Birth: 36 years old, 2/5/1963

General appearance:

Additional Appearance/costume:

Personality:Lax and Easygoing, Blake was a part of one of Professor Xavier's first classes after the Apocolypse incident, and only left the institute to get his degree in psychology. He returned to the institute to help Charles and stand in for any of the big X-men and women when they could not teach their own classes. Not exactly a hippy or a guru, but he does sometimes drift into those categories.

Special Skills: Doctorate in Psychology, pistol training, combat training.

Place of birth: California

Weapon(s) of choice: His constructs, namely. He has an emergency pistol that he can pour mana into and fire light, but hardly uses it.

Medical information: (Any medical conditions your character may have, not a necessity)

Brief History:

Relatives: (Any living, dead, or important relatives your character may have)

[User]
Chrys flinches as Cable touches him. He could feel the many timelines the man has touched, all the scars of multiple breaches through reality he took. Part of him wanted to recoil away from the touch. But one part pushed for the slight chance of doing something big. He latched onto the feeling and focused himself. The grey field around him bubbled and the pressure intensified. He knew what he needed to do, but he wasn't sure he was strong enough to pull it off.

'I have to remove time and anchor them into subspace...' Thinking quickly he put together a plan and acted on it. By now, it was as if unbearable weight was on everyone but Chrys, as his field took up every last bit of air around them and condensed it, pressurizing the area. Chrys holds out a hand and focuses on the box in his mind. 'Here goes...' He takes a dewp breath and releases it. "Anchor and Shift..."

The field pops, taking everyone but Chrys out of the area and into a dark unseeable void where pressurized pockets of air surrounds everyone. Moments later a man steps out. It's Chrys... But it looks like he's aged several years with his features sharpening and he's grown a short patchy beard. "Well now I know what the Cost is then..." His voice is noticeably deeper. "That and I think I gave myself an aneurysm. You guys have your chat and whatever... I'm gonna drift here for a bit..."

He let himself fall back. If one could do such a thing in an endless void. He had several revelations about himself now, and was beginning to understand what was going on with his powers. His Cost was his own life, something that while seemed bad, withlut using his powers and living healty, he'd practically be immortal, since time only affect him slowly. However he jumped to where he should be now, since he'd removed his own field to transport the others into his subspace domain along with more than enough air to keep them alive. The air part was tricky, as too much could cause them damage and too litlle would kill them. But by doing all of that caused time to catch up to him, an eighteen year old. He felt much better, albiet the blood currently leaking from him in copious amounts, but he'd done something amazing.... And he'd never forget this.

[Assistant]
Bonny did not get involved in all of the punching and fighting. While the rest seemed rather skilled at fighting and dispatching enemies, Bonny… well, was not. When guards were visible down the hall, she intentionally hung back and let someone else engage in combat, trying not to look at all. It was kind of odd, being the only one without some form of combat skill, but in the end things worked out just fine.

 She poked her head into the room last, slipping inside once everything was in the clear. Only one person was in the room, and they looked pretty important. Booker acted quickly to prevent any backup being called (with a rather cool looking mutation to boot), and it was hardly any time before the target was immobilized and caught. Nice, things were going pretty smooth already. She heard Emma speak before feeling the telepath wrap her arms around her, and Bonny gave a simple nod in understanding before everything went black.

The world spun back into focus in an unknown amount of time, and for a second Bonny thought that she had woken up again. It took the wall closing up on its own to show that she was, in fact, dreaming- to her, it simply felt like she was observing the room from where she was. She chalked up her ability to see the events around her to Emmas telepathy, and left it at that.

 Although she couldn't chime into the conversation at that point, she listened to the best of her ability. Up until Cable mentioned "When this man dies". Bonny looked around the dreamscape she was in, trying to find Emma before just giving up and speaking to the air. Maybe she'd hear her. "Uh, did I hear that right? 'When this man dies'? I thought we were on a 'no murder spree' here. Like, none." The worst they'd done was just beat up a few people, right…? They weren't- heck, she wasn't going to have blood on her hands from involvement.

[User]
Emma was silent in the face of Bonny's questions. Emma could no longer see the outside world, being stuck in a black void where air was scarce and Chrys had now aged himself by several years due to the use of his mutation. The plan didn't change though. The President's life was at the mercy of Laura, Cable, and Wade. They made their promise to not kill anyone, but Emma had done her research on Laura. Nothing was going to stop her mission to shift the course of time. Cable's mind was heavily guarded due to his own powers as a telepath, and Wade didn't exactly have a mind to read.

"Bonny." Emma reached out to the girl in the dream world, her words laced with worry. While Emma could no longer physically see, she could shift some of her focus to latch onto other minds, seeing what they saw in this void. "We don't get to decide his fate, we only influence those that do." She regretted making the students face this kind of reality, but the possibility of someone dying was inescapable.

Shawn could see everything unfolding before his eyes. Being sucked into subspace, Chrys being aged up, and all of the little details in between. His eyes were on Laura and the President. She was ready to kill him, and Cable made no effort to try and keep her from her thoughts.

He knew what was going to happen. They all knew just what was going to happen. Nothing was more certain in the space with the three people who traveled back in time a hundred times over. They were here for a result, but Shawn stood by his words from back at the Mansion.

Laura extended her claws in front of the older man's face, her face dead of emotion. Her goal was finally about to be achieved. All of her time and effort to ensure the safety of one man along with a million others.

"No!" Shawn shouted accidentally into Heidi's ear. Heidi was important to him, but nothing mattered more right now than making sure no one died. He shoved Heidi aside to propel himself forward, and floated steadily to Laura. "You can't kill him!" He shouted again, trying his hardest to swim himself over to her.

Laura's anger flared. Her claws became fully extended as she barked back at the boy. "I am killing one man to save a million! This man will hunt down mutants after he keeps your children from having mutations!"

"If you kill him, you're going to make a martyr, and even more lives are going to suffer because of it!" He wasn't even sure if that was true, but he had a good idea that it would happen, and he was going to do everything to convince this man to stop his evil work.

Shawn, as much as Laura didn't want to admit it, had a point. It wasn't going to stop her, though. Her left hand held tight on the man's collar, bringing him close to her. They couldn't have it both ways. This man would never change, but in the event that people did discover that mutants were behind his assassination, every single anti-mutant being and organization on the planet would band together to commit mass genocide. Even if for a moment, her grip on the man's collar loosened.

But none of that mattered.

Wade, amidst the waiting for a decision to be made, had been thinking. There was no way he could save himself. That was impossible without making a paradox. However, there was someone that he could save. If Transigen stopped here, they couldn't reboot the weapon X program. Without that, Francis wouldn't have killed Wade Wilson and birthed Deadpool. Francis wouldn't be killed, putting Angel Dust on a warpath...

His steel sword had been unsheathed, and stuck between Laura's claws. Using what leverage he had, he moved her claws away from the old man's face and closer to her own. In her surprise, she dropped the president, and he was let loose to float slowly through their pocket in subspace.

Laura tried her damndest to get Wade off of her, but he latched on to her with unrelenting strength, making sure that her wild and rapid movements wouldn't make things weird.

"You kill him, and Purity first is gonna be on Logan's ass so fast that it'll make your head spin. You think you're doing good by relieving this man from life, but you'll be killing all of us faster if you do. Vanessa, Scott, Jean, even Charlie's gonna kick the bucket if people start a mutant hunt. Summers over there won't even be alive to make you breakfast since a mister someone won't have any DNA to make his clone of a mom." Wade whispered not so loudly into Laura's ear as she struggled to get free of him. After hearing him, she mad more to think about.

It took some time, but she stopped wrestling against Wade, having made her decision.

"Nathan." Laura said lowly. "How is your telepathy now that were outside space and time?"

Nathan shook his head. "It doesn't change anything. Emma is going to have to do it."

Cable shuffled over to Bonny and Emma, who were still occupied in Bonny's mind. He knew that Emma could still feel their presence, so he spoke out in his mind, drawing her back into her own body. She had been given silent instructions, and allowed Bonny to float into Cable's giant, chiseled, cyborg arms.

Her eyes were only open for a moment before she entered another mind.

While all of this was happening, Shawn was wide-eyed and breathless. He just nearly witnessed murder. With his mind a little clearer, yet still moving a mile a minute, his eyes darted the black void to look for Heidi. He looked at her for several moments, finding something within her to ground himself with. With a shake breath, and even shakier sigh, and a slow nod of the head, he knew that they had just saved not only this man's life, but also many, many others.

"Chrys." Emma spoke both physically and mentally. "Please bring us back to the physical world. There's no way for us to not fight our way out, but our X-pendibles are more than capable of non-lethal combat." It was more of a jab at the time travelers than anything else, but it was also her way of reassuring everyone that no one had to die today.


[System]
Species : Elf
Gender : Female
Age : 54
Height : 175

Jazdia is a tall elven woman with a pale complexion, blue eyes, and long, waist-length platinum blonde hair that she often let untied. Elves are all born beautiful and Jazdia was no exception. Her attractiveness is often described as an eternal winter barely touched by the sun's embrace. But that's just another way for the gentlemen to adore her face that seemed to always sport a perpetual frown. At least that's original.

Former leader of a peacekeeping organization, Jazdia understands it would be in her best interest to omit such details from her MO. Not that she is a wanted criminal or anything; she ended her tenure on a relatively high note actually. The thing about working as law enforcement is you will have no shortage of old enemies who would persistently try to even the scales with you even after retirement, and Jazdia does not wish to be tangled with such... nuisances.

