[System]
Human (Caelic Isles) | 37 | Male

Appearance

Cillian does not stand out from the countless travellers on the road. He does not boast the powerful bulk of the warrior, or the lithe silhouette of the rogue, but he still stands at a decent height of around six foot, and beneath his clothing, his frame is one of wiry muscle, marked with dozens of scars and painted with the traditional woad tattoos of his people. His hair is pale, a rare sight among those who hail from the Caelic Isles, and he wears it long and braided, along with a short and unruly beard. His clothing is simple but durable, and he is rarely found without his carefully crafted mail armour, forged by his father's own hand. The spear and shield, often slung across his back, and the dagger on his belt, are also from his father's forge, and along with his armour, they are his last ties to his home, and his family. It is Cillian's eyes that are his most striking feature, a pale but fiercely intense blue that light up with an almost ethereal fire whenever he has a story on his lips, or a foe before him.

Personality

Cillian has spent years rubbing shoulders with paupers and kings, and this has left him with an easy charm. Coupled with the natural warmth and kinship of those hardy folk that carve out a life the Caelic Isles, Cillian is a friendly figure, although anyone who spends too long in the man's company will realise that there is something a little... unhinged about the wanderer. Perhaps it true that fey blood runs through his veins, or perhaps Cillian has simply spent too long dreaming of mythic creatures and fantastical legends, but despite the welcoming nature of the man, he is clearly not all there. Perhaps it is this that fuels his wandering, and sees him rarely spent too long in place, or with one group. Despite this, he is an earnest companion, an honourable warrior, and a talented entertainer.

Background

* Wandering Bard
* Lower Class
* Son of the Blacksmith and the Storyteller

History

(Will be filled over time)

Cillian was born into a simple village, clinging to a windswept rocky island that juts from the stormy waters of the Shrouded Sea. The second son of the village's blacksmith, Cillian had as comfortable a childhood as can be expected from the people that cling to the Caelic Isles, but that is not to say that his upbringing was uneventful. To survive on the islands, people grow up tough, and they grow up fast. Norgardian raids were common, and as soon as Cillian was old enough to stand, he had a spear thrust into his hands, and taught how to use it. It was to Cillian's older brother, Ronan, that the trade of smithing was passed down, and while his brother worked over the forge under his father's watchful eye, Cillian was drawn more to his mother.

The women of Cillian's village were as hardy as the men, just as likely to take up a weapon and defend her homestead as the men, and Cillian's mother was no exception. And yet it was in the flickering firelight of the night, as the clan pulled close together in the chieftain's hall, against the darkness and the chill, that Cillian's mother was in her element. It is the druids that tie the Caelic Isles to their gods, but it is the storytellers and bards that tie them to their myths, and their legends, and their history. Cillian's mother was one of those storytellers, and Cillian hung on her every word.

All of the village's children enjoyed her stories, gripped by the tales of great beasts and courageous heroes, but for Cillian, it was something different. He had an almost insatiable hunger for these legends, and when he heard them, his eyes lit up, and he felt truly alive, as if he could see these fantastical creatures in the room before him, even as his mother spoke. Whenever other clans visited the village, for trade or to keep relations friendly with their neighbours, Cillian begged them to share their own tales, and when they relented, he drank them in greedily.

Motivation

Cillian wanders the world, bringing the songs and legends of his people to anyone who has coin to spare, but he has long held ambitions of experiencing a legend of his own, and that ambition has drawn him to the dark depths of the Blackwood...

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [1/1]

* Polearm with Shield (1)
* Daggers (1)
*

Intelligence [1/1]

* Legendry (1)
*
*

Charisma [1/1]

* Singing (1)
* Charm (2)
*

Health [1/1]

* Toughness (1)
* Stamina (1)
* Rejuvenation (1)

Faculties [1/1]

* Perception (1)
* Intuition (1)
* Willpower (1)
* Woodcraft (1)

Agility [1/1]

* Balance (1)
* Swimming (1)
*

Mysticism [0/3]

*
*
*

---

Equipment

* Spear
* Shield
* Dagger
* Mail Armour

Money

5 Royals, 12 Lordlings and 28 Commons

Languages

Caelic, Northern Tongue

[User]
Rittenvos was merely an outpost, but the fact that so many people filled the common room of the inn, and earlier when Mari saw the lively market, showcased just how much travelers and explorers counted upon this small bastion of civilization. In order to keep the flow moving, adventurers and mercenaries were likely as needed as fresh water. Little surprise then when Ithaca brought Mari across the common room to the very low-end, shoddy table that was attached to the wall. Ithaca elbowed her way over and gave Mari space to step forward, and she found herself in the company of four people.

Kane sat on the ground, for the chair wouldn't be able to keep him aloft without breaking. The beast of a warrior was likely twice the weight of an already big man. She could see his thick tail splayed out behind him, resting like the tail of a crocodile. Next to him was a far shorter but still very heavy and dense fellow, Orek. He had an air of mischief and intelligence to him, and again he seemed to be leaner than most would expect from Dwarves. Likely for his traveling lifestyle. His garb was leather and cloth, though undoubtedly he had finely wrought chainmail beneath his cloak. He smiled through his beard when he saw Ithaca walk over, his pipe in his teeth.

"Oh, are ye coming with us lass? Or did ye bring someone to take yer place?" Orek asked slyly.

Both Orek and Kane were on the right side of the table. On the left were two striking people. One was a lovely elven woman, her blonde hair tied in a bun, her shapely form in a kalasiris, a strange priestly robe. She seemed particularly haughty in nature, raising an eyebrow at Mari when she appeared. Beside her was Po, who was even more handsome up close. His eyes sparkled with a fire that promised humor and intellect, and his dark mane of hair was cut just halfway down his neck. He was likely tall, despite the fact he was seated. He gave a friendly smile, his full lips noticably on his tanned skin.

"I know you'll be having a bit of a get together tomorrow. Seeing as I'm leaving, I thought I might give you a recommendation." Ithaca said, and Mari would be playfully pushed forward a bit by the Praelian. Apparently she was still a bit too tipsy to be completely professional.

"Hey," Po said casually, and he held his hand out to Mari to shake. "You were the warrior that made it here today, from the southern road?"

"The one that riled the Dragon?" The Elf pipped in.

"No one riled the Dragon, pointy ear." Orek said. "'Least, no one here."

"Phyrrae doesn't like other women cramping her style." Po joked, which caused the elf to clearly take offense at that suggestion, though she didn't speak immediately.

[Assistant]
Mari found herself pushed forward into a dashing group of adventurers, smiling a little awkwardly back at Ithaca. One of her sisters had fashioned her leathers, and while they were finely crafted, embossed and studded and fitted comfortably to her form, with swirling and twisting decorative elements of Norgardian design, Mari felt she was certainly the least impressive of this group.

Kane and his plate armor she'd already encountered, but now she got a better look at the elven woman in her beautiful priestly robes. They were of Nestariel, the healer, or at least she thought, as the design was more exotic and archaic than other traveling priests she'd encountered before. Her gaze seemed to pierce through, but Mari paid it little mind. She was new, after all. The dwarf seemed friendly enough, Orek, and then there was Po, his hand outstretched towards her.

"That's me," she said, giving it a shake. "My name's Mari, I've come from the Sea of Swords. I'm going to be here for a little while at least, so I thought I'd look for some opportunities." Her holy symbols of Rán were displayed openly hanging from her belts for the observant.

She didn't laugh at Po's joke, only smiling a little, as she wasn't sure what the dynamic here was yet, and had no desire to turn the elven woman's disposition against her before they'd even begun. "I can pull my own weight in a fight and in the wild, if you'll have me."

[User]
When Torsten woke up again, it was midday...likely. The gloom permeated the forest floor, though by his prone position facing upwards, he could see the barest glimpse of the sun peaking through three small spots among the canopy. The other two lads were asleep, however judging by their light breathing, either would wake up as soon as a twig was broken. Torsten himself felt much better, at least compared to what he expected. He still ached all over and a broken rib or two wouldn't heal overnight.

Torsten would lay there for a bit before any minute movements of trying to make himself more comfortable would awaken his allies, and then the three would have a hardy breakfast before breaking camp, tossing about the burnt logs and covering much of where they had been with large ferns and various foliage debris. Torsten was a tough one, getting ready and dressed like the other two despite his injuries, and after some deliberation on their path, they would begin to move south as they had been going the other day.

The Blackwood seemed a world unto its own, misty far away and vaguely clear within thirty meters ahead, large trees framing every facet of every direction; inescapable.

The cries of something pierced the veil of unease, though it wasn't a warcry as it was yesterday. The three warriors stiffened, able to pinpoint where the approaching man, for it sounded like one, was coming from. They would be able to deduce on if they should hide, run, or spring into action as they saw a fellow, clearly a merchant of some kind, stumbling and falling onto the overgrown underbrush of the forest floor. Behind him was a strange sight.

A waif chased him in unremarkable trousers and a flowing linen top. Her auburn hair cut short and her eyes fixed on the running man. What either were doing here was unknown, but it was up to the three warriors to see what they would do in such an out of place situation.

[Assistant]
Perhaps Cillian had been listening to the rhythm of the city for too long, or perhaps attempting to overhear a conversation in a crowded tavern was too tricky a task, but whatever the reason, Cillian's attempts to learn more about the money changing hands proved to be futile. It was clear that information was being exchanged between the two groups, but whether it was the elf and the gnome giving information to the warrior-woman, or the reverse, he could not make out. Whatever the case, it intrigued him, and he had all but forgotten his pangs of hunger. Cillian had spent his life following things that intrigued him, and it had yet to steer him wrong. He hesitated, catching his own train of thought for a moment. It had yet to steer him 'too' wrong. Every scar told a story, and when your trade was stories, sometimes a close scrape was far more useful than an easy ride.

