[System]
Quote: Well... crap.
Alias: Ecto
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Family: Fathers: Isaac Engelson, Liam Engelson (Surrogate Mother: Jane Woods)
Occupation: Online Translator
Appearance:

Eric is in the middle of his twenties, with dark hair and green eyes. He is around 5'10", and although he was considered quite lazy, a few years ago he started working out to boost his endurance, so his physique is just above average. He usually wears comfortable street clothing, jeans and cargos, T-shirts and hoodies, complete with sneakers.

He doesn't have any special costume for his "night-time" activities, as his powers give him a distinct look on their own.

Method of Operation: The cautious approach was always more appealing to him, usually scaring the criminals away. His appearance and abilities make it easy to create the impression of a ghost, and criminals are less likely to strike up a neighborhood if they think it is haunted. He also enjoys slowly building up fear in his "victims", like haunting the TV in the house burglars are about to enter, or levitating an umbrella. But if every trick fails, he does not shy away from using force and subduing his opponents, typically with either beating them with a blunt instrument or making them headbutt something with his haunting ability.

Superpower:

Spectral Form : Eric is able to turn into a gaseous, incorporeal form, which allows him to fly and move through tight spaces, like a keyhole or a chimney, though he cannot enter areas that are sealed shut completely. He can shift between this form and his human body in about a second, and when he is in this form, he cannot be touched by anything physical - as it moves right through him -, but this true the other way around as well. This does not, however, make him invulnerable. His powers seem to be somewhat related to the element of air, and and is especially susceptible to it, but other non-physical attacks can also hurt like hell.

Partial Shifting : He can manifest certain parts of his body to grab hold of objects, but the corporeal parts of him are completely defenseless, unless grabbing something that would provide protection.

Spectral Healing : While in the Spectral Form, Eric slowly heals from the wounds he suffers, although this has it's limits, and can leave scars. In any case, it stops a wound from getting worse.

Haunt : Eric can take control of objects that are not bigger than him, forcing himself into them. This allows him to move or levitate around in a rather sluggish way, but can be effective when haunting, for example, a baseball bat. Physical damage to the object also hurts Eric, so it's not worth haunting something that can be easily broken.
Haunting can also be used to take limited control over others, as someone wrestling against the haunted person. This can be overpowered by sheer strength though, and can slow strong opponents at best.

Skills: Due to his upbringing, Eric knows multiple languages, including German, Spanish, and Russian. He also studied piloting to learn about currents and basic flight physics, since he can be affected by the wind. His fighting style is closest to the "whack it until it's down" technique, he started practicing aikido and krav maga to be more efficient.

Equipment: Since the Spectral Form does not extend to clothes or equipment, he goes to the field basically naked. It would be nice to find a way not to appear in his birthday suit when shifting back.

Personality: Eric is prone to cynic joking, and likes irony. He can be sincere and serious as well, but he finds it easier to brush things off with a stoic remark. He is disappointed in humanity, as what he often sees is that man is a wolf to man, and everything is run by corrupt bureaucrats, who are consumed by greed. He believes that although there could be so much potential in people, it is squandered by selfishness and apathy for others. He doesn't like to be in the spotlight, as he has witnessed power and popularity corrupting people. He also dislikes taking responsibility, but reluctantly does so by using his gifts to better the streets, to soothe his conscience.

He disapproves of people who are what he used to be like, and feels shameful about his past as a couch potato. He regularly does cardio exercises to build up his stamina, and trains fighting techniques on his own not only to better his performance on the field, but as a way to "atone" for his laziness. He is likely to push himself past his limits, saying something gritty or just using the words "crap" a lot. This sometimes leads to injury, but since he can heal in his spectral form, he really doesn't care.

Biography: A son of a russian economist and a german engineer who moved to the United States, Eric had ha very easy way of learning multiple languages at a young age. He was also a bit of a geek, and got bullied in school, until he befriended a schoolmate who turned out to be a super with enormous strength. His name was Damien Reed. They were both huge comic book fans, and although Damien was not allowed to use his powers in public, or reveal in in an obvious way, he told his secret to Eric, who practically worshipped him. They used to hang out a lot, playing video games and watching cartoons. Since Damien's power made him fit without breaking a sweat, he was also kinda lazy, but Eric was a normal kid and the lack of physical exercise and countless junk food made him overweight by his teenage years.

Though his parents were caring and supportive, they did not like their son getting fat on the sofa and sometimes made stinging remarks about Eric's appearance, but it was also painful when Damien was adored by all the girls, while Eric was ignored by the opposite gender. So he started working out, and Damien joined him for support (even though it was nothing to him). This would soon turn into short sessions that turned into more chilling.

Time went by, and when went to different colleges and saw each other less and less. After a year into his studies, he saw some news about a superhero on the streets, rounding up criminals and smiling for the camera in the meantime. He recognized him as his best friend. When he called him about it, he admitted with pride that he has officially started his superhero career. Eric found the news fantastic, and proposed to be Damien's sidekick, but he politely declined, reasoning that this was dangerous for "normies", especially for ones who are out of shape. This made Eric finally snap from his lazy ways and work out in earnest.

But while he was losing weight, he saw his friend gradually turn into (or maybe revealing himself to be) a conceited braggart, who loves to dominate the scene. And that was BEFORE he became a corporate tool who started working for the mayor's office as a glorified enforcer. Since he was always "busy" they slowly stopped talking.

One night Eric was going home from a jogging session, while he ran into an armed robbery: two men were robbing third who was drunk after partying. Eric decided to step in, and ended up getting stabbed. While the assailants ran away, he stumbled into a corridor and collapsed from the blood loss. When he came to himself, everything was different, and felt the pain slowly go away. When he looked down, a pool of blood stared back at him, soaking a lying figure on the ground. When he looked at himself, he was floating, all blue and transparent.

"- I'm... I'm dead? Well... Crap. God dammit."

At that moment, he fell to the cold pavement, completely naked, as his usual self. That's when he realized that the figure on the ground were only his clothes, empty of any wearers.

"- I...guess not."

Cold and confused, Eric hastily dressed up in his bloody clothes and ran home. When in his house he threw everything into the washing machine and examined his wound in the mirror. It was a nasty cut, but not as deep as a full stab should have been.

"Okay, let's try this again." He concentrated, and after a short while he turned into his ghostly form once more. He could see the wound slowly, gradually get smaller and smaller healing itself.

"Groovy." This is when his life really began.

Theme Song:youtube.com/watch?v=qyNrZwDOh14

Relationships: TBD

Extra: We're NOT normal.

[User]
TURN BACK

After a tense few moments of attempting to regain his composure, Jason Graves turned around and headed back towards the abandoned theater. Hopefully his mother had heard his plea and the boy could get some rest. He slipped inside the building and headed over to the stage where the child seemed to have fallen asleep on top of Tank. Grabbing his discarded hoodie from the floor, Jason handed it to the large man, whispering to him as he tried to listen in to the current conversation. "Take this for him. I'm figuring out something slightly more permanent until we can sort this Umbra shit out."

He stepped closer to the crowd around Ditch, letting out a slow breath as he started to allow himself to get angry at the mention of mind control. Something about that rubbed him very much the wrong way. What rubbed him even worse though, was Wraith's comment about the boy. "Some kid? You mean the child who is, thus far the only person we know of who's escaped Umbra? The boy who was found alone, sick, and injured in the shittiest part of this city? Yeah, let's ignore him. Toss him back out on the street, why don't we? Do you have any idea what the homeless epidemic in this city looks like? How many people, how many families, how many children are alone out there? How many of them have to sleep on benches and beg for pennies?" He had walked closer now, his prosthetic hand clenched at his side. "I am not tossing that poor, innocent child back out into that godforsaken shithole we call home. You're right about one thing though, we do need a plan. If we go up against a mind controler without one, we're going to literally die." Jason was addressing the group now, though his eyes were still focused on Wraith. "And you're right about one other thing, we can't plan very well while we have to worry about the boy. That's why we need to find a place for him to go before anything else. I have a place, I'm willing to offer my home to him. It's not the Hilton or other fancy fucking hotel, but it's safe and warm and he'll have food and someone to watch over him. If anyone else has any ideas, I'm glad to hear them. But I think we have to take care of him first, and then deal with Shithead McMindcontrol." He turned away and focused his attention on Ditch, interested in what she had to say, but adding under his breath quietly; "Somehow I'm the one out us two with some goddamn human empathy, how the fuck does that happen..."

[Assistant]
The boy had fallen asleep finally, against their resident behemoth to boot. Seems that Tank was nothing but a big teddy bear to a distressed child, all soothing words and gentle reassurance. It was quite a feat, and Reaper was rather glad as her own powers began to settle; distressed children made Zoey antsy. However there was little to celebrate, as her feet began moving, pacing once more as Ditch's explanation began to settle in her mind. The others seemed equally appalled with her little discovery.

How do you fight mind control?

Reaper doubted that Ditch had any more insight into how it worked considering she didn't offer anything else up. That was all they had – the knowledge that Umbra had the deadly power under his command, somehow, not even the details of how! Just glowing purple eyes. Omega was right, however, that they needed to study the bracelet. Ditch looked dead on her feet on top of being soaked to the bone, so she doubted that would be done anytime soon, which left the next biggest problem in their face – being found out. Of course, the returning Turn Back and Wraith both had their own opinions, which quickly began to clash.

The vigilante raised her gloved hand to rub at her temples with thumb and forefinger as Turn Back's voice rose in response to Wraith. She was crass, yes, but from what she could tell the other girl seemed fairly young – at least compared to the rest of them. Honestly, could they not go one night without fighting?

"Cut it," Reaper finally snapped sharply, her teeth almost snapping shut on the last syllable akin to a snarling dog. "You're both pretty." Sarcasm dripped from every word before her black eyes went back to Omega, at the same time reaching down into her shadow. Her fingers dipped into it, grabbing fabric from the pile of forgotten coats so that when she rose again the hoodie was now in her grasp once more. She shook it out, focusing on Omega – or more accurately the pocket with the bracelet in it currently.

