[System]
(Still working on Portrait picture)
Species: Barabel
Age: 22
Rank/Title: Mando'ade Warrior.
Role: Primary — CQB / Secondary — Medic
Planet of Origin/Birth: Void Born aboard the Corellian merchant ship "The Ravana"

Appearance:
 Roak is a tall Barabel standing roughly 6'9" with wide shoulders. Built strong with dark blotches of green and brown scattered across his scaly body. The lizard normally wears his armor or a green cloak. His body is branded with Mandolorian symbols across his chest that he brands again when ever he sheds his skin. The reptile also has a slight genetic mutation as he does not have a tail.

Skills:
 Roak has been hard trained from an early age to be a pit fighter. Stolen from his nest and bought as a slave. Getting up close and personal is no problem for him, and he always enjoys a good fight. But before he could fight he had other duties, mostly medical or repair. When not being used as a training dummy for the older fighters. Roak would find himself assisting some others in the medical bay or be tasked to repairing and reprogramming the training droids. Even through this the youngling would occasionally wander off and hide. Mostly to sleep or just get away and over time excelled at it.

•- Close Quarters Battle / Saber Training — Better than most of the others, something about a blade and getting up close to people is exhilarating for him.
•- Advanced Combat Medical Training — Had a knack and prior training for it and Elder Resol capitalized on it.
•- Stealth — Even for a big guy he is pretty quiet and can melt away if he wants too.
•- Tracking — Hunting is instinctual for him, even if he's never seen his home world.
•- Repair/ Hacking — Through his years as a slave one of his jobs was repairing and sometimes reprogramming droids and other computer equipment.

Equipment:

•- Heavy Combat Armor, is the classification of his armor. With a black and green color scheme to represent his duty and sense of justice. Made to have more protection than standard Mando armor due to his close quarters fighting style. This armor has armor plates on the arms and legs and thicker armor on the torso while still leaving gaps near the joints for better movement and agility. Although mostly made from duraplast, the armor covering his vitals is durasteel. This heavy armor looks more like the ancient Mandalorian Shock Trooper Armor found in old stories and documents. The helmet supports a base combat computer and range finder as well as a sealed 1 hour emergency life support mode for toxic environments and vacuum.
•- Retractable Wrist Blades, Equipped on both gauntlets.
•- Dur-24 wrist laser, fixed on right gauntlet.
•- JT-12 Jetpack, with grappling hook and winch in place of a missile.
•- Short barreled blaster rifle, Lower range but easier to use in close quarters.
•- Heavy Blaster Pistol, Holstered on left hip.
•- 2x G-20 Glop Grenades. All grenades are normally located on his right hip.
 2x CryoBan Grenades.
•- Ryyk Blade, Tucked under his jet pack on his right shoulder, a gift from an old Wookie who he saved.
•- Survival Knife x2, One on his left hip the other concealed in his right boot.
•- Data/Communication pad, On left arm.
•- Medkit, An advanced medical pack he keeps with him to treat an assortment of injuries. It has been modified to the needs of the group and is smaller than its bulky counter part.
•- Modified DRK-1 Dark Eye Probe Droid, Built from two badly damaged droids. This droid is used as a recon, repair, and at times a distraction device. Its coloration has been changed to support a more natural green camouflage pattern to blend into the environment.
•- Other Gear: Roak tends to pack a little heavier on the ration side of things due to needing a little more food than the others. He will also have some hunting or survival gear associated with his need to hunt during his down time. However, Roak is very capable of making what ever he needs on the fly and other than a few simple tools he doesn't carry much else.

History:
 Roak Vano Resol was born during hyperspace transit aboard the Corellian merchant ship "The Ravana." This ship although classified as a merchant vessel was at the time transporting stolen Barabel eggs. Roak and his clutch mates hatched on their way to a small moon controlled by a few Hutts. These Hutts made their money with controlling fighting pits across the small unnamed moon.

Through fighting and training Roak grew strong and fast. Adapting very well to the rigors of training and surviving n and around the fighting pits. The young reptile knew little other than fighting and surviving. The only time he would get any education is when he was put in to help with the medical staff or repair or rework droids. All this fighting and struggling changed when Roak was about to enter his first battle to the death at a young age.

At the time he was still rather small compared to the others. But before the fight could begin, the arena was raided by a small task force of rebels trying to free one of their captured officers, who was also in the arena with him. Seeing this as a way out into the vast places the others would talk about Roak was quick to assist and help them. He knew he was dead either way.

After this and a few tense moments aboard their ship he was informally inducted into their squad. Over the next few years Roak would grow strong and smart. The rebels trained him and taught him about the galaxy they all called home. But even then his aggressive and rather territorial instincts combined with his training in the fighting pits made him very difficult for the Rebel leadership to control. However, the young adult has been doing extremely well with Elder Resol's guidance.

[User]
Zaheed glanced at a few of the others while they waited underneath the tarp. It was silent- as usual, they were always quiet right before the fight, a sort of meditation before they got stuck in deep. The adrenaline fueled dark humor would follow after they'd finish the raid. He lifted his blaster rifle and peered down the optic, a force of habit more than anything- he'd gotten comfortable to the point that he could point and shoot without fully needing the optic for anything within close to medium range. His burnished orange and olive armor rustled slightly as he put his hand on a pouch at his side, adjusting the explosive payload safely carried within. He did a quick mental count of how much he had and where it all was.

The speeder slowed down as they neared their position. Kast shifted from his seat, and moved into a slight crouch. As soon as the tarp flew off, he and his brothers were out, jetpacks flaring in unison as four warriors of fables bust into the courtyard. He landed and rolled, and before he was on his feet, his blaster was already firing. Around him, blaster bolts whizzed, and his visor was peppered with the occasional bits of dirt and stonework as grenades exploded in their vicinity. On the ground, Kast acted on instinct. Whenever he saw white plastoid, he fired once, then thrice. As far as he was concerned, anyone without a mando helmet was not a friendly.

Following his squad-brothers, Kast brought up the rear of their formation, his legs pumping as he jumped backwards steps at a time, keeping up pace with his sprinting brothers. He didn't pay attention to the nav-points on his HUD, paving the way to their objective was Roak's job, he spent his time focusing on flank and rear security, his head constantly jerking left right and center at the closest sign of movement, pointing his blaster and firing if they carried a weapon, and barking at them to leave if they were unarmed.

Javi complained about the noncoms running around, and suggested laying mines to deter imperials, while Roak suggested against it, reminding them that there were innocents about them too. Kast shook his head. "Roak's right, too many noncoms in the area, might end up blowing their legs off instead of Imps. Keep pushing forward, I'll deal with it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Kast spotted a stormtrooper emerging from a hidden corner to fire on the backs of his squadmates. Hell, if it weren't for the bright white plastoids, Kast might not have spotted him until it was too late. Kast skittered to the side as the blaster bolt glanced off the ground he just stood on, before sticking his arm out and letting loose a gout of flame from one of his flame projectors. He was rewarded for his efforts with the sound of a blaster dropping to the floor, and a imp screaming and flailing at his body before falling down.

Following his squad into a corridor, Kast paused and grabbed at a spare fuel canister at his belt and released the nozel, allowing the fuel to cover the floor behind them. Following his squad down the corridor, Kast shout a jet of flame from his projector and set alight the entrance to the corridor- it probably wouldn't stop any particularly determined imperial forces, but no one would want to follow them through the flames if at all necessary.

With their rear secured, Kast returned his attention to the front, and followed his brothers through the palace and towards their objective

[Assistant]
Fun fact: Mandalorians brought in by Jango Fett trained Republican Commandos. Other fun fact: Old Man Resol was Cuy'val Dar, one of those trainers.

An observer familiar with the operational procedures of Republic Commandos could see hallmarks of that training as they cleared room to room, as they stacked and then entered, and forced the Stormtroopers to fight disadvantageously in the corridors against a foe that had more armor, and the advantage of finely-honed skills. In a small space, numbers and firepower mattered less because it was chokepoints. The Sultana's villa was a place where the rulers of Tengaru relaxed by the river, enjoying the city lights by night. It was built to be cool in the summer, and save on air conditioning.

Using the map markers and other navigational aids on his HUD, Voshno was the second one through most of these doors, clearing ahead after the Barabel took down whatever was in the corner. They made good time, even as they heard the scream overhead of a TIE fighter raining down on the Rebel positions, a visceral reminder of tick-tock.

Resol never really bonded with the Clones, and didn't feel much for the white jobs here either, who were probably the Spaarti-grown variety and other 'sources' of recruits. That was a job, a very well paid one, and the Republic didn't really matter to him. This was different, his boys were a varied bunch, but vode an all the same. The anti-nonhuman prejudices of the Empire fell flat here, because even a Clone Commando or an ARC trooper would have a hard time resisting a Barabel that happened to be a Mando Boy, chopping at them with a blade. The Nautolan's naturally agile frame was tuned to a new standard under the harsh tutelage of the Mandalorian way. The two humans lads chose their purpose as surely as anyone else did.

And that was what gave them the edge over these stormtroopers.

Along with superior marksmanship.

When they transitioned into the part of the palace with the panic room, they came into a hall, an indoor garden with flowers, bushes, leafy vines lovingly cultivated along anything they'd grow up, which was just about the whole room. It beautiful gold-veined stone floor, polished lovingly and just waiting for a party. Fancyness, a place to host balls and receptions. It had a skylight overhead, to bring sunlight down on the crystals. Here, the architecture certainly opened up.

