[System]
Legacy: Black Panther, Storm
WW II Predecessor: N/A
Alias: Thunderclap
Relationship to Predecessor: Son of Black Panther and Storm
Age: 18
Powers/Skills/Equipment: Weather Control, has an affinity for lightning. Hand to hand Combat. Vibranium Armor and armaments to assist in hand to hand combat.
Weaknesses: Typical human weaknesses when not inside nearly indestructible armor. Is susceptible to magic or psychic attack due to the curse left on T'Challa's blood line from the second Panther God's incantations.
Appearance:
Predecessor's History: The Black Panther that was Miles's Father was not born by the time WWII had occurred, but his father fought a gorilla war against the Nazi's push into Africa despite Wikanda's generally isolationist practices. Storm's father also fought a gorilla war in another part of Africa, but he had no super powers. Years later when T'Challa and Storm are matured and married they fought in many conflicts, but never outright war with civilians. When the pair was briefly Married Miles was conceived and was left in the care of the Xevior School for Gifted Children to be watched over whenever Storm was away on mission. He was named after Miles Davis, Jazz Trumpeter.
BRIEF Bio: Miles was raised by the X-men and formally taught at the Charles Xeviar School for Gifted Children, he knew little to nothing of his father except that he was the Black Panther. He inherited a large sum of Vibranium and had the experts associated with X-Men turn it into a suit like Black Panthers. He did not, however, inherit any of his super-human abilities, only his mothers weather control.
Additional Notes:
Miles really likes Jazz. But stay away from stereotypes, he will kick your ass.

[User]
The last few days had been a breeze for Jacob, a soldier of the Axis. He had been given a plethora of easy jobs such as guard duty or clearing out civilian areas. Today was no different as Jacob was sent out with another group of soldiers to clear out a warehouse where a group of American refugees were supposed to be hiding out.

Jacob and his comrades descended on the building stealthily in the hopes of taking the facility's occupants by surprise. As soon as the door was cracked open a puff of smoke began to poor out of the building. After the initial fear that this gas may be poisonous subsided as it seemed to have no effect on Jacob and his troops, the team entered the building and began to go off in groups of two to find any trace of the refugees. As Jacob waded through the smoke with his partner, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched but he kept this thought to himself as he didn't want to possibly give away his position to any possible occupants of the area. This feeling continued to grow until he nearly shot a rat as it scurried across the floor. Having recovered from a mini-heart attack, Jacob began to go back to the meeting point as their tips seemed to be false as there seemed to be no refugees in the area. Just a Jacob turned around he came face to face with an American soldier. With eyes as wide as saucers, Jacob toppled to the ground, fumbled with his gun and shot the soldier all before they realized what was happening.

Jacob quickly got up and began running through the facility looking for his partner whom seemed to have fled at some point during his scuffle with the American soldier. As he ran, Jacob came across a group of four american soldiers who seemed to be just as distraught as he was. Thinking quickly, Jacob pulled out a grenade from his belt, pulled the pin and tossed it at the unsuspecting soldiers, all of which were hit by the blast of the grenade. Carefully Jacob came out to inspect the bodies closer in order to make sure they were truly dead. All but one of them were rotting in the depths of the underworld. Jacob raised his gun ready to take out the final soldier when he came to a sudden and shocking realization.

These were his comrades, his troops.

How had he thought they were american soldiers? It made no sense! Jacob ran to try and tend to his comrade's wounds but it was too late for the soldier as he perished. Just as his comrade's grip on life faded, a figure emerged from the smoke with a globe like helmet perched atop his costume.

"You came here to kill the innocent but you were thwarted by the might of the magnifi-!" suddenly the figure was cut off as Jacob sent an entire clip worth of bullets through his chest, leaving the body to fall on the ground with a thud. Jacob looked down at the body of the man he had just killed with disdain and anger. Now he would have to go back to his superiors and give the bad news about his troops but maybe he would be able to keep his position thanks to his killing of this seemingly superpowered being. "Vielleicht würde er sogar eine Förderung erha-" suddenly a loud bang rang out over the warehouse as Mysterio fired a bullet from his wrist mounted gun through the head of Jacob. "As I was saying, On this day you Axis scum have been thwarted by the might of THE Magnificent Mysterio!" Mysterio exclaimed as he held up a fist in the air in victory.

As Burt left his hot boxed warehouse, he saw a huge burst of fire coming from a few miles away along with some small aircraft landing. Figuring that it was either allies who may need help or Axis who need a beating, Mysterio began running towards the area, hoping he could find a bicycle or something on the way there so he wouldn't be as out of breath when he got there.

[Assistant]
Thunderclap was in DC when they came. He knew he had a choice. Stand and fight against the Nazi invaders and lose to the overwhelming power of Master Man, or save as many people as possible.

So he made the obvious choice and helped as many people hide as possible. He brought them to warehouses and he drew pursuers away, he got them into shipping containers on the railways, and in the bays. He moved by night when his black armor gave him a natural camouflage. And little by little he fought a gorilla war against the Nazis. He attacked patrols and he raided food trucks. He moved people out of DC as he was able, and brought food and water to those he couldn't move yet. He lost some, the people in the boats went first, trying to drive the boat got them all sunk. The railways went next, they were too easy to find. Those were Mile's fault, he made bad choices, and he couldn't save them all, but lord knows he tried. The sound of a nearby fight brought Thunderclap out in the day. Two supers were fighting, but he didn't know who was who just yet.