So now, she is just Jazdia. An adventurer, restaurateur, and tea connoisseur. Yeah, just put that in her business card.

Traits and spells:

-Blood Phobia (passive)
Taking damage would result in lower combat efficiency. Jazdia will start sweating, having a shaky aim and blurred vision. At a certain threshold, her Ultravision cannot be activated.
-Curse of the crimson flame (passive)
Resting near any fire or under the sun would slowly regenerate her power and heal her wounds. However, any healing magic cast on her would instead deal damage.

-Arrow Enchantment.
Channels magic into her arrow. Can only use one type of arrow in a single turn. Has three flavors:
A. Crystal Arrows.
Glorified fireworks with an equally destructive explosion contained inside. Can be programmed to either explode upon impact, delayed, or remote detonation.
B. Crystal Arrows
Non Explosive variants, but hot as hell it pierces through plates and mails like a hot knife through butter. Armor Piercing, nuff said.

-Counter
Any close-range attack will be answered with heavy retribution. Figuratively speaking, sometimes this extended to the non-combat situation. Proceed with caution.

-Ultravision
Channeling magic to enhance her vision, Jazdia can see pass through solid objects and magical manipulation such as illusion and darkness. Imposes varying degrees of strain on her body depending on the area covered and elapsed duration. Prolonged abuse of this skill might result in myopia and gradual blindness.

-Vengeance
At this point, taking heavy damage would no longer weaken her. Now she is faster and deadlier and angrier. The third flavor of her enchanted arrows unlocked:
C. Poison arrows. Deals heavy damage over time. The enemy killed by this arrow will have their body burst into a swarm of black lepidopteran that attacks nearby hostiles until either they or the caster died, or the effect expires. At the end of its fleeting lifespan, the insect will return to the caster and heals her wounds. Has 3 days of cooldown.

Equipment
-Lurea
A recurve black bow adorned with gold and silver linings on its limbs. Has an absurdly light draw weight of 44 pounds.
-Maugrim
A long knife with ivory handle and elven runes inscribed on its blade.
-Medium-sized satchel bag
A plain-looking bag that doesn't seem too out of fashion despite being designed with function in mind.
-Pocket watch
A momento from her father. Well maintained and functioning properly.
-Medikit
Generic first aid kit.

[User]
The elf's punched was enough to turned his head to the side and almost lost his balance as he kept stepping backwards. It gripped the katana and executed an instant stroke onto the elf. As the kitsune made a full power charm, the katana stopped right on the elf neck. A demonic growl can be heard. One of his hand let go the handle of the katana and it reached the conceal part on his back. Revealing a tanto and rose it up. He quick stabbed his own arm that handling a katana.

The body knelt down on the front of the elf, disarmed as it gentle landed to the ground. "Tch..." he produced a small demonic tone. He released the tanto on his arm and bleed. Chounan snapped out, his pupil eyes came back to normal and started a heavy breathing and sweating.

"G-Gomen nasai..."

[Assistant] -snip-

[User]
Henri left the constabulary office of the Delving estate, with the crates of aged liquor in tow. He HAD intended to sell them for a tidy profit, but the lack of leads on where to meet his associates had left him with a different use for the aged liquor products.

Starting a circular path from the city's edge, around its perimeter, then moving inward on each pass, he would eventually cover the entire city. If somebody was foolish enough to try and jump him for his cargo, they would certainly regret it, and most likely, not live to tell about it. Thankfully, this proved to not be the case.

The plan was simple-- Ask about the one thing he knew about with certainty. A young elf woman with blue eyes, and prematurely graying blonde hair, who was a retired adventurer, and was connected with the events at the mausoleum earlier that day, going by the name of "Jazdia." Public houses were a likely good place to dig for such a lead, as drunken men were often quite eager to part with what they knew-- or thought they knew-- in exchange for yet another round. In the cases where the patrons were probably not suitable to ask, the proprietor of the establishment could likely be 'convinced' to part with what they knew for the right price. Given the extreme age of the liquor he was hauling-- and thus worth a small fortune for each bottle-- such persons would likely talk once they saw the contents.

Nearly every place he went to either had no useful leads, incoherent or inconsistent information, or knew nothing at all, much to his frustration. The sun was very red and low in the sky by the time he sauntered into sight of the Black Swan-- a mixed class 'dive', from what he could tell-- and showing signs of many drunken brawls, openly displayed gambling, and even more shameless displays of public drunkenness. He initially just milled about within the establishment, tuning his hearing for any and all of the latest gossip. Apparently, 3 men were enraged about a 'rat of a nobleman' who had cheated them at cards. Others were furtively questioning if the perp had gone off with the part owner of The Angel's Share, and some even questioned if she had been involved in the disturbance at the royal mausoleum later that day. Rather than risk causing a brawl over high priced liquor, he had taken the time to unbox a single bottle of the fine "Delving Family" whiskey, and secreted it in the deep inner pocket of his coat before entering. After a 'discrete' conversation and exchange with the owner, he finally got a solid lead on where Jazdia might be. A rather posh and prim little flophouse near the city's central square, called "The Angel's Share." Apparently, she was an "Angel Investor", who had bought into the nearly insolvent business, and had started enacting changes that were not very welcome at the Swan, as it had started drawing away some of the Swan's customers. Henri thanked the man, and exchanged him the agreed to bottle of prize liquor as payment, then headed out into the street, to make for the city's center. He remembered thinking that he had recognized her, since he owned property in that neighborhood, and he kicked himself for not acting on the hunch sooner.

The sun had already set by the time he left the Swan, but he hoped that perhaps he could catch up to the other team there, if they had stayed for the night. If she was a partial owner of the establishment, it would make sense for her to board her crew there, and avoid paying and having room ledger paperwork that could be confiscated and investigated by corrupt officials.

He had made it about halfway down the nearest avenue leading toward the square, when a loud explosion rocked the streets, followed by furtive cries and screaming. Ducking into an alleyway, and temporarily hiding his burdens there, he carefully climbed up the wall and onto the nearest building to get a good view of the city's rooftops. Fire could be seen clearly in the gloom of the skyline at night, and shortly thereafter, another explosion, and finger of orange glare popped up quite some distance away... Then a third.

This was a highly irregular series of events, and with the city locked down, the odds of it being somehow connected with the abduction of the prince and the failed assassination of King Frederick, seemed more than just "highly probable." Sliding down the wall with a loud scraping, and landing with a cross between a thud and a clang, he threw his coat over the hidden chests to hide them further, then skated as quickly as he could to the site of the nearest explosion.

The city guard was all over it like flies on a dead horse, as were the fire brigade, and several angry but well dressed men with stern, stony, and scowling faces. They had gathered at the demarcation line set by the guard commanders and the fire brigades to keep townsfolk and gawkers out of the scene, while the buildings were extinguished and investigated. Henri made discrete inquiries with the guards about the attacks, who owned the warehouse, and what was stored there.

He discretely left the scene of the first warehouse, then once more hightailed it to the next-- repeating his discrete investigatory inquiries, then moved on to the third.

Nothing seemed to indicate a real motive, but a pattern in ownership did present itself. All of the warehouses belonged to a group known locally as "The Black Serpent Guild". They apparently dealt with just about any and all classes of merchandise, in addition to a number of shady and ethically dubious services, but sufficiently 'above board' to be able to operate in the open. The cause of the explosions were believed to be foul play, as none of the warehouses really contained explosive materials that could spontaneously detonate, but many did contain flammable trade goods, such as wax, bottled oil, and bundled fabric yardgoods. No evidence of how the warehouses were bombed was readily apparent to the initial investigators however. Whoever was responsible, had chosen a very discrete method, but the police lieutenant believed there was magic involved, due to the lack of material evidence.

It was well into the earliest hours of the morning by this time, and he was furious that he had essentially wasted hours of precious time chasing after a particularly elusive goose. He returned to the alleyway where he had hidden the cache of old booze, recollected his coat, then headed for The Angel's Share.

It was well into the morning by the time he arrived. While the owner, A gentleman named "Lucas" with more pomp and posh than a man should ever display in public without a license, acknowledged that Jazdia was a partial owner, and had roomed guests for the night, he had no knowledge of where she had gone. Only that she had done so with some degree of practiced expediency, and was expected to return. Henri was pleased that at least she would return here later, and asked the man if he could secure the old, moss-eaten trunks he was carrying. The man initially behaved as if Henri were a deranged beggar man with such a request, but quickly changed his tune after learning of the trunk's contents, and examining them himself. He staunchly refused to hold the merchandise, asserting he would not be responsible for holding stolen goods. Irritably, Henri left the establishment, and secreted the trunks at his own private residence nearby.

Shoppers, merchants, haulers and tradesmen had already taken to the streets and stalls long before, so he took the time to ask about the most conspicuous among them-- the disgustingly overdressed foreign warrior, "Chounan." With smiles and generally pointed fingers, the booth and stall merchants pointed him down the road his quarry had taken, and he moved with haste and purpose.

It did not take too much more time, before he came within earshot of yelling, screaming, and the clashing of weapons. Pausing for a moment, he was SURE he recognized some of the voices.

Gathering up the front of his jacket, he skated as fast as was realistically possible over the uneven cobblestones of the street, and toward the source of the disturbance...

[Assistant]
Jazdia shook her head in disgust as the samurai knelt before her. It was too late, and an apology could only do so little. Pathetic, she muttered, her blade was glowing brightly in response to Chonan's dishonorable attack, but she then decided, instead of ending this Samurai's life, she would rather save someone's life.