So did the white jobs, with emplaced E-Webs.

They dove for cover, even as Resol gave curt orders, in Mando'a, "Javi, engage 10. Voshno, engage 2." Bearings, directions on the clocks, "Kast, start a fire. Roak, with me son," he said as the old man slammed to the ground and got on one knee behind the cover of a planter, a sprinter's pose. He wasn't in his prime anymore, but he was a long and lean guy, a runner and the muscles remembered.

It wasn't the party the room was built for; it was the party the room got.

[User]
Keenly aware of his surroundings the Mando warriors pressed on through corridor after corridor. The tight places where exactly the kind of room clearing the barbell wanted. Cutting down foe after foe with either the heavy pistol or his Sabre. The imperials stood little chance to get away from their impending doom. If the Barabel didn't get you, the others that followed would.

Roak knew what was coming up next. The open courtyard before the safe house was going to be a problem they all knew it. The Imps would too, the last choke point, the last place to get them into the open. It was in the floor plan that they had received and Roak had spent many hours going over the layout of the building. Even going as far to building a holographic simulation of the building back at base so that he wouldn't have gotten anything mixed up.

That was another thing Elder Resol instilled in them was to be prepared for anything. To be able to think and adapt, be problem solvers. Roak normally wouldn't put that much effort into a strike, but he was well aware that if this one went smoothly then they would get much more dangerous and high profile missions. Speak the words and where the armor, and we will do great things. That's all the old man had to tell him. That was all he needed to hear, having a purpose was all he ever wanted.

The door was coming up on them quickly, they were even a little ahead of schedule. The diversion that the others were making was working. A scream overhead, the unique sound of tie fighters reminded the Mando what was at stake. Holstering his pistol and sheathing his sword he grabbed his rifle with one hand and took a cryo grenade from his belt. The courtyard was too open for his normal tactics.

Bursting through the large heavy doors they were met with a peaceful sight of colorful flowers and ornate stone carvings. These beautiful sights were soon stolen by blaster fire from implaced E-Webs on the opposite side of the courtyard. The Imps had placed themselves in a rather well situated position, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Taking up a position next to Elder Resol Roak could only nod at his teacher as a sign of 'ready when you are' the Barabel would be sure to throw his grenade at the nearest position but would otherwise follow his lead with his short blaster rifle in hand.


[System]
Alexander Zangief, but once he joins the the fists, he will be referred to as Ivar.

Age:18

Gender:Male

Rank(Disciple, Master, Bully, ECT):Bully

Martial Arts Style(Unless you're a disciple): He is a trained boxer.

Gang Affiliation(If any): Ragnarok, soon to become one of their most elite members.

Looks:

Height: 5'6"

Backstory: I'll work on this later, guys. <_< >_>....

All I know right now is that scaling up the ranks of Ragnarok, until he becomes the sole leader. He is obsessed with this goal, and will do anything to meet it. Perhaps he has a control problem. I don't know. I'll figure it out.

Crush(If any):

Personality:

Other:

[User] "Only a coward beats a man when he's already out!" Ally said, setting Shaz behind her and Kiro. She got into an aggressive stance and was going to counter any attack this man threw. She wasn't doing this for Shaz, she was doing this for Kiro. Kiro was in no condition to fight, any fight against Kiro or Shaz would be unfair. She figured all she would have to do would be a hard counter and the man might back off. When she heard Niijima's cries to Kiro she shook her head, "Don't think I forgot that you're the reason Kiro has to go against either of these men!" She clenched her fists and got ready to defend Kiro.

[Assistant]
"Suit yourself, you idiots!" Taro exclaimed, as he rose his bat up in the air. Simultaneously, all of his lackeys charged into action. He had no intentions of a fair fight for anyone, just as long as the job got done.

Too many came at once, as several people came swinging at Ally with bats and knives. "So, you think you're tough, huh!?" One yelled out as he attacked.

There were too many for Ally to stop at once, as a man swung his steel baton over Kiro's head.

Kiro quickly moved into a high block, as his forearm took all of the damage. He winced, taking a step back, as while he had prevented a very fatal injury, it was still something heavy to take no matter where you were hit. Kiro ignored the pain in his left arm, as the man came swinging back for another try. Kiro used the move Shin taught him, as he hit away the hand with his own before bringing the back of his loose palm straight up to the attacker's chin.

The thug flinched, as the swift hand came towards him, but smirked once he assumed he had narrowly dodged the attack. "Ha, you missed, kid!" He laughed, as he charged for another attack. He froze just before his baton could hit Kiro, as his legs started to wobble. "What the-!? What the heck did you do to me!?" He frantically demanded an answer, as he suddenly collapsed to the ground, his baton rolling off on the ground.

Kiro sighed in relief, as he whispered a silent thank you to his karate master, Shin. The ability to be able to take out an opponent with a single hand was a very useful, and sometimes crucial thing to learn.

"Forget them, guys! If we take out Shaz, then Zangief might let us take over his position!" One reasoned, as three people went in to attack the wounded man at once while his two allies were distracted.

Kiro quickly jumped in front of Shaz, as took all three attacks at once. He took a hard punch, and two bats at either side of his ribs. He grunted, as the pain of the bats were beyond measurable for Kiro. The man felt the taste of blood in mouth, as he started to lose his form. He quickly regained his position, as he stood strong to face the bullies. "I won't let you lay a finger on him while he's out!" He angrily exclaimed, sticking by his principles and morals.

"W-What's this dude made out of!?" One attacker stuttered.

"How can someone stand after being hit like that!? I didn't even hold back!" Another one questioned, as he took a step back.

"Look, his crazy karate girlfriend, too!" The third exclaimed, as he pointed over to the other fight going on.

Niijima chuckled. "That's right, you big oafs! These guys are stronger than you could ever imagine! This guy?" He pointed over to Kiro. "Jiu Jitsu, karate, he even knows some weird Chinese stuff you ain't even heard of!" Niijima bragged to villains, as he continued to laugh, as if they had already won the battle.

"He's bluffing, guys!" One of Kiro's three attackers assured the other two, as he raised his bat high in the air for another swing.

Kiro took him out in two swift punches this time, as the bully's swing was fairly slow in comparison to any of his masters' own fists. His breathing became rapid, as he turned to face the other two. Kiro suddenly collapsed to his knees, as he completely let down his guard. His body ached, as it pleaded for him to rest.

[User]
Ally's heart began to beat fast as the men charged forward, right at her. She got into a more defensive stance since there were too many. Two swung bats, so she swiftly dropped down and sweep kicked them, but before she could regain her stance, a baton came right for her head! She sprung away right into the blow of a bat, it smashing right into her ribs. It hurt, but she had been through worse.

Despite the blow, she got up into her stance again, but as soon as she was up, a knife sliced right across her arm. This shocked her, as she let out a small yelp and faced the attacker. He had an awkward grip on the knife, so she grabbed his hand and twisted it hard, even hearing a small pop! He let out a cry and dropped the knife right into her hand. She pushed the man down and tossed the knife across the room, away from the fight, only to be faced with another two men, one with a bat and one with a knife.

The batter swung level with her chest while the knifeman thrusted his weapon. The knife was faster than the bat, so she disarmed the knifeman. Once the wooden bat was close enough, she hopped up over it and slammed it to the ground using her body weight and gravity. The bat splintered and broke and the man was disarmed. She sent a swift tornado kick, something Shin taught her years ago, to the man's head. "What the-?!" he stammered before being knocked out. She didn't know if it was a "seventh sense" or something, but she instinctively slammed her elbow down behind her, hitting the disarmed knifeman in the back of the head.

Ally turned around to make sure Kiro was okay, but he was being ganged up on by two men and he was down. She didn't hear any of their previous comments as she was busy taking on her own attackers.

The batter held his bat up high, prepared to take the final blow on Kiro, but Ally rushed him from behind, wrapping her legs around his lower stomach and choking him while making him release his grip on the bat. He stumbled a bit as he tried to breath, but this move restricted breathing in the trachea and diaphragm. This was a ground move, a Jiu Jitsu move, not a standing move, so when his buddy slammed the dropped bat into her kidneys, her grip loosened and she dropped off the man. The first man was gasping, still purple in the face, but the second man was going for another strike. Ally stepped forward just when the bat was about to swing and slammed her elbow right into the man's nose. She quickly chopped him in the neck and he was down.

For the final, gasping man, Ally uppercut him in the face while he was bent over and he toppled down, still catching his breath and now trying to ease the bleeding.

Ally returned to Kiro, but gave him space. He needed whatever oxygen he could get and she wasn't going to crowd him. "That was awesome, Kiro," she told the man as he continued to recover. She was going to give him all the time in the world since he had been through so much in less than an hour. Heck, even she didn't go through many group fights like this.

Her mind went to Asuka. The woman taught her Jiu Jitsu all her life in hopes to keep her safe and yet somehow that was her disadvantage in this fight. Jiu Jitsu didn't work well in group fights, nor did it work well in standing fights unless you could perform a takedown. In this fight She called upon the teachings of the other masters. When performing the choke she knew well that she would be at the disadvantage, but what else could she do? The pain in her back was gone now and she had no regrets protecting Kiro.

Ally looked at the bats, batons, and knives scattered across the floor and shuddered. Any of these weapons could've spelled their last breath.