"And you both have a point – we don't know who the bracelet belonged to, other than the kid's reaction that it – or another copy of it – was familiar. If it was the boy's I doubt it was a tracking device, at least a functioning one, since he looks like he's been by himself awhile. If it was someone else's we're in deep shit, and I wouldn't risk staying here to find out." The elemental paused in speaking to pull her hoodie back on once more, flipping the hood back over her mask to once more shadow her face in darkness.

"I can have us another building to meet in within minutes. We can't just leave the kid either," Reaper grimaced, her jaw tensing briefly before she added on, "… So my home could be one we could meet in as well, as alternative to Turn Back. There's space, and it wouldn't be a strain to provide for a child or have any of you dropping in or watching him. I doubt he'd want my… supervision, considering." She gestured down at her feet, where her shadows continued to curl about her legs almost lazily.

"But the decision has to be made soon."

[User]
Eric zoned out at the part he heard Mind Control. He wasn't really worrying about ghosts, because.... yeah.
Although he was not quite sure if he was considered dead, or just some sort of apparition while spectral.

Mind Control though, that is a very serious problem. Ecto did sometimes take control of other peoples movements, but their minds... There was something perverse about making people want to do what you wanted, forcing your thoughts on them. Poor kid. Worse that that, no-one on the team possessed anything like that.

"How would we even counter a telepath? Should we put on tinfoil hats? Or go around finding someone who has mind powers? Ditch?" He glanced at her. She looked dead tired.

Wraith asked the same question, albeit a bit more harshly. Maybe a bit too harshly. Which was a bad idea, considering that the team is not a big fan of apathy.
TB called Wraith out, unsurprisingly. He seems to be on edge, he is taking this thing to heart. I wonder why...

But before things could escalate, Reaper cut in.

"I can have us another building to meet in within minutes. We can't just leave the kid either..."

Eric raised his hand.

"I don't wanna be a party pooper, but unless someone has any idea how we could handle mind control, maybe we should... call it a night? Get some rest and think things through, you know."


[System]
Gender - Female
Rank - Warrior
Clan - Boulderclan
Appearance -
Personality - Often, is a quiet and observant type of cat, although she can appear withdrawn. Introverted, but will love being in the company of good friends. She doesn't view Oakclan with hostility, rather, neutrality. Kind of a worrier. You could say that she is a worrier warrior. (sorry)
Relationships (Family/Mate/Crush) - Burrpelt (Brother)
History - She and her brother were born as barncats. They grew up spoiled on the fat mice that bred in the warm of the barn until their parents were caught in a cat trap and taken away, never to be seen again, by animal control when the barn changed hands. Screefoot and her littermate fled to look for a new barn, and never found one. They wandered and killed whatever they could (difficult at first, for the wild mice turned out to be smarter than barn mice) until they stumbled upon the newly-forming clans. Her brother, not wanting to struggle for survival in a harsh mountainous environment, opted to join Oakclan. She is unaware of his deputy status.
Other -

Name - Burrpelt
Gender - Tom
Rank - Deputy?
Clan - Oakclan
Appearance -
Personality - More of a thinker than a fighter, he can hunt and give orders but fears the day he might have to fight Boulderclan- especially because that is the clan of his sister. As a result, he advocates for peace as much as he can without sounding like a suck-up or a coward. He will not hesitate to defend himself and his new clan, however. Likes a good chat.
Relationships (Family/Mate/Crush) - Screefoot (sister)
History - See Screefoot
Other -

Name - Cinnamon
Gender - Female
Rank - None
Clan - None (will join OakClan)
Appearance -
Personality - Always likes to point out the bright side of a bad situation. Although she is not very good at fighting, she's overprotective of those she feels close to- something that could easily get her killed. She also assumes the best of everyone, another potentially harmful trait.
Relationships - Leaf (friend)
History - Cinnamon was born the runt of the litter in the middle of a dirty city. Despite constant teasing by her littermates she loved her family, but was separated from them when a dog attacked the abandoned shed where they lived. Although she wanted to go back to them and check for survivors, by the time she'd managed to lose the dog chasing her, she was hopelessly lost. She wandered off into the country and met Leaf, quickly becoming friends and glad to have someone to survive with.
Other - is a cat.

[User]
Hawkclaw laughed quietly to himself and padded over to Sootpaw
 "Nice try, you were doing good until you stepped on that leaf. Don't fret about it though, with every mistake, you learn something new. What did you learn today?" The large cat smiled at his apprentice "While we're out here we should probably check for any food nearer to the boarders for a very special reason. We cannot cross the boarders without a very special reason. And Bolderclan can't come into ours for the same reason. We don't want them hunting our prey." He started to walk off into the brush "Does this make sense to you?"

[Assistant]
The Queen had been sitting on her patch of grass, grooming her tail when the kit had approached her, hesitant and shy though she was clearly nervous with all the larger cats around them. Taking her tail from her tongue she laid it on the grass beside her, indicating for the kit to sit next to her, where she could keep her warm and safe with her tail.

Riversong had always liked kits, even before she had become a loner cat after being abandoned by her house folk, and wanted some of her own though she was just in the final stages of that goal now. The young one beside her was an orphan, fed by Ravenfeather, though the silver and black she-cat would have readily taken in her and her brother if she had had the milk for them. For now she acted as a comforting and guiding force for them, soft and gentle when they needed it.

"Good morning Willowkit." The Queen said to the small she-cat, leaning over to lick the top of the kits head since there was a peice of fur sticking up wildly. "I slept fine. What about you?"

---

The she-cat purred as her mate leaned against her, licking her head as he spoke. He'd never liked when she was out alone, especially at night, but some flowers she needed only bloomed after moonrise. "Yes; I found a new patch of Goldenrod not too far away, I was making sure it wouldn't be eaten by mice." The Medicine Cat explained to her mate, flicking his side with her tail as if to scold him for worrying so much about her. She was a grow cat, aware of how to protect herself if she must. Healing was simply preferred, and something she was good at.

Glancing at the tom that walked away from them she watched him quietly, aware of his problems with females though she knew he would have to get over it in time. "Perhaps I should give him Goatweed to ease his nervousness." She thought, wondering aloud to her mate though she realized quickly that this wasn't the time or place to discuss possible treatments and aids for the tom. "If we bring along one of the younger apprentices I can shown them the basics of what I look for, since usually an apprentice goes with me." She suggested, looking for one of the few that either lacked a mentor thus far, or were too new to be scent marking the borders.

---

It really had been a while since the warrior had ever interacted with kits and Queens, since she wasn't an apprentice anymore and had no desire to have her own litter or two. So when Petalwhisker motioned for her to keep quiet she realized how loud she'd been and lowered her ears embarrassed to have been too disruptive. She had been getting ready to leave them be when the Queen had asked her about apprenticeship and everything that came with it. She'd never been an apprentice here, but had helped out quite often until they had competent ones so she knew their duties well. Sitting down between nests the silver tabby looked at the two in front of her and nearly laughed. The Queen was worried about her son. "Don't worry about it. Frostwhisker asked me to make sure you had everything you needed; I think knowledge is one of those things." Featherwhisker, apart from Firelight, had always been the most likely to jest with serious cats in their family, though her parents were known to crack the odd joke or two.

"Chores, mostly. Check the elders for ticks, help out around camp. Whatever their mentor tells them to do that's reasonable. If they feel unfairly treated they can go to Oakstar, Frostwhisker or Sharpthorn about it and they'll get everything sorted out." The silver warrior paused, thinking of what else she had done when the clan barely started, and the things she still sometimes helped out with. "Their mentors teach them how to hunt and fight properly, so they can provide for and defend those who can't help themselves. Like the kits and elders. Sometimes Frostwhisker will take one of the younger ones will her to collect herbs, since having a very basic knowledge of what not to eat is usually a good idea." Featherwhisker looked up at the top of the nursery, trying to think of anything she missed before looking at the two in front of her again.

---

The tom sat close to the camp entrance, perched on top of a large rock with a good view of most of the camp. He could see Riversong with Willowkit, others eating and some leaving in twos or threes to go hunting. They would need to organize a patrol before long if they were going to drive away the loners and rogues that still wandered into their territory unannounced. He had to admit though, the rogues that dared to cross the scent line weren't afraid of anything since his own scent was often added to the mix. Most likely those still out there thought him weak for joining the clan of mountain cats and to be true it had been a rather weak and pathetic move. But he had gotten many of his companions inside too. They were well fed, sheltered and didn't worry about having to sleep at night. Weakness, but smart.

He was a proud warrior, one of the best to have joined either of the clans, but Boulderstar had not been blind to how he was. He was ruthless, dauntless and, to his credit, the biggest asshole here. But he was capable, and worth the effort, since he pulled his own weight plus several others. The patrol gathered and left as he watched, taking both the leader and the deputy out with it and his tisked quietly in his head. Who was going to enforce the rules and protect the others now that most of their skilled warriors were gone? Brimpelt murred in amusement, jumping down from his rock and walking over to Snowthorn.

He had noticed the way she looked at Amberleaf, his longing gaze and the way she stumbled around him. It was obvious to him how shy she was, though he had no problem walking over to the she-cat and standing just in front of her. His piercing green eyes found her gaze, and he smirked lightly. "The fresh-kill pile is looking bare this morning. Let's go catch something for the kits and us." He suggested, his tabby coat dark in comparison to her light one. Like night and day they were, his shyness and his confidence; her innocence and his darkness.

---

The apprentice had been fast asleep when he heard the alarmingly loud voice of Featherwhisker, the demanding and yet somehow understanding warrior. She was young, but older than him by enough to have her own apprentice - though she didn't currently have one assigned to her. He started, bolting upright fast enough to hit is head off of the wood that sheltered the Apprentice Den. The tom knew that the others there would notice, Witheredpaw and Eelpaw were wide awake and talking already. He had always slept in the lowest part of the den, since he only ever stayed to sleep before going and finding a patrol to tag along with the learn. More often than not he would go out with Featherwhisker and Firelight, since the two cats didn't have apprentices to manage. Maybe soon he'd have one assigned to him.