The metal door toppled sideways after Jazdia slashed its hinges down. Seeing the glowing blade severing iron with fiery sparks, the slaves were horrified, confusion filled the room, some raised their hands in defense, and a few others cower at the corner, far away from the door and their executor's reach. Not in the mood to convince anybody, she hissed. "Leave!" and that was the only word she could afford to say.

Near the exit, there was another chamber, blocked by another metal door with many locks. The door had a barred window, and if one peeked inside, they would see a child in her early teens imprisoned in that chamber. Her ankle was shackled to a heavy iron ball, and she sat on a stone dais with legs outstretched.

Jazdia called, but the girl only tilted her head. She wore a ragged top tube and skirt with a distinctive pattern. She has curly brown hair and a beautiful face, blemished by dust but unscarred. A piece of cloth covered her eyes and she seemed to be heavily sedated. Jazdia could only imagine the unspeakable cruelty they put her through. Someone had to pay for this.

She tightened her grip and slashed everything that holds the door to its frame. Hinges, latches, chains and locks alike, but the door wouldn't budge. Only when Jazdia touched the metal slab to push it down she realized there was a sealing magic that held it shut, and it was linked to one person.
"Gerald, it must be him!"

Without mentioning Chonan, she stormed for the exit and breached its door, reluctantly leaving the girl to her fate. Angry and bitter, she partially acknowledged that her anger was unwarranted. These atrocities were a common occurrence anywhere around the world, and she had seen a lot. So why this one affected her so much?

"Miss Rosenving, this way."

Their exit was a tunnel that leads to a circular arena. From here, the yelling becomes louder, and in it, Gerald's voice could be heard. Or she thought. Why she was so angry?

Perhaps everything would be easier if she could find a way to justify... and atone.


[System]
Dimitri MegalosMinos

"They say I'm as strong as a bull, but I know I am much more.
— Dimitri

---

---
GENDER
Male

AGE
15 - 04/06

NATIONALITY
Greek

APPEARANCE
Height:Five Feet, Eight Inches
Weight:176bs
Fashion Sense:Simple farm clothes, very patchwork. Dimitri fixes his clothes himself and tried to wear them for as long as they'll hold together.
Distinguishing Features:His hair is almost always covering his eyes, but always seemed to be able to see despite this.

PERSONALITY
Strong will, soft heart, but not always the most witty or tactful. Dimitri is a very direct kind of person, and believes that people deserve to know the truth with a smile. He's outspoken and positive almost to a fault, but will always stand by his decisions no matter the cost.

HISTORY
Dimitri grew up in a small but comfortable farm in Greeze. He was taught by his mother and raised to work by his father. As a single child, he had all of the affection he could ever want from them, and worked hard to make sure that he earned it. The news of quirks was still young and fresh in everyone's minds when Dimitri developed his. His father didn't bear a quirk, but he inherited his from his mother. Growing horns, a tail, and being stronger than ten men before he could even multiply, his parents knew that it was a sign from the gods that Dimitri was blessed with this gift.
The farmork got much easier after his quirk developed, but there was never a shortage of things to do. The farm expanded, more could be done in less time, and their harvest was plentiful. But... they all knew that Dimitri's world was so much bigger than this.

The news came to him on his birthday. He would be leaving Greece to attend one of the new schools dedicated to teaching people with gifts, or Quirks like his own. Dimitri, though he knew he would miss his parents dearly, knew he could not pass up this offer to continue his life and make something of himself. He could put his gifts to use. He could even save people. Before the night was over, he was hard at work, trying to learn japanese so he wouldn't be too far behind his classmates.

The goodbye was just as tearful as the news about the school. Dimitri almost missed his flight. He would talk to his parents every night, send them pictures, write them letters. He promised he would do as much to not grow apart.

QUIRK
Short Quirk explanation: Minotaur - For all intents and purposes, Dimitri has the powers of the mighty minotaur. Enhances strength and durability, horns on his head, a prehensile tail, and even a unusually keen nose.

OTHERS
Put anything else you'd like in here, but be sure to include what is already listed.
Likes:Home, potatoes, carrots, gardening, soccer/football, working out
Dislikes: Bullies, cars, radishes, reality tv
Fears:The death of his parents, failure, spiders

[User]
Location: Quirk Demonstration site --> Campus Dormitory

No impact at all.. Daizos self worth plummeted another few inches at the realization that barely anybody had even reacted to his quirk. That said, he had been face down in the pavement when it activated and hadn't bothered to actually see if anyone had responded to it.
Nobody stepped on him though so that was as clear a sign as any he could hope for. If they could resist his awful quirk then all the better.

Not bothering to lift himself from the ground, his limbs felt like they weighed several tons, Daizo just laid where he was and listened to the announcements without enthusiasm or interest. Trapped in his own quirks incredible negativity he just wanted to fade away to nothingness, to find true oblivion and be free of the guilt bombarding his psyche.

Finally dragging himself up, the tour starting, Daizo held stubbs in both hands close to his chest and shuffled along with the group through the area before retiring to his dorm room with whatever haste he could, talking to nobody as the quiet march ended in a brightly lit room.
There on the floor was everything his mother had sent.
Having taken precious little, his parents had been quick to send off something extra besides clothes. Blackout curtains!

Daizo put stunns down on the right side desk and got to work. Standing on the chair, he plucked the lightbulb from the ceiling and promptly tossed it out the window, then set to work screwing in a hook on either side of the window before laying the thick curtain across the entire length to turn the entire room into a pitch black abyss. Not a shred of light got through the heavy black sheets, in time there would be another such curtain walling off his side of the room for now but until then it would have to be open space.
Sliding open the curtain just long enough to plug in the lamp he had brought, one for his desk and another stronger one for his roommate, the curtain was pulled back and the lamps turned on.

Not particularly powerful, they illuminated the desks with a sombre stream of concentrated light but left the rest of the room in near pitch black, throwing shadows high into the ceiling that had seemes to vanish.
It was just like home!

Putting stubbs, his beautiful and only friend, behind the thick curtains and im the sunlight, Daizo proceeded to kick off his shoes below the bed and lay facedown in the pillow surrounded by comforting nothingness.

[Assistant]
---

Haruki was super impressed.

Everyone else's quirks were so cool! He thought his quirk was cool, but it was almost disappointing when compared to the rest of them. He'd sort of downplayed everyone else's quirks out of irritation at being interrupted, but now he realized just how outclassed he was, and he couldn't be more excited. The thought of competing with all of these others while being at such a disadvantage, helping them achieve their potentials, it was so cool!

He was especially shocked by the girl who seemed to be nothing more than a mass of goo. Wow! He'd never seen anything even close to that, what the heck kinda quirks did they have here at UA?

Haruki watched in awe, as the principal introduced himself. He'd never seen anyone so powerful in his life, and he'd get to be taught by this guy? Wow! Haruki just kept getting more and more shocked with every reveal! It was like he was living in a movie! Haruki wanted to ask him so many questions, but he held his tongue and waited, no matter how much it sucked to do so. When they were done there, he bounced over to the teacher with their keys, and pumped his fists up and down as he waited. He was going to get a room, and a roommate! Katsuro! That guy who could light himself on fire! That was awesome! They were gonna be best friends, they were gonna conquer the world!

He was about to go over to introduce himself to Katsuro, but then he was interrupted by the security chief. Haruki immediately became concerned, there were so many rules all of a sudden. Haruki was willing to follow rules, but these were so over the top. Jeez, Haruki didn't know how okay he was with this, but he had to do this if he wanted to be a hero, no matter how strict the rules were. He shook himself and slapped his cheeks. Be happy, be excited, don't be worried, worrying is useless. Okay, rules schmules, he was gonna be a hero! Himura Haruki: best hero in the world!

Haruki retrieved his key and darted off to his room, where Katsuro was already setting up. Haruki went to go in, then realized he'd forgotten his suitcase in the car! Oh no! All his stuff! He turned to walk away, only for the security guy to shove it into his arms.

"You forgot this, your parents handed it in at the security checkpoint."

Haruki looked up with wide eyes.

"Aw man! I'm such a screw up, thanks sensei!" he replied quickly, turning to go back into the room.

"Sure..." he heard the man say behind him in a voice that seemed both confused and amused.

"Hi Ryuujin-san!" Haruki yelled out as he waddled his suitcase into his room. He pulled out a whole bunch of black clothes and stuffed them in a closet, then a laptop, which he put on one of the provided tables. Then he pulled out a black blanket which he laid over his bed, a bunch of paintings that he himself had made when he was younger, all of which were kinda spooky looking, with deformed faces and dark imagery, and stuck them up on the wall. He put out a small mat, meant for karate practice, and finally a speedbag, which he hung from the roof right next to his bed. "Done!" he yelled out with a wide smile. It felt just like home already.

[User]
Suihara, Mizura

The first thing that passed through Mizura's head when witnessing Konomi's Quirk was she would never have to worry about getting fat. Otherwise, she could only imagine the myriad possibilities of being able to split into two, regardless of the reduced capacity of the clones. She was going to call her "Double Team".

The incredibly hyperactive Haruki could apparently come inside anyone he wanted, presumably at any time too. It was an interesting idea…but also highly disturbing, in more ways than one. This one she would call "Jumpy".

Perhaps the most disturbing of all had to be Lacara, if only because of the thought of sudden impending death if she got worked up without Spacenaut around to deploy a shield. Though Mizura would simply raise an eyebrow as the lava spewed forth, she was more concerned than her face let on. It was a very devastating power, but not one she wanted being used anywhere near her. She would be "Hot Bod". It was basically handed to her by her Quirk name.