[Assistant]
"Clearly," Kiro's breath was rapid, as he stared across the floor as well, taking in the view of the various weapons and bodies. "Your definition of awesome must be a lot different than mine." He didn't laugh like he would normally; Kiro simply stared off in the distance. He felt lightheaded, and almost off in his own, far off world.

Niijima kicked Taro hard in the gut, as he laughed maniacally. "Next time, perhaps you will remember the true rulers of the school; Niijima and his two loyal underlings!" He continued to laugh, as he rested a single foot on the bully's face. He coughed awkwardly, as he casted a glance back at Ally and Kiro. He pulled his PDA out just enough so he could see half of the screen. "My, my, will you look at the time?" He commented calmly, as he shoved it back in his pocket. "My class is already halfway over; I didn't even hear the warning bell." He commented openly, as he stepped over the various bodies to make it to the door. "Well, see you kids around, I can't be tarnishing my reputation too badly by missing classes. Bravo on the fight, and all that, Kiro. The people loved you out there, the underdog." Niijima yawned boredly, as he exited the room. He really was a cold and heartless young teen.

(sorry for the horrible post. XDD)

[User]
"Next time you'll be the underdog!" Ally yelled after Niijima. "Come on, Kiro, let's get out of here."

~~~Mini Skip to the Dojo~~~

Ally helped Kiro as much as she could, but he was pretty stubborn. She pushed open the gates to the dojo and let Kiro come in. Asuka was the first one to see the two. "What happened to Kiro?" she rushed over.

"It was that guy Shaz, the Judo guy," Ally said, "Niijima tricked us into following him. It was a set up fight and Kiro fought Shaz. Kiro won, but this guy- Did his name start with a T?- his gang ambushed us. Kiro got the worse of it."

"That's terrible. Kiro, come on, I'm gonna get you cleaned up," Asuka said, waving for him to follow her. She wasn't sure if they were okay to train today or not. Then she considered what happened. "Wait, Kiro did you really beat Shaz? That's amazing! I knew Jiu Jitsu would pay off!" She picked up the boy in a tight hug, but then remembered his injuries. "Oh, sorry, sorry. I'm just so proud!" For a moment, the fear of Kiro being attacked by bigger and badder foes was erased from her mind.

[Assistant]
"You're fine, you're fine!" Kiro laughed, as he rubbed his right shoulder gently, the spot where Asuka had really agitated. "Really, I can't seem to thank you guys enough for all you've been doing for me." He awkwardly explained, as he continued to laugh.

"Really now, Asuka, you think it was those silly Jiu Jitsu moves that helped the kid out?" Bakusa laughed mockingly (it wasn't a very convincing one, really.), as he leaned against the doorframe. "Why don't you tell her, Kiro? It wasn't nothing but the Science of the Eight Limbs that helped you defeat that Judo-freak." He proceeded to demonstrate how Kiro had PROBABLY taken the bully out, showing a series of swift elbow and knee combinations.

Nervous, Kiro started to sweat profusely. "Well, you see-..." Kiro shifted his eyes to every corner of the room, as he desperately looked for a quick exit. Now not only did he feel the eyes of Asuka and Bakusa, but he knew the other masters were watching, and listening to every word he said! No matter what he said, he'd at least get beat up by one of the masters for not handling the fight as they showed him to handle it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(Some unspecified time later, probably the next morning.)

Mr. Yamamura slammed both of his fists down on the table, as he looked his son in the eye, a stern, angry look on his face. "Why is it, ever since you started going to that stupid dojo, you've been coming home with nothing but bruises, bandages, and broken bones!?" Kiro's father screamed at him.

Kiro was seated at the other side of the dining room table, his book bag sitting on his lap, as gritted his teeth, avoiding his dad's eye contact. "I told you, it's just been a coincidence. I'm pretty clumsy, you know, I just fe-" Kiro started to laugh it off, but his dad cut his sentence off before he could manage to finish.

"Yesterday one of your teachers called and said you ditched school, missed half your classes! But I know you didn't come home, because your mother was here!" He gave a gesture to Mrs. Yamamura, who stood behind him, tears in her eyes. "So where did you go, son? You went to the dojo! You're nothing but a little liar! You're too young to understand, Kiro, those people are only using you for your money, and on top of that, they're abusing you for the giggles!" His father explained.

Kiro stood up from his seat, tossing the backpack over his shoulder (wincing slightly in pain, because his shoulder's bruised), as he stared at his father right back. "The dojo, my masters, they've done nothing but help me in ways you couldn't even imagine! You guys just don't understand!" Kiro expressed angrily, as he scooted his chair back slightly, so he could get out from the table area. "I better get going, I'll see you guys later." Kiro muttered, as he left out the door.

"Kiro, wait! Help us understand, then!" His father called out for him, but it was too late, he was already gone. He hugged his wife tightly.

(I'll continue this later, yo.)


[System]
Age: 17

Magic: Sin Magic - A necklace of symbols are on his neck, they activate only when they show great Sin. However, the more uses corrupts the soul of Sin if not treated with a Virtue.

Wrath - Sin is enveloped in a red aura and becomes super humanly strong and really pissed off and is able to take a lot of punishment from his enemies and even the moves that will hurt himself.

At the moment, Sin has only figured out how to use one symbol, so the others will be explained once he activates them.

Magic Level: C

History: He doesn't remember the past very well, he woke up one day without any memories of his past and could barley recollect anything from his mind. All the boy knew was that he was young, homeless, penniless, but he was not alone. He had a sister, and she was just as clueless as him, but they both just knew that they were kin, which was rather strange for both. It only took moments to feel something in their raggedy pockets, and it was a bunch of small rocks in a necklace that had strange etching on each rock, and on the back was labeled either Sin or Virtue. Both were utterly confused on the meaning of these strange symbols, but they kept them as they felt some sort of connection to these things.

Fast forward several years into the future, they were around the age of seventeen when they figured out that they were actually wizards after an incident. When he was growing up, he was a rather bad kid managing to make money in the seedy part of town with unsavory work choices, but it was all to help him and his sister live a good enough life, obviously he never told her the things he had done as it would make things complicated as she was a lot more virtuous than himself. It was only until one day that he had stolen from the wrong man, as he was being greedy and bit off more than he could chew.

Several days after the big heist, he found his home ransacked, everything was destroyed and ruined, but it didn't matter to him. There was only one thing that truly made him panic. He quickly entered his sister's room to find it equally in ruin compared to the entire house, except there was a note on the top of the rubble. He quickly snatched it and read the contents, it basically said that they have Virtue and they will do nasty stuff if he doesn't bring back the things he stole. His heart froze at that moment, and he ran as fast as he could to the address with utmost haste.

When he burst through the door, he entered the room to find Virtue and she was beaten up bad, blood dripping from her face and several bruises scattered around her arms and legs. When she looked up, she smiled to see her brother here to save her, but yelled to tell him it was a trap. He soon found himself on the floor from something hitting him in the back of his head with two large men laughing at the boy, commenting on the puny size of him. So, with the combination of his brutally beaten up sister, feeling stupid for not realizing this was a trap, and the taunting criminals. He finally activated one of the seven symbols on his necklace on accident, it suddenly glowed bright red and suddenly the room blasted in the color red blinding everyone. He soon found himself glowing in a red aura with two dead criminals at his feet and soon his body was being filled with a large amount of wrath. The resulting amount of rage made him scream in a fit of anger and then everything flashed once again, but this time it was the color pink. He soon found himself in the arms of his sister, and the rage exhumed out of his body and realized that his red aura was gone and Virtue was passed out. Sin quickly grabbed her and ran for both of their lives, hoping to never met the criminals and whatever happened to the two.

Personality: Cocky and Arrogant

Team Members: Virtue

Three Strengths:

 1. Physically Strong
 2. Street Smarts
 3. Love for Sister

Three Weaknesses:

 1. Greedy
 2. Easily angered
 3. Arrogant

Greatest Love: His Sister

Motivation: Keeping Virtue safe from the outside sources

Appearance:

[User]
gabriel

Gabriel had left the stands early, slipping passed easily the watchers preventing people getting out. He was heading back to the frenzy plant camp as the event wound to a close, intending to get some training in before the battles began. The maze had been entertaining but it had just heightened Gabriel's knowledge that he had only gotten into the guild because of his crappy sword skills, and really because his opponent had taken pity on him.

So he thought he would try and train to learn to fight and to become stronger. As he walked through a park, he stopped at what appeared to be a guy having a breakdown of some sort. He blinked, hesitating but it was clear that the guy was in some sort of pain. Which meant Gabriel just couldn't leave him there.

"um, excuse me? Guy tormenting birds and appearing to be on the edge of crazy? Do you need some help?"

sasha
@yipeeXD

Sasha just gave a nod at Marlene's words, relieved that Ameloa seemed to be okay, as she spoke to Master Jamie. But she still felt guilty, and she eyed the clock waiting for it to reach zero.

time lord

Time lord blinked as Nero ran off. It seemed that Time lord had finally struck a nerve with him, although Time Lord hadn't expected he would have quite that reaction. Time lord hesitated, wondering if he should see how he was hit decided that would make things worse. So time lord sighed and leaned back in his chair.

the things I do, to make sure the future is all it should be

[Assistant]
Joshua Tamashii
Tamashii

"You're a big girl? I'm sorry, but you're a bit vertically and horizontally challenged to call yourself that, even if you are old enough." Joshua said, patting Amaya on the top of her head.

Delsin Jones

Well that aint good. Delsin thought, rolling out of the way of the Solar Flare before lining up another shot and firing. This one hit the ground and caused it to become a sandpit which she would begin sinking into. He hoped she would simply sink and be declared the loser of this fight. Otherwise, he might have to use more bullets then he would like.