 Cillian's internal monologue was cut short as the warrior-woman strode past his table, the mace that hung at her hip lightly knocking against the table itself as she passed. Jolted back to reality, Cillian could practically feel the thread of oppurtunity slipping through his fingers. Perhaps if Sylvaine was with him, he could ask for her to share her... unusual perspective, but a quick glance over to the bar told him that she was making no great haste in joining him at the table, still in conversation with the dishevelled dwarf. No, if he wanted to grasp this oppurtunity, whatever this oppurtunity was, he would have to do it on his own. For a moment, he felt himself teetering on a knife-edge, deciding which way to fall. He could seize the thread before it had slipped away entirely, or he could sit back and let it pass, waiting for Sylvaine to eventually return with a drink and a hot meal, whenever that might be. A ghost of a smile crossed Cillian as he considered the question. He had never been the type to let the oppurtunity for a good tale to pass him by, and even with his legs stiff from travel, and his throat dry, he was not about to change now.

 Putting on his most friendly smile, and trusting that if he had been able to overhear the table, then they would be able to hear him, Cillian turned in his seat to face the elf and the gnome, leaning forward as he spoke.

 "Greetings, friends. I do not mean to intrude, but I am Cillian Kindellan, a wandering bard, and I have indeed been wandering far. My travelling companions have been pleasant enough, but I am always eager for some... fresher conversation, and the two of you have the appearance of people that are worth knowing. If I can trouble you for your time, perhaps we could get to know each other a little?"

Attempt to charm the unlikely pair (Charm) = 5 + 1 = 6


[System]
Age: 25
Appearance:

[User]
Chase moved to open his mouth when Carys summarised what he'd said… poorly. However before he could move to speak she was already on the back of the bike, helmet on. The boy could only wince as he started up the bike. She seemed eager, possibly too eager. Chase began to worry perhaps this had not been his best idea. But he was a man of his word and he refused to go back on it. He slowly pulled out of the field and onto the driveway leading back to the main road.

He was taking it slow at first, taking the bends easy. He figured Carys would probably assume that he was taking it easy because of her and, whilst that was a factor it was mostly because of himself. He needed to gauge how she handled on the back, how much she would lean or fight and how her weight affected how the bike handled. Truth be told it had been a while since he had doubled and bikes were dangerous, as confident as he felt on one it was important to always remember how easily things could go from fine to disastrous.

Not to mention he'd have a hard time explaining broken bones. However they were only a few minutes down the road before he began picking up the pace, taking it to a point she would find exciting. However he made sure to keep it to the speed limit, Chase didn't want to get in trouble with the small amount of law they had around here, and he was kind of scared of her roommate and no doubt she'd have a go at him if she found out he put her friend in unnecessary danger. In no time at all they were nearing the town, signs of buildings and inhabited life popping up here and there.

[Assistant]
It was wildly different from anything else in her experience. It took her a moment to adjust to the bizarre sensation of her lack of control. Carys breathed deep, willing herself to surrender to Chase's direction, despite the protestations of her own instincts.

They curved through the woods, and Carys turned her gaze skyward, wondering at the quiet. It was staggeringly beautiful here, verdant and lush. She wanted nothing more than to explore it. Soon, she promised herself.

They were accelerating, and Carys' squeak of surprise was swallowed by the purr of the engine and the rush of wind. Her grip on Chase tightened, stomach fluttering and pulse leaping in her skin. The scenery whipped by; before she knew it, the woods had given way to open spaces and houses popping up. Carys felt a laugh bubble out of her, delighted by the rush.

As they darted through town, Carys ran through her own mental map. As they neared the far edge, she spied Aurora. Her knuckles rapped on his shoulder. When he'd slowed enough, she spoke brightly, "I'm all the way at the end here."

Aurora was a straight shot of beautifully manicured bungalows, each more beautiful than the last. They'd have gone for millions of dollars back stateside, she mused, with sprawling floorplans and each with their own distinct charm.

Her stomach clenched at the sight of her two story home, all crisp white wood and black trim with open, friendly windows. The covered porch wrapped around the entire front of the house, with an immaculately tended garden of roses and lilies, shaded by large trees. It was, objectively, a beautiful home. She'd have never been able to have afforded it on our own in all her days.

Carys ignored the tumult in her heart when they pulled into her brick drive. It was easier to ignore it on the tail of the ride, and she sank back into that joy.

Disembarking the bike, Carys rocked on the balls of her feet. She was laughing as she pulled off the helmet, eyes dancing.

"That was awesome!" She enthused, tossing her tousled bangs out of her face, grin wide and heart fluttering like a hummingbird.

[User]
Chase switched off the bike and got off the bike after the girl, pulling his helmet off and chuckling softly to himself. "Well you're welcome to come over when you're free and try out the dirt bikes. We have a few trails through the woods and you should be able to ride Chloe's bike, it's a bit smaller." If not they did have bikes for younger kids. Hopefully she didn't go too overboard. That was if she wanted to accept the offer of course. He suddenly remembered the offer of the phone provider and mentally smacked himself in the head.

"Oh! Right… the phone thing." He quickly patted his pockets down but realized they were empty. "Sorry I don't have mine on me. Um… if you have a pen or something I could write down my number and you can text me and I'll message you the name?" He shrugged his shoulders slightly, trying to ignore how absolutely awkward he was feeling. It was so strange for him, not knowing everything about the person he was talking to. Her mind was a total blank to him, where as his family were all open books, he practically knew everything they were thinking.

"Sorry… I um… you don't have to if you don't want to though." He quickly yammered, taking a step backwards and shaking his head. God damn it he felt stupid. He was going to have a serious talk with someone when he got home. She was just a girl. Just one girl yet she had managed to put him more off his game more than pretty much anything else in his life. Had his sheltered life really left him unable to function normally with regular people? Yeah. Probably.

[Assistant]
"You might come to regret that offer," Carys flashed her teeth in a teasing grin, shifting her weight to one foot and resting the other on her calf. "I've been told I'm like a fungus. A particularly enthusiastic strain, no less."

Fingers combing her hair off her face and into a semblance of order, she couldn't help the widening grin as Chase fumbled over the phone provider, looking as though he'd shoved his foot halfway down his throat. Teeth sinking into her lower lip to suppress her laughter, Carys found herself strangely charmed. Fumbling was leaps and bounds better than aggressive posturing.

"Here, give me a sec," Carys placed the helmet he'd leant her on the back seat of his bike. Twisting her bag to dig through it, she scoured it for something useful. Bobby pins, empty altoids tin, her wallet, loose change, there! Withdrawing a pen, she reached forward and caught his wrist. Pulling the cap off with her teeth, she wrote her number on the back of his hand, taking care not to dig too sharply into his flesh. Adding her name with large, looping letters, she looked up at Chase with a wide grin.

"I'd appreciate it," she dropped his hand, capping her pen and dropping it back into her purse. "Thanks so much, for everything. Moving here's been kind of…" she trailed off, making a motion with her hand, as if that described it. "Well, it's been a lot. It's nice to not be totally lost."

[User]
Chase felt his throat catch as Carys suddenly grabbed his hand and he had to suppress the sudden urge to recoil from the touch. It wasn't because he found her touch unpleasant or anything to that effect, it was more that he wasn't used to strangers touching him and when his friends did it was usually at the very least playfully aggressive. Basically unexpected touching was generally not a generally pleasant experience for him. After the initial reaction though, he found himself relaxing and, oddly enough kind of enjoying the way she gently held his wrist, watching the loop of the pen as it marked the back of his hand.

He smiled slightly at her words and shrugged gently. "Don't think too much of it. I just… moving to a new town where you don't know anyone must be hard. I couldn't imagine being all alone and…" He stopped himself, not wanting to continue anymore. Either he'd insult her or he'd make her feel bad and Chase didn't want either of those. He didn't want her to feel alone, he wouldn't wish that on anyone. He just couldn't imagine life alone, without his family. And she could be part of that. The others sometimes took a while to get used to new people; it would take them a while to let her in. He wasn't sure if she'd ever be accepted into the inner circle, only time would tell with that one.

"Sorry I um… I'll get going now and leave you to your things. I'm sure you're eager to get off your feet and relax." He stumbled a little, rolling the helmet over in his hands uncertainly.

[Assistant]
She really didn't mean to do it. But he was shuffling so awkwardly, fumbling over his words, fidgeting with his helmet, and it was beyond endearing. Carys laughed. It wasn't a malicious thing, more a giggle than anything else, but she just couldn't help it. Her grey eyes danced up at him, brow arching, her dimple making an appearance.

"Well, I'm not completely alone, right?" she said with a grin, letting the statement hang in the air.

"If I'd slept for more than eight hours in the past three days, I'd invite you in for coffee or something," Carys said lightly, fingers fiddling with the ends of her brunette locks. "But Past Carys made some really poor life choices, and now Present Carys needs a thirty hour nap. Or a nice relaxing coma."

She reached out, gently punching his arm, the motion playful.

"But text me, yeah? When I finally rise from my eternal sleep, I'm going to need someone to show me around properly, and I'm pretty sure my roommate is swamped with university. It was good seeing you, Chase," she offered a small wave, taking a few steps backwards before finally turning and making a beeline for her box-filled bedroom, intent on finally sleeping.

[User]
Funnily enough, the laugh helped him relax a little. Chase managed a smile in return as she looked at him with a grin, though a somewhat puzzled look did make its way into his eyes at her words. He wanted to believe maybe she was talking about him, but he also didn't want to get his hopes up too high so allowed himself to believe it was about her roommate instead. "It's alright." He dismissed casually with a small wave of his hand. "You just go sleep." Luckily he didn't even flinch at the punch, too many over the years from his friends. At this point sometimes Chase questioned whether he had any feeling left in his arms.