The tom shied away from the others glances in embarrassment, hunched beneath the root he'd hit his head off of and avoiding looking at them. He didn't say anything either, merely waiting for one of them to move so he could leave, or for them to leave so he could go find someone to go out with. He was careful to hide his big paws in the moss that he slept in, a pile of it hiding his front paws fairly well behind it while his tail covered the others. Eelpaw was lucky to have a mentor, even one as rough as Sharpthorn. The Tom was just trying to push Eelpaw to be his best after all, since he saw potential in him.

[User]
Although Screefoot was impressed by the leader's and the deputy's ways of talking to the volatile apprentice, she felt her heart sink as Harepaw seemed just as surly as before; at least he had agreed to join the morning patrol. The disrespect he showed so shamelessly toward the Clan leader and her right-paw cat embarrassed her, and she could feel a rush of warmth go to her ears. She replied to Amberleaf's glance of reassurance with a sorrowful look–– as if apologizing on behalf of her unruly apprentice. She gave the same brief look to Boulderstar before slinking to join them, with the feeling that she was going to be reprimanded at some point for not training Harepaw well enough.

The warrior stepped up close to Harepaw with her tail flicking in both anxiety and frustration. The position she took was mostly to create a barrier between him and Pearpaw. (Vaguely she wished she'd gotten a first apprentice as willing to learn as she.) "Perhaps we can catch some prey on the way back to camp," she suggested.

––

As Burrpelt ate, he had a bad feeling that his pathetic behavior had been noticed. He tried to brush it off. Gulping down the rest of his mouse, he silently choked. "Blegh," he muttered, and stood up. He couldn't be more ready to leave on patrol. Embarrassed, he headed eagerly toward the entrance with his tail straight in the air in a show of confidence to make up for his previous social blunder.

He sat beside the entrance of camp and tucked his tail neatly around his paws, looking around at the camp which was becoming steadily more active as the morning progressed. It gave him a hopeful feeling, but also made him think of his sister. Screefoot and the rest of Boulderclan were living in treacherous mountain territory. One wrong step on an unstable slope, one hunting trip in quickly-changing weather, one fall down the rocky terrain would be enough to kill her. And he wouldn't even know.

Screefoot could be dead right now. She'd never even find out that he had become the deputy.

Calm. Burrpelt closed his eyes to placate himself. His sister was competent. She could take care of herself excellently, and now with a whole clan to take care of her, he was sure she was doing fine. He flicked his speckly tail. On to more important things... like learning to talk to she-cats before the whole Clan noticed he was useless at it. He scanned the camp for a female feline (alliteration, yay) and nervously decided that it could wait until after the patrol.


[System]
R.I.S.C. Dossier

---
Age

16

Physical Evaluation

Quinnlash is a young woman, five foot three, average build, and slightly underweight. She has very long hair (dark gray streaked with bright yellow) cut into sharp, straight bangs in front, and typically tied into a braid. When tied, it ends at approximately hip height. Untied, it falls nearly to her knees. She has extremely pale skin, unmarked with the exception of scarring around her empty eye socket (right), over which she wears a black and yellow eyepatch. Her remaining eye (left) is brilliant yellow. She has a sharp chin and jawline. Her muscle mass is slightly beneath consistent with regular exercise, and she is somewhat clumsy. She has a tendency to stumble if she isn't watching where she steps.

Psychological Profile

Quinnlash has some very strange psychological markers that nonetheless make sense when her history is taken into account. She is very much

1) Outgoing
2) Friendly
3) Cheerful
and 4) Supportive,
as well as

1) Anxious
2) Emotionally volatile
3) Prone to attention-seeking behavior
and 4) Highly competitive.

In addition, she seems to bear a great deal of attachment issues (for more information, check her background information).

Background Information

Neither we nor Quinnlash herself know exactly where she was born, but all she can remember is the house she lived in for sixteen years in Hovvi. Specifically, she remembers her own room, as she only left it—without permission, I might add—twice in her life. She was kept completely isolated by her parents, researchers on Modir and modium, and was only aware of what they allowed her to be. The only notable incident throughout her life was, as far as can be told, two or three months after she snuck out into the living room and saw the outside world for the first time. Her right eye spontaneously burst (very likely a result of sudden modium growth) and was subsequently removed.

The second time she snuck out was fully, immediately before meeting Besca, which was the first time she actually left her house. She was intimidated and fascinated, and the world seemed to stare at her very strangely. The only known survivor of the Hovvi Incident, she was removed from the town's ruins and taken to the Aerie, where she was subsequently tested for compatibility and given a modioscory to interface with a Savior.

There are a number of strange medical anomalies present in Quinnlash's system, such as her bright yellow eye and the hair being naturally yellow. More pressing is the unfeasible level of modium present in her entire system when she was first retrieved post-Hovvi Incident, and the filed and maintained seed growth of modium in place of her missing eye. Interim-Commander Darroh has taken over care of the child's training as a pilot, and should be contacted for any inquiries.
Savior

---

Designation

Ablaze

Body

Tall and lean, Ablaze is on the thinner side for a Savior. Long scutes of modium not unlike those found on some aquatic organisms run along the arms and legs, forming a sort of natural armmor-weapon combination. The fingers are long and end in sharp claws. At the pilot's request, its right eye has been covered with a thick plate of metal.

Weapon

Ablaze's weapon, suited to the name, is a cannon as long as long as Ablaze is tall that fires explosive blasts of fire. The mechanism by which it produces this fire is unknown. When phased, the cannon gains a charge mechanism, allowing her to charge a shot for up to five seconds to increase the destructive yield considerably, up to approximately twice the size and intensity of the blast at full charge. In addition, the cannon shots can be detonated on command, or detonation can be delayed as a form of trap.

[User]
Quinn shivered as Besca went on, Dahlia's hand in her own a comfort, but still not enough to dispel this horror, not nearly. Quinnlash's retreat left her with a strange feeling of absence that she had trouble explaining; like even when she was alone she hadn't really been alone, but now she was and it hurt. She squeezed Dahlia's hand tighter.

She didn't like it, the idea of people being turned into Modir by completing the circuit. It filled her mind with images of Dahlia in Dragon and Roaki in Blotklau and even of Safie in Jubilee, pulled into the dark wherever through the singularities and then coming back and all she could do was fight them and kill them. It hurt. It hurt really bad, deep down in her chest, a throbbing, pounding pain that came from the furthest reaches of her heart. She didn't want to think about it anymore, but she just...couldn't stop herself. She closed her eye for a moment in an attempt to compose herself that was met with dubious success.

As soon as Besca mentioned him—it—Dammerung?—it talking to her, she knew exactly where things were headed. So she had time to tense, squeeze Dahlia's hand tighter, and brace herself before the voice poured from the speakers.

"It cannot stand..."

Despite the bracing, Quinn couldn't help it; she let out a terrified little squeak and shrank backwards into Dahlia, like she could find some way to run or hide from the voice as it filled the small room.

She didn't move or speak until the voice finally fell silent and the audio file closed, when—if her reaction hadn't been answer enough—she said quietly and oh-so-tremulously, still holding tight to Dahlia's side,

"Y—yeah. That's...that's him—it."

[Assistant]
Besca's head slumped down between her shoulders, and she nodded slowly. "That's what I was afraid of," she said. "'Cause I have absolutely no idea what this means."

With a tap she killed the screen, a few more saw the files resealed. The only eyes that needed to be on this now were hers and the research team—and even they'd need to be kept in the dark on most of this mess. There wasn't much to keep from them, but what secrets there were, were necessary.

She stood back upright, cleared her throat. "Focusing on what we do know—this is gonna break soon. Helburke probably already knows that's Dammerung, and it won't be long before some history buff gets a stable frame from whatever footage survived, and figures it out as well. That's all…fine. Like I said, Saviors have been reclaimed before, and there's no reason for anyone to assume that's not what's going on here. The only people in the world who know that thing spoke to you are us, and Follen, and for now I think we need to keep it that way."

"But…" Dahlia muttered, face pinched in thought. "We can't just do nothing. He's—its—hunting her."

"And it's not gonna get her—not unprepared. Quinn, hun, for the time being you're staying on the Aerie. If you go planetside it's gonna be in Ablaze, alright? Hey," she came over to Quinn, placed her hands on her shoulders. "I watched you take on a pilot and a Modir on your first fight. You're…" Push through it, she thought. She needs confidence, not regret. "You're good, alright? You are. The next time this thing shows its face, you're gonna make it wish it hadn't."

It twisted something inside of her to compliment Quinn's piloting abilities. The whole idea was still revolting, and she loathed the idea that Quinn might begin to believe this was what she wanted for her.

Besca hugged her, pulled Dahlia in as well, and then broke away. "Okay, she said, heading for the exit. "I'm gonna go lie to the Board. Starting now, I want you two to prioritize sims in your training. Dammerung might be a Modir now but it still fights like a Savior. Deelie, she's in your hands."

"Y-yeah," Dahlia said, managing only a small wave as Besca left them in the room. She sat down at the table, face still a mangle of confusion and worry, and squeezed Quinn's hand. "You…you okay?"

[User]
"No. I—I don't think I am."

The world felt very small, and very far away. She was being chased, hunted, by an Aridean prince. On some level, she knew it wasn't really Eain. Like Besca said, it was just...an echo of him, a Savior that had gone back to the other side where it came from and come back again. She knew it. On every level that mattered she knew it. It wasn't Eain anymore. It just couldn't be, as a simple fact.

But still...

Then why could it talk?

She didn't get it. And it made her want to think of it as a person. The Modir spoke with his voice. It fought like a Savior. It fought with his sword—

Quinn's heart nearly stopped.

What was it that Dahlia had said at lunch before the duel? Before she discovered that she was being hunted? That it was all her fault?