Amelia Averyonna

"Master Jamie?" Amelia asked, attempting to sit up while placing a hand over where Luna had hit her with the pommel of her weapon and wincing. That wound was probably the most serious due to the threat of a concussion. She wanted to get to her feet, but in her condition, that was unlikely.

[User]
amaya vanisis
tamashii

Amaya looked at him as her left eye slightly twitched "what did you just say?"she asked leaning forward as the temperature around them began to drop rapidly as she leaned across the table being near him before she took in a deep breath before saying "roar of the ice Dragon" letting out a blizzard like blast, she held back on the power but figured she would get him back for treating her like a child as she stood up, flipping her hair over her shoulder before she paided her Bill and stormed out in a rage while she slowly finished her last popsicle to try and calm herself down "that ignorant jerk!" She grumbled angerly to herself.

[Assistant]
Eve - Dragon Fang Hotel

Eve wasn't sure what she was seeing. When Time Lord had provided her with breakfast, she was quite glad to spend time with her friends and it seemed that it would be the opportune time to try to get Time Lord and Nero to like eachother. However, what she got was some sort of argument that she couldn't follow half of the time due to the weird wording and pace of Nero's speech. Her smile started to wane as soon as the spoon in Nero's hand turned into water and giving the Time Lord a rather frightning smile that produced shivers under her skin. The Necromancer was soon about to object into Nero's little speech, but things got a lot more confusing as soon as Time Lord was saying something about her breakfast and Nero sticking his hand out? What just happened? Eve was about to say something before realizing that nothing was coming out, crap, she forgot that she couldn't speak once again and before she could do anything else, the two were at eachother's throats once again.

The girl watched helplessly as Time Lord started to attack Nero with his almost venomous words, and it seemed that something within that retort broke through his facade. At that realization, Eve's eyes widened at what she had just realized. It wasn't barley a day ago that she was freed from her curse, and left to think about what she had done and acted inside of the past, and Nero looked at the exact part. She felt stupid, it was no wonder why Nero took a liking towards her, she had the same problems that he suffered from, but he had the power to help her. Now, she needed to help him. Eve snapped out of her mind and was left with a swinging door, an empty chair, and an awkward silence hovering over the entire room. Eve breathed deeply before glaring at Time Lord, the anger in her eyes could melt steel beams if they wanted to and she left him with that. The Necromancer stood up from her chair, the sudden action quickly caused her breakfast to fall onto the floor, but she was already at the door without a single sound coming out of her.

When she was outside the building, it wasn't very hard to follow the trail of disgruntled people that Nero had obviously attracted, and she soon got the same reaction from the crowd. Eve didn't really bother with the predestrians, she just kept her head down and was fully determined to find her friend. The trail of people soon lead her to a park, well, at least it was tranquil and secluded from the watchful eyes of the games. However, after watching a flock of birds fly out of the park, she started to quicken her pace.

Arriving at the recreational area, Eve soon found that she was a bit late as there was someone else in Nero's presence. She started to slow down on the lush grass and stood several meters away from the two. The Necromancer was unsure of the situation at hand. Was that person a secret friend of Nero? Were they some random stranger trying to console Nero? She knew that Nero is feeling quite troubled at the moment, but she was hesitant now. If Eve got involved in this, would she make things worse? It had barely been a day since she had been freed from her curse and now she had tasked herself to somehow solve the troubles within her savior with very little knowledge of emotional stuff to help him. Eve now hesitated, she was feeling a new type of emotion. She was feeling distraught. In her old life, she would have kept on running and glomped onto Nero to try to cheer him up, but now that she had control of her mind, she was controlling her actions too. Guess with every pro, there will be a con.


[System]
Age: 26

Class: Cavalier

Weapons: Iron Halberd (lance) and Iron hand-and-a-half sword

Fighting Style: As a mounted soldier, Jakobe tends to use his mobility to great advantage, making sure to maximize his effective coverage of the battlefield. He tends to keep his allies close enough so that he can help keep the heat off of them, as he is on the sturdier side of the 'squishiness' spectrum. He's not above employing a dirty trick or two in order to win a fight, as he hopes to keep his team together above all else, despite the fact that he's not even their leader.

Personality: Jakobe is a kind person to his friends, and often tries to be merciful in a fight wherever feasible. When the going gets rough, he gets serious. At the same time, you can find him laughing, joking and enjoying a few pints of ale after the fighting's over. Being an actual soldier, Jakobe's not too perturbed by fighting and blood, but he also doesn't find pleasure in killing, and sees it as an unfortunate necessity in war.

History: Born and raised in Bravura, Jakobe was the first son of a butcher and a tailor. He always loved talking to the town guards as a kid, and dreamed of finding glory and honor. He trained with the guards now and again with fake weapons, and was informally adopted by the barracks as member of their little family. Any time he didn't spend helping out his parents, he was at the barracks.

Being an actual soldier, he's also familiar with the troubles of war, but he's been able to avoid the fighting for most of the recent war, having been deployed to the coast and primarily acting as a supplementary city guard for the past two years. The first year of the war, however, was spent on the front, in the thick of the fighting. The only reason he was able to get away was a rather short influx of attacks on the shores, but the attacks dwindled after a regiment of soldiers were relocated.

Rationale: Jakobe has joined the Reclaimers to get back into the fighting, hoping to see how everything's changed in the two years he's been gone. He hopes to find out what's going on and bring peace, if possible.

Appearance:

Jakobe is rather tall, standing at 6'2" on his own, and weighs about 200 pounds. He's fairly muscular, but not overly so. His black hair is always kept short, as befits a soldier, and he shaves his facial hair daily. His horse is chestnut brown, and as a war horse, it's quite obviously muscular as well.

[User]
Nickolas Rienbach - Basilmeron Castle Courtyard

"I have the same issue with light and healing magic." He grimaced exaggeratedly, glancing around and spotting the curious wyvern in tandem with his young companion's skittish jump behind him. Nickolas stared at the offending beast thoughtfully before glancing down at the cowering girl. His expression changed back the reassuring grin. "Don't worry, little miss. I'm sure that he's a big softy on the inside, he won't bother you." He winked. "I'll be sure to tell him off if he does." The dark mage stood up at the last call for storage, careful to keep himself between the young girl and the wyvern. He gasped in mock suprise at her stammered question.

"Oh, yes, I nearly forgot! The convoy!" He dusted himself off, glancing around at the collection of people stacking their things inside the covered wagon. "I brought all my research materials down with me, placed them in the corner over there. Don't want anyone to trip on them, would we?" A tall sheaf of papers stood unsteadily in the aforementioned corner, coupled with both tomes that Nickolas could claim ownership of. Beside them, a lumpy pack lay lopsidedly against the tall stone wall of the courtyard, giving off the same musty scent as the one that was near permanently ingrained into the dark mage. Nickolas gestured to them and sheepishly grinned. "Big pile, I know. I might need some help with all of the papers." His pale eyes twinkled. "And I have tome over there that reminds me a lot of you, little miss. Perhaps you'd like to see it?"

He kept his cloak as wide as possible to keep the girl covered from the draconian beast as he wandered over to collect his luggage, leaving the Dying Blaze tome in the area for the nervous mage to grab.

Kuur Salcair - Basilmeron Castle Courtyard

Kuur didn't make another comment to the pirate before he left off, but her eyebrows unknitted halfway through his speech about nationality and remained uncrossed even as he left. She turned back to Lilith as the latter mentioned Panoply's decency in its non-burning state. "Agreed." She pulled out the bow and examined it for imperfections(Which she knew there were none) and prepared to hand it off as the Captain gave his last call for putting stuff in the convoy. The tall woman nodded slowly, still fingering the inlay of her weapon as Lilith walked off. "See you...later."

She had surprisingly little to pack onto the convoy save for extra arrows and blanket dyed in rather rare and expensive colors, along with a small pack containing the barest essentials and tiny trinkets from her home. Once certain that all of her belongings were either on the convoy or on her person, Kuur nodded, seemingly satisfied. She headed off toward the front of the convoy, stretching in preparation of walking alongside the wagon when they set off.

[Assistant]
Jeanne Robina

---

Jeanne nodded at Marcus, as the priest turned and left.

Jeanne noted that they were beginning to load the convoy. She shrugged. Heck, she could take things out of caravans just fine, she could probably pack 'em in just as well. Scratching her chin, she made her way towards the convoy and noticed some small gaps in which certain other materials may fit. "Hey, if you sheath this," Jeanne said, placing a sword on the ground into its scabbard, "then it'd probably fit into this little narrow space..." Jeanne picked up the sheathed blade and slid it into the slot between two pieces of armor. "I guess you kinda--have to--wriggle it around a bit," she added, finally getting the blade securely in between the armors.

Jeanne stepped back. "As for myself, I can probably carry my own stuff. If I can travel through the treetops with this sword on me," she declared, patting her blade, "then I'm not afraid of a little hike. Or a big one, either.

To each their own, I suppose; understandable, as Jeanne was in good physical condition (no use for a thief that can't move in limber, fluid motion).

---

Habeen Nocta

---

Habeen certainly did not want to lug around three or four textbooks for two hours. Though she did have a bag for the books, the tomes were nevertheless quite heavy and somewhat uncomfortable. Though Habeen did like to keep her folk magic tome on her in case she ever needed it. Habeen tied her remaining texts together as Jeanne the thief shoved someone's sword in between two armors.