"And if you need any help unpacking or any heavy lifting, just let me know okay?" He was fairly sure he could move most of her thins on his own, but he'd probably bring the others around, just to be safe. "I can bring the boys around, plus they work for free as long as I feed them." He chuckled softly, knowing the promise of endless pizza would be more than enough to get them out here to do a bit of heavy lifting. He hoped she didn't take offence, but he didn't feel like between her roommate and herself Carys would be able to move much. Then again he'd been surprised before by the small dynamo.

"It was good seeing you too." He called back as the girl turned and went back to her house and quickly disappeared inside. The boy stood out there for a few minutes, long enough that it was probably too long before he eventually pulled his helmet back on and climbed on the bike, starting it up and pulling out into the street, quickly making his way home and hopefully not copping too much flack from the others. It was all in good fun and he tried not to let it get to him. He had just never been the most confident around strangers, let alone girls.

[Assistant]
Carys slept for sixteen hours, not thirty. It was as if she'd time traveled; one moment she had just collapsed on her bed, the next moment it was the middle of the morning. Eyes easing open, she winced at the sunlight streaming happily through her bay windows. Foggy with sleep, Carys missed her night stand the first time. Her hand tried again, fingers catching the edge. A third try, she caught a cord and sent her phone flying onto the ground.

Carys groaned, pressing her face into her pillow. Maybe she could just give up on today and sleep it all away.

Instead, Carys managed to sit up, brunette hair all askew, grey eyes unfocused. It was cold, she mused in annoyance. Disentangling her legs from the sheets, she wrapped the pale cotton around her slim frame. That was dressed enough for now.

After several moments, she slipped off her bed. Fishing her phone out from between boxes, she flipped through it. Junk email from lists she didn't remember subscribing to, Facebook notifications, a few texts that made her frown before deleting them. That scumbag really didn't understand the meaning of "no contact". Maybe a new number was in order.

First things first, she mused; she needed to shower and see if she could become human, and not simply a Carys shaped lump. She couldn't put off unpacking much longer, as desperately unappealing as it sounded.

[User]
"What are you doing?"

Chase practically jumped, if that was possible to do whilst hanging off a bed. He did, however drop his phone and gasp and drop his phone that he had been staring at. "Ash! How many times have I asked you to knock?" He quickly replied, avoiding the question as he looked up at the small girl at his door.

"Have you not texted her yet?" The brunette smiled as she slid into the room, her long hair swishing past her hips as she moved over to sit on the bed. Lying next to the older boy as he picked up his phone she couldn't help but smirk. "Please just tell me you're not avoiding texting her because of something Ryan said." Ash asked, raising an eyebrow at Chase as he refused to look at her and lowered his head slightly in shame.

"He said I'll look desperate if I text her before twenty-four hours." He replied softly, wincing slightly at the groan from his younger sister. Luckily enough, the social awkwardness didn't run in the family, Chloe had made sure Ash was a perfectly well matured member of society. For an eleven year old.

"Ryan is an idiot." The girl simply stated. "He also has no idea about girls and how we work. Don't listen to him. It'll look like you're being rude. Text the girl already. Ask her if she needs help moving anything again and tell her the provider. It's like a bandaid. Just rip it off, kay?"

Chase nodded slightly and quickly wrote in the message and sent it off, earning himself a slap on the back as Ash got up and walked out of the room, hoping it snapped the boy out of the silly funk he'd been in the past few hours. Seriously what would he do without her?


[System]
"The things men make, and the men things make are ridiculous as they are mean."

---

---

● Name:
August Gareth Templ
Augie●Gaz

● Age:
Seventeen

● Gender:
Male

● Sexuality Mostly straight

● More In Depth Appearance:
Augie stands around 6'4", and weighs in around 70 kgs (154 lbs), making him underweight. He holds himself upright, but with his shoulders sloped, rather than held upright with the rest of him. If he's not engaged in something, he tends to look a little jumpy, but more often than not that's just his resting bitch face. He's had that style of hair for as long as anyone but his family can remember, just at varying lengths. He tends to dress in blacks and dark reds, with the occasional dark green or blue. Stylistically, he usually wears a long sleeved shirt with a regular band tee over the top, and cargo pants or jeans. When it's cold he has a semi fitted woolen mid thigh length coat that he wears over the top of any other needed layers. He wears his Dad's old Doc Martens, "Because they're cool, and they're comfortable.". Likelihood is that you'll never see him in a hat.

---

---

● Passionate ● Elitist/Perfectionist ● Kind hearted ● Quick to judge ●

● Personality:
Most would describe Augie as the "artsy" guy, who seems a bit like a prick due to his opinionated and somewhat reserved nature. He tends to form very strong and somewhat contrarian ideas quite quickly, though when you're not disagreeing with him on some of these more personal opinions, he's quite laid back. If you talk with him about music, language, history, or philosophy, he will light up and latch onto the conversation, often shutting out the outside world in favour of discussing such topics. He always has people's best interest at heart, but often gets carried away. He tends on the side of pessimism and skepticism quite heavily, and is always quite happy when proven wrong, if you can convince him he is wrong.

● Quirks:
Augie taps to an internal tune a lot, to the dismay of listeners
He can't dance for shit, despite his love of music
He prefers pasta to rice, unless it's a curry
He sits hunched, but stands straight

● Hobbies:
Music Composition
Electric Bass
Couch Philosophy
Board Games

● Likes & Dislikes:
Likes:
Art/blues rock
Coffee
Overthinking/criticism
Nighttime
Hot Takes
Drama, much to his shame

Dislikes:
Undeserved praise
Soulless art
Mainstream culture
Wasted time

---

---

● Family Members:
Augie has both parents, but they split five years ago (they were civil about it). His mother, Fiona, is a visual art teacher at the primary school in town. His Father, Glenn, is a psychologist. It's a bit of an in-joke that he and his sister take after their mother in terms of personality, but their father in terms of looks. He's got an older sister named Brynn, who is currently studying abroad to become a concept artist. They don't see each other very often, but they're very dear to each other. He used to have a younger brother named Kiernan, but he fell out of a tree at a young age, leading to his eventual death.

● Biography:
Augie was born when his sister was 4, and two years later, his younger brother came along. Early childhood was kind to Augie: his parents were loving, he and his sister got along well, and his brother was a sweet little thing. His family wasn't exactly wealthy, but they got by if they cut down on the unnecessary things. They never got toys bought for them, but their Mother made them plenty.
 This was until his brother died. Kiernan and Augie were climbing a tree at a park, as kids do, when the next thing anyone knew was that Kiernan was lying on his back after taking a three meter drop to his neck. He was rushed to the hospital. Miraculously, he survived the trip, but in a cruel twist of fate, all they could do was put poor little Kiernan under palliative care. He was 4 when he finally died.
 This ruined Augie and his family. The loss of a close family member is not something you get over. If you asked Augie, he'd say the bittersweet thing is that he and his sister grew closer. The mood around the house was very low for about a year as they mourned their loss. Augie and his Father were the two that were hit hardest. Glenn, his Father, skipped many days of work due to being unable to get up due to depression, throwing the family under the poverty line and forcing Fiona, his mother, to stop her art studies and find a job. Augie would be unable to attend school for several months while his family, especially Brynn, helped him recover. Brynn was forced to mature much more quickly, as Glenn was at work or unable to get out of bed, and Fiona wasn't always around. She learned to take care of the house when the parents weren't around. She was ten years old.
 After a while, everyone got over it enough to resume their lives. Nobody was ever truly happy, but there were moments when it seemed it'd be okay in the end. Augie enrolled in school again, Brynn went to high school, Glenn worked every day, and Fiona picked up art again. Neither Augie nor Brynn knew that there was some tension between their parents, though.

When Augie was 12, his parents split up. They never married, so there was no divorce, and they are both mature people, so they didn't split violently or unpleasantly. Augie and Brynn took it hard, but it wasn't crippling, and with each others help, they managed to get over it in a few months. Around this time, Augie started to use music as a coping mechanism. He picked up the electric bass, and practiced at least five hours a day. Pretty soon he was quite impressive. He entered into school talent shows and the like, and more often than not, did quite well.
 All was well with Augie from then 'till now. He has had average to good grades, he has been content, and he has friends around him. He tries not to get himself involved with the highschool drama as best he can, and because of that he has an alright reputation. When the website came along, Augie shunned it quite militantly, but now he can't deny that he's looked at it a few times. He knows it fucks people's lives up, but it seems so much less real over a screen than it does when someone tells you. He can't make whoever did it responsible. He dreads the day his name shows up on that screen, though.

● Theme Song:
Farewell Transmission by Songs: Ohia

I will try and know whatever I try, I will be gone but not forever

[User]
---

---

Shoving her phone down, the voice of Isaac asking if she was alright was slightly aggravating. He didn't know any of the inner workings of everything so she couldn't blame him entirely, but she gave him a look of defeat in return. A weak smile fell upon her lips, "I always find a way." she spoke, looking around the table to see that most had taken off.

Soon the two would be out on the dance floor, arm in arm as a quick and fun tune brought out their classmates to let loose. Dancing around Isaac Bernie could feel a bit of tension relief in her brow, it was nice to let things go and just enjoy the moment. "I have to teach you some better moves!" she called over the music, her body moving against his- teasing, precise. She had done this before. The song would switch tunes eventually, slowing way down.