The weapons are supposed to be—

"Deelie," She spoke with a new urgency in her voice, and both she and her voice were shaking as she put her hand down gently on top of the table, wishing that she could bring up the image again, just to make absolute sure. But it wouldn't have changed anything, because she...she was sure. She would never, could never, forget that sword. The way the fuller had gleamed like fire as it hung above her head, and the crash as it slammed down—

She was hyperventilating now, and she closed her eye, steadying herself on the table and doing her best to stay in the present moment. "Deelie, our weapons are supposed to be us, right? Not—" She cut herself off again, wishing that she wasn't about to ask the question that was dancing on the tip of her tongue. It felt important. Very important. Important and scary, because it meant something was wrong, something was really wrong. A familiar dread was welling up from deep within her too. The other her was...was really afraid. And that just made it worse. "But if the weapons are supposed to belong to us and not the Modir, then..."

"Then how can it have Eain's sword?"

[Assistant]
Dahlia's face went pale, Quinn could feel her hand beginning to clam up. Her mouth opened but when no words came out, it shut again. She shook her head. "I…" her voice dribbled from her lips, muted and unformed.

Why did it have Eain's sword?

"Maybe…" her mind raced—no, more scrambled—for an answer. There ought to have been one, she figured. Centuries of history and research had gone into studying the Modir, so surely, surely this had happened before. There had to be precedence, and she just wasn't well-read enough to know it off-hand.

Get it together, she thought, harshly. You're going to scare her if you don't get. It. Together.

Dahlia took a breath. "Wherever…wherever the weapons come from, you know, when we pull them, or when we send them away—we don't really know where that is. And the Modir do have weapons. Could…could be that they just…waited 'til Eain was dead. It's a good sword, isn't it? Could be they waited. Or…" She let go of Quinn's hand, but got up to stand beside her instead. "Maybe it just…thinks it's Eain, still. There's probably studies on reclaimed Modir, but…well, you know what it feels like in there—with the Circuit. How could anyone really know what happens after? If we get absorbed, well…part of us has to still be there then, right? So, yeah, it…maybe it thinks it's him. Or it's fooling the weapon. Or…"

She sighed, suddenly and inexplicably frustrated with herself. "I don't know. But you know what, Quinn? I don't care." She looked down at her, eyes hard and reassuring. "Swordsman, Dammerung, Eain—I don't care who or what it is. It can't have you. You're my sister, and I made you a promise. So it can't have you, and that's just the way it is. Besca's right; it better think twice about showing its face again, cause if it does, we're gonna mulch it like the monster it is. Together."

[User]
Quinn looked up at her sister, at her silver eyes that were so flinty and jagged, but so warm too. Deelie was right, as usual. It didn't matter. It wanted to take Quinn away, away from her family and away from her home, and just the thought sent a thrill of fear racing up and down her spine in wave at once freezing cold and burning hot.

It didn't matter. And every one of the reasons Dahlia gave made sense. But still, the thought stuck in her mind like a burr, and wouldn't be shaken loose so easily.

She reached her still-trembling hand out, clutching onto Dahlia's again as she sat down with a thump. She squeezed her eye shut tight and dropped her head into the remaining hand, resting the elbow on her knee. Deelie's hand had warmed up again. The clamminess was gone and her voice was sure. She would keep her promise. She always kept her promises.

God, so much had happened today. Too much. She'd visited Roaki. She'd had a nightmare at lunch. She'd had good dreams with Safie. She'd gone down to the interview. She'd messed the interview up. Now this. It was all just...so overwhelming. She was tired. So tired. And in the sudden silence, the sudden stillness, the past few months finally managed to catch up, and blew over her like a hurricane.

I just want to sit here, I don't feel so good. I think I might be sick.

Her breathing grew heavy and ragged.

DON'T LEAVE ME!

Tears suddenly poured from her eye as her heavy breaths turned to shuddering sobs.

Did I...did I do good?

One after another the images came and the words and thoughts chased after them, cramming themselves into her head so hard she felt like it would burst. She squeezed Dahlia's hand tighter, tight enough to hurt, and leaned into her as she cried.

Her first phase.
Realizing that they had lied to her.
Her family.
How hard it had been to hit Deelie the first few days.
The grueling training.
The dreams.
Pulling the cannnon.
The duel.
Roaki.
The swordsman—Eain—Dammerung—

The staticky thoughts finally trailed off, and she was back in the briefing room again. Her tears were still running fast down her face. She hadn't realized it, but she'd been running towards the future so fast the past—even the present—hadn't been able to catch up. But sitting here with Dahlia and Besca, looking at the thing that had nearly killed Roaki, her sister, and her—

It was all just...too much.

And so she kept crying.

At some point Dahlia must have sat, because her head was lying on her lap. But it was all such a blur it was hard to understand what was going on.

She cried for a long time.


[System]
Diarmi 'Dimi' Carlevaro
At 14 years old, 5'5", and maybe 130 pounds sopping wet, Dimi is the last person to intimidate anyone. Perhaps he's aware, as he's slow to anger and even then such anger quickly dissipates. He's quite chatty and quick to talk with strangers in hopes of striking up a friendship. It doesn't matter how often he's turned down, he'll bounce right back up in an instant. Perhaps that's fitting, as when his family performs for the streets, he does acrobatic tricks and parkour. [So of course he's fascinated when he's attached to this hulking, giant, quiet man who's apparently from centuries ago.] Considering how ragtag, ill-matching, and ill-fitting his attire is, it may come as no surprise that Dimi's 6-member family lives out of a small RV, which is an uprade from the van that pulls it around. If given a chance (his youngest sister is busy, there's no performance going on, and who really cares about school, right?), he could spend all day at a bookstore, library, or comic book store, reading graphic novels and comics.

Agmundr
What does one do after having been raised to fight, joining multiple battles as part of the berserker squad, and getting an arrow to the throat? Become attached to a teenager, apparently. It's a struggle to leave behind the mindset he lived with for so long. Contrary to what one might expect, Agmundr is not overwhelmed by the modern world, mostly because he's able to shut it out, only paying attention for possible threats and planning for battle. Oh, and when his kid calls, probably to show him something like 'ice cream'. Apparently.

When working together, Dimi is already granted the core powers of a mahou shoujo - increased strength and endurance, quicker healing - though Agmundr is able to supplement the first two to greater levels. In addition, Dimi is granted immunity from damage by fire or by any kind of metal weapon, as per the tradition of berserkers. Finally, Dimi is able to produce and release spores that can either put a person to sleep or leave them in a delirious state. Neither Agmundr nor Dimi know how to predict the spore's effects currently.

[User]
Diarmi, a bit too focused with the sword flying at his face, had managed to miss the moment of the lightning bolt - not its existence, fully, something else had distacted katana-guy after all, but he hadn't seen what it was. A blade being pulled with the intention of cutting off one's face had a way of focusing one's attention like that. He practically held his breath as the spores began to take effect, making the young man stumble and swap. When he finally collapsed, Diarmi was quick to catch him before he cracked his head on the rooftop, then finished setting him down.

Well. Best to disarm him. As he grabbed at the katana's sheath, he asked aloud, "So what was that?"

"The spores of a mushroom from my time. They have magical effects."

"They do?" The sheath came loose with another tug. Diarmi thought about it, and then fiddled with the necklaces around the young man's throat. Hey, something let him summon and control those bird-monsters. He didn't know what, but magic charm or magic sword seemed like the best bet, and he wasn't sure what was enchanted.

"Yes. For some, the mushrooms force them to sleep. For others, they bring them into the berserker's rage."

"They what?" Diarmi's voice cracked. "I coulda had that guy go into a fit of rage at me? He was kinda already in one!" Rage squared, he supposed. But that was beside the point.

"Hardly. But, I will tell you, a berserker is immune to the power of metal and fire. Unless he used his sword like a club, he would not have been able to harm you."

Oh, this was not a train of thought Diarmi had ever anticipated. But here he was, wondering at what point being bludgeoned would be worse than being sliced or pierced. Maybe it was best to let that train go on its own, and he'd re-board it later, figure out the answer. For now, a drizzle had started and he'd heard the sound of broken pottery. The katana and possible charms secured on his person, he jumped, caught a lamp post, and slid downwards. Thank god(s?) he wasn't climbing up in the rain.

"Hey, hey, that was awesome!" He ran towards the knight girl, holding his hand up for a high five. "We gotta check on bear-hand lady, I know, but-?" He gestured with his free hand. "High five?"

[Assistant]
Just as Sam was rushing the next monster, it burst into smoke on its own. She glared at the haze skeptically, trying to figure out what the trick was–until it reformed as an ordinary pigeon. The girl's skepticism turned to confusion, which only deepened when she looked around and saw the other monsters turning into perfectly ordinary birds.

And in the middle of the street, no longer behind any aberrations, stood a woman. She had a definitely magical staff raised overhead. And suddenly it began to rain. Not a hard rain; it was a light drizzle easily shielded by holding her paws over her head. It still wasn't a normal rain. Not with how that cloud overhead had come out of nowhere sometime during the…oh no, during the battle. She'd just fought a battle.

'Worry later; work now.' Tamping down a rising panic, Sam ran after the woman as she dropped her staff into a puddle and stepped off the road.

"Excuse me! Ma'am! Do you…" Sam stopped her words at the same time she stopped in front of the strange woman. What did she want to ask? Would this woman even have answers? Certainly she looked antiquated enough to know something; but then again, Sam didn't normally wear red hide and tribal tattoos. Appearances were far from a useful metric.

Still, something about the woman felt older, and far more confident, than Sam did. With a deep breath, she plunged ahead. "What happened here? What are those birds, are they still dangerous, and where did everyone else-?"

[User]
Mina looked up as the viking boy called out to her, letting the tip of her sword rest against the ground. She gave him a weird look as he raised his hand to request a high-five. Was- was that it? They beat the bad guy stealing souls and his army of evil bird monsters, yay, go team? Like they were some kind of sports club? Like true she was a totally amazing badass who had just saved the world or whatever, but still!

Mina felt someone nudge her shoulder, turning her head briefly to catch sight of the knight lady. "You shouldn't leave your comrade hanging," she said, and Mina would almost swear she was smiling at her.

Seriously? This girl too?! Did they even have high-fives in the dark ages? Geez! Well, whatever. Mina raised her hand in defeat, wincing slightly as the boy's palm slapped against her own. Yay, go team.