Habeen eyed the convoy, pursing her lips as she looked for a place to tuck her texts.

"Looking for a place to put those books, my nomadic friend?" asked the thief. "I can probably help you out."

"A thief asking to hold my belongings?" Habeen asked, her smile unwavering.

"Quite often a terrible idea," Jeanne replied. "Not so in this case. Don't worry. I'll let you watch where I put it; you'll have your textbook troubles taken care of, instead of your textbooks taken."

Habeen couldn't help but let out a little laugh. Her expression didn't change; she was always cheerful. "If you say so, Miss Robina," Habeen said, handing the bound times to the thief. "And I believe this is the part where you declare me a 'sucker' and pawn my texts for profit?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," Jeanne declared, fitting the textbooks into just the right spot in the convoy. "Contrary to popular belief, there do exist moral thieves. I'm no petty pillager, nor a brash, brazen brigand. I'm a highwaywoman with a heart. Though I cannot imagine that these fellows are likely to quickly trust someone who falls under the category of 'thief.'"

[User]
Gaius Secondus
 Gaius returned, with a big, bulging bag and his arms full of papers, tomes, and writing utensils. He proceeded to pack away each thing in the convoy so they wouldn't roll around. He also put his one of his spare swords in the convoy, but he kept a tome on him too.  Going around unarmed is just foolish. He thought to himself. He checked to make sure he had everything. He did. He got out of the way of the others coming in to store their stuff and waited. Time to head out! He thought cheerfully.

[Assistant]
Kel

Kel perked right up as Hugh apprached him. He wasn't expecting the guy who was giving him orders to all of a sudden pick him out of the crowd. And Hugh wasn't the only one. He heard a voice coming from the direction that Druug kept staring at earlier. Something about those two mages just came to Druug's liking, maybe it was just the one who smelled so... strangely sweet. Druug DID enjoy fruit a lot, maybe he thought that man was food. That'd be something Kel was blamed for. He couldn't hear what the two were saying but he caught the word wyvern tossed around. He payed no mind, however, as Hugh was now talking to him. He caught the tail-end of his sentence "...into battle as a Great Knight. What is it like to ride a wyvern, friend"

"I-i-i-i-it's uh, well, it's incredible sir yes incredible." He spoke as if his mouth was tripping down a flight of stairs. "He uh, he's pretty good at tricks too, you could ride him if you wanted, but uh, I don't know if you'd know what you were doing... He might be the one driving and he's not so kind with the whole 'slowing down before making sharp turns' concept. And uh, well if you fall off we miiiight be needing a new captain." He chuckled, patting Druug on the neck. He kept staring back and forth between those mages from before and Hugh.

Everyone around them seem to be loading the caravan. Kel brought some things of his own, a few changes of clothes, a warhammer, a few rabbit carcasses (he made a mental note to find an archer as soon as he could to keep Druug happe), and a box full of letters from his sister. Before he left from camp he had informed the postal service that they should foreward it best they could out to the expedition. He didn't carry much because he didn't need much. His biggest item he brought, however, was a bunch of blankets and pillows. He didn't know if he was to bring his own tent so that was lacking, but at least he had someway to sleep if all else failed. He stopped looking to the caravan after a few seconds and returned his gaze to Hugh.

[User]
Franky Lonnas – Basilmeron Castle: Convoy

By the time Franky figured out which of the immaculately dressed men was the leader of this military excursion team, he was amongst the building group of people crowding a convoy near the stables. He wasn't just concerned by the appearance of a convoy, but by the itinerary others were nonchalantly loading into it.

"I can't help but ruse that the presence of a convoy be-a sure tell sign of a journey long in tooth," remarked Franky to Hugh as he approached him. "I have no problems risking me-life what-for-ending this war, I just figured I'd-be risking it... sometime today," he added, playfully sarcastic. "I'm a pretty big man all things being equal, and this-ere war has the brass expecting me to be somewhere. Somewhere else to be exact. And I'm not sure just how long that expectation will be enough for them not to check. It be the reason I brought nothing more than the clothes on me-back. I figured whether in death or victory, I wouldn't be in this long enough to change."

As he paused to give Hugh time to respond, Franky's glance moved to the Wyvern being played with by its rider. He had seen Wyverns before, and even men on top of them no less, but it was a first to see a pair that weren't trying to kill him. Although it was one of the many hazards the sea could throw at him on any given wave, it was a chance encounter that didn't seem likely to happen here on land.

[Assistant]
Jakobe Russenfalt- Basilmeron Castle Courtyard

Chuckling as he shook the wyvern rider's offered hand, Jakobe gave Druug a good look. He wasn't particularly worried about the massive creature eating his horse, and each of the pair gave off that impression. "Jakobe, Cavalier. First time I ever saw a wyvern rider I damn near shat myself. And I'd say the same about riding those things. I feel quite comfortable on the ground, thank you. Even if I do get knocked off...it's a short fall." As Hugh approached, Jakobe gave a silent nod and looked at the convoy preparing itself. In reality, the group was rather small, especially considering their goal to investigate the war and the allegations of a shadowy third faction.

As long as they managed to avoid the bulk of any armies coming their way, however, he was confident they'd not face much serious trouble. For Kel and Jakobe, that was an easy task, but the others would have quite the time trying to evade their enemies. Hugh mentioning the possibility of him taking up a mount as well made Jakobe hum in satisfaction. "It's quite the feat, to fight from atop a companion. I've no experience with wyverns, but as our friend here says, it looks to be quite the experience. I'll have to make sure to do it sometime, even if it's not in combat." Nodding to the two, he got back on top of Thunderclap and made his way towards the rest of the Reclaimers, again giving the group a look over, before riding over to the convoy and coming to a stop.

As he had all of his necessary belongings on himself or Thunderclap, the pair was already prepared for the go-ahead. Rubbing his steed's neck, Jakobe took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. This was it.


[System]
Arata
Night Parade of One Thousand

---

Age: Not really certain.
Gender: Male
Race: Oni
Sexuality: Straight
Year: No Year Yet
Abilities:
Stronger Than You
The 'general' of one thousand oni, Arata possesses nigh-limitless physical strength, enough that his physical form would be incapable of holding all that power without exploding into a bunch of gorey bits. At maximum strength, Arata is capable of casually swinging around a car like how others would wield a sword, and he bench presses fully loaded buses for training. However, even that relatively mediocre amount of physical strength is enough to splatter opponents from time to time. Thus, the Night Parade is also under a self-inflicted curse. Against those that are weaker than them, their strength will be limited to only slightly stronger than their opponents, ensuring that they will never completely overwhelm even the weakest of foes. The amount of physical strength Arata is allowed to wield takes into consideration magical power as well, and, when fighting against a group of enemies, takes the strongest of the group as the 'limitor'.

Legendary Resistance
With sheer Determination, Arata overcomes all barriers that stand in his way, an avatar of destruction that can only be stopped by destruction. All magical spells, outside of purely destructive ones, can be shrugged off and resisted with his Determination. Attempts to exorcise his army have been laughed at. Attempts to teleport him have been shrugged off. Attempts to deceive him have been ignored. Against his advance, only destruction can dissuade him.

Gigalomania
With immense Willpower, Arata can force reality to make concessions for himself, pulling off physical feats that would be practically impossible without magical aid. While he is generally incapable of meeting the requirements for this ability, when it does happen, he is quite literally causing a miracle to happen just by willing it. This miracle more often than not manifests itself in the form of allowing him to exceed his safety limits without exploding.

Strengths: His power allows him to always have a good fight regardless of how strong or weak his opponent is, while his ability to flat-out no-sell magical effects and warp reality allows him the utility to face down those who are otherwise more versatile than himself.
Weaknesses: His power allows him to always have a good fight regardless of how strong or weak his opponent is, while his ability to flat-out no-sell magical effects and warp reality rely largely on his state of mind. Emotions are much more volatile than a trained ability like magic, after all.

Catalyst: N/A
Inventory: N/A
Master: N/A
Squad Name: N/A

Pesonality:
Arata is, like most oni, someone who loves to fight. The blood that flows in his veins is fiery, and he's a dramatically opinionated person, someone who finds it hard not to get passionate about everything. If he likes someone, he loves them to pieces, always watching their back and wanting to spar with them. If he dislikes someone, he despises them, always looking to pick a fight and beat their heads in. All things considered, Arata doesn't have much of a middle ground when it comes to interpersonal relationships. He lives vivaciously and violently, and would love nothing more than to drown in the flames of a proper, honorable war.

Indeed, Arata is not someone who seeks victory in battle. He values fairness and honesty, seeking to win through skill and spirit, not simply because he drastically overpowers his opponents. Within the battlefield, he does not hold grudges, does not care for revenge, and desires only for his fist to crunch against his foe's face. It is not within combat that he decides that he hates someone. It is only afterwards that he comes to a conclusion of whether or not they are his best buddy or his archnemesis.

Despite having some ridiculously good instincts when it comes to fighting, Arata, due to his heritage and his personality, isn't really a smart person, academically. He likes simple, clean solutions, and can't wrap his head around more complex subjects such as physics or psychology.

He also hates video games, because why would you play at fighting, when you can just fight in real life? God damned nerds.

Backstory:
Arata was once a normal oni, rampaging on the landscapes of Japan alongside his bond-brothers, slaying samurai, causing mayhem, and even challenging the Gods themselves. Back then, they were all audacious and violent, a Night Parade of One Thousand that just wanted to have a good time.