Seo sounded like he didn't want to be here, which begged the question; why was he? He probably had some reasons, none of which mattered to Mizura. The blood manipulation was mildly interesting, but it seemed like such a double edged sword. He could be "Bleeder". Not terribly inventive, but in his own words, WhoTheFuckEvenCares?

Nadeshiko certainly had versatility, but without knowing the nature of the substance that made up her body, it was hard to tell how effective she could be in other situations. She was going to call her "Gummy".

The shrimp girl, Hyouka, was almost as energetic and zany as Haruki, but was, of course, a shrimp. A shrimp with great strength, that was. She would call her "Pinchy".

 Himori was, in a way, similar to Nadeshiko, if only in the ability to manipulate their body. As Mori-sensei demonstrated, it appeared there was some strength behind their grip. She wasn't so sure how she would stand up to someone with a knife, however. Mizura was going to call her "Silky". She really was running out of good inspiration at this point.

Nyoko was a hard one to come up with anything for. Her Quirk was fairly banal and didn't even have a name. It was bound to be effective, but it wasn't something she could get excited about. Lacking inspiration already, a nickname for Nyoko would have to be shelved for now.

The next demonstration was annoying. Deeply annoying, which may have been the whole point of it. This son of a bitch Daizo's Quirk was supposed to give people depression, apparently. What kindof cruel, miserable universe would invent something so disgustingly petulant? Mizura had a mind to suffocate the worthless reject right her and now so he would never get the chance to do that again.

Then she snapped out of it, and made a note not to get anywhere near him ever again.

Perhaps it was the residual effect of the last demonstration talking, but Mizura had a hard time getting excited by Dimitri either. He was strong like an ox. Good for him. She had a feeling nicknames about him being a bull would be almost offensive so she decided against it.

Apparently Marius' Quirk was to be a psychotic and dangerous Werewolf. Great. More huge threats among their own student body, just waiting for a bad day to make someone regret setting up this school. As if she didn't have enough to worry about.

As wild and unusual as Yaseishi's Quirk was, it certainly seemed useful. At least it didn't come with the possibility of them going nuts and eviscerating someone, which was an improvement. She would call them "Chimera", given the hodgepodge of different elements their Quirk seemed to encompass.

That was finally everyone. For some reason, Mizura felt a bit tired just thinking about them all. At least they finally got to move on. They met the principal, talked about a bunch of weird things like sex in the dorms, and then were released from their duty to listen. Mizura decided she was just going to go to her room and sit down with a nice bottle of water. Whoever was to be her roommate could either meet her there or give her a moment of solitude.

[Assistant]
The quirk demonstrations didn't end with him. There were a few more who had yet to show off what they could do before they would be moving on to the next part of the day. Another man from a myth, a Werewolf, and one more who seemed to be able to transform. There seemed to be no end of enthusiasm from the teachers, a level which would increase tenfold with the sudden appearance of the principal of the school, Todoroki Ishin. He was mighty and powerful with his quirk, and the flame in his heart almost seemed to burn brighter than he ones he produced.

Spacenaut had asked them all to line up in an orderly fashion to get their dorm keys. Dimitri knew for a fact that they would be living in dorms, simply a safety precaution because of protesters and the hostility over quirks, but he couldn't remember if he was going to living in his own room or not. Well, he packed light. He wasn't going to get in anyone's way with his things.

The excitement didn't end there. With a chilling wave washing over him, Dimitri flicked his gaze to Death Glare, the security officer and tutor of the school. The ground rules for the school were rather simple. Be back by nine, don't leave the city, guests must be checked in, and overnight guests are strictly prohibited. Dimitri didn't see any of the rules conflicting with him, and stayed quiet as Todoroki gave them a brief tour around the school.

Their tour, if one could even call it that, was simply a walk to the dorms where they would all be living for the next year, and hopefully the next four years. Dimitri's key was labeled for room Two.

With his door unlocked and opened, Dimitri flicked on the light to get a look at his new living quarters. Three beds. He would make due. Still, he wondered who he would be sharing the room with. It wasn't that loud guy with the fire based quirk. Dimitri had seen him walk into the first room in the hall, so there was no need to wonder if he would be bunking with him.


[System]
ABSTRACT: The Scientist

DETAIL: Simply referred to as 'The Scientist by the other citizens of Pallhallow, Harvey rolled into town one sunny morning 12 years ago, purchasing a large home and transforming it into a laboratory. Harvey has lived alone all this time, but occasionally a young curious woman will visit his home to find out about the man behind the mystery. However solitary he might, Harvey has offered his assistance on more than one occasion to the Police Department as a forensics analysts, helping solve a few cases. But he always returns home to work on unknown experiments that does only God knows what.

[User]
He needed a hit. Lau had to stop himself drumming his fingers against the coach door for the umpteenth time. Yeesh, it had been...two weeks? Too long by far, somewhere out there was an empty bed in an opium den that cried out his name but instead here he was attending some 'masquerade', which had sinfully boring written all over it. Anything to take his mind off things, Lau began drumming his fingers again.

The relief he felt when the coach finally rolled to a halt in front of the gates was almost palpable. One of his attendants leapt down acrobatically in colourful attire and made a great show of opening the door then bowing almost to the floor. Lau Feng sauntered out garbed in deep crimson coloured robes with gold inlay, his hair tied back in a ponytail that fell almost to his waist and he wore a scowl on his face which managed to mix both impetuousness and boredom.

Flashing his invitation to the androgynous doorman Lau slipped on his mask, an ornate dragon design, and watched as his coach rolled away. If nothing else it would be nice to have an evening away from his father's 'baby-sitters'.

Early? Was the though that struck Lau as he entered the extravagant if rather empty ballroom. He shrugged it off and made a beeline for the food and drink swiftly munching down a couple of prawns. After satisfying his hunger he then set to satisfying his curiosity.

"What you know about Lord Fowle?" Lau asked quite abruptly, his heavy accent showing as he wiped his hands on a napkin and turned to a man near him wearing a highway mask and ill-fitting clothes.

[Assistant]
Harvey walked down the street absentmindedly, fiddling with his apparel. It was very different from his usual attire. He wore a white dress shirt with a maroon vest that had black metallic buttons. A golden pocket watch chain hung from his vest pocket. His slacks were pin striped black with shined black shoes. A black tie and overcoat completed the outfit. His brown wild hair was combed back in a gentlemenly style and his face recently shaven. He would of been extremely attractive had it not been the lines in his face and hard stare. He pulled his gray trench coat tighter around him as a breeze chilled the slick English streets and a drizzle befell the city. He approached the Toadmere Estate and stared for a moment in awe at the size of it. The owner's assistant greeted him at the gate, a large man but pleasant enough it seemed. Harvey presented his invitation and took out his mask, a golden owl, and adorned it, effectively hiding his face save for the mouth and eyes. He nodded to the caretaker and made his way inside.

The ball music played eerily through the ballroom and Harvey found himself surprised to see the significant lack of people here. He immediately found this suspicious, Why would a reclusive lord invite so few people to a supposed masquerade. While they all wore masks, Harvey could tell the wealth of these people from the clothes they wore. Some people of obvious wealth, of course. But then a few who wore rather average or even poor attire, as if they were from the working class. What was this mysterious lord up to? The caretaker appeared as if out of nowhere to take his coat. "Thank you." he said, making his way deeper into the room. He spotted an older man with a top hat who still had his coat on. "Greetings." he approached, hands behind his back. "Some party this is, eh?"

[User]
This place was huge. And no, that wasn't a compliment.

 Jael liked to think her job had its ups and downs. Right now, she was in the middle of a big down. She was walking the perimeter of the rookery. She had done this before, many times actually during her two month stay. She was refreshing her memory on places to hide, how far the tree line was from the mansion, any faults in the fence around the estate, anything she could use. More importantly she was seeing if Lord Fowle had increased his security for the party. To her shock, he hadn't, leaving the house guard at a staggering one man.

 As stray rain drops pattered down on her leather hood, Jael let out a shiver. English weather was always bloody horrible, but when the good old fall temperatures started rolling in you could always count on a nice added chill to the bone. While things would be even more stressful inside she couldn't wait for the warmth the mansion offered.

 As she finished her patrol and came back around to the gate Jael noticed one of the party goers making his way up. She stood in the tree line until the man was inside, no need to try an explain why she was prowling in the woods.

 On the path to the house she began to adjust her black cloak and jacket, unwrinkle her leather gloves, shake her boot to try and jog loose that pebble that was lodged in it, and pat herself over to make sure none of her 'contraband' was in plain view. First appearances were everything. Make them think you're lazy or a slob and they'll never shake that feeling.

 She gave the warmest smile you'd ever see and handed her invitation to the servant. When he asked for her coat she gave a small shake of her head and said, "I'm still freezing from the rain and cold. But uh-" She took the cloak she had over top off and handed it over. "You can take this, I suppose.." She paused. "If that's okay.." She asked meekly. Always make them think you're harmless, small.

 While she was cold, the reality was she wasn't keen on handing over her coat filled with knives, poison, piano wire, and even more things she didn't care to get into.

 Man didn't seem to care all to much. So she smiled and walked in. Donning her mask, which really was just a ripped piece of fabric with some string on it and two eye holes.

 She was an assassin, not a seamstress!

 As she walked in Jael let out a small gasp in wonder.. Well she pretended to anyway, at this point in her job she had seen more ballrooms and fancy dining rooms than she cared to talk about. They had lost that whimsical effect after the first dozen or so.

 She didn't notice any sort of organization to the party. People were milling about, some talking to each other, some hopelessly trying to blend in with the walls, one man was getting piss drunk off wine already, and one lady was faffing about with the curtains. Right.