---

The Witch of the Waters raised one finger to halt the girl's flood of questions. "All things in their order," she said before lowering her hand. "The birds are harmless, I believe. You needn't worry over them. As for the rest, we should have the others join us, first. If I am to field questions, they should be present to hear the answers."

She clapped her hands together, a bright grin spreading across her face. "Now! I don't suppose there is a suitable place nearby for a private gathering of heroes?"

---

The man folded his arms over his broad chest, leaning against the wall out of sight of the street. He had watched much of the battle unfold from here, leaving the boy to his own work as he had requested. A foolish mistake, as he had expected from the start.

"What's to be done, then?" he asked, paying no mind to the pigeon cooing by his feet. The boy's capture was his own fault, not the man's, but it still needed correcting. His eyes narrowed at the words echoing in his mind - leave him? He was a fool, true, but-

Ah. "Very well," he relented, lowering his head at nothing.

An understandable if unfortunate decision. They hadn't been aware of any warriors prior to this, and it would be prudent to gauge their total strength moving forward. The stormcaller in particular was concerning - she had done little thus far to demonstrate the extent of her power, and their ignorance of that matter made her dangerous.

He would withdraw for now. If further action were to be taken, it would not be today.

[Assistant]
Kagura was starting to realise that she couldn't see anymore birds. Nor could she hear them anymore. She looked over at the pirate, who was standing on the building's ledge. The pirate was smiling, looking out over the city, with her loose ghile shirt billowing in the wind. Kagura had to admit, she looked cool

"Looks like whoever was in charge got taken out. And I think I just spotted somebody who might give us more answers. C'mon!" she commanded, before dropping from the roof and landing unhurt on the ground below. She grinned up at Kagura, who rolled her eyes and headed back to the stairwell. Once they were united, Kagura tutted and glared at her companion.

"Yes, you can jump off the roof. Very impressive. I couldn't do that!"

"You know, lass, I wouldn't be so sure..."

"What? What are you-"

"Anyway, you see those three? Two knights and a wet lady with a staff? I don't think they belong here, same as I don't. This world is so familiar, yet so strange at the same time. I think I recognise the language from scrolls the Dutch brought with them from the Far East. This is Japan, isn't it?"

"Hold on. If you can't read Japanese, how are we speaking?"

"Honestly, lass? I couldn't tell ye."

The pirate and the...magical girl who looking more like she was complaying a pirate-themed idol when stood side by side with a real one, approached Mina and the Witch of the Waters.

[User]
"You're just going to, what, wait over here…? Really, [fire-child]? You would avoid the… Ah… Group of them?" Asked a tall woman, draped in ancient looking armor. It reminded the more modern-dressed, punk-styled girl of a resistance fighter. From ancient Egypt!

"Yes. Yes I would! They're fuh— I mean— Look I don't know WHATS happening down there and I do NOT want in. Not yet. Not right now, okay?" Replied Tomoyo.

The spirit sighed, standing next to Tomoyo in silence for a long, long moment… Before smirking.
They were standing under the drizzle some non-insignificant distance away. Apparently, her charge enjoyed the feeling of water on her skin.
Rain was… Not necessarily new, but nice and interesting nonetheless.

 She stepped forward, then, looking directly in 'TomTom's eyes as she spoke again. "I am Usai. We have known eachother very, very briefly… But I believe we need more than eachother to survive."

And to that, Tomoyo panicked, as so named 'Usai' vanished from sight. She shuffled in place, gasping at the sight. "Hey! What the crap?!" She hissed, desperately looking about.
She was not prepared for Usai to reappear bedside the Viking boy and his companion. Unseen by them, not to Tomoyo's knowledge.

She was further unprepared when 'Usai' simply smiled. Usai clapped, before 'speaking' calmly and yet somehow with a fire that was eager to leap out. Tomoyo couldn't hear what Usai said, but her face was rapidly burning up.
This was embarrassing!

Usai turned, glancing directly at Tomoyo. " I apologize for, ah, interrupting. My charge is… Very shy." She whispered, to absolutely no one in particular.

[Assistant]
Diarmi seemed giddy, hissing out a small 'yes!' after they'd high-fived. Agmundr meanwhile seemed to share some of Mina's dispproval, but it was more concern than distaste written in his features. He floated a bit closer to her and her spirit, and offered both a careful nod.

"I trust you will help me keep him safe?"

"What? I'm - ow." Diarmi paused, looking at his foot and pulling the sliver of cracked road from where it had managed to lodge itself, horizontally. "Bad timing. I'll be fine. We'll all be fine, I bet." Not that he had much to bet, but he doubted she was like Loris.

"I trust you will help me keep him safe," Agmundr repeated. "And I shall act to help keep you safe as well. I will not witness another child falling in battle." His tone was level, betraying none of the concern still visible on his face.

"Um." Diarmi bit his lip. Yeah, he had mentioned something like that before, hadn't he? The very moment they met, even. He still hardly counted himself, or either of the two he'd witnessed, as a child, but Agmundr did seem older, had probably survived longer than either of them had been lived for. How much longer anyways? That was probably a sensitive question, but Diarmi's filter never was the best. "How old were you when you died?"

To his surprise, while Agmundr did not seem interested in answering, it didn't feel as awkward as he was sure it should've (Filter: broken. Hindsight: 20/20). Diarmi hummed. "Gotcha, moving on." He hefted up the katana and necklace. "So, lifted these off that guy - I'm like 90% at least one of them's magical, but I can't tell for sure." (And his timing made it seem like he was in conversation with Usai as well.) "I don't suppose you can tell? Maybe bear-paw girl's more magic-magic? Being able to transform and stuff-" He nearly dropped the items.

"We gotta still catch up with bear-paw girl!" Agmundr seemed to see where this was going, moving forward. "Let me get a headstart before you flash-step?" Diarmi pointed fingerguns towards the knightly girl. "See you over there!" With that, he ran around the corner and down the road towards the witch and the other fighters.


[System]
Age: 18

Grade: Remedial High Schooling (Mephisto's)

files.catbox.moe/gi2spk.png

I'm dumb so the image is probably too big to embed well so here's the link. She dyes her hair often, but never tries out the color red.

Biography: Alyona was born with a twin sister. In some cruel ploy of the gods, one twin was given the powers of a holy relic, while the other became a bearer of unholy curses. While one grew normally and healthily, the other was thin and barely grew at all.

Despite her royal birth and family, she was excluded from participating as soon as her powers were realized. Bringing misfortune everywhere she walked was enough for her family to isolate her, and she soon felt resentment towards them without exception. Despite the family's wealth, she knew that she would be the last person in line to inherit anything. So she eschewed her family, dying her hair different from her twin sister, taking with her anything she could steal and running away to try and find a different way of life. After all, if all she can do is bring misfortune, maybe she could find a way to use it to her advantage.

Alyona has embraced her life as a walking curse. She assumes by default that people will not like her - so she better get what she can out of them before they realize what she actually is.

She fled her home country with some stolen family treasures and is determined to chase her own dream in Rhea with a fresh start. She has it all, a nice apartment, a good roommate, and... mandatory schooling due to her lack of transcripts and poor testing scores.

Has a childlike fondness for sweets.

Powers:

Core Power: Unholy Vessel - Alyona was blessed by a goddess of curses and misfortune. Some would say that the essence of curses is weaved within her mortal form. Her presence brings poor luck to those around her. Perhaps because of this curse, her body is much different from her stockier twin.

Secondary Power: Aegis of Misfortune - Alyona's existence is a form of curse. Negative effects such as curses have very little effect to her. However, positive effects have a diminished effect on her as well. She's so used to negative energy that positive kinds make her feel sick.

Secondary Power: Cursed Touch - Alyona's curses can be extended to others with a touch. If someone is touched by Alyona for more than a few moments, the curses will prevent positive effects such as healing from affecting the victim for several minutes. Extended bouts of contact with her will prevent even natural healing and rest from aiding the victim.

Secondary Power: Contaminant Bolt - Alyona's ranged attack are spears of pure negative energy. Containing the raw energy of curses, these weapons pass through physical barriers and leave no wounds, but sap the life force from their target. Hits to muscles will make them sore and stiff as though they have been worked without breaks. These spears can return the life force to Alyona, which heals her (one of the only positive effects that isn't reduced by Aegis of Misfortune).

Relationships:

Sasha Yenina - "...Don't say that name to me ever again."

Name: Alexandria Sova
Also goes by Andras

files.catbox.moe/xv9ulb.png

(She doesn't actually have a grimoire... yet!)

Age: 16

Grade: 1st Year Laurels

Biography:

Alexandria Sova was always a bookish child, who often ended up driving people away through social awkwardness. It was a wonder, then, that she managed to become a part of a trio of tightly knit friends. Her Gift manifested strangely, allowing her to manifest thoughts, concepts, and images from her mind. This led to her forming a bond with another child who had a similar power. Protected by a brash third friend, they lived out their lives without a care in the world, conjuring forth images and scenes that were born from pure imagination.

Until Alex went too far. Or rather, she was intrigued by some quirk in her gift she discovered while playing - and upon experimenting, was swallowed up by her own dream. She became bedridden, comatose, unresponsive. She only awoke over a year later, and even more time to become rehabilitated. But she had emerged changed from the long sleep, and her power was erratic, unpredictable, and so much more powerful. She claimed she had found the source of magic itself, something innate to the world, even more fundamental than the gods.

Or so she says. Many keeping an eye on her noticed her power was manifesting things from her imagination, or from other things she had seen in the past, or even from games she enjoyed. They commented that she may have imagined or dreamed the entire thing up, and her power simply refined itself further to manifest her scatter-brained thoughts into, admittedly, real powers. The erratic and potentially dangerous nature of her power lead her to be privately schooled in managing her power alongside remedial classes to catch up with the classes she had missed.

Alexandria's extended leave from consciousness, loss of sight in one eye, and newfound ability had perhaps intermingled for her to cultivate a new persona - that of a demon mage named Andras. While she tries to keep the facade up, it becomes clear to many that interact with her that she is simply keeping up some kind of delusion, or a stage persona to have for when she enters tournaments, or perhaps she just went a little crazy when she was in a coma.