Unfortunately, the shrine maidens and the priests didn't appreciate the festivities.

Under the guise of friendship, humans offered sake to the one thousand, lacing it with a drug powerful enough to down enough the greatest amongst them. Then, while the Night Parade slept, they crafted a seal powerful enough to restrain all the oni into a single body. Riotous as they were, the leaderless oni struggled for control of a single, shared body, and spent the next couple centuries flopping around like a pig with one thousand heads, incapable working together long enough to break the prison they were contained in.

Only after much struggle did Arata subdue his brothers with promises of glory and grandeur, and only when he became the undisputed leader of the Night Parade of One Thousand did he break out of the jar they were sealed in. The world, by then, had changed drastically. No longer were there wars to rampage in. No longer were there skilled heroes to challenge.

In the several centuries that had passed since the Night Parade was sealed, Arata learned that magic, the gift of the gods, had become mainstream. No longer was pure physical power appreciated, nor pure martial skill.

It saddened him.

He strode through familiar landscapes changed by the passing of time. He found graves eroded by countless storms. He sought the things that he missed.

And when the descendants of the exorcists that once sealed them came to restrain him, Arata did not have an appetite for crushing their skulls between his hands. He allowed them to attempt their exorcising spells, allowed them to attempt to re-seal him. And when he tired of their effort, he left.

Eleventh months later, a representative of Liseranna Academy found him on top of Mount Everest, and invited him to come, to find himself new allies to fight alongside and new rivals to fight against.

In a world that was so bereft with meaningless peace, what could an oni do but accept?

[User]
Juliann

In her usual fashion, Juliann cut the illusion away in the blink of an eye.

The only thing that could be heard was the sound of her sword being sheathed again. Cupido. Another teacher around here.

"I need not your promotion, thank you very much." Juliann sighed and then turned a harsh glare to Cupido. "If you keep your mouth shut, then I will not mind your staying here."

Juliann then relaxed her posture again and remained attentive of whoever might come her way, asking for her services. In... the not perverted way of course. She'd probably slice anyone in half who dared suggest something like that.

"Okay... forgive my outburst. I just tend to get carried away when I believe someone is making fun of me, which you were clearly doing. As long as you can keep your stupid comments to yourself, I am sure I can put up with you for a while."

She was already feeling ashamed enough without this guy making fun of her and her, err, 'training'.

---

[Assistant]
Zeppeli
Cupido's illusion gets slices through and his small amount of focus on it dissaptes with it. He blinks at her then blinks again before his hand goes to his chest. "darling of that is what you thought, that was not my intention" he he shakes his head and turns standing next to her his hands clasping behind him, causing his wings to re fold. He gets the small feeling that the ones assigned to the riddle likely are not participating....irritating, but waiting for a few couldn't hurt.

His eyes look over at her as he stands there. "I do apologize darling" he hardly ever apologizes...usually only when the apology is necessary. With this one the apology seems so...his eyes go back to facing forward as he waits. He didn't really recognize the names. This either means they aren't taking either of his classes or he simply didn't notice them well enough for the names to be remembered. He gets slightly antsy causing his hands to go to his aides again, causing his one tattoo to be visible.

He was called stupid....or at least his comments and that alone caused him to stay quiet. An oddity for him. Is this what it felt like to be put in one's place? How odd....this whole situation was odd. He decided to remain silent...just in case.

[User]
What is the meaning of power?

Is it a sword to slay your enemies, or a sword to protect your friends?

Is it something that you hid out of sight, a treasure that belongs only to yourself?

Or is it something to be flaunted, a bountiful wealth to elevate your own position?

Well? What do you think?

No, you idiot. You're talking about the usage of power.

There is no meaning to power. You gather it up, but there's always people who have more of it.

What matters though, is that you're satisfied with how you will never have the most.

What matters though, is that you will use your own power.

Because you are a child of Izanami-no-Mikoto, the Mother of the Land of the Rising Sun, and the Mistress of the Underworld.

And she has not breathed life into you for you to live in the shadows of another.

After all, we're oni.

It's not about winning or losing. It's about fighting.

Arata opened his eyes to a scene that he was becoming more and more accustomed to. A white ceiling with fluorescent lighting, and the sharp, septic stench of rubbing alcohol. The hard, clean bed felt good against his back, and the phantom pain of his missing arm and half-dissolved chest could still be felt. The oni hurt all over, but it wasn't a crippling pain, nothing that could stop him from getting up. Rising up with a grunt, the sun-haired boy looked to the side. Looks like Rollanda restored his clothes too, huh? His white cloak hung on a coat rack, and his shirt and shorts, purchased from a second-hand store, remained as bland and simple as always.

The oni sighed, and closed his eyes.

He could catch vestiges of his memories, the hatred and the blood, the pain and the laughter, everything mixing together in a hodgepodge of glorious and inglorious violence. It should have been enjoyable, but at the same time, it was like every other fight that he had fought since arriving at the Academy.

It was too short, too sudden, and…too pointless.

Juliann's skill was beautiful, but he couldn't reciprocate that.

Victarian's power was interesting, but both of them restrained themselves.

And this last fight...could it really be called a fight?

Another long sigh, before he got out of bed, removing the hospital scrubs and pulling on his own clothes once more. Resting his once-skeletal hand on the brass coat hanger, the oni reminisced, delving into his centuries-long memories of a different time. The meaning of power, huh? In the end, regardless of how that man had responded, it still didn't answer the central question.

For what purpose should he wield his power? Was it fine just to fight for the sake of fighting? Or was that just his instincts as a warmongering oni speaking?

He desired a hard-fought, hard-won fight against someone equal or greater to him in strength, but was that all? Would he be satisfied just with that? Back when the Night Parade was still one thousand, and they ravaged the battlefields with their iron clubs and superhuman strength, did he truly enjoy fighting the armies of man? Or did he enjoy being together with his allies?

Without thinking, Arata's grip tightened on the coat hanger, slowly deforming it.

Too many questions once more. He was thinking too hard, and thinking too hard was pointless. With a sigh, he draped his cloak around his shoulders, pulling the hood over his horns. With heavy steps, the oni walked out of Rollanda's hospital.

If he decided between like or dislike, he'd have to say that he still liked punching Iravis in the face.

If he decided between right and wrong, he'd have to say that he believed his own convictions and ideals were right, that there was no purpose in strength if you relied on the overbearing strength of another.

But regardless, of all that, regret still clung onto him.

He was alone, even with 999 souls dormant within him.

And, alone, he headed towards Liseranna Academy's library.

Iravis can have her army, her champions, her servants.

Arata will show her that one doesn't need any of that if they have themselves.


[System]
"The surface is a mere allusion, the true marvel is what lingers underneath."
Gender
"I am beyond the constraints of such titles."

Age
Appears to be in very early twenties

Appearance
To describe Dawn's appearance is a rather tricky task as they constantly alter it in some way or another. Their most constant, or rather favored, appearance is that of a slenderly built individual with shockingly pale skin. Their hair is raven black and long, save for the left side where it is shaved close to the skin. Their eyes are usually a deep crimson red with the whites of their eyes being pitch black. They have a series of tattoos that cover their body, the most prominent of which is that of their clan symbol that is located over their heart. Their attire is what one would expect from today's youth, tight fitting pants, sleeveless tops, and countless piercings along with scarves and a pair of thick rimmed glasses. Depending on their mood Dawn is known to alter their body to loose their gender ambiguous appearance, adoupting either more masculine of feminine attributes.

Clan
Tzimisce
"Those true monsters that stalk the nightmares of Kind and Kindred alike."

Disciplines
Vicissitude
2

Koldunic Sorcery
1

Animalism
0

Auspex
0

Backstory
"I find the more I tell this story the ever more tedious it grows. I mean honestly why is it in these nights full of such wondrous beauty and achievement the only thing ever spoken of is the past? It is painfully absurd that so many put so much stock into it. What we used to be doesn't matter, why should it? The miserable kine that I transcended from wasn't worthy enough to lick the scum off of my shoe little alone be bothered talking about. It was such a sniveling insignificant creature, the thought still leaves the taste of bile in my mouth. The insect believed it was truly happy living its pathetic life, living in squalor in the slums of the city barely surviving by making money as a tattoo 'artist', and I use that term as loosely as possible. It is nauseating just to think about it, but it is to my fortune that this all changed with her. She was so beautiful, so refined, so... perfect. She, by some miracle, saw the sliver of potential that was in that horrid human and took such a great pity on it. She embraced that scum and gave birth to a being so much greater, me. Where that wretched kine was the dull, flavorless night I am the Dawn of a better day. I have spent years upon years under the tutelage of my sire honing my talents in the art of sculpting flesh and bone, Vicissitude. I now yearn to but my teachings to the test in this city, to make it truly beautiful."

Personality
Dawn on the surface is a sensual individual, almost on par of that of a Toreador. They have a fascination with the body, breaking what would normally consider personal space boundaries with little thought. They have an appreciation for art in all forms, be it music, painting, and especially body modification. But Dawn's true nature is much more sinister. They truly enjoy their undead state, they revel in their power, and they love manipulating both kine and kindred alike, both mentally and physically.

Derangements
Sadist

Personal Goals
To create the next great monster that will go down in legend