 More importantly she didn't notice anyone resembling the Lord Fowle. Granted the only picture she had seen of him was ten years old, she was doubtful of any of these people turning out to be him.

 Jael debated whether or not to question people to see if they had any new information. But she knew that the odds of that were slim. She had already questioned half the people in town under the guise of a census taker. All the stories were pretty much the same. The old man kept locked up and his servant came to town for food. Everyone had a different idea on why Fowle stayed in the rookery but Jael wasn't interested in speculation. Plus all the guesses were fairy tales at best and ignorant lies at worst.

What she really needed to do was snoop around the house before the party actually started. But she would need a distraction for her to slip by unnoticed.

So she decided to head to the banquet table and piss off the drunk guy.

[Assistant]
Max Fuchs

---

Max was regretting his decision to attend. He tugged at the polymer mask on his face.Childish tricks he thought. A hose tucked in his sleeve had 'conjured' the mask. It had taken Max ten hours to design and craft the thing from a weird polymer he had discovered in his travels. Of course he had always planned to attend the masquerade, it was just more fun to yell at his birds, but it was a dreadfully dull affair as of yet. Maybe he should antagonize the thief...Max began stepping towards the banquet table only to be approached by a studious looking gentleman.

"Some party this is eh?" said the man.

Don't I know him? thought Max, extending his hand in greeting. "Quite the party," said Max smiling behind his mask. He realized his gargoyle visage was smiling as well and this made the real Max smile even wider.

 "Max Fuchs. How do you do? Let's get a drink!"

[User]
"What you know about Lord Fowle?"

"Not a damn thing," Luca replies smoothly to the abruptly asked question, not even looking up as he pours his third glass of wine for the evening. Deciding that the mild buzzing in his brain was enough for now, he replaced the cork and settled the bottle among its many companions. Instead of just downing this glass like he had the previous two he sipped at it and made a small pleased sound.

"Anyway, isn't it polite to introduce yourself before asking questions of a body? Name's Luca, if you care to know." Taking another sip of wine, he turns to the man asking such questions, not surprised to find that it was a foreigner who had such a heavy accent. The same twisted smirk that had lit Luca's face when he first saw the wine was still fully in evidence. It only widened as he looked past the Asian man to note a raven-haired woman apparently approaching them.

"And hello to you as well, lovely lady. Might I interest you in a glass of wine?" Luca's greeting was accompanied by an attempt to gently take her hand and kiss the back of it. He was only really there to have a good time, after all, what event could truly be called fun without a beautiful woman?

[Assistant] Harvey smiled himself, something he had not done in a while. "Dr. Harvey Hudson, formerly of Oxford University." He joined the man at the table, taking a bottle of red wine and uncapping it, looking around the ballroom. "I find it quite odd that a Lord host a party with no servants but his peculiar grounds keeper." He grabbed two glasses, pouring one for him and Mr. Fuchs. Setting the bottle down, he offered the glass to the gentleman. His gargoyle mask was quite unnerving and it was no doubt a custom job. Harvey wondered if the man made it himself. Then it hit him. "You're that illusionist, aren't you?" he asked, sticking a hand in his pocket. Ever since he was a boy he was a fan of magic and fantasy and the like. Which had drawn him to science, so he could create his own magic and fantasy in a way. "Yes, I believe I've seen your posters around town. You're quite popular these days." Harvey took a sip of his wine, which he imagined was a strange image with his ornate golden owl mask on.

[User]
Max Fuchs

---

Max took the glass of wine offered him by the doctor and regarded it through the eye-holes of his mask.

"You're that illusionist, aren't you?" asked the Doctor.

Max nodded removing his mask. "And you must be the Doctor that lives in that enormous house on the hill. Well met sir. Any interesting discoveries lately? Experiments? I find science a close relative of illusion, two sides of a coin I dare say!" He imagined they might strike up a friendship at some point, Max's work was based on various sciences after all; although not the deep, hard science this man clearly practiced. Perhaps there is something I could learn from this man..

He took a long sip of his wine. It was good-a table blend. Mellow. Low-acid. Max surveyed the room idly chatting with the Doctor. Another woman approached the bar. She looks...out of place thought Max. "Do you know the Lord of Toadmere Doctor Hudson? I'm afraid I've never met the man myself. Rather mysterious."

[Assistant]
"And you must be the Doctor that lives in that enormous house on the hill. Well met sir. Any interesting discoveries lately? Experiments? I find science a close relative of illusion, two sides of a coin I dare say!"

Harvey was beginning to like this fellow. He leaned in close and looked around, saying quietly "Well, I do much research and I think I've found something that can be an interest to someone like you. You see, I recently did a study on light and how it interacts with interfaces around it. And I daresay, I've found a way to bend it to my will." He said proudly, an exciting light in his eyes. "I won't reveal all the details, but I'm working on a device that will manipulate the light to where you can appear invisible. Come to think of it, I believe many of my studies could prove useful to you. Perhaps I can give you a tour of the laboratory." He took another sip of the wine. While he enjoyed the pure discovery of science, Mr. Fuchs was very popular and the revenue from his shows could fund future experiments. He frowned a bit at his next question and shook his head. "Never met the man, honestly until today I thought of him as a bit of an urban legend."


[System]
Runan Isles Savior Corps

---

Established in the wake of Westwel's destruction, the Runan Isles Savior Corps is by no means the most impressive program on Illun, but it's well-funded and well-run by a few survivors of Westwel's own Corps.

Character Info

Name – Besca Darroh
Age – 35
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Originally from Westwel, Besca Darroh has been around Saviors her entire life. Her grandfather had helped fell the Modir who would become "Dragon," and her father had headed Westwel's burgeoning Savior program. She met dozens of pilots, watched as their connection to the Modir ate away at their minds and bodies. Other nations treated their pilots like a resource to be burned through, kept at arm's length in all but public affairs. Besca, however, went out of her way to engage with Westwel's pilots and even piloting candidates, caring after them with a degree of humanity which was, frankly, missing in the programs of other nations. Her methods were derided as frivolous and naïve by her peers, but the pilots appreciated it, which, to her, was all that mattered.

She lost many things in Westwel's fall; her home, her father, her friends, and no small piece of her faith in humanity, but ironically enough she didn't lose her job. When Runa took in her country's refugees, and subsequently acquired their first Savior, they came to the last living member of Westwel's program for help in founding their own.

Nowadays, Besca doesn't often involve herself in the politics of the program. Technically speaking she isn't even chief of operations—a position occupied by the Runan government—but rather, her duties revolve around "pilot maintenance." While she hasn't lost her desire to make life easier for the pilots, she isn't nearly as incorrigibly optimistic or sunny as she once was.

Character Info

Name – Dahlia St. Senn
Age – 18
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Dahlia was a toddler when her home was destroyed by the Modir, spirited away from Westwel in the arms of a family friend. She spent the first fourteen years of her life in the quiet, lakeside town of Hovvi. She was, like many children, absolutely enthralled by the Saviors, so when she tested positive and was whisked away into orbit, Dahlia thought her dream had come true. She missed her friends, and her adoptive father, but this was her opportunity to do something important. This was her chance to help.

She had no idea.

Runa's Savior, Dragon, had not been phased by a single pilot until Dahlia entered the cockpit. With its potential finally unleashed, she was able to end invasions within minutes—which was crucial, because she couldn't remain connected for much longer than that before the giant's neural regeneration reached critical levels.

Dahlia has become Runa's WMD, and as such, she actually doesn't pilot as much as she did before R.I.S.C. acquired its two other Saviors. Besca has become rather protective of her, not wanting to risk putting her in situations where she may be forced to over-exert herself, or risk being overtaken.

Character Info

Name – Hadrian Ghaust
Age – 38
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

Hadrian Ghaust is Helburke personified. He is strong, unrelenting, stoic to a chilling degree, and utterly devastating in the cockpit. Ghaust is also a veteran pilot, having commanded the Savior Marrowman in service of the Helburken crown for 20 years, and despite a phasing speed so slow that he rarely deigns to use his magic at all, he was well on his way to becoming one of his country's most accomplished pilots.

However, Ghaust's priority has always been the fight against the Modir, and Helburke's clamor for political power is something he viewed with silent disdain. To him, using Saviors to settle diplomatic disputes isn't just wasteful, it's shameful. So, when Helburke ordered him to bring Marrowman to bear against the newly-risen Runa's Dragon, he refused. When, then, he was given the ultimatum of going through with the duel or forfeiting his rank and position, he looked his general in the eye, ripped the pilot's medal from his collar, and left his home behind.

Overnight Ghaust was made a Pariah in Helburke, and his home turned against him. He was forced to leave, and though several foreign programs sought him out, Ghaust denied them all, even passing up a pilot's seat in Eusero. Instead, he went straight to the burgeoning program in Runa, who was more than happy to take him.

Character Info

Name – Safie Calhan
Age – 22
Affiliation – R.I.S.C.

R.I.S.C.'s newest pilot, Safie has spent the past year earning her place at Dahlia and Ghaust's sides. Born and raised in Runa's largest city, Queenshand, Safie was one of countless starry-eyed youths who dreamed of the day she'd get to step inside the cockpit of a Savior. A positive connection-test put her on the path, but it was the months upon months of personal training, rigorous study, and nights spent running sims until dawn that pulled her ahead of the other aspirants. With a phase potential speed just above average, she was a perfect fit between Runa's other two pilots.