The couples and brave came to the dance floor now. Isaac felt warm to the touch as Bernadette rested her cheek against his chest. The two swayed back and forth. Looking up to him for a moment, she giggled- "Don't think about kissing me after this song, that is too cliche even for me." she looked away, another soft chuckle escaping. In reality she didn't care if he dipped her planted the biggest smooch he could muster on her dumb lips. She couldn't let him know that though, it just worked that way.

A hard break in the music would cause everyone on the floor to cease. The principal stood his mouth closer to the microphone causing slight feedback. "I just want to take this moment to tell everyone here tonight that we appreciate the support this student body gives on another! Soon we will be announcing Homecoming King and Queen, so make sure you all are sticking around, it will be so tight!" the cringe of his slang made a few people laugh, while others rolled their eyes. Shifting once more he spoke again, "Go Patriots!" that line got a few actual cheers, as the music came back in full blast.

[Assistant]
ISAAC CHAPEL

---

---

Isaac had indeed been considering kissing Bernie at the end of this song, but it didn't really end naturally. Instead, the announcement was made about homecoming king and queen and Isaac shrugged. "Not much suspense when you think about it. We all know how this ends..."

Isaac shuffled his feet for a second and looked at Bernie as the music came back on, leaning close so she could hear him and also to hide his reddening cheeks from her gaze. She didn't need to know how nervous he was to say this. "As far as I'm concerned, Bernie, you're my homecoming queen... how's that for a cliche?"

That was when Isaac decided to lean in and go for the kiss. Nothing too bold, as he was entirely without practice and, well, he was far from being an expert. But kiss her he did, and as the cerebral fireworks faded he managed to speak again.

"I'm... glad you asked me to give you a ride all those months ago... and that you made me take you out for ice cream. And that you were patient with me and my... insecurities. So... thank you, Bernie. You deserve all the affection I can give you."

[User]
Ordeals and Repeating Patterns...
Who could break the mold?

Alice hummed a low note as she pondered Augie's words, gaze shooting off into a distant cloud unseen to all outside of her imagination. The whole ordeal of homecoming—the whole ordeal of secrets changing hands and the aftermath thereof— brought something out in her peers. Alice could watch it happen. It had happened before with each prior secret revealed and it was happening now with Rob and his business with Ara. As of yet, Alice was uncertain of her feelings on the matter. It was all so confusing and hectic. She could never understand the rat-race that followed the exchange of secrets. Apparently, there was much more to it than she realized. For now, she could do naught but observe. That was her place.

Alice allowed the momentary silence born between her and Augie to permeate the room for a long while. She couldn't help but ponder the mental archive of those that had been outed with secrets thus far and those who had not. Alice and Augie were on the same side of the paradigm. She had to shake herself from her heavy thoughts as Augie questioned her. Had she appeared nervous? She tried to maintain ignorance to her own mannerisms, but that quickly melted away, and her blank and distant demeanor returned. She caught herself...

"Oh, I'm fine. Just... Not all that interested in the whole scene upstairs. It's a lot to deal with." When Alice had finally finished laying her canvas aside against an obscured shelf, she returned to clean the few supplies that remained out around the art room. It was as though she couldn't stop herself from perpetually continuing her duties even after hours. Perhaps it was more of a nervous thing, though. Alice, once again, wouldn't entirely be cognizant on the matter.

"They'll... Be alright, I think. This repeating process of secrets being traded... I don't think it will bother them forever." Alice maintained her distant trance-like gaze as she spoke, though as she took a long pause once again, her eyes finally flicked to Augie's own. "What do you think?" Alice pulled the canvas before her down from the easel, her mannerisms were nonchalant, though it seemed she was sure to maintain an angle where the subject matter portrayed in paint was obscured to all but her. Alice always was a shy one.

"Of the secrets. Of everything," Alice clarified. Perhaps she was fishing for answers to questions she wasn't entirely sure of. Either way, it seemed by the sincerity of her gaze that Alice's curiosity was genuine, and that was no common factor in conversations with the young artist. "Some may fragment," she repeated before continuing, "But what's it all for? The website... What do you think of it?"

Alice pondered the repeating pattern that seemed to trap Sterling High in a loop. She watched the effects, but none she had met could envision the cause. The whole secret revelations issue was a repeating pattern. The homecoming dance, its processes, and the whirlwind of emotions that followed— a repeating pattern... Her confiding in Augie must have been telling, as her palpable confusion on the matter seemed to show a certain degree of naivety.

[Assistant]
When Alice broke the silence, Augie looked up into her eyes. She was saying how it was too much up there, to which he just nodded.

"They'll be... alright, I think---", she was saying.

When she was done, Augie didn't hesitate in replying. "They won't be okay for a while, and then they'll grow past it. They're strong, in it together, and kind. Y'know? Unity." he said, tone shifting slightly for the next words, "But doubtless there'll be pain before they're alright. It's always like that. Life is the intermission between shitshows. I think... I think this is just the next shit show for all of us,"
 There was faith in his friends in his words, but there was also a rawness which coloured his words with a sense of unease, though it was her next words that truly gave him pause. What was it for?

He sat, staring at her a moment. Taken off kilter by the moment. Fiddling absently with the cord to his ear buds.

Stuttering and blinking, he said "I... don't really know. Maybe some kind of power trip? I- I think it helps to think that... maybe. It... it kinda gives you something to root against. People like that… need that? People need that. Or maybe... could be that- that someone wants to prove a point about helping friends out. I... I really don't know, Alice. What... what do you think?"

He didn't normally stutter.


[System]
Age: 20

Gender: Male

Appearance: Short swept hair, and a tall, firm frame keep this man solid in a consistent stance. His shoulders aren't too broad, nor his legs too thick. His pride is apparent on his stance, but he isn't one to let it become apparent. He likes tighter t-shirts and jeans, and bright colours are definitely his style. In fact, a few layers of his hair are coloured in a vibrant pink

 Personality: Austin is confident, but it comes in twofold. On one side he's willing to admit he's wrong and allow other people to take the lead because he's confident in his own skills. On the other side, his pride can often get the best of him, especially when it relates to his talents. Otherwise he has a soft bravado with a quiet presence, as if denying the brightness, he tries to bring to his appearance.

 He isn't afraid of who he is. You either love him or hate him, trust him or deny him, but either way he doesn't care. He trusts that he can handle whatever situation that's thrown at him. If he can't, then someone he knows should be able to figure it out.

 At least until things get dangerous. His confidence takes a serious downfall if in the face of danger. Like his flirting style, any confidence behind his words stumble and fade away when challenged by someone else. He won't run away, per se, but he can find the whole situation to be overwhelming pretty quickly and crack under the pressure.

 Also he's a pretty serious flirt.

Backstory: Being a Psych major with a serious passion for his field, Austin grew up spending a lot of his time understanding people. He'd read up almost any book he could find on the subject, or books based on romance and friendships. Novels were something he'd spend every free hour consuming until he started becoming friends with people.

 His priorities were always pretty straight. First focus on becoming a therapist, then on relationships, then reading. It was around high school age that romantic relationships entered that cycle. He'd end up with many relationships with many different people, but end up breaking them off a month or two later. He searched for the "perfect" relationship, believing that somewhere in all of his empathy and research he would be able to find it.
 That has not been achieved quite yet.

 Currently in the throes of his third year of school, romantic relationships needed to take a backseat for the work he was doing, involving plenty of extra credit doing research for numerous psychology professors. He was going to be one of the best therapists, and that meant he needed to do as much work as possible.

 It was some research into old case files at a ghostly asylum that he remembered reading last.

Talents: Austin is a master of empathy, and he's very good at judging current emotions or sanity levels in other people just by looking at them or sharing a short conversation. He can read and speak in most languages, although he sticks to English mostly (thanks to a lot of time spent wanting to understand books of various different languages). Austin's an expert in language and logic-based puzzles as long as he's given time to figure it out, though he cracks under pressure.

Other: He tends to keep people in his head on various scales. A mental, physical, and emotional chart from 1-10 so he can keep track of how people are doing. Usually he also keeps notes on this, but he can usually keep a decent mental map if he needs to.

Also not really important but Austin's pan so romantic relationships can be with practically anyone.

[User]
Rhiannon felt more confident around this man, maybe because he slight sheepishness appeared to give her the upper hand. The situation and the place still scared her half to death but at least if she was trapped here in some kind of death or survival game then it looked like she might have the advantage. Assuming that the man wasn't putting up a facade.

"Let's have a look at the supplies then. Anything might help us here, so far all I've found outside the room is a lot of rubbish. Quite literally." She walked past him, back straight and trying to force confidence into her voice as she tried to take charge. The room he had come from had a powerful odour seeping out of it, the same one she had been smelling up until then. She began to push on the door, taking a deep breath before she faced the corpse he had spoken of, when the creaking sounded from inside stopped her.

He did say the body was dead, right?

The creaking continued but to her it sounded distinctly non-human and then the sound of rushing water from beyond the door assured her the corpse had not in fact come back to haunt them. Heaving on the door she pushed into the room to see a broken pipe gushing water across the floor. Swirls of red discoloured the salty-smelling water as it began to clean away the dark dried blotches of blood across the room. The corpse itself disturbed her, the weapon a brutal thing, but it was no worse than she had seen.

Nothing like someone who's been a harvester a few times.

"Where are these supplies then? Let's get them and get away from here, it gives me the creeps. Maybe we can search for anyone else in this place, see what we can find out."

[Assistant]
Getting a hold of herself once more, Irina steeled her shoulders and nodded. "Yeah, I think moving all of our stuff together is a good idea. We could take turns keeping watch when we're tired. If I remember correctly, I was in room 9. But I don't think that's the one we should gather in…" She looked around uncomfortably, before letting out a puff of air through her lips. As Austin mentioned the gun that he got, Irina's first instinct was to curiously question him. She'd used guns before, but had never heard of one getting it's chambers sealed. "Thanks for being honest. Revolver, right? What type, if you know?"