View on humans
Kine are merely blank canvases that await an artist, like myself, to turn them into something grand.

Extras
Dawn prefers to be referred to as a it or they rather than him or her.

[User]
Erinion was pouting as she closed in on the group. She didn't liked the docks to begin with. The soft glimmering of the night lights reflected from the river's surface were a nice add-on to the view from here apartment, so she was alright with rivers being there, sparkling from far away. But she'd never willingly come here. Homeless, young and old, beggars, workers... All mortals. All mortals that didn't interested her in the slightest. They were all just so..."Boring." And now, instead of looking after what was hers, she had to be here, lingering among them like she was some sort of dog forced to roll over at one command from the Prince.
"One, two, three."
Smoothing her hair and brushing off the bangs covering her eyes, Erinion tiptoed to the odd looking group and gave her best to listen. "The Prince of lies." The reason she was here was as simple as reasons can get - death wasn't in Erinion's plans. Avoiding it meant being here so she eventually listened to the black-hooded creature and strolled down to this filthy part of the city.
"Two, three, four, five."
Playing with the thought of scurrying away back to her business she was so impolitely turned away from, Erinion swayed back and forth a few times giving her best to stay put.

"I just wanted to check on it." The two exchanging words before left slightly unsettling aura in the air but Dawn seemed nice enough, so she spoke right after her leaving little to no time for anyone else to jump in. "Make sure I'll get my painting, you know. But then the hoodie came and said I have to be... here." Honesty is sometimes "Never." the best policy and all, but Erinion figured that a short sigh would suffice to display enough of her displeasure, still not knowing who was in the Prince's fan club.
"Manners lovely, were are your manners. Greet them."
"And I didn't want to swim with the fishies, I don't like fishies." She added, a soft frown still framing her face.

"The Queen of rats." Erinion stepped forward and preformed a graceful curtsey before Margarita. They were a strange bunch, made to stop what was about to happen by hiding in the darkness of a very wet, awful smelling place. But sometimes you just have to go with the flow and the best way to start is often a proper greeting.
"And Alex. Alex too." A quick salute was accompanied with a playful grin.
"One that fights, and the Daybreaker. Small vampire." Shooting a smile in their direction, Erinion pulled back to her place. "You may call me Erinion. Eri, if your tongue is troubled."
"Two, three, four, five."
"Five." She said letting her eyes glance over the Kindred before her. "Two, three, four. Five without me." Slowly counting down, Eri raised one finger after another while looking each of the vampires in the eyes. "Five against one. Five against thirty dead." Her lips stretched into a smile - there was a slight chance all of this could end up entertaining her. "And I mean dead dead. Not not dead." She chuckled softly at her explanation.

"The prince wants the Gift."
"The Jack of all trades seeks favours again."
Tilting her head ever so slightly, Erinion turned to the group. "Lady without a nose asked what do I have to offer."
"Favours that will never be repaid."
Manhunts, vampirehunts, any kind of hunts actually were never her specialty. The ones she chose ended up dead sooner or later, the only difference was did she felt like playing with them first.
"Told you, should've stayed home."
"Father speaks through all of us. When the time comes I might be able to share with you." As the sour odour lingering around the docks tickled her senses, Erinion shrugged. "Words spoken, and the ones not so much."
She let her eyes wander around the surroundings for a moment, sopping in all what was around her; the six of Kindred, the ever lingering scent of sludge twirling around them, annoying tapping of human footsteps on the docks, the dread that let her know she was bound to this task no matter the price.
"Two, three, four, five."
"Six." Erinion whispered.

[Assistant] Margarita's hollow eyes never left Alexander's, and her face drew grim at his craven remarks. "You shall find that secrecy within a coterie either finds the secret, or secretive revealed." She drawled commandingly, now moving her attention to the next speaker. A young childe, no older than her late teens. She took a few moments of melancholic remembrance for herself at such a tender age, but tossed such useless memories aside to better focus on the pressing matters at hand. The young girl didn't seem all too happy to attend the meeting, and her curt spitting of self-description did little to assist Margarita's first impression of her. Were all these Kindred so apt at alienating allies? She knew there was more to this girl than her simple advertisement of 'kicking butt'. Ignoring it for now, the Nosferatu nodded at the girl and followed next with a final "Fabulous." Her attention was then trounced by the Tzimisce. Her jarring appearance, as well as unsettling immediate mention of 'foolish rivalries' brought a curious bit of information to the Nosferatu. She stored it as she did everything else she interpreted, and studied her words as they drifted into her ears. The woman's name was remembered with the same scarring relevancy as it's literal meaning, and Margarita shifted her weight in a moment of mental anguish. Finally, there was one: the Malk. She was ready for anything to come out of this queer Kindred, and prepared herself for riddles and tongue-twisters. Having politely ignored her previous musings of veiled nonsense and ignorance, Margarita used calculated logic to attempt and deduce useful information from the Malkavian's insanity. Shortly after her concentration ended, "Words spoken, and the ones not so much," wormed it's way into her brain. Following a brief pause in conversation, the Nosferatu boomed her voice so that none missed a word of her lecture. "As I said before, secrecy in this coterie will not be tolerated. As the current situation prescribes the utmost danger for any of Kindred kind, I would recommend we all establish a proper domain for ourselves. Even further, a herd would be necessary for efficient feeding to propagate a more objective-focused environment for us. We're working as one now, despite how little any one of us might like it. Until the source of these grisly happenings is found, that's not changing. I hope you're all familiar with the phrase, 'clear as a crystal', for I'll accept none less." Her judgmental gaze glowered at the group, waiting for one of the Kindred to misspeak and offer a rude remark, or snide comment about any facet of the operation. She was sure the Prince would back her up.

[User] The same faint smile stayed seated upon Dawn's lips as they listened to the rest of the members of the small gathering introduce themselves, of course the Malkavian's was the most notable of the bunch. They then turned their glasses covered crimson eyes to their de facto leader Margarita. A slight smirk escaped Dawn as the Nosferatu began her second speech of the evening. Dawn had to hand it to the elder Kindred, she had quite the way with words. Dawn took a moment to scan over the gathering yet again, though this time to gage their reactions to the newest wave of information. Most still seemed less than pleased with the given situation, which invoked yet another small smirk out of Dawn. Seeing as the little group was in need of a main base of operations Dawn took it upon themselves to step forward yet again and offer a solution. "I would like to be the first to say that I more than under stand the graveness of this situation milady." Dawn said as they faced Margarita and bowed their head slightly. They then took a few steps closer to the partly deteriorated vampire, their eyes slowly scanning over her skeletal frame, before continuing. "Likewise it will be more than a pleasure for me to extend the invitation to each of you to make use of my haven during our search." They said as they turned their gaze to the rest of the group. "I have more than enough room to entertain guests of this number as well as a number of Kine that file into my establishment on a nightly bases that can serve as a perfect supply of nourishment as long as we practice restraint." Dawn continued with a pencil thin smile on their face before looking back to their Nosferatu leader. "I do hope that this is to your liking milady." They said with another bow of their head.


[System]
Age: 27

Appearance I:

Personality: Zino is strong-willed and dutiful: working hard and staying focused on his goals. Highly determined, he strives to meet his obligations. His word is a promise, and a promise means everything. Zino would rather run himself into the ground with extra days and lost sleep than fail to deliver the results he said he would. He believes that order is accomplished best when everyone involved knows exactly what is going on and why. He rarely tolerates unclear guidelines and people who break established rules undermine this effort. Structure and rules foster dependability; chaos creates unforeseen setbacks and missed deadlines. His strong work ethic allows him to apply himself to a variety of situations, picking up and applying new data and grasping the details of challenging situations as a matter of course. Zino believes in brutal honesty at all costs. Emotional manipulation, mind games and reassuring lies all run counter to his preference for managing the reality of the situations he encounters with straightforward candor.

However, these traits can make him stubborn, insensitive, and judgmental. While not intentionally harsh, his love of factual decision-making and veracity can wound the emotions of those more sensitive. Zino is unlikely to respect people who disagree with those facts--especially those who remain willfully ignorant of them. He finds it difficult to accept that he was wrong about something, and struggles to admit any failure with grace. His strong desire to adhere to the rules makes him reluctant to bend those rules or try new things, even when the downside is minimal. All this can combine to make Zino Bertran believe he is the only one who can see tasks through reliably, which can lead him to believe the responsibility for the success of events is his alone to bear.

Occupation: Classified

History: Classified

Semblance Type: Enlightened

Semblance Appearance:
As simple white mask designed to cover the entire face.

Semblance Abilities: Chronomancy

* Temporal Administration - Allows for a single target to be made slower or faster in their actions, reflexes or abilities.
* Instantaneous Direction of Will - Teleports the user and those in contact with the user to any other place in visual range instantly.
* Dimensional Control - Creates a pocket-sized portal to private storage dimension.
* Manipulation of Permanence - Causes a single effect or ability to be permanent as long as Zino can maintain concentration.

Appearance II:

Fallen Information: Classified

[User]