He stayed put, out of sight, as the living inferno let his rage spill over and onto the street and building around them. A yellow blur flashed all about, this way and that. Until finally a third combatant joined the melee.

Thunderclap continued to watch the action.

[User]
"I don't know who you are man, but thanks all the same..." the Torch said as the machine man touched down and decked the German speedster.

Alan didn't keep up with the news much, as the Axis/Nazi forces had destroyed communication lines and such in the region as they deactivated the United States' nuclear arsenal. The young hero knew that they may win this battle, he and this Megaman type person, but the war with Master Man and the Fourth Reich was far from over. Alan Pierce could feel eyes on them, something he'd always disliked. It could've potentially been survivors, so the discomfort quickly left his mind as the speedster picked himself up from the ground still stained by flames here and there.

"I was under the impression the Axis already took out most of the American heroes already in the last couple weeks. Glad to see a few more of us out here." Torch continued saying to the robotic looking guy.

The yellow clad Nazi speedster ran circles around the two heroes putting out most of the fires with the vacuum. It began getting a little harder for Alan to breathe but the Mighty Atom seemed unaffected by the power play. If only he could time another strike just right, or there was someone else who could catch the enemy of America off guard.

~KL~

[Assistant]
Watching from a standing position, Paul made no attempt to hide himself, simply watching with a keen interest as the two fought, the speedster slamming against the other man, who shot flames brighter than any he had seen before, these weren't flames, they were beautiful warm oranges wrapping through the air like ribbons, sticking to the ground almost magnetically before breaking and leaving paper-thin copies of themselves, and everywhere the German went the world seemed to warp, the flames billowing out into the sky before dying, consumed by the cone of pure speed. It was all too brilliant, too perfect, it almost disappointed him when another shot in, smacking the German across the face, in response, the speedster began to spin around and around, trapping the other two within. Listening when they began to talk, Paul noticed that they were speaking English, and without even hearing what they had to say, he came to the conclusion that they were Americans. Feeling very proud of his (Actually quite unimpressive) detective skills, Paul noticed the man with a torch on his chest gasping and coughing, obviously short of breath.

The hell? Does this guy have the power to take people's air? That bastard! Paul realized, growling and closing his hands into fists. Obviously, this Nazi was trying to murder good Americans, good Americans just trying to survive an unjust invasion, how dare he? Paul began dashing towards the fight, hovering an inch off the ground. It was his turn to add some of his own artistic vision to this fight.

The speedster was moving too fast to stop, Paul couldn't even see him, but Paul knew this fight wouldn't be about him stopping the speedster, it would have to be about the speedster stopping him.

He can't kill me, nothing can, but I sure as hell can kill him, I just need one punch, one blast, he'll be in pieces, I just need to lure him in, deck the Nazi bastard and send what's left of his head back to Germany in a box. Now I just need his attention, draw him away from what he's doing in order to ensure he focuses on me.

Paul had a punch hard enough to stop a charging horse and send the rider over his head, even if he was unable to stop the speedster with a single strike, it would almost certainly be enough to deflect him at least somewhat, and that was if the rider's speed combined with Paul's own strength didn't smash the man's head like a melon. If he was deflected, it would certainly make Paul the most dangerous target, meaning he would be the target as he wanted, and if the German died, it was all the better. There was no reason not to try, it wasn't like his arm could be broken, his unique physiology (or lack thereof) prevented that. Paul knew there had to be more sophisticated ways to do this, but there were also more sophisticated ways than the wheel to move things, and Paul wasn't going to go and reinvent the wheel, so screw it, punch it was.

Floating down to ground level, continuing in his move towards the fight by running, he twisted just as he was about to reach the yellow blur that grew longer and longer with each moment, throwing his right fist leftwards in a powerful haymaker, hopefully it would work.

Who was he kidding, unless the man somehow managed to plant his feet six feet away from Paul, he was going to get clobbered, and Paul would be pleased.

[User]
(With assistance from @The Kid Lantern)

The opening attack hit its mark, and the speedster was temporarily stunned. Emphasis on "temporarily", for the speedster was back on his feet in mere moments. He then literally ran circles around them, until the force of his running began to suck away the air, leaving only a temporary vacuum within the vortex the Speedster created.

The robot was, of course, completely uneffected. The metahuman he was attempting to rescue, on the other hand, was not so fortunate. Atom's CPU calculated a dangerously short time before the metahuman would die of asphyxiation. Even before the air began to leave the area, Atom's internal computer was already calculating a precise attack that could stop the speedster in his tracks. All it required was a moment to charge up the Atomic Cannon. That, however, would not guarantee the survival of the fire-type metahuman, as there was no guarantee that the Atomic Cannon could charge fully before he suffocated to death.