Powers:

Core: The Root of All Magic

Within Andras's eye there is a link to the source of all magic, beyond even the gods' domain (allegedly). She can use her inward eye to gaze at the Root, catching glimpses of spells at their primordial source (or so she says). These spells crystallize as softly glowing points of light, which Andras can manifest at will (actually has been observed, so probably true). She can cast these spells using the points of light, which she usually calls "cards" (most cards in real life don't glow and float in midair).

The behaviors officer that put together her file after working with her wrote:

"Alexandria's power seems to let her manifest illusions of cards, like from a game, and use them to create actual magical effects. They seem to be 'drawn' from a large and random pool that may be expanding as she considers new effects. While in card form they have no real power, so they seem to be just manifest that way because of Alexandria's preferences. However, she has the ability to 'activate' them to 'cast' the effect of the card, consuming the card in the process. These spells can be from minor tricks, to powerful attacks, to granting supernatural abilities. Nearly impossible to say what she might be able to do from day to day.

She seems to be documenting spells herself, but unfortunately a copy of the notebook she was using is not able to be secured. She was very adamant about not sharing it."

Sub Power: Mana Bond
Once per day, Andras can draw a card from the Root. She can increase the number of draws she gets from this power by forging a mana bond with a trusted friend. This is done through physical contact (like a hug or whatever) and lasts as long as both are okay with it. The bond does not impart any kind of drain on the friend.

Andras is very hesistant to form bonds with someone she doesn't trust as a friend. When prompted why, she never really gives a straight answer, usually haphazardly talking about "grave prophecy" or "reality anchoring" or something similar. ...Maybe she's too shy?

Sub Power (?): Forbidden Knowledge
Andras's connection to the Root is seemingly becoming stronger over time, causing her to obtain more and more spells as she practices. The list of spells she has grows as she witnesses usage of gifts, magic, and her own dreams.

Relationships:

Wolf and Vera: "I-It's kind of daunting to face them now... A lot has happened since we were last together. But we're still friends, right? R-Right?!"

[User]
---

Vera was astonished by the sudden wall of ice. The Alex she knew couldn't do that. Was this really her? But, eyepatch aside, everything fit.

She hadn't even gotten that much taller.

And, more importantly, no one else would have reacted this way. No one else would have cared. She held the smaller girl close, clutching her tight to her chest and kissing the top of her head.

Vera couldn't help but laugh even as her voice broke, "Y-you still smell that that bargain brand strawberry junk..." she hiccupped. It was really her. Nothing else mattered for the moment. The ice wall, the crowd, all her questions. None of it.

But, then the moment passed.

"AHEM!" The MC boosted the volume so his voice could pierce past the wall of ice. "I'm going to assume there's a touching reunion of some sort going on in there, but we ARE trying to hold a tournament here!"

Right. The tournament. This stupid tournament was where she'd found Alex.

These people, this crowd, had all seen Alex before she had.

Vera suddenly pulled away from her, "What are you doing here, huh?"

CRACK!

Outside, others were battering down the wall of ice.

"How long have you been awake? When were you gonna tell us? Why was this more important, huh!?" Vere's face was still stained with tears, but now she just looked angry.

CRACK! BAM! CRACK!

Vera just stood there, fists and jaw clenched tightly as the wall came crumbling down.

"OK! About time! Now, if we could just get things going ag-"

"You wanted a fight, right?!" Vera suddenly shouted, interrupting the MC. She walked to the other end of the arena from "Andras" and raised her fists. "Well why not?! That's why we're all here isn't it?" This time, she just glared into Alex's eyes.

"You know what? Screw it. Disqualifications are lame and this shit's better than a soap opera! Have at it, girls!"

[Assistant]
Location: Midnight Tournament
@KillamriX88@AtomicNut

Michael was curious to see how Andras' next match would go. It would be interesting to see what others cards Andras would use, hoping to gain some inspiration for other applications of his Symbolism. Unfortunately, it seemed there would be unforeseen developments as a pink-haired girl came onto the stage and knocked out Andras' opponent with little effort. What's more, the girl seemed to know Andras, and was shocked to see her for some reason. This puzzled Michael. Back when Andras was still recovering from her coma, she had briefly mentioned something about past friends, but could never get any more details than that. Now it feels Andras' history was catching up to her.

Michael raised a hand in opposition to Parker's protest. "I say let her stay," Michael argued. "Anyone with eyes can see that nothing about this was planned. And besides, anyone who could get knocked out that easily wasn't going to be much of an opponent anyway. We all saw how easily Andras took out her first opponent, why would she need to cheat now?"

Michael then tried to peer through the ice dome, still curious about Andras' history. She was never willing to share, and it had caused her great distress anytime Michael tried to probe into it, so he kept a respectable distance from the topic. Now it seems there was an opportunity to get some answers.

Michael was originally going to put in a little effort and make a hole in the dome. Others, however, were not so patient and broke down the ice first. Michael was also going to ask a few questions of his own, but Vera's fiery temper caused him to stay his tongue. He wisely decided that he would wait until tensions died down before he would ask anything, especially as it now seemed that Vera would be Andras' new opponent.

[User]
Alexandria
Alexandria was stunned for a moment at the sudden change in Vera's tone. Tears welled up in her eyes again. "W-What? You're asking that now?!" The image of Vera's face flashing with anger triggered... something. She couldn't remember where it came from. It wasn't from when she was awake, Alexandria felt.

The murmur of the crowd coming back to front and center snapped Alexandria out of her thoughts. She wiped her face. Her gut felt twisted with anxiety, but she grit her teeth and ignored it. 'You idiot, Vera...' She thought. The burning of shame she felt at Vera's last question flared into anger. 'You didn't even want an answer, did you? Did you just ask that to hurt me? Will fighting communicate for you better?!' She couldn't back down now. As silly as it may seem, Alexandria- Or rather, Andras had a reputation to build. She couldn't go down without fighting. She wanted to become a known fighter - a demon in the ring.

Andras's cards flashed into existence around her, and she grasped a spell and quickly cast it - a flurry of cards stretched out before her, and her eye scanned them all in an instant. There were the tools to win, here. She could see it. The cards flickered away. "You..." Andras cleared her throat. "Your challenge is accepted." She had a trump card. But she needed to use her other options first. "I hope you're ready..."

Andras quickly flicked a card towards Vera - it was a minor spell, essentially a warning shot. The card cast itself into a bolt of sparkling energy, streaking towards Vera. Andras knew the spell wouldn't hurt too badly if it hit - not much more than a solid punch - but it would send the message that she wasn't going to hold back to Vera.

She deserved that much.


[System]
Nickname(optional): N/A
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Powers: Longevity, decreased aging speed, the collective strength, speed, and senses of a large bear
Species: Werebear (born rather than cursed)
Appearance(s): As a human (he stand's at 6'3") - As a werebear (he stands at 12'2")
Crush: None
Relationship: Adoptive father
Spouse(Because I wanted to XD): None
Children(same as above): An adopted wood elf daughter whom he misses dearly
Personality: A somewhat staunch man who although willing to work with others tends to keep to himself. Jacque is quite shrewd and has seen many strange things in his travels, and has become quite worldly as a result. He often prefers to let people make their mistakes on their own so that they might learn from them in the future, though he'll occasionally give assistance and advice when the mood strikes him. Jacque is known to be loyal to a fault to those that earn his trust, though he has little patience for ignorance or arrogance even from friends.
History(optional): A ranger during his earlier years, Jacque was prone to hopping between adventuring groups and was highly nomadic, usually staying in one place long enough to either to complete a goal with his current group or rest. For a while everything was good; he met interesting people, saw interesting things, and even made enough money to ensure he'd never have to work a day in his life, and yet something felt as though it was missing. After over a decade of adventuring, Jacque found that he'd lost the spark that he'd had in his youth, and eventually decided to settle down in a little village where the coast met the forest. Jacque enjoyed his new life style, though he found it to be a bit lonelier after having been accustomed to being accompanied by groups of people. He originally attempted to find a girl to settle down with, however he never really connected with anyone he courted. Jacque then turned to option two: adopting a kid to raise as his own, planning at first to adopt a boy, but settling instead on a scrappy little elf girl named Laura. Jacque raised Laura the ranger's way, teaching her to be strong and resourceful, and when she was of age and expressed interest, he eventually sent her to the Ranger's Guild where he had learned his trade. To his surprise, Jacque found that raising Laura to become a ranger had rekindled the spark he had lost, and decided once more to set out for more adventure.
Other: He's terrified of crows and ravens and carries three things on him constantly: A talisman that prevents transformations, a picture of his daughter, and a bag filled with herbs
"Let the games begin."
Also a question; Would you mind the starting island being where Jacque made his home?

[User] "I prefer the darkness myself, but then again I am half vampire."

[Assistant]
Arin and Ace continued to explore the forest while playing a game of 'I spy'. As he was doing that, Arin was also keeping a look out for anything suspicious as he knew someone would try to pick a fight with him eventually.

Ace looked around for something to use for his little 'game' and said, "I spy something brown with leaves on the top."

Arin smiled while shaking his head in amusement. "A tree." He replied in a simple manner.
____________________________________

Price moved a little bit closer to the triplets and Aniram, hoping one of these people would notice him. Then again, he could go the other route and attempt a greeting. He decided to go with the latter and waved at them.

Virgil decided to find out if there were others stuck here and if he was right, he would have two questions for whoever came up to him.