If Oedipus still has blood, it will surely boil, almost to the brink of evaporation as he sees the Magician. For some reason, the Magician was something very similar to Father, Vladimir Hunter. They are both too calm, always prepared and anticipated for almost everything in their life. And Oedipus hated it. He hated the way the man slightly tilted his hat to show that he meant no harm. He hated the Magician's calming aura that circles around him. He is just like Father, a lier. He is nothing more than Father, but an oppressor and a bad lier. And on them, Oedipus

They both wear a mask of fame and fortune. Intellectuals advantages individuals. They are perfect folks that have all they want. They are always calm, Mr. Perfect they are. They have plans for everything. Almost everything. Only when you took their mask off can you see their disgusting side? Their maggots filled, wretched faces are their true self. They hide their beast for too long that they become the beast. They thought they had freed themselves from the most sacred desire, but never see they have become their own chains. Only him, Oedipus, is the one that sees the right way. Only he is the person that understands what it meant to be alive. But still, the thought of living and breathing in the same atmosphere disgusted Oedipus.

Even his presence is enough for Oedipus's face to become grim. Compare with it, the slap that Oedipus received just a few hours ago were like candy. Sweet and edible. But the Magician? His presence makes the atmosphere to fill with filth. And the thought of there was something like Father even existed makes Oedipus shake without control. But he was not fear, but fill with this strange sense where disgusting and the desire to possess something so strong inhabited the same mind at the same minute.

It is no strange for Oedipus to begin thinking what he would do if the Magician falling into his hand, the hand of a sadistic psychopath. And this times, Oedipus makes sure that the Magician would alive very long. What he had done to Vlad was unacceptable. Now thinking of it, he should have saved his father. But it is not because of his "paternal love" or "the son's duty"; Nah, he should save him for the sake of satisfying his own self. The screaming and yelling frantically would be a great thing to hear and see, especially when Oedipus could show how imperfect his father is. Or was.

Sadly, what he had imagined is unreal. Touching the necklace that was made from his father's skull, Oedipus smirked as his fingers touched the remainder. The rough surface of his father's skull sends a strange sense along Oedipus's spine. And memories that are felt so old but only a few day ages came back to him. Memories of being chains and held captive. There was no one. No one to look for. No one to care for. And he sees his father was being loved by other.

Yes, Oedipus was a different man when he was younger. He was more ignorant, foolish, idiotic, hopeful, naive,... More of everything that comprised a fool. But soon, he learns the lesson. He grew hatred, the things that armed him. He learns greed.

Greed. The word came into Oedipus' mind as the sound of waters dripping becomes louder and fiercer. Just right outside, the Magician had finished answering whatever the winged boys had questioned him previously. Unlike the boy, who want justice, Oedipus just want chaos. He does not care if the villagers are puppets or not. He does not care if the Magician is the man that cause for all of the mind slaves thingies at the village back there. In contrast, Oedipus felt a little happy deep in his heart when he saw the child being deprived of love. Maybe, that young pup would grow up and becomes like him. But now, all he could care is having some "Oedipus' time." Oedipus' muscle hardened as he imagined once he finally breaks free from these chains. Very close now, Oedipus said to himself as he follows the Magician's maid. And the sound of something snapped was quickly covered by the sound of the people's footsteps and the cop's words: "Let's keep things between us."  or something like that

"Let's the boy be. He is young. And he certainly has the right to make any decision for himself." Oedipus said to the Cop before shifting his gaze back to where the Magician disappeared. There is aside from the gloomy grand hall that was crafted from stones. About twelve pairs of candlesticks hanged on each side, shining a very small area compared to the size of the room. Nearby, a few dozen full plate armors standing on both sides of the grand hall, hold their weapons tight. And Oedipus senses something strange about this place, resembling so much like a cage. But apart from that, there is nothing. The gate is closed. The wind howl as its blow against the maples leaves in the courtyard. And it is the full moon with something flying above the horizon line. A scary sight to be seen for those that afraid of ghost. And whether or not it is because of the area or what the Magician had displayed, Oedipus had this strange sense of being followed. Maybe, the Magician had been watching them from the moment they step into his domain. Taking a few steps back to look at the nearby armor, checking to see if there is any person hiding in that bulky metal suit. A grin on Oedipus' face as he peeks through the gaps of the armor's helmet"For none of us are his parents after all."

Against his expectation, there was nothing in there except for darkness. So Oedipus takes his time strolling around, sometimes stood there and observing an artifact of some sort or a portrait of someone. And of course, causing his hating level to reach a newer high in Michael's list of "Most Hated Person in the World.

---

@Etranger

[Assistant]
Stormy put the gun to her head and fired.

No – wait… that isn't right. Somebody else repainted the walls with their brains. It was one of them… wasn't it? In another life. Another time. Back when they still had a choice.

Stormy clicked her heels together. "There's no place like-"

No. Wrong story. Allwrongwrongwrongwrong.

If not her then who?

If not there, then where?

Snippets from the aftermath of the death drifted like flotsam down her stream of consciousness. Catatonia would fade eventually, and she would be able to sift through them, put them in their rightful places, lest they be forgotten. Stormy struggled with forgetting.

A field. Green-gray. It smelled of water colours and ash and nothing. Koda knelt. He was a man; just a normal man. Stormy stood over him. She held a small box and opened it and he turned to –

Clouds, falling towards the horizon, racing against the headstones that stretched as far as the eye could see. She stood over one, flowers in hand. She placed them, tulips, at the base of the gravestone. Wrong, still wrong, there was never any grave, he didn't –

"I always wondered why man cried for nothingness? Would they certainly think their tears would make the dead to re-live? Or would they hope the dead will know that they are crying for him? I really don't know the reason why."

A lonley tear fell onto the petal of a tulip. It ran red. The petals withered, shrivelling to black dust. It chased the clouds to the horizon.

Stormy sipped her tea. He sat across from her. A blur. Had it really been that long?

WHY.

She refilled her cup, a floral, porcelain thing.

Stormy...

The radio in the corner of the teamroom buzzed, then blurted, "Are you lucid?"

She took another sip of tea. Something was wrong. It was thick, and red, and tasted of copper and iron and pain. She looked at the teapot, which was not a teapot anymore; it was the stump of her arm, pouring blood into the china.

"Look, just take this cursed thing and throw it-"

Stormy stood, and, as if time was a gloopy syrup, her arm raised, and, at the blur of him, she threw the cup full of blood. The world shattered.

"NO!!!"

Sunlight wobbled through the surface of the water. His form a silhouette above the surface. The water was cold. Lungs burning. Body numb. Heart beating, too fast, too loud. His arms were touching her, she could feel them. They were bars of iron. Iron holding her under. The water rose into waves, as if in a tempest and-

"You're probably going into shock. Listen, I--..."

She burst forward, sitting upright in the bath tub. Nobody else was here. The lightbulb flickered. The empty pill bottle rested there, bright translucent orange, by the sink.

Out of the grimy water and onto the bath mat covered in mess that clung to the soles of your feet. Stormy looked at herself in the mirror. Her face deep lapis waves and sculpted tentacles.

"We have to get to the Magician."

A flash of bright blue-green.

The slow, uneven bobbing eased storming back into reality. She looked at the man carrying her. It was difficult to tell if she had been sleeping or awake. Away from them two figures stood, one with a hat, one with a blue-green light. Stormy listened, an then the one who had had the hat was gone.

"I think I can walk on my own," she whispered, and then, meeker still, "thank you."

Her pocket was heavy with the words just given to them. She would lean on Zino, of course; she was not well at all.

[User]
"As you can see, my master would like to speak more privately with you. If you would be so kind as to indulge him and follow me to the keep proper; you will be given the audience you were sent here for! Do not forget that you are guests in this place, should you choose to enter. In case you did not hear earlier, I am Elegance. Keeper of the keep and Magician's servant. It's one of my many obligations to be certain that no uncouth sorts linger in my master's home!"

Zino Bertran sighed heavily, wrapping his arm protectively around the older woman. His gloved fingers tightened around her shoulder as the Magician and his assistant spoke. 'What could he need to say inside that he couldn't say here? And this Elegance--as she calls herself--she's certainly not a gracious host.' His lip tightened into a thin line as he wondered how many of the others has understood that as a threat. The agents grey eyes stared meaningfully at Ascot, waiting for him to pipe up.

"The Ghost Girl and Three sent us here. We've already died once before… If this were a trap, well…" He gave a dry, cynical laugh. "It's a waste of their time and effort. If they trust him, then I trust him." Mr. Bertran slipped his hand into his pocket, fingering the handle of his firearm. He was disgusted--fed up entirely with being led around, with constantly being delayed, with being told contradictory and confusing information.

He pushed his way to the front of the group, keeping his arm around Stormy, then dipped his head to the Magician. "Thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps you should teach your protege not to make veiled threats to your house guests…" Zino narrowed his eyes at Elegance, "Unless they mean to cause trouble." By then, however, he has already disappeared. They hadn't come this far to be disrespected and threatened, especially not by an underling. He made his way past her, paused, and then continued inside.

'I hope they decide to follow me, heh… Some display of courage, Zino. Real smart.' The young man looked around the interior of the tower. A large central atrium stretched upward impossibly high, flanked by long hallways dotted with doors. At their intersect sat a lone chair. He assumed this was where the Magician would speak with them. The warm flames of the torches reflected from the polished marble, casting long shadows behind the pair. He thought of Koda and gave Stormy a reassuring squeeze. "Should you sit down? There's a chair."