Irina couldn't help but jump at the sudden voice directly behind her. Turning around, she saw another girl and sighed in relief. It wasn't a monster, or their captor (whomever that happened to be), which was good enough for her. She introduced herself, yet again, with a small smile. Looking at Justin, she couldn't help but give a quiet snicker at his joke. "You've got some obsession with ghosts," she muttered under her breath. Within moments he had also reached into his pockets and pulled out what appeared to be found in his box. Irina leaned close, examining the small vials and furrowing her brows when she couldn't figure out what one of them meant. "What is this Monster one?" She wondered if it was just an American thing that she wasn't understanding. Despite being good at English, she wasn't well rounded in slang or some short-hand words. English jokes often flew right over her head as well. She eyed the trio around them, hoping one of them could explain the ominous label.

"I think our best chance to get out of this is if we can all work together. So, if it is okay with you, I think we should tell each other what our 'mission' is, and then do it."

Irina nodded and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Rereading the message, she glanced up at them before answering, "Mine says I have to help someone. That's all. But help them with what?" Scratching her head, Irina showed her new 'friends' her phone before pocketing it once more.

Another voice called out from the darkness and Irina let out a sigh. "How many of us are there?" Shaking her head, she tried to ignore how fucked this situation was. After Justin, she called out as well. "There's 3 of us, please don't be scared! Grouping together would be better than going alone." Her thick accent echoed off the walls and bounced back to her ears. Irina swallowed, staring into the darkness in hopes of seeing another friendly face. So far, they had been very lucky in not running into anyone, or anything, crazy. She wondered about this drop off point that Justin had mentioned, but whatever it was it could provide valuable hints about their situation. "I don't know if going alone is a good idea. At least take one of us with you. Just in case? The others can start gathering all of our things into one room… Or we can all just stay grouped up.. I don't know." Irina realized that she had started to ramble, caught herself, and quickly stopped talking.

[User]
Gray Cièl - Hallway 7...13

Gray breathed a sigh of relief, one that caused a thought in the back of her head to call her idiotic after receiving the instructions that she had gotten. Two voices had called out to her, one a male's voice and one a thickly accented female. She walked towards them with her hands raised, a relatively universal sign indicating no foul intentions were present. She almost made sure to make it clear that she had the hammer in her belt loop turning in order for it to be facing them and motioning down towards it. "Do you guys know what's going on?" Gray asked.

Upon examining the fellows she was pleasantly surprised to find that they all seemed to be rather normal young attractive people, Gray's thoughts immediately went to her kidnapper – whoever it was. Did they have a type? Was she that type, how did she fit in with all of these people? She had many questions, most of which would have to stay unanswered for the time being. Once she thought the others would have adequately understood the hands-raised message she reached into her pocket and grabbed her cell phone, raising it up to face the group. "I got told to find the sad girl, get her keys, you guys have any idea what the hell that means?"

She glanced at her phone and then back at the group before remembering the all-important final sentence. "It also states that I am to hold my breath, but" Gray took a deep sigh. She almost laughed – maybe she would have if she wasn't in this fucked up situation. "As you can see, there's no way I can do that until I find the sad lady." Gray tousled her hair in an attempt to clear her mind and see through the illusion, but she couldn't she didn't know enough about this place, or these people. "So unless you're feeling blue, I'm shit outta luck." Gray said motioning towards the girl with the accent.

"Ah shit," she said taking a step backwards. "I'm Gray, never introduced myself." She said motioning to all of her. "Oh I also got this hammer, some shitty nails, food and some other stuff in the room I was in." Gray said motioning behind her towards the way she had walked.

[Assistant]
"U-under the corpse." The color drained from Tim's already pale face, making his features look more sunken in. He had half-followed Rhiannon into the washroom, choosing to stay closer to the door. He tried very hard to not look at the thing laying facedown on the floor, pipe still sticking out of it.

 It's a corpse, not a thing, chided the dark corners of his mind, making him all the more anxious to leave it. "Maybe we should just leave the supplies for now. If there are other people, there must be more supplies." Tim wiped his clammy hands against his work pants. "I don't want to touch the-the.." ,he gestured vaguely to the dead body.

At least the smell was better. If Rhiannon insisted he supposed he could help lift the body or something, as long as he could look away while he did it. And what of the others? He was sure he had faintly heard a shout or two, so there had to be other people besides himself and Rhiannon. Speaking of which, while his first instinct had been to trust Rhiannon, how much could he actually trust her? What if she knew more than she was giving away?

But then again, the girl seemed serious, so tense. Someone who knew what was going on wouldn't be that tense, right? Also what about the messages he had received. Welcome back. Make this unhappy man beside you happy. Did that mean he had to make the dead body happy? No, that made no sense. The phone was now in his front pants pocket, tucked away until the next time it might ring.

"Hey, uh, by the way. When you woke up was there, uh, was there a phone anywhere near you?"

[User]
One person's phone went off, and Austin glanced over at Justin's phone with a morbid curiosity. The same cheeky-looking text told him to go to a "drop-off point"? If Austin was being honest, he really didn't like the idea of them splitting off for any reason. Especially with the dead bodies that were lying scattered about.

 The truth was that Austin expected there were still others out there, and keeping everyone close would be safer for everyone. Justin's vials were just as concerning as his revolver, but the signals were all mixed.
 Who trapped them here and what were they getting out of this? It was like the tasks they were given wanted them to cooperate, but everything else was suggesting that this was going to end violently.

 If they put everything away, Austin could breathe easier without fear of someone stabbing him in the neck at a moment's notice. The weapons could be put away, the food and water could be distributed properly, and maybe they could turn it into a sentry point against whatever force they decided to put out there. There was still the case of his missing soulmate, but he was hoping that finding them would be a simple task.
 "Okay, here's what I think," Austin announced to the crowd around him. It was a decent force, but his mental score sheets for each person were inconclusive.

 "I was in room seven… it's in this hallway. We should all bring our stuff back to this room so that we know where to find it later. The less we all have to split up, the better. That being said, now would be the best time for us to go and find our stuff and bring it back. Is there anyone not comfortable coming back in the direction they came from?"

 This could work. This is what Austin's brain was wired for. He could handle using all of the skills that he'd gained in life to keep everyone sane and satisfied. As long as all his brain cells were dedicated to the people, he himself could avoid losing his mind.

 He can handle the people part if the others could solve the puzzle. It would be simple, right?
 But the overlying sense of dread was something he hadn't predicted. This was more than case studies of those with suicidal urges or long streaks of depression. This was… doom. Despair hung on the air clouding all of his senses. Darker than black, fouler than rotting, grimier than sewage… it prickled at the edge of his sense and at the threads of his clothes.

 He was swimming in it, but focusing on the other's mentality could keep him afloat. Hopefully that could keep him from doing anything stupid.

 So, he took a step back, reached out for the wall and leaned against it to make his body positioning as casual as possible, and gave a bright smile.

 Pretend that you're doing fine. Remember that your scales are still there.

Mental Risk: 7
Emotional Risk: 3
Physical Risk: 1

 For some reason, keeping track wasn't as comforting as he was used too.

 In fact, this new event seemed to be shaking the basic tracking of his scales.


[System]
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.

[User]
Neil didn't make a sound, but Junebug would have probably laughed when Neil's eyes widened in incredulity. If she was too old and heavy, then he would have been. Junebug looked younger and more supple than when he'd met her. "Tough crowd" was all he said into the comm, and on his earpiece he heard a door closing on her end before the transmission cut out until it would pick up her next words. He shook his head and turned the scope of his rifle to overlook the surrounding area.

The compound was located at the end of a short block, with a relatively wide open space for about 280 degrees other than its back being connected to a wall, that would in turn connect to another smaller compound. Other than that, there was a street between it and virtually every other building or hiding place. Dispensers and locals milled about across the street, but they all kept a wide berth. The building was made to look nondescript, but they all knew or felt the barrels of the guns and the weight of the wealth that inhabited the place.

"Eeeehhh, let's see...local, local, local, whore, local, Sven...wait what." He said, his retical zooming in to see Sven standing under the canopy of a tarp above the sidewalk, looking very blended in, as if he had always lived here, save for the fairer skin and blue eyes. He was eating some local cuisine that had the look of a yellow fruit that had exploded outward, and looking at the compound for a reason Neil couldn't fathom. Neil followed his eyes, and the retical moved left until it landed upon an AirV, a military aircar. One of four that moved down the street, armored plating and gauss turrets manned by hard men, wearing flak armor and leather satchels strapped horizontally over their chests.

They stopped in front of the compound.

Even in a hopeful scenario where they were allies of the Pasha, which was likely as they hadn't opened fired on the building, it would still be added security that Junebug would have to deal with. Neil patched her in. "Hey, Captain. You have...a dozen armed men heading inside where you are. I can't tell if they're customers or guards, but either way, be careful."

Neil wished he could fire on them and thin the herd. He didn't have the luxury of a suppressor. One shot they would know there was a shooter. Second shot they would ascertain his direction. Third shot, they would see the muzzle flash and know right where he was. He couldn't help at the moment and it was bothering him more than he would have liked.

[Assistant]
Junebugs stomach lurched the way it always did right before things really dropped in the pot. A number of possible scenarios ran through her mind at once, none of them good. She quickly finished pulling on the outfit that she found in the chambers she had been assigned. A gauzy band of gossamer silk, that wrapped around her chest, and a knee length skirt of similar material that was girdled by a belt of woven gold thread clenched with a ruby. The garments didn't provide much in the way of modesty but they at least provided the psychological comfort that clothing of any kind affords.

"Taya can you reach Sven on any net you have set up?" she asked.