While Dahlia has accrued something of a heroic mythos about her, she's often reclusive and hesitant to make many public appearances. Safie on the other hand loves to meet the people she's helping, be that with personal visits, answering fan-mail, or simply getting her hands dirty cleaning up after the messier invasions. Some see her approach as distinctly Euseran, but Safie didn't become a pilot for the attention, she became a pilot because it was the right thing to do.

Character Info

Name – Lucis Abroix
Age – 25
Affiliation – Casoban, on loan to the R.I.S.C.

Casoban's sole effort to save Westwel, while ultimately futile, planted the seeds of goodwill between it and Runa. Casoban has always lived in the influential shadows of Helburke and Eusero, but allied with Runa, the two manage a strong presence on the world stage.

As a show of solidarity, Casoban has even begun sending a Savior of its own as backup to Runa's invasions. Enter: Lucis Abroix.

Lucis is perhaps one of Casoban's most beloved pilots, despite having only a handful of deployments to his name. Handsome, personable, with a poetic flare and the voice of an angel, many people back home already consider him the face of Casoban's Savior program—a role he is more than happy to play. Lucis makes regular public appearances, seemingly never missing an opportunity to espouse his love for the beauty of the world, and his burning desire to protect it from the Modir.

[User]
Besca caught it early, like she'd glimpsed Quinn's mind the moment before she broke, and grabbed hold of her. She felt the tears on her shoulder, saw the looks of the few brass and the Board's dumbstruck representatives. They pulled out their phones, dialed with unmasked and quickly-growing panic. Part of her was glad—they were about to tell the Board exactly what she had tried to tell them before, that this was a mistake. Part of her wished she could stick around to hear the shrill screams from the speakers, too.

The rest of her wanted to get Quinn away.

"Come on, come on, let's go. I got you," she whispered, walking her hastily to the exit. They made it out just as the sobs started, and Quinn's jellied legs nearly brought them both to the dirt. Dahlia came to her other side, helped how she could.

"It's alright," she tried, but must have realized how shaky her voice was, and went quiet.

They got back into the pavilion and all eyes whirled on them. Besca let Dahlia guide Quinn to the small, sectioned-off bunks as Toussaint came running over.

"What the hell happened? Is she okay?"

"No she isn't okay!" Besca snapped. "She's fighting a deathmatch tomorrow, and she only drew her weapon for the first time last week!"

A look of shock came over Toussaint's face, and Besca found it absolutely enraging. "Don't you dare. This is your fault, Jaime."

"My fault?" he spat, incredulous. "You're the one who insisted RISC couldn't afford to pay restitutions for Magnifique! You're the one who told me to find another way to keep our countries from splitting!"

"Which I expected you could do without getting duped by your own people! Or do you think Casoban plans to pass up on Eusero after we get trounced here? I'd think you did this on purpose if I didn't know you were an idiot!"

Toussaint's face screwed up in fury, but Besca only stepped closer.

"I want you to send a message to your PM, Jaime. I want you to tell him that if he gets what he wants, and Casoban partners with Eusero, and RISC leaves here without Quinnlash Loughvein, that we're not allies anymore." She leaned down, so close she could feel his breath shallow. "I want you to ask him if this deal is worth every Savior you've got—because I promise you Dahlia isn't gonna be satisfied until she's mulched every last one of them. And neither will I."

---

---

Dahlia had squared Quinn, sitting with her on one of the bunks. She hugged the girl tightly, mind racing. She should have been like this—broken, sobbing, dreading the fact that she was about to lose Quinn to something so absurd.

But instead she was angry. Afraid, but also furious. Indignant. No, no she would not lose Quinn. She couldn't. Besca had been so adamant about the consequences of interfering but faced with the alternative, she was prepared to cut down every pilot and Savior on Illun if it meant keeping her sister safe.

"Shh," she whispered. "It's okay. Quinn. It's okay—I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Look at me," she gently nudged the girl's face up. "Whatever happens tomorrow, I'm not letting her kill you. I…I might have been too slow at Hovvi. I won't be this time."

[Assistant]
At length, Quinn's shuddering cries faded, and she released her deathgrip on Dahlia as she fell silent. Another minute or so passed. She remained still, unwilling to move. She felt...safe here. With her.

Then, still unmoving, "Dahlia..." Her voice was nearly inaudible; weak and weepy, it came out in a thin rasp. "...I ruined it, didn't I?" Of course she had. She'd lost control, said terrible things. She had been so angry. And so violent. Those thoughts, running through her head like a broken faucet, pure and potent as water. Fight. Fight. Kill. Kill. Kill. She didn't know which ones were Quinnlash's and which were her own, and it shook her to her core. Was that the kind of person she was, deep down? Violent and angry? What's wrong with me?

She shut her eyes tighter. Then, "Can I—"

The bunks were small, she'd seen them earlier, not to mention being on one right now. They were barely big enough for one person to lie on comfortably, realistically. And it felt absurd to even imagine asking it. Absurd. Stupid. Childish. But imagining herself lying there, in the dark, awake, alone—knowing what was about to come—agonizing over it—it was almost enough to draw a renewed flow of tears out of her. Instead she squeezed her sister tight again, clung to her, fighting desperately to keep the tears at bay.

"—can I sleep with you tonight?"

[User]
Dahlia didn't hesitate. "Of course," she said, nodding into Quinn's shoulder. "I'll stay right here all night. And tomorrow, I'll walk with you all the way to the Savior."

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either. She would stay with Quinn, she'd stay with her as long as she could, as close to the start of the duel as possible.

Then she was taking the elevator up to the Aerie, and she was getting into Dragon.

She couldn't tell that to Quinn, though. She couldn't tell it to anyone, not even Besca. Getting up there would an ordeal all on its own, as would talking her way into the cockpit. But she was determined now, and more with every passing second, that she was not going to let Roaki kill Quinn. She was not going to lose her sister.

"You didn't ruin anything," she said. "Someone was awful to you—that's not your fault. It isn't. Everything she said to you, you just ignore it. Ignore it, because it was all nonsense. None of that is gonna happen—not to me, not to you.

"I won't let it."

---

---

Sleep came much more quickly to Quinn than she might have expected, as if it had been waiting for her. As soon as she shut her eye, it came for her, wrapped her in its gentle embrace, and then she sank.

The boat was still.

When Quinn opened her eye, the sky was dark, and this time the lake reflected the moon and not the sun. Its image was imperfect—a crescent where the one above was full—but a step closer to real than before. The water, however, was still pitch black.

Distantly, on the forested shore, she could see the umbral form of her Savior sat down, with its legs mostly submerged in the water. Beside it, the white, skull-faced deer lay resting.

"How dare she," said Quinnlash, standing on the edge of the boat, peering angrily out at the water. There were no familiar shadows around. Tonight, it was just the two of them. "How dare she threaten us? Threaten our friends? A taker, Quinn, that's what she is. A mangy dog, and a taker.

Quinnlash turned to her. For the briefest instant her hair seemed brighter, almost as white as the deer's fur, but it must have been a trick of the moonlight, because in that same moment it was oaken again. She stared hard at Quinn, incensed—not at her, but incensed nonetheless.

"She doesn't get to hurt us. She doesn't get to kill us. And she does not get to say awful things about our family. Our real family," she spat. Her eyes softened, barely, and just for a moment. Then they were sharp as knives again. "She dies tomorrow, not us."


[System]
* Gender: Female
*
* Personality: Hibiki's greatest strength is her ability to reach out to anyone, even enemies, and to try and come to a mutual understanding without needing to fight. It doesn't matter who you are or what you've done, she's still going to make the offer and only come down to fighting if it absolutely has to be done. This goes well with her normal cheerful and enthusiastic disposition, one that has had her roommate compare her to the sun. On top of this, she approaches everything with maximum effort... quite loudly as well, even if it's as utterly mundane as a crane game--though not studying, which is definitely one of her greater flaws. Whilst her heart's unerringly in the right place and she's got the drive to do things... Hibiki isn't the smartest tool in the shed.
Despite appearances, Hibiki's attitude is far from unshakeable--being forced to fight people, especially those that seem to have the same goals, will cause her to hesitate, and her past can cause her to stop as much as it can help bridge the gap with enemies. Anything involving her roommate can get to her extremely easily, too.
* Brief History: Four years ago, Hibiki went to a Zwei Wing concert, one that was almost invaded by Noise after the first song. Had it been any other concert, everyone would have died. In this one, the singers were also the only Symphogear users--and thus able to fight back against the Noise. Unfortunately, this didn't help the outcome much at all, with the entire rest of the audience being killed and Hibiki only surviving because one of the singers gave her life for it. The public response to her survival wasn't exactly pleasant, but that would have been the end of it if not for the shard of Gungnir that buried itself in her chest--something that Hibiki would activate two years later to save a child.
The events that followed lead her to engage in a lot more violence than she ever would have wanted to, yet in the end have definitely turned out for the better, making her relationship with her closest friend even closer and numerous other friends to boot. Well, it also saved the world several times over from such diverse things as a blonde with a grudge against the moon and an alchemist with a really big hat. Since things began, she's lost the original shard buried in her chest, yet gotten a more complete Symphogear regardless, and the entire system has been upgraded a few times.
* Universe of Origin: Senki Zesshou Symphogear
* Equipment: Hibiki carries a piece of the relic Gungnir, turned into a Symphogear--essentially, a technomagical system powered by singing that was created to fight against entities known as the Noise, which have the ability to turn anything they touch into ash. Transformed, it vastly increases her physical capabilities, rendering her bulletproof and able to move in time to respond to being shot at--even by artillery, catching a tank shell in her hands. Normally, a Symphogear would allow the wielder to summon an Armed Gear--the weapon that went into creating it--but Hibiki is for some reason unable to do this. Instead, she simply uses Gungnir to enhance more physical moves. This ranges from the comparatively simple spring-aided punches and kicks, all the way up to rocket-propelled drill punches, pretty much compensating entirely for the lack of the spear, though without any special moves to show for it. It's implied that Hibiki's Armed Gear is actually her ability to hold hands; in practice, this allows her to co-ordinate and focus other people's power... even an enemy's, though this only works with Phonic Gain, so if you aren't powered by singing it's unlikely to matter.
On top of this, the whole thing is equipped with an IGNITE module--a piece of Dainsleif. When activated, it gives a boost in power inversely proportional to how long it can safely be used, at max release lasting a matter of seconds. If it was allowed to continue, the most likely outcome is for Dainsleif to drive her into being a berserk monstrosity. This is the less dangerous super mode that the Symphogear has: the other is called a Swan Song for a reason, even with an exceedingly high sync ratio, the user is going to get one attack... and then they're out of the fight in need of immediate medical attention. Bleeding from the eyes is probably the least of the issues with using that.
* Abilities: Aside from Gungnir, Hibiki has a wide and eclectic knowledge of martial arts... picked up from watching and emulating action movies of all things, which is hardly a normal or particularly cohesive way to learn to fight. It, however, seems to have worked out perfectly fine for her, and even without Gungnir she could punch far harder than any girl her age should be physically able to--though she still has nothing on her teacher's crazy level of ability.
* Other:

[User]
Menomaru

"You still don't get it?! How strong I am!"

He was however surprised she had been able to fend off his initial attack. Even moreso when she used her sword to cut through his moths. But they were more a distraction and an attempt to weaken the girl's visual senses. He did not ponder on it. He had leapt up into the air and came down but the girl had swiftly rolled out of the way.

She was fast. Faster than Inuyasha, whom was a half-demon. This girl however physically appeared to be just human. Yet her strength and speed told him otherwise. She were empowered by someone else if not that sword. There was just no way that a mere human could stand against him. A Daiyokai. A great demon. Who were over twohundred years old. His skills with the sword were that good that he seldom needed to use any other powers.

Yet this girl was causing him so much trouble. It irritated him.

He quickly pulled his blade back after his stab. His light blade was easily pulled back at quick speed. The girl in the knight armoring had however reached out to try to prevent him from pulling it back. Had he had wielded a heavier blade he would had been in real trouble.

Then when Menomaru was preparing to slash her arm off with his sword, the armored girl donned a intimidating looking helmet. An appearance that Menomaru had never seen before. Then she tried to headbutt him, a reckless or dangerous manuever according to some. Menomaru was however caught abit offguard by it.

Being an expert swordsman he never expected someone using their head in that way. Especially not after having seen the girl's actions. How they almost seemed to predict his movements in some strange way. He was hit in his chestplate, the horned pieces of the helmet would crack a piece of it and inflicting blunt damage to his chest from the impact alone. Sending him backwards gliding abit along the ground as he did. He grunted heavily.

He was baffled. How could she? He gritted his teeth and was about to lunge back into it when the odd looking magical things hovering around the knight began to shoot straight in his direction. At high speed. Menomaru jumped backwards abit further and into the air. The things followed him all coming from all manner of directions, he tried to place himself so most of them would come towards him head-on.

"You cannot defeat me! I am invincible."

He turned himself into some form of pink particles, like those moths were shredding. Any remaining moths would form up and regroup in his direction as he made his way towards Andersen. Having the magical projectiles fly past him, through or stalk him depending on how the spells actually worked, but he was not physical in form anymore, the large pink beam had hit him straight on aswell but to no avail. How could it try to affect something which had no body to render paralyzed or immobilize. Menomaru would try to envelop Andersen in the particles and drag him with him up into the air. Effectively trying to kidnap him and thus possibly preventing the others from attacking.

Menomaru would not underestimate them again. These humans were clearly empowered beyond what some would call normal.

How was this possible?

If he could take the young boy he could use him as bait to lure the rest to his area of chosing. Perhaps to a place where the knight could not interfere. High on top of one of these oddly shaped buildings.

@VitaVitaAR
@Raineh Daze

[Assistant]
— Imperial Warren —

Ben stood up and brushed the ashes off of his pants. He cracked his fingers and paused in thought.

"So what you're saying is that you're a liability and I should leave you here. If I let you go there's a chance you could tell the people who guard this city about me. You would think that my choice would be an easy one. If you aren't from here either then I doubt anyone would miss you for a while."

He took twelve evenly spaced paces, turned on his heel and returned to where he started. Ben reached into a pocket of his robe and started to sort through the contents. After a moment he held out a small acorn.

"But I don't dirty my own hands if I don't have to. With Oponns luck it won't come to that. There could be things here that you aren't prepared to deal with. I'll indebt myself to you, one favour. Crush this underfoot and I will be able to find you."

With his free hand he gestured and opened a portal back to Tokyo.

— Rikers Island Prison, NYC —

It didn't take long for the prison to be entirely overrun with the guards having no control over any of the doors and the sharpshooters in the towers taken down. Flagg distributed the weapons to those that he found worthy, that he could see small parts of himself reflected in.

His army of convicts held the sole bridge connecting it to the mainland. Soon sirens could be heard converging from the city itself with police helicopters already in the air.

[User]
Mordred

"Hah!"

Mordred's uncomfortable, weighty helmet retracted just as swiftly as it had appeared, revealing her head once more. Her headbutt had been successful, she'd almost busted that bastard's chestplate wide open! She realized quickly enough, thankfully, that the magical girl was preparing her own attack and quickly moved back in time to see an enormous pink laser tear her way. Yeah, that sure was a magical girl's kind of magecraft. She knew that well enough from seeing Illya. Unfortunately, the beam hadn't hit home, instead the guy had turned into... some kind of pink mist or something? Damn it, that made him way hard to hit!

"Coward!" snapped the blonde-haired knight, glaring at the drifting pink particles. She just wanted to get in close and sink Clarent into his chest up to its hilt as soon as she could! Unfortunately, it seemed like the moth man had other plans, as he was making a beeline straight for... Andersen.

The bastard was going right for the weakest member of their group, the one who was just about totally useless in a close range fight. Or a long range fight. Really, fighting wasn't the Caster's area of expertise. He was better at supporting those around him. Not that Mordred would ever praise the sarcastic little son of a bitch for that.

But right now he was in the most danger. So Mordred did the first thing that came to mind.

That is, charging right at him with her shoulder tipped forward. He'd get knocked out of the way and she'd be right in the way of the bastard moth man!

@Raineh Daze@Rin

[Assistant]
The diminutive vampire took a seated position as the fighting started, treating the air like a padded bench. The interloper's bout of swordplay wasn't half as interesting as the barrier that had been established; she knew that one of Fate's underlings had an artefact to a similar effect but sealing off a large area--replicating the world down to the last detail, including the recently destroyed tree--like this was a prodigious feat. It certainly wasn't the sort of enclosed space in her own repertoire and for this child to pull it out so easily... did she have any idea how complicated something like this really was?

The fight, meanwhile, she would have to grade at maybe a 2/10. It didn't give her a good idea of what the knight could really do if pushed to it, no idea of Andersen's capabilities... and he wasn't even an entertaining foe. "I might be a demon but you aren't even that. You're a warm-up boss at best. What villain even spouts such clichéd lines in this day and age? If you're going to be a villain, put in a bit more effort."

Or at least reserve the ham for when you had the advantage, nobody liked a sore loser.

---

If this girl wanted to lead him somewhere, as she was the closest thing to a temporary Master he could find... then he would let her, it wasn't like anyone could be less experienced with an urban environment. They were so different in size and she barely came up to his leg, though... it might be a bit hard for her to lead him by the hand. If she wanted to give him directions then there was an easier way to do it--though the bull-man hadn't quite thought through that most people would probably be terrified of such an enormous figure reaching down to scoop them up. Of course, if Cagliostro didn't resist, then she'd find herself with a nice vantage point and seat, perched on one immense shoulder.

"Lead the way..."

---

Aaaah, she was lost--totally and completely lost. Well, that wasn't true, she knew perfectly well where she was--it was Tokyo, there was no mistaking that. Her phone also confirmed that she was in Tokyo, but that was where the reassurances ended; even with a signal, she couldn't call anyone. Not even the commander could be reached and if she had a signal, Hibiki was certain that she should be able to reach SONG without difficulty.

Really, though, the reason she was so lost was that aside from her phone and Gungnir, she really wasn't equipped to be wandering around outside. The last thing that she remembered was being in bed with Miku, where it was warm... and definitely not wearing the right sort of clothing for wandering around like this. If she couldn't find someone familiar--or at least someone willing to lend her some clothes--soon, she might have to use Gungnir just to deal with the wind.


[System]
Appearance: Stands at 5.28 ft (161 cm); she has several scars on her body from different animals

Age: 18

Gender: Female

Mount: Ceratosaurus (Onca)

Occupation: Dinosaur veterinarian

Specialized Skills: Knowledgeable in the areas of saurian veterinary and behavioral (though only dinosaurs); good enough with a rifle to hit anything in the 6-10 ton range in a vital area

Items: - Owns a .700 Nitro Express mammoth gun (it's only thanks to a lot of practice that she doesn't knock herself on her ass every time she uses it), which was formerly owned by her father
- A .22 caliber pepperbox for self-defense
- Ammo for both weapons
- A locket with pictures of her parents
- Several kits of medical and veterinary tools
- Various clothes

Personality: Despite usually being a quiet and polite young lady, Sarah has something of a stubborn streak. Her parents raised her to be kind but firm, but she's not above fighting if she needs to. Despite her outward civility, she distrusts most people, and prefers working by herself or, better yet, with dinosaurs. When on her downtime, she likes to read, observe wildlife around her, and write notes about them.