[User]
"Thank you for the complement, not everyone tends to see eye to eye with us rangers. Your tragic circumstances aside, you sound as if you're doing quite well for yourself madam Slayer. And impressive tale indeed." Jacque stated as he idly pulled a spearmint leaf from his pocket, popped it into his mouth, and proceeded to chew it, filling his nose with the crisp scent. He wasn't quite sure if Priscilla could smell it yet given how much sharper his senses work than the average humor, but the hole that was being dug was beginning to smell of damp, rotting foliage, typical of many swamp regions. "I think it's about time we surfaced, dragonspawn. We don't want to come up inside the swamp itself, remember?" Jacque loudly called up ahead to James, his deep rumbling voice echoing down the tunnel like the sound of rolling thunder in the distance. After giving James a heads up, he contemplated pointing out the fact that Priscilla had said "three and ten" rather than thirteen, however given the fact that he'd also witnessed her physically counting out the number with her fingers, he held his tongue, surmising that books smarts weren't really the Slayer's strong suit. For now Jacque would let it be, however he made a mental note to teach her how to properly count if it became a hassle in the future.

"The darkness does hold several advantages to it, however there are flaws in it as well. The same could be said of any environment really. Given your heritage it's no surprise that you'd prefer this sort of environment, but never forget that one should strive to be able to adapt to any location they find themselves in."

[Assistant] Apparently, James had gone ahead of them, far ahead of them, and finished the tunnel, so he came walking back in human form. "The tunnel is done. We're about 50 yards from the swamp."

[User]
(Still in his lair)

Hunter grinned once he thought up a plan and sent the first shadow creature he caught to find the one called Arin. He looked at the other ones and told them that they would all get a turn.
______________________________________________________________

Virgil decided to venture the forest a bit and went further down the woods once inside.
_______________________________________

Price walked away from the triplets and the girl(Aniram) since they didn't seem to acknowledge him. He ventured off into the forest and wondered if he would find someone there.

[Assistant] "That is true, While I may have certain advantages in the darkness it is important that am able to to fight and survive well in any situation and/or circumstances."

[User] Jacque stopped and nodded approvingly and sniffed the air again, detecting the scent of peat moss and stagnant water up ahead, "You're quite the adept digger, dragonspawn. If I didn't know it was you I would've assumed that a wurm had dug this hole, well done." he said before swallong the mint leaf in his mouth and producing another one to chew on. "Now, before we surface, I should warn you lot of what dwells within the swamp.", Jacque reached out to the side and grabbed a fistful of dirt, "The soil in the swamp is not like the soil you'll find at the beach or in the forest. It's extremely muddy and sticky, and will start to suck you down if you stand in one place for too long. In some spots the muck will be a bit deeper than others, if you get stuck do NOT struggle, you strength will only cause you to sink quicker. You'll find that the spots were the muck is deepest with have a series of bubbles from trapped air pockets coming to the surface.". Jacque dropped the soil and dusted off his hands, "The next issue will be the plant life. There will be any number of dangerous plants, like razor grass, noose vines, or thorn bushes, and even a few berry bushes that produce poison fruits and attract all manner of dangerous insects with their flowers. Speaking of insects, unlike the larger animals that were smart enough to flee, these creatures will still be around, and without their predators milling about, they'll be out in full force. These are creatures that are loaded with extremely toxic stings and bites formed by years of defending themselves from predation, so try to avoid them if you can. Lastly, if you hear a loud buzzing sound or see what appears to be a black cloud approaching, run as quickly as you can or duck under the water for as long as you can. That "cloud" will be a swarm made up of a particularly nasty species of fly native to this island. If they catch you they'll burrow into your flesh and drain you of your blood, and that's if you're lucky. If you're not, they'll end up drinking enough to incapacitate you, then lay eggs inside your body. The larvae that hatch are prone to digging into bone to feed on your marrow rather than just blood or tissue. If that happens it'll take weeks to die, and it'll be agonizing every step of the way. I've seen this first hand, and personally, i'd sooner slit my own throat than sit through that.". Jacque let his words hang in the damp air as he stared down each member of the rag tag group.

[Assistant]
Priscilla stepped from the tunnel and smiled, feeling the open air upon her face. Her revelry was cut short by the smell of moss, stagnant water and rotting plant matter, a dank scent thick in the air that hit her in the back of the throat and made her stomach budge slightly with disgust. She looked to the dragonspawn and nodded curtly, "Well done, Dragonspawn. You'd make a fine miner, I'd wager. Still would have like to walk the earth on its surface, as the Maker intended, but we are here now. I have no interest in complaining." After a bash of her fist on her breastplate out of small respect, she turned to Jacque and pushed the scent of the nearby swamp from her mind, trying to take in all of the sage advice that he doled out. "I see. So in short, we have man-eating mud, man-eating insects and more man-eating mud before us. And we are to wade through it all before we reach the dragon itself?" She grinned, the prospect of danger exciting her and spurring her heart on even more. "I am to believe that the beast itself resides in the centre of the swamp itself?"

In the back of her mind, she could still taste the scent of something malicious on the air, just as before. Rotting plant and brimstone, smog and smoke. Her fingers felt as if they were punctured on all sides by needles, and her eye felt fit to leap from her skull, prompting her to rub it slowly as she gazed at their surroundings. Something was here. Something unnatural. She tightened her grip on Verschlinger and gave it a small practice swing before pointing towards the swamp with it. "If so, then I guess its to the centre of the swamp we go."

[User] "Now is as good a time as any to have the natural armor that scales provide."

[Assistant]
Arin kept walking through the forest, but then stopped all of sudden.

Ace looked curiously up at him before slowing to a stop himself. "Why have we stopped walking?" He asked.

Arin looked around and then at the dog. "It just feels like we've been walking for hours." He answered before going into deep thought. We should have ran into something by now. He shrugged at this before moving again. Or I least 'I' should've. (XD)

Ace nodded, finding it true. However, he wanted to play around more. "Can I run around for a bit?" He asked.

[User] "That would be the long short of it, yes. There are very few things in fae swamps that aren't deadly." Jacque said as he drew his short blade and examined it before sliding it back into the sheath. The ranger eyed Zecurst and nodded, "Indeed. Your scales will provide a nice means of defense, but take care to ensure that nothing crawls into your nose or ears. It's a devil of a time trying to remove something living from your nasal passages, I know that from experience." he said whilst repressing a small shudder. Jacque looked at the group before him, they all seemed more than capable of handling themselves, so this didn't seem as though he'd have to watch over them, "Let's be off then, yes?" he said before making his way top side.

[Assistant] "I'll keep that in mind"

[User]
Priscilla nodded and drew her shield from her back, holding it at the ready as she trudged into the swamp. The sound of buzzing insects, croaking frogs and the sloshing of still bog water became all that she could hear as she set foot onto the slushy, drowned soils. Her eyes swept over the environment, taking in all that she could and remaining alert. She could feel a great presence, the sense of unknown weight that she felt on her mind whenever she was drawing close to the end of a hunt. She repeatedly adjusted her grip on her blade, the pins and needles almost unbearably present. Her footsteps were careful, testing the occasional patch of mud with the tip of her blade to check if it is safe to walk on.

"Let us move quick. I itch to exact my vengeance and rid with world of this creature."

[Assistant] James sniffed the air as he walked with them. "He's straight ahead," he said. "I can smell him. If we keep going straight we'll make it to him."

[User] Once on the surface once more, Jacque's nose crinkled as the smell of stagnating water and rotting foliage hit him in full force. The air was hot and humid, sticking the ranger's clothing to his body with moisture almost immediately. He felt mud squelch beneath his boots, sucking his feet a few inches into the mud before he had the chance to pull them free with a bit of effort. It was at this moment that Jacque remembered why he disliked traveling through swamps. "Well given the stickiness of the muck we're standing in, it's not likely that we'll be able to sneak up on the beast. A pity, frontal assaults can be risky when the opponent has the advantage.". Jacque slowly slid his left foot forward and experimentally pressed into the mud, ensuring that he wouldn't sink in too deeply before stepping down and repeating the process with his right foot. The ranger continued with the somewhat awkward method of locomotion, ignoring the feeling of water soaking his pants and flowing into his boots as he made his way deeper into the swamp.


[System]
Age: 133 (appearance of late teens early twenties)

Gender: Female

Appearance: Ingrid is an energetic girl with a medium build and small stature. She stands only a few inches above five feet in height, and weighs somewhere near 120 pounds. She has a very pale complexion with an uncountable number of freckles. Her eyes are light green, and always seem lively, dancing about the area around her. She has wavy, dark red hair that reaches her shoulders, though it is often pulled back in a ponytail.
Ingrid's clothing typically leans towards function over form, valuing comfort and maneuverability over anything else. She usually wears a black tank top under a battered jacket made of dark blue denim with numerous patches of varying colors. Her leggings are usually simple black jeans, somewhat tight, but not enough to impede movement. A wide hole is torn in the left knee. On her feet, she wears black leather combat boots, chosen specifically for their durability. Her waist is adorned with a simple black belt, with her revolver holstered at the hip alongside a large combat knife.
Ingrid has a rather large collection of firearms, and is nearly always armed in some capacity. Her 'old reliable', as it were, is a .357 revolver kept at her hip. The weapon has a chrome finish and a grip made of mahogany. In addition to her revolver, Ingrid carries a small caliber double-barrel derringer hidden in her left boot. Outside of these, the girl owns a variety of weapons ranging from sub machine guns to high caliber rifles, however it is difficult to carry her entire collection. She has made a friend of an illicit arms dealer, who typically provides her with the necessary tools. All of her weapons are loaded with her customized rounds. A small amount of her blood is mixed with the lead for each and every bullet.

Creature:Vampire

Type of Hunter: Primarily Vampire

How long have you been hunting/afflicted: Ingrid was bitten roughly 110 years ago. She has only taken up hunting somewhat recently.

Blood Magic: Volatile Blood: Ingrid's magic, though made possible by her transformation, likely has roots within her genetics. Vampirism seems to have caused a strange mutation within the girl's blood, causing it to react violently when placed in the presence of blood belonging to any other living thing. If Ingrid's blood is mixed with another blood type, her tainted blood erupts into flame, burning itself like fuel. Ingrid, in a spree of 'creativity' found a convenient way of weaponizing her curse by mixing her own blood into bullets. Though makeshift incendiary rounds are her favorite toy, she has also dabbled with applying her own blood to blades, explosives, and poisons, with varying degrees of success.