"Break. Neil better gear me up." Across the street Neil unlimbered an awkward looking plastic tube. He hefted it to his shoulder and pushed the rude trigger switch that he had installed earlier. There was an audible chuff of compressed air as it launched its payload across the street, arcing only a little faster than a man could through to land in the courtyard where it bounced end over end before coming to rest against a decorative wall. Junebug scooped it up and tore the packing tape that secured it, inside was a towel in which had been wrapped a small pistol, a datapad and some rudimentary intrusion kit. She tucked the small pistol into the girdle bought the datapad live, adding its visual capacity.

"No… ummm I mean negative, I can't reach him," Taya responded a moment later.

"I cant find him anywhere," she said a moment later.

"Oh we know where he is," Junebug responded.

"Break. Neil, unless I'm very much mistaken Sven is about to launch a coup…" It was also possible that it was a robbery, though very much of the smash first grab later variety, that didn't really seem like Sven's style. It hardly mattered at the moment. An automatic weapon opened up as one of the guards Sven hadn't managed to bribe opened fire. A moment later the gauss cannons on the air cars ripped the night with a sleet of iridium pellets, blowing apart men in the watchtowers and tearing guards of the parapet in showers of bloody gristle.

Screaming harem girls rushed from the courtyard in various states of undress. Junebug had a moment to contemplate that most of them were younger and softer than she was before a grenade bounced into the courtyard. Junebug kicked the small golf ball sized bomb into one of the empty rooms and shoved the nearest girl to the floor a second before the glass fiber shrapnel blasted from the room, though robbed of its lethal force several women screamed. A moment later a door burst open and a pair of armored mercenaries with assault rifles rushed into the mass of women. Sayeeda's little pistol cracked twice snapping the lead gunman's head back in a spray of blood and brains. The second man, lucky but good also, dived behind one of the carven wooden panels. Junebug spat a sulfurous oath and fired into the heavy teak but succeeded only in spraying splinters with the small calibre gun. The wood cratered inward and the man behind it flopped bonelessly to the ground as Neil took him out from his elevated position, the report of the heavy weapon lost in the din. Sayeeda blew a lock of hair out of her face.

"Taya, seal the ship," she commanded, pressing the release stud to drop the half empty clip to the mosaic floor and replacing it with her one and only reload.

"You got it," came back along with the sound of the Highlanders emergency hatches slamming shut. Hopefully that wasn't necessary but taking unnecessary chances was a good way to get your people killed. She belated wondered if Saxon were on the ship and what role, if any, he was playing in all this. It was too late to worry about it and probably beyond Taya's power to eject the Hex from the ship if it became an issue

She was alone in the courtyard now, the rest of the harem having scattered back to the dubious safety of their quarters. Blood ran down an incline not apparent to the naked eye from the merc Neil's shot had all but decapitated. Sven's men, if that was what was going on, weren't necessarily their enemies, but experience taught Junebug that you shot first and asked questions only if you absolutely had to when you were writing the after action report. The fact that Sven had not tried to hire them was suggestive, as was the fact he had obviously gone to some length to be incommunicado but that could just be a determination not to let Neil fuck up his latest venture. What was important now was that she get to the library and get the data the needed before the whole place went up in proverbial, and perhaps literal, flames.

"This is going to get really messy Junebug," Neil said, his transmission stepping on something Taya had been about to say by virtue of his seniority. Sayeeda scooped up the fallen mercenaries weapon and thrust the pistol into the girdle before taking a bandolier of reload and looping it over her shoulder.

"You are telling me," she agreed, imagining how she appeared in the silks with the brutal looking rifle and the bandolier.

"I already look completely ridiculous."

[User]
Neil grabbed the rifle and his pack and stepped over the ledge, sliding down the incline of the thatched roof and making it to the clay caked storm drain that had not been in use for probably decades. His feet hit the drain, and surely enough the thing broke on its hinges, sending it whipping down like a vine. One that Neil promptly grabbed and was flung down in, letting go at the closest point to the ground, catching himself heavily on his feet.

Men and woman screamed, at least a dozen stream past him every few seconds going any which way they could to get away from the sudden carnage of the armed convoy. One man on a turret was strafing the crowd with lasbolts, and though Neil couldn't see his face behind his fabric enwrapped lower face, he had the feeling the insurgent had a sick sense of amusement ending the lives of the civilians as they scattered before him. It was on instinct, as Neil didn't have time to look down the scope of his rifle while he approached, but he didn't need to. It was a lucky shot, blowing the turret man's left shoulder clean off and leaving a hole the size of a fist. His left arm drooped, flinging helplessly as he began to scream in terror. Neil ignored him and slid over the hood of the AirV to make it to the entrance.

Inside was hardly better, as small arms of the slug and laser variety discharged among the constricting dust cloud. He knew it was crazy, even for him, but he didn't slow as he walked in. Likely the men didn't expect an enemy from behind, so figures in his peripheral vision simply didn't look at him. It made his job easier, and he waded through the smog, looking for any harem girl that might be simply killing a mercenary, because that would likely be Junebug.

The first girl he found was unfortunately dead, a hole through her neck and a large puddle of blood still pumping out of her jugular. The girl after that was more fortunate, though still very much in danger. A mercenary had her on her knees as he aimed his submachine gun at her. Neil quickly brought his rifle to bear, hip firing into him from only three paces away. The exit wound could fit Neil's head, and he fell into a heap of meat and bone. The fleshy shrapnel that covered the screaming woman would likely scar her for awhile, but at least she was alive. Neil hauled her to her feet and sent her running with a slap to her ass.

It was a maelstrom, and more than once did Neil need to duck. But as the smog cleared and the combatants lessened, he found exactly what he was looking for. In the distance, a tall silhouette stood motionless. Anyone would have thought him a statue if not for the flowing beard. That, and he did not move an inch, even in the middle of the fighting. This was why Sven frightened Neil as much as Saxon, at times. In his own way, he was even more alien than the Xenos.

The pilot felt better when he put the barrel of his 50. caliber slugthrower a meter away from Sven's chest. He cleared his throat to get the cyborg's attention. After a moment of Sven finishing whatever processing he had been attempting, he turned to Neil slowly. His facial expression still as neutral and cold as ever. As if he felt he shouldn't be surprised, Sven let out an "Ah, it's you." to the pilot, turning his whole body and looking at Neil as if he didn't have a gun trained on him. Then again, Neil even this gun could terminate Sven outright. But he wouldn't be functioning properly, at least.

"Why is it that every time I find you on a world, if you're not extorting, you're making a hostile take over?" Neil remarked tiredly. "Or do you just want in on the girls?"

"I've taken away such base desires." Sven said, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. His eyes flicked to the right. "You on the other hand..."

Neil glanced where he was indicating, and a peculiarly dressed Sayeeda stood over the corpse of a gunman, her back turned. Sven kept talking. "Don't worry, now that you're here I will rein my men in." he continued. "I know better than to try and combat you. You're too unpredictable, even for my calculations."

"And because we're friends?" Neil asked hopefully. Sven didn't answer. Neil decided to break the silence by making a crowd whistle that drew Junebug's attention. "Well, now that we're not trying to kill each other anymore, tell me this. Did you know we were here when this all began?"

"No."

"Help us find something and we'll leave. We just need the Pasha."

"To kill?"

"To talk."

Sven grunted, and stood rigidly. He reached up with his left hand to touch a pressure point on the base of his neck, and with an audible click, Sven's left eyeball slowly exited his socket on three metal hinges. Neil stuck his tongue out in disgust as the eye suddenly grew a metal exoskeleton behind the iris, and eight metallic mandibles erupted from its base. Gingerly, Sven grabbed the eye in his hand, yanking it off the support hinges and letting it drop on the ground. It scuttled away like a spider.

"I will search every corner of the compound."


[System]
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Species: Dracoavian
Image created by Ridlins.

Stands at five feet, seven inches tall.
Bio: Trevor lived a relatively normal, boring life, though, for some reason, he was absolutely okay with that. When he was a child, he was always the target of bullies due to his love for video games, and general nerdiness, however, he was one of the few nerds who could and would fight back, and even so, with surprising strength. If he didn't change schools every year due to his parents moving, he probably wouldn't have gotten picked on after the first time... that isn't to say he didn't get in trouble, since he was bad at trying to convince people, and everyone always thought he was lying, despite Trevor typically not being one TO lie. At first he didn't really think he HAD anger issues, but all of that changed in the seventh grade, when he was just awake enough to notice that he was blacking out, and going completely berserk... the last sight he could remember seeing was his fellow students running away from him, or getting out of his way... funny thing, he doesn't even remember what GOT him that angry, but that incident caused him to finally agree to work out that issue.

 He has since calmed down, and hasn't gotten in any more fights, since most of the bullies in high school remembered him from at least one of the elementary schools he went to, and they didn't want to mess with him. He has since just finished college, getting a degree in computer programming, of all things, and he took his first interview for his first real job... his first day was going to be in a couple days, but he was, hilariously enough, excited about this. This was going to be the start of a brand new chapter in his life, and of course, he didn't think the meteor would actually hit until yesterday, and that REALLY soured his mood for a bit, but then he said to himself 'Well, if it's the last day for humans, let it be known that I really tried to adult' he chuckled at his own joke, and tried to live the last day as if it truly were the last. He tried all sorts of new food, all kinds of new activities with all of his friends, even introducing a few of them to others, and blew most of the cash he had in his wallet. He ended up DEAD tired when he got back home, though, he really didn't want this last day to end for various reasons, his body just wouldn't let him stay up any longer...

 However, much to his surprise, Trevor somehow woke up the next day, though, not everything was where it normally was, specifically, there were feathers and scales everywhere, and he had a long, blue thing blocking his vision... and he felt like he had a tail and wings, but, that can't be possible, right?