History: Born and raised in the Midwestern prairie region, Sarah comes from a line of ranchers and farmers, though her mother was the town's only doctor. After school she would help her father tend to the livestock (Pachycephalosaurs and Psittacosaurus, to be precise). However, as the years passed, illness and predators thinned the herds to the point that Sarah's parents were forced to sell the remaining animals and their home, and move eastward. To help with money, she took a job as a veterinarian's assistant. After saving spare change for a long time, Sarah bought herself an egg, which hatched into a tiny (and very hungry) Ceratosaurus. Three years ago, both of Sarah's parents contracted Typhoid fever, and eventually passed away. After that, she moved around, finding work wherever people needed help with their dinosaurs. About six months ago, she received a letter from one Michael J. Horner, and she decided to prepare to head west.

Other: - A fairly good rider when it comes to theropods and bipedal herbivores
- Likes animals more than humans, and it often shows
- She is very affectionate towards her mount Onca, to the point that one might think she was talking about a puppy when she talks about him
- She knows she's short for her age, and if you point it out, she becomes very annoyed
- A good way to get on her bad side is mistreating animals

Name: Onca

Species: Ceratosaurus dentisulcatus

Appearance: Length- 15 ft (4.57 meters); Height- 5.5 ft at the hip (1.68 meters); Weight- 600 lbs (272.16 kg)

Age: Seven years old

Gender: Male

Role: Mount, Guard

Stats:
* Size: ▣▣
* Strength: ▣▣▣
* Speed: ▣▣▣
* Intelligence: ▣▣▣

Special Abilities: Osteoderms on the back and neck provide a small amount of protection from some attacks; able to swim better than most theropods (though not as well as species like Spinosaurids)

Other: Although not as bright as other predators, he is extremely loyal.

[User]
Morgan was up and awake this morning earlier than any other morning he could remember. Hell, he was awake when the farm's dodo crowed to alert them that it was the crack of dawn. For someone who was about to live-out their lifelong dream, he had an awful lot of butterflies in his stomach. The farmboy paced across his room a number of times as he ran a hand through his hair before taking a deep breath and releasing it with an even quicker exhale. "C'mon Morgan, yer a big boy. Bein a yellah belly sittin in tha dark an doin nothin ain't yer style...no ifs or buts." The large man tells himself as he shakes his whole body in an attempt to remove the feeling of fear, doubt, and anxiety. He felt a little braver now but his heart still hammered in his chest. With a determined look on his face, he grabs his favorite hat and scarf from the wooden end table beside his tidied bed and dons them. Now he felt a lot better now he had them on his person. Taking his pack, the redheaded farmer headed down the second floor of the farmhouse.

Much to his surprise, his family was already up and about. His mother and sister-in-law were finishing whipping up some breakfast. His older brother and father were setting the table. And his niece and baby sister were playing with Bobo the Microraptor, the family's house pet. All of them paused what they were doing when they saw Morgan. "What's everyone doin up so early?" His father was the one to speak up and answer his question. "Well, we can't say goodbye ta ya if we didn't, now can we?" Morgan was moved. Only a couple of nights ago they were arguing and yelling at each other regarding the letter but now they were acting as if nothing happened. He could feel his eyes water a little as he kept going down the flight of stairs before setting down his pack beside his usual spot at the table and taking a seat. His family followed in suit. They had prepared his favorite foods for his farewell breakfast as this may as well be the very last time he would be sharing a meal with him for a very long time. They would share stories, memories, and laughter that would soon devolve into barely held back sobs and whimpers as they finished their meals.

With a heavy heart, Morgan grabbed his pack and stood up from the table. His mother was wailing into his father's shoulder as he tried his best to console her through his own tears. His brother was keeping a convincing brave face but he could see a tear or two running down ol' Henry's face. His niece and baby sister, however, were bawling their eyes out and clinging onto Morgan for what seemed for dear life. They would be the straw that would break the proverbial camel's back as Morgan broke down into a blubbering mess as he hugged them both tightly and promising that he'd send letters as much as he can while traveling Westward. The rest of the Whittaker clan failed to resist giving the youngest son and brother one last hug and followed in suit to join the messy noisy goodbye. So much for him steeling himself to make things a clean and quiet exit...he was almost sure they'd wake up the dead with all the racket they caused. The initial plan of leaving before his family knew he was gone crashed and burned magnificently in a mess of tears, wailing, good food, and near incoherent goodbyes, well wishes, and words of affection.

The farmer may have left a little later and a lot more disheveled than he would like to admit, but he also left feeling more confident than ever and even more driven to succeed in his endeavor to the West.

He felt like he could take on the world and actually win.

[Assistant]
The night that the letters were sent out, Ransom Burke remained in the cell that had been set aside for him following his testimony. Two weeks ago, he'd been arrested at his favorite local pub. Only now were the last remnants of his facial bruises beginning to fade. A week ago, he'd sold out the man he'd once considered to be something alone the lines of of best friend -- or, perhaps, brother. The plea deal was meant to give him his freedom, but this was nothing like freedom. With no semblance of witness protection in the city, he wouldn't last very long outside of these walls. Even outside of the city, he was certain he'd be tracked down and shot or slain or worse. Even this cell was becoming less safe with each day -- it was a matter of time before his other former associates took care of him to prevent him from ratting on them.

And so the letter was something of a saving grace. Mail was typically delivered to inmates with no emphasis on timeliness, but the odd timing of the letter, coupled with the mailroom operator's own curiosity, eventually brought the letter to Ransom's cell some time after midnight. A knock on the bars startled him and broke him from his silent reflection.

"Mail for you, Mr. Burke," the guard muttered, slipping the envelope through the bars and onto the floor of the cell. "Seems something important."

"Thank you," Ransom rasped, his voice weighed down by disuse. He gave a quick cough to clear his throat as he opened the letter and lifted it to read. The guard hadn't made it far down the block before Ransom was up the against the bars of the cell. "You now! Go on, get that warden of yours!"

Through a bit of shouting and waving the letter in the warden's face, Ransom found himself standing outside of the jail in the early morning as a guard was sent to fetch Pandora from the jail's stables. As the Gallimimus caught sight of Ransom, she cried out and pulled against her reins towards him. She squawked as the guard holding her tugged against her, and she quickly whipped around to snap at his fingers. In fright, the guard dropped her reins, and she darted forward, nearly knocking Ransom back as he secured his arms around her neck.

Pandora plucked at his newly-washed hair as though to groom him as he stepped back and inspected her feathers in an equally affectionate manner. They'd done a piss-poor job taking care of her feathers, he noted, and he figured the first time they made camp, he would take care to groom her.

Another guard had returned then with the belongings Ransom would take with him. A collection of guns and clothes and other personal effects had been gathered from the Burke household where his mother had held on to them after his arrest. Knowing she would convince him to stay, Ransom had sent a letter with the guard giving his best wishes to his mother and three sisters while detailing his plans to head out West. An empty promise at the end detailed how he would send for them when the time was right.

In the mean time, Ransom situated his belongings and mounted up. He had a bit of a ride ahead of him to reach Talonwood for his departure.

"Let's go, girl," he grumbled, pressing his heels against her flanks. The sun had begun to rise over the horizon now, and with it to their back, man and beast set off for the edge of civilization.

[User]
The young lady looked down into the stable stall, smiling as a mother Pectinodon cleaned her hatchlings up after breaking out of their eggs. Once dried off, they would each be a tiny, chirping fluffball wandering around the nest. Fluffballs with sharp teeth and claws, but adorable nonetheless. Their mother shot a nasty look at Sarah before baring her teeth. "Oh, you know me Cara," she said. She kept her tone low and soothing. "Been checking on you every other day since you laid that clutch. I'm not gonna hurt your babies."

Sarah glanced at the nest. Out of twelve eggs, seven had hatched. The other five were either unfertilized, or the offspring within had died. It was sad, but it happened. She hopped down from the stool and headed out, where she was greeted by the dinosaur's owner, a man a little older than Sarah named William. Ran a hardware store in town. "How's she doin'?"

"Well she laid that clutch a month ago, so right now, she's fine," Sarah said. "You have seven chicks out of twelve eggs, so I'd say if you want to sell them when they're the right age, you've got some work ahead of you to make sure they're trained properly. Mama's a bit protective right now, but I think she'll be more tolerant of you than me. Just make sure they're all getting the food and water they need. Remember: troodontids are omnivorous, so they need some leaves or fruit in their diet as well."

William nodded. "How much do I owe you?"

"Just send a Dryosaurus haunch my way," Sarah said. She waved over her shoulder as a large carnivore rose from where he was sitting, eyes glowing a golden yellow. She patted the dinosaur's snout. "Onca will appreciate it." She got up in the saddle, and headed back towards her home on the edge of town.

It was a small property near a stream, with a small, single-room house, an outhouse, a storage shed, and a stable for Onca; however, the dinosaur didn't seem to like the stable, and preferred sleeping underneath the old oak tree unless it was time for acorns to drop. Sarah directed Onca towards the stable, where she took his saddle and reins off. She quietly sighed, stopping by her mailbox to see if there was anything.

To Sarah's great surprise, there actually was. She blinked, surprised. It wasn't from the bank, or one of her clients. She'd have to read it in the morning. But for now, it was time for some rest.