Background: Ingrid was born in a small town in Scotland to lower-class parents. Her mother died when she was quite young, so her father took to raising her. Despite being a somewhat sickly man, he was a good parent, and Ingrid loved him dearly. Unfortunately, he died when she was about twelve, which led to her being bounced back and forth amongst various family members until she was old enough to live on her own. Her freedom finally secured, and her heart brimming with ambition and longing for adventure, she decided to travel abroad. She spent a few years traveling throughout Europe, working various jobs to fund her travels, but never staying in one place for very long. Like her parents, she had always been somewhat sickly, but that had done little to hamper her spirit. Everything had went according to plan, if there was a plan to begin with, until a chance encounter in Russia.
One night while traveling alone, Ingrid met a strange man on the road. At the time, he had seemed a bit odd and old-fashioned. Ingrid had chalked this up to a cultural discrepancy, and invited the odd gentleman to travel with her. They had not gone very far before she noted that he seemed distracted by something. Again, she chalked this up to a cultural phenomenon. After traveling for a few more hours, she offered the man a drink, and immediately noticed a change in his demeanor. They stopped, and after a bit of drinking, the man offered her the strangest proposition she'd ever heard. "How would you like to live forever?" Somewhat drunk, and viewing the offer as a joke, Ingrid decided immortality would be grand. She realized the weight of her decision a moment too late. The odd gentleman, a vampire, bit her nearly as soon as the words left her mouth. Shocked, she pulled away, but she could already fill something changing within her. Before she could question the strange man, he began shrieking in pain, flames billowing out of his mouth. He darted away, screaming something about tainted blood, and leaving the fledgling vampire to fend for herself.
Ingrid's life from that day forward was a crash course in coming to understand her new self. She disliked the dangers of feeding, seeking blood only when she needed nourishment at first. Eventually, she discovered there were many others like her, some hiding in the shadows, some masquerading as ordinary people. She came to understand the ways of these people. Most of them viewed humans as a food source, little more than cattle. She, however, quickly grew bored of that lifestyle. Human or not, her heart still craved adventure. Now, however, her body could keep up with her spirit.
Ingrid continued to travel for many years, but her search for new sources of entertainment, combined with her rebellious nature, led her into some strange, and often dangerous, places. She learned to defend herself rather well over the years, and quickly learned there was a market for her new skills. She took mercenary and bodyguard jobs at first, before veering into darker territory. Little challenged her, being what she was, and it almost felt unfair to use her talents against people with little ability to fight back. Seeking further excitement, she began hunting more elusive and aggressive prey. Soon, her kin found themselves in her crosshairs as well. Finally, she had found an adventure worth pursuing. Thankfully, she discovered there were other like-minded individuals, and sought them out.

Reason for Joining: Ingrid's reasoning for joining the hunt has little to no basis in ethics. She holds no grudge against vampires in particular, in fact she's quite happy with her own transformation. She does, however, consider most of her kin to be rather boring and wasteful with their immortality. Brash, headstrong, and searching for excitement, her ultimate reason for joining the hunt is little more than entertainment.

Arrived: Just Arriving

[User]
Even after several days, the hunter couldn't help but feel cautious of the individuals that came to answer his call. From the edge of the dock, the worn man gazed out over the cold ocean. He felt the misty breeze blow across his face, and the smell of the ocean air filled his nostrils. As snow began to fall from the gray skies above, William contemplated the uneasy alliance that he had formed, and the enemies that he made along the way by doing so. It was certain the consequences of his actions would catch up to him eventually, but he could only pray that it would come when he was past his time. When the world would no longer need a tainted hunter like him. William took in one final deep breath of air before turning to head back into town. Adorned in his hunting gear, the man made a distinct sound as he moved about the town. It was easy to hear the rattle of the chain that ran along his arm and attached to the shield on his back with each step he took. The wood creaked and groaned under his boots as he made his way across.

 William arrived at the pathway and continued to head straight. He intended to keep watch by the entrance, in case there were more hunters arriving, or unwanted company. Though the man wondered why he bothered, for the first few were a surprise when they arrived. As the hunter stood watch, he thought back to the new faces he had met in these last few days. The first to arrive had been a Lycan named Henryk and a Vampire by the name of Rama. It felt unusual greeting the afflicted, and offering to shake their hands instead of taking their heads, but that was nothing more than a past life to William, and it was something he felt he shouldn't dwell on. At first, he was worried the two would feud with eachother, but so far they seemed to be coexisting without issue. The next to arrive was another vampire by the name of Eva. She was a Lycan hunter, much like him, and he felt she would be a welcomed addition to this newly formed hunting party. More arrivals followed after the second day, and greeted William throughout the day. Egbert, who was the first to arrive that day, entered the small village armed and dangerous. Just by looking at him, William knew the man carried a heavy burden, and not because of the large tank of fuel on his back. Later on in the day, he met Ivory, whom he welcomed into the town. Two human hunters in one day. To William, that meant that his message did not fall on deaf ears with other humans.

 Again, William stood watch at the entrance of the village, waiting to see if more individuals would arrive at such a late hour. In between watches and waiting, he took naps in the dock house, which appeared to be where the man lived. William kept the door locked whenever he left the structure, in case someone ever thought of searching through his belongings. These people may be his new hunting partners, but for now they were still strangers, and not long ago potential enemies as well. Napping and keeping watch over the last few days hadn't given him any real time to socialize with any of the new arrivals. Tonight however, he planned to leave his post early to assemble these hunters in the old town hall for a meeting. For now however, he had a job to do. The man continued to keep watch, the subtle sound of metal rattling when he shifted his body.

[Assistant]
Rama was among the first to arrive.

His initial appearance was a bit unsettling, considered that he was soaked from the head-down in dried flecks of blood. He had just recently finished a Hunt in Jamaica, and took a boat quite a ways to where he was to rendezvous with the rest of the Hunters.

I mean, who wouldn't be giving a second glance at a million-dollar yacht absolutely littered with dozens of corpses?

To explain the massacre, Rama had to explain through whatever splutters of English he could muster up that most of the bodies were from the underlings that had all rushed in once the vampire (unsurprisingly a newly made one) had panicked and fired off a flare, so...

Well, there was little left to say. The bodies were either dumped, if they were too rotten, or shoved inside for consumption.

Rama won't be hungry for a while, at least.

[User]
For the past few days, Ryan had been traveling across the United States in search of werewolves. Starting in California, he had gone through Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, and was now currently on the coast of Maine. It had cost a fortune in gas and yet he still hadn't found a single one. Low on money, food, and gas, Ryan was at the brink of calling home and asking his dad to forgive him and let him return home before he starved out in the middle of nowhere. That is, until he saw a strange rumor on the forums of a website he used to try and gain information on his prey. It claimed that, only a few miles away from where he currently was, there was an abandoned fishing village where hunters would be meeting up. That's it! I haven't found any werewolves because I don't know how to find them. I've just been using Yahoo Answers and Wikipedia so far, but if I can get help from other people who do it professionally than I'm sure to rack up some kills. What his source of information failed to mention, was the fact that not all of the hunters gathering would be completely human. It wouldn't matter that much though, as he couldn't tell the difference between a human and werewolf's human form if he tried, let alone a human and a vampire.

---

One hour later and Ryan's red pick-up finally couldn't go another inch. After parking it on the side of the road, he got out and kicked the tire in frustration. "Not now! I'm so close!" he shouted. Checking his phone, he looked at the GPS to see how much farther it would be to walk. The battery on the small device soon ran dry, but not before he saw the words "15 minutes" in small white font. "Dang it! Well, no going back now. Fifteen minutes isn't too bad. I could probably push this thing the rest of the way." It'd be much better than just leaving a $10,000 car on the side of the road. Even if it's so old and beat up that it belongs in a junk yard instead of on the road.

And so he got behind the tailgate and began to push, and push, and push. No matter how much strength he put in it though, it wouldn't budge. "What gives?" he asked himself. Only after another five minutes wasted on pushing the immovable object did he realize the problem. "Probably should put it in neutral if I want push it, huh?" So Ryan moved toward the car door, shifted the gear into neutral, got behind the truck again, and gave it a good shove. That's when he realized his second mistake, not staying in the driver's seat to have access to the steering wheel and brakes. As the empty car rolled down the road and out of sight, Ryan just watched in silent awe at his screw up. "Well, I don't have to push it now. Hopefully no one takes my guns or anything. I don't think I left anything else of value inside." The red-haired teen then began his smell trek toward the rendezvous of hunters on foot, with his solid red hoodie making him stand out in his mostly gray surroundings. His hands stuffed in his pockets, he passed the time by trying to remember the words to Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival.

[Assistant]
It had been a long journey, especially considering its inception had been spawned by a rumor and a whim. Still, what point was there to life if one didn't indulge in whims once in a while? In Ingrid's case, 'once in a while' had translated to 'nearly every day for the past one-hundred-or-so years', but that was just how she was wired. She'd heard the rumors about an old Hunter gathering a rather... diverse set of allies through one of her many 'colleagues'. Working as a mercenary, she'd met plenty of people with access to a wide variety of information, and one such person had stumbled upon information regarding the village she was now approaching. She'd had to take a flight to reach her current destination, as she'd been in Europe at the time, but crossing the ocean seemed a small obstacle for a chance at real excitement. From there, a pair of friends had driven her most of the way. They knew what she was, and as friends, they trusted her. Even so, the thought of pulling into a colony of vampires and lycans had been a bit much, so they'd dropped her off a few miles away. Better safe than sorry. She'd laughed about that.

 After being dropped off, Ingrid had set off down the road, happily trotting along and humming to herself. The red-haired girl held a large suitcase made of black leather in her right hand as she walked. It held a number of things she'd thought she might need: clothes, a laptop, her 'food', and a compact assault rifle with several magazines of ammunition. As she walked along, cheerfully humming and swinging her arms, she rounded a corner to see a very confused looking young man watching his truck roll away. Being that they were practically in the middle of nowhere, she assumed him to be someone else who had answered the call. With a new briskness, she skipped over to the redheaded fellow. "Hi there, that yours?" She pointed towards the empty road which the truck had just rolled down with her free hand as she turned to face the man.