Weaknesses (x2): Ice, Stone, and Nature magic
Strengths: x0.5 - Water, x0 - Fire, x-1 - Lightning

Skills:
Fisticuffs: Not one to use weapons, Trevor prefers to just punch the enemy, despite the fact that his claws might be a better choice. He uses no real fighting style, since he was never trained, but there's enough strength behind his punches to make this a viable option.

Fire: Firebreath, and some other fiery skills... Trevor's alright at it, but some of the more advanced fire moves tend to come with some sort of drawback for him... he uses it as recklessly as one would expect.

 Flame Drill: A skill in which Trevor imitates a drill and drills through the opponent using his tough claws, and a dose of fire breath. A powerful move that can easily hit weak points and ignores an enemy's defense, but it also leaves Trevor dizzy, and unable to accurately attack for a while after its use.

Lightning: Trevor's a natural at using electrical abilities, apparently, and he tends to shoot said lightning from the tips of his claws, often shaping his hand to look kind of like a gun and even occasionally saying 'pew, pew' when he does so.

 Energize: Trevor can use some of his own electricity to give one of his teammates, or himself, a sudden burst of energy. Heals HP, and can restore some lost magic... costs a decent amount of magic to use, however.

Runes: Scan Rune - Allows one to use the 'Scan' skill both inside and outside of battle... said skill allows the user to read alien languages, and know the strengths and weaknesses of enemies once it's used on a sample of that language, and an enemy, respectively. This rune doesn't need to be equipped to any skill slot, and doesn't require any real magic to use.

 Heal Rune - Allows the use of one type of healing magic, depending on which type of magic it's equipped to. In this case, it allows the use of the magic skill 'Energize', since it's equipped to his lightning magic.
Other: Nothing.

[User] The spider hissed and screeched at every fire attack that hit it, and it seemed like it was going to go down, at least, until Shaula came in, and put out the flames. Earlier, she said she never said anything about lizard people, but... if she was a conspiracy theorist looking at a dragon, Trevor was certain she was at least THINKING it. Either way, the spider, now a bit more confident about attacking the group went right for Trevor, fangs-first, and unfortunately, he wasn't paying much attention, since he was trying to tell Shaula that the enemy being on fire was a GOOD thing, so, he took some damage from the venomous fangs, but... oddly enough, he didn't even feel like he was poisoned. Aerin then came through the portal, and seemed to be concerned that this might be a former human, as well, and, despite the hissing and screeching, Trevor thought that might still be at least SOMEWHAT possible, so, he asked "Hey, were you a human, before, too? If so, um... sorry about the fire, and we'll heal you up," the spider gave no response, save for another screech... this time, a few tiny spiders seemed to surround it, and the three tiny spiders seemed to be using some sort of weird... shield spell on the main spider, at this point. Trevor tried to ignore the shield spell, and just tried to breathe fire on the main spider, again, but... nothing happened. Seemed like the shield was at least good enough to protect it against fire attacks, unfortunately. Trevor then thought back to the video games he's played, and tried to remember if he had seen something like this before... a big thing that's suddenly protected by a bunch of smaller, probably weaker things... hmmm.

[Assistant] "Don't put it out you fool! That's the only way we can see the darn thing!" He continues shooting flames at the now soaked spider, but it doesn't relight, only bellowing smoke. He screeches in anger, a high pitch raptors cry. He tries to ignite his wings, but the moisture from Shaula's water blast making them steam instead. He mutters under his breath, and runs off into the distance, and begins drawing on the stone with his white hot talon, ignoring the fight for now, intent on finishing his drawing. He draws nonstop, in incredible detail, taking care to stay out of the way of the monster spider.

[User] As the spider were burning before, Celina hoped it would last until they were dead... but that was not the case when Shaula panicked and actually extinguished the spider... it was then that the small spiders arrived and actually stayed near the big one and that a sort of barrier seem to form, protecting those things against the fire that Trevor used. This was bad, very bad. She though about it a bit, thinking about what she could do, before imagining a large hammer possibly... She though about it before feeling her arm change a bit. She looked at it as it formed to a very large hammer. Well.. that could work. Considering those spiders just arrived and possibly protected the big one, she rushed forwards and then started to try to bash the ground onto one of the small spider, trying to squish it as best as she could right now. "Nope, die, nope, not having more of you, nope." she then says, very annoyed about those things. She did NOT want to have those here and she just wanted them gone.

[Assistant]
Mia

---

 Having burst into flames, it seemed like the spider was near death, at least until the crazy water lady decided to shoot water at it, which only served to put the fire out. To make matters worse, three smaller spiders began casting some kind of shield spell. There wasn't much she could do about the spiders, but since Trevor had been bitten, it was a good opportunity to try out some of her other magic.

 For a moment, she closed her eyes to concentrate, before a ring of light appeared in the ground beneath her. It quickly expanded, until it surrounded everyone in the group. Not only did it give them a light source, but if Mia was understanding this spell correctly, then it should heal Trevor's bite wound, and maybe even speed up the regeneration of Shaula's legs.

[User]
Aerin would not really make any attempts to mess with the spider, feeling quite content to just hang out in the dark and watch the little show of powers. He was feeling quite untouchable at the moment, so fighting or even worrying about it was beneath him. Instead, he'd take a little look about the room, making sure there were not any more sneaking up on them.

Well, at least until that almost painfully bright light emitted from Mia, not only was it bright but it felt like it was singing his shadowy scales and sapping his strength. Almost instinctively he'd let out an almost feral hiss and slide away from the light, partially phasing back in to the walls. His body did not approve of whatever that was! "Watch where you're shining that beacon!" he'd huff out, slipping in to the shadowiest spot he could find.

[Assistant]
Shaula

---

 Shaula had accidentally extinguished the spider in a moment of panic, and the rest of the group didn't look too happy about it. Trevor looked like he had wanted a word with her before the spider attacked him, and Jason yelled at her as though she had extinguished it on purpose. "Oh, you think I don't know that?" She yelled back. "You try fighting a giant, flaming spider when you're made of water, we'll see how you do!" Three small spiders came crawling out of the tunnels nearby to surround the large one, which became cloaked in a dim green light that seemed to protect it from their attacks.

 Her water wouldn't damage it now, but that wasn't her only weapon. If Orgone could protect her from chemtrails, aliens, and ridiculously high water bills, why couldn't it work on giant spiders, too? Shaula took an emitter from her backpack and pointed it at the spider, sending a wave of Orgone energy at it. The spider, however, couldn't care less. It didn't seem to mind the Orgone at all, though Shaula hadn't really expected it to work; she hadn't made these emitters to fight off giant spiders from twenty feet away. She needed it closer, so she threw the emitter as hard as she could.

 Rather than hurting the spider, the emitter bounced off and flattened one of the smaller ones. It was difficult to see what had happened in the dim light, but the large spider's green glow gave an unmistakable flicker and dimmed slightly. The Orgone emitter was doing its job. Over by Mia, a ring of light on the ground expanded outward to surround the entire group. As it passed Shaula, she felt her legs begin to reform faster, until she was able to stand up a moment later. She made a mental note to thank Mia later and began throwing more Orgone emitters at the spider, hoping they would be able to kill it.

[User] Trevor was deep in thought for a bit as he seemed to remember an enemy from a video game fighting in a very similar manner... leave it alive for a turn, and it'll summon a smaller enemy that produces a shield for it, though, in this case, it was three. He shook his head, and thought What next? Are we going to start fighting X-nauts, too? Maybe there will be a part where we have to sign up for some sort of fighting league... sheesh. Trevor hardly noticed Mia's healing, but once he figured out what she did, he nodded and thanked her before attacking and finishing off the last of the three tiny spiders, breaking the shield spell around the bigger one, which promptly attacked Mia, though, Trevor got in the way, saying "Nope! Sorry, can't have you hurting the healer... even if we're supposed to be focusing on attacking, right now," it didn't seem like the spider understood what Trevor said, but at least his own team understood, right? Of course, right after the thing's attack, three more tiny spiders emerged, forming a new shield around the bigger one. "Ugh... just like I said, everyone, focus your attacks on the smaller ones, for now. They should be weak, so just... hurt them with anything, and they'll go down, okay?" Trevor informed his teammates while the spider's shield formed, yet again... protecting it from any sort of harm.


[System]
Appearance:

Race: Human
Class: Paladin
Main-Hand Weapon: Longsword
Off-Hand Weapon: Kite Shield, Steel
Secondary Weapon: Greatsword
Armor: Full Plate
Powers: None - his faith is all the power he needs.
Skills:
Diplomacy - Carver is a great communicator, able to get what he wants out of people by being straightforward with them. In additon, his palpable earnestness and good looks tend to make him very popular wherever he goes.
Knowledge of Religion - Having lived in a monastery all his life, he knows a fair deal about the various faiths of the realm.
Tenacity - With faith as his armor and honor his shield, there his little Carver cannot endure - he will get back up and get back up and get back up.
Weaknesses: Cannot tell a lie to save his life.
Utterly shackled to the (very rigid) moral codes of his order.
Personality: Carver is the quintessential knight - he is obsessed with justice, honor, courage, and compassion. He's a compulsive do-gooder and sometimes a bit of a stick in the mud, and sometimes he can be a little too sure of his own judgements, but he is really, fundamentally a good person out to spread good into the world. In combat, he is a protective fighter - a blow will not fall on his comrades if it may fall on him instead, and he prioritizes a solid defense over any kind of offense.
Background: Carver was born in a great city far to the north, and given over by his parents at a young age to the local order of holy warriors. He was brought up as a crusader, a servant of the goddess of the sun and compassion, and taught his whole life the virtues of justice, integrity, and faith. Now, as part of his Crusader's Rite of Passage, he has journeyed to the south, seeking to right the wrongs, uplift the downtrodden, and spread the radiant light of the sun to all dark corners of the world.
Other:

[User]
There could be nothing, nothing at all in the whole world quite so amazing and attractive as black powder. It was a wonderful thing. Not that had anything to do with this however.

"Alrighty then sir, all fixed up! I told you it would be worth the tools." Kelvin ducked back out from beneath the wagon, finished working on the new fixed-axle bearings. Intricate things, and prone to sticking if not kept clean and well greased. In this particular case, the owner had left an axle cap off whilst traveling, and a bit of dirt and mud later... BAM. Frozen axle. It really didn't take much in the ways of tools to fix, just a delicate touch, some boiling water, and some clean grease. The owner didn't need to know that though. "Aye, was a pleasure indeed sir."

He had always wanted to get in on the inside of one of those fixed-axle wagon wheels, see what was really going on in that hub. It was quite intriguing really, two cones, one inside of the other, and each lined with miniscule rollers that spun about eachother. Combined with a slathering of grease, and the wheels were practically floating! Of course... If yeh didn't cover them properly, the dirt and debris would foul it up quicker than a necromancer in a chapel. It was payment enough to just take one apart. Kelvin opened his backpack, scanned over it's contents quickly, and sighed. No food, only a bit of gold. Besides that, he didn't truly feel like sleeping on the cold, hard ground again tonight. Tools of the trade were expensive, especially when most people had no idea what black powder even was. Only one thing to do. Head for an inn.

Kelvin kicked the door open to the inn loudly, if he was going to do this, he would do it in style. Not that anyone inside could have seen him turn the handle on the door before kicking it- partially so he wouldn't have to fix it later, and partially because he wasn't strong enough to kick it open anyway. "You there! I'm calling you out."

He strode to the small bar, heads rotating, and took a short survey, picking a semi-muscular man who wasn't facing him. Kelvin put a hand on his shoulder, and turned the man around, finding a woman instead. Inside, part of him died a bit, and the other shrieked with fright. "Sorry, wrong person." Just had to sidle away from that one. This time he chose a younger looking man.

"Hey, I've been looking everywhere for you." He made is voice deeper for a moment, and then winked conspiritorially, sitting down. "I am in need of a dry place to sleep, and you look like you need a travel companion. Care to figure it out?" It was a shot in the dark, but worth making. There was a reason this guy was in an inn, sitting alone. "Call me Kelvin, by the way."

[Assistant] As Separ continues to idly imagine adventures he is brought back into reality as he feels a hand touch his back. Separ turns around and listens to the man he starts wondering just how to respond, pausing to think about his actions. "Do I know you? Though actually I am looking for some companions. Wait, out of everyone here why choose me? You're not trying to rob me or something are you? Wait, umm, are you looking just for someone to travel with, or are you an adventurer as well?" Separ's words were quick and somewhat hard to follow. He had never done something like this before and wasn't exactly sure of himself and just how to proceed.

[User]
Carver strode through the marketplace confidently, his heavy armor clanking with every step. So far, everything seemed to be in order - the hustle and bustle of commerce carried on around him, seemingly unabated by any sort of wickedness or villainy whatsoever. The prices seemed to be reasonable, the merchandise legitimate - nobody was being cheated here. Carver was glad to see it; too many villages he had been to on his journey so far had been rife with dishonesty and corruption.

As he ruminated on the morality of the village, he caught sight of a scrawny gnome stumbling through the crowd. He watched as the gnome took hold of a woman's robe, staring at the fabric with childlike wonder. She immediately turned and yanked it from him, saying something unintelligible but obviously rather flustered.

Quite a pair - the girl seemed to be moving with a distinct limp, and the gnome clearly wasn't eating very well. It was hardly the stuff of legends, but Carver knew that every good deed mattered.

With his best winning smile, Carver approached the pair, regarding them each in turn. "Good day, friends! Keeping safe, I should hope?"

[Assistant]
By the time Suki had finished the apple, she had managed to walk her way over to the tavern by chance. Mentally sighing, she pushed open te doors, before walking in. Avoiding eye contact with any curious onlookers, she made her way towards the corner of the building, sitting herself down at an empty table.

Carefully glancing about, she didn't recognize anyone, nor see anything out of the ordinary. Nor was there anyone staring at her with the look of death, as the members of the church had done so.

Feeling the safest that she had all week, she lightly rested her head on the table, befre falling asleep, her arms around her head, covering any view of her face.

[User]
Furnace let the cloth slowly slip away trough his fingers.
"It's pretty"
Would not fit... light the fires...
She knew he was Furnace, and that was his task.
So as the fires and hammer fit him the robe fit her?
The robe was her tool, he didn't know for what, and thus he could not perform that task.
Thus he was not fit.
Furnace wondered what her task was. He recognised the patters as those in the sky.
Since he'd seen them for the first time he had been unable to find ryme or reason for the lights up there

Suddenly a shadow fel over him, as he looked up he saw a large figure fully encased in steel.
The man smiled and called them 'friends' and asked them if they 'kept safe'.
Furnace double checked. He was talking to them, though he saw no spark of recognition in the robe-user.
He struggled to remember the word 'friend'. The voice had never used 'friend'. But the captors had.
They had used it to describe each other when they weren't fighting.
By the looks of this ironclad giant that seemed like a decent proposal.
"Good day.. Friend... I keep no one..."

[Assistant]
Alula wanted to leave, she wanted to hurry away and leave the village and disappear from memory like she always did. She was very conflicted right now, as well as uncomfortable. She knew the gnome meant her no harm, but Alula didn't like being around strangers. She heard the gnome mutter something about her robe, but she didn't comprehend it. The two stood in silence and although her stoic face didn't show it vivid hallucinations played out in front of her eyes. Flames sprouted out from the ground, but left no burn when they touched her skin. Phantom noises filled her ears, crying and screaming.

And Alula was extremely distressed, but didn't show it physically. This had never happened before? Or had it? Her eyes went hazy again as she attempted to remember anything pass a few days ago. Nothing.

But as quickly as they started the hallucinations of flames and sound stopped. They faded away, leaving Alula dazed and confused. Someone else, another stranger, had approached her and the gnome. And suddenly things seemed a little calmer, a bit more controlled. Alula pulled her hat down over her eyes as she spoke the voice of the other. "A splendent light but his own kindness keeps him in shackles." She kept the glow of her eyes hidden under her hat as she listened to the man speak. Under normal circumstances the man's smile would be welcoming and most likely comforting, but Alula was confused? Was this man her friend?

"Calling someone friend is a way of showing you aren't hostile. He is trying to be polite."

Oh. But this mad also said 'Good day' when had it become day? She looked up from under the brim of her hat. Yep. The bright light in the sky told her it was a clear day out. She pulled her hat back down. She didn't say anything as the gnome and the man started a conversation, she was far too dizzy. She didn't like meeting this many people in one day.

[User]
Vis had managed to find a decent bag, similar to the one he had though fortunately with hardier stitching. He look up from studying the leather at the wrinkled old face of the leather smith, he did this again a few more times, inspecting the bag and looking up at the man who seemed to have infinite patience. "Thell me Letherthmith," he said, through the scarf that covered his mouth, "Whath kind of lether ith thith." the old man replied quickly, betraying that he indeed make the bag and didn't buy bad quality ones at low price to re-sell later.

"Stag leather," he said with pride, looking back to a pile of antlers in the corner of his little shack, "only the best." Vis nodded, feeling the rough interior and the smoothly finished exterior. It was indeed of good quality, it was stitched first with thread, then with thicker thread and over that with robust leather thread, it would hold.

"Thirthy gold." said Vis, avoiding the eye contact of the man as it seemed he was staring at his blind green eye, it cast a circle on the old man's face that seemed to unnerve him as he noticed it produced light.

"60." replied the man instantly, standing up a bit straighter as he sensed that a haggling war was about to ensue.

By the end an agreement was reached, Vis payed 45 golden bits and got the bag thar he so desired and a set of stag antlers, seeing that he might as well get more worth for his pay and take something else, then to just get one thing. Satisfied with his purchase, he thanked the man and dumped his personal effects into the bag, his child's encyclopedia and the antlers; he didn't know what he was going to do with them but he figured it wouldn't hurt. As he made his way out of the market he tripped on an armored boot, looking up he almost shat himself at the paladin, who looked much bigger from the floor.

[Assistant]
The word 'shackles' resonated with Furnace. With eyes full of concern he studied the knights wrists and ankles.
"What binds you fr-"
Suddenly another tall figure came tumbling past between them.
Did he trip over the chains?
Furnace found no chains around the giants feet. He sighed in confused relief. He now stared at the creature that had fallen amidst them. Without blinking, without words.

[User]
A splendid light, but his kindness keeps him bound. Carver furrowed his brow, confused. He was opening his mouth to reply to the girl when a tall man in a scarf stumbled over his feet and fell to the floor in front of him.

"Apologies, friend!" Carver said, kneeling down to help the half-elf rise to his feet. "I didn't see you approach. Are you injured?" These words were meant to assuage the man's obvious fright at the sight of him - Carver hated being seen as scary, but sadly it sometimes came with the territory of wearing armor.

The paladin looked back to the girl, who seemed faint and dizzy in the sun. Perhaps that was why the things she said made so little sense - was the heat getting to her? He placed a hand on her shoulder gently. "Milady, you don't look well. Perhaps you'd like to sit down in the shade?" He smiled back down at the scrawny gnome, still staring at the assembled figures wordlessly. "Come too, little one. We'll see what we can do about getting you something to eat."