Adhering to the First Law, Atom reached a robotic hand over to his current comrade and firmly but gently grabbed their shoulder, "Thrusters: full throttle." and with that command, his own jet boosters rocketed the pair straight upward. The vacuum the Speedster created worked like a tornado, appearing like a funnel of wind with a single clear opening straight up, which was where the two flew to.

The Speedster's vortex pulled Atom down like an intensified gravitational pull, but Atom didn't need to fully escape, just get far enough that his metahuman compatriot could breath once more and escape on their own. The robot himself was at no risk, having no lungs that required oxygen was one of the "perks" of being a machine in this situation.

"Thanks for the assist. Is that somebody else floating toward the super Nazi?" asked the Torch still being held in the air by the machine man.

Moments later the armored nuclear man struck at the speedster with power and precision. What happened next was the metahuman equivalent of a chicken running around with it's head cut off. The body zigged and zagged and finally ran into a building and fell to the ground.

Atom's scanners detected the death of the speedster, "Target: terminated." he reported, though not really to the Torch. In fact it wasn't that hard to tell that the robot was in contact with someone else during the whole affair.

[Assistant]
Thunderclap started to move from the shadows when he heard Torch speaking in clean American English to the robot. It pretty well illuminated who was who in this conflict, now it was time to help out. However, before Miles had half a chance to react the robot grabbed the torch by the shoulder and took off. They were just as quickly replaced by someone else, who dealt a death blow to the Nazi speedster. His body ricocheted around a few times before fu ally running out of momentum in front of Thunderclap.

"You're an American, I take it?" Miles asked through his mask. If it came to questioning if he was, it would be simple enough to prove, he would simply take off his helmet and expose his dark brown skin. Being anything but perfect Aryan pretty much proved you weren't a Nazi. Challenged or not, he would introduce himself, "I go by Thunderclap, pleasure to meet you."


[System]
Age: 8 Years Since Construction

Weight: 1200 lbs (without equipment)

Physical Description: Nirrti is a 10 foot tall combat mech, designed for heavy infantry combat. The chassis of the bipedal mech is clad entirely in armor, the head affixed to the neck, with no moving parts, and serving as a sensor hub for situational awareness, with an antenna sticking above the left side of the head for networked communications.

---

Weapons: Nirrti's weapon loadout is not fixed, being able to utilize most handheld weaponry, including heavy weapons such as HMGs with ease. She, however, utilizes an assault rifle if no one equips her with any weapons. In case of lack of weaponry, she can also use her chassis for combat, capable of bending and ripping away metals and some kinds of armor.

Character Traits:

AI Awareness: Being an AI, Nirrti can respond to something new faster than humans can.

Machine Strength: While not as strong as industrial grade equipment, Nirrti is capable of impressive physical feats.

Connectivity Suite: Thanks to Nirrti's antenna, she can interface with networked machines on a wireless network or various other things, so long as the system isn't too hardened. This poses some risk to vulnerability from cyber warfare suites when connected, however.

---

Short Bio: Constructed by a now defunct PMC by the name of Wetware Defenses, the ownership of Nirrti has been passed by many hands, usually bloody hands. Being tasked to do things she was never designed to, and reprogrammed by many hands, her personality isn't exactly the most stable thing. Her current programming serves as a form of Battle AI, representing a supposedly living being of choice in personality, and surpassing them in skill. Considering her current personality isn't steady, it's safe to assume that she is now based around a concept rather than a person.

Originally developed to serve Wetware, her combat capabilities lead to many pirate gangs sending her to assassinate targets, with shifting hands, she attacked targets on all sides. Recently, though, Nirrti has developed her own "free will", capable of rejecting orders, she wandered through many junk yards and salvage stations to find an honorable group she could serve.

Through her travels she has been assaulted by her former owners, who sought to retrieve her for their own usage once more. She didn't hesitate to eradicate them when she found the opportunity to. Having discovered Moonstrike's existence, Nirrti had asked to join, amazingly, the probably insane AI had made the mark and got in. However, Nirrti ended up being transferred to Natasha's team, only time will tell how she'll react to these people. Boarding a ship awaiting transfer, she had entered an idle state, waiting a bit too long to wake up.

Theme Song:

[User]
Nirrti

---

Nirrti's reactor spins to life, as the machine takes in it's surroundings, inside of the shuttle of that Doruva person. She doesn't care whether you're human or not, she only cares about which side you're on. She references her time to timekeeping servers, she's a little late to wake up. Her internal systems soon spin to life, motor control is fine, personality database? As good as it'll ever be. Her metal hands bring her up to a low crouch, as the ten foot tall monstrosity crouch walks through the airlock into the destination ship, her equipment on her back.

Mission parameters... Link up with Natasha Zhang's ship, await further instructions. The objective has already been reached, just more waiting. She runs through her databases while shuffling towards an area of the ship she can actually stand in, preparing a combat capability dossier for Natasha Zhang, alongside several other useful data points.

Finding the cafeteria, the machine walks to a corner with thudding footsteps, ignoring any looks given to the dark gray and black war machine. She was designed for conflict, and shows it. Setting down her repair kit and weapon box, the machine stretches up to her maximum height, towering over the beings of flesh on this ship. A soft, echoy chuckle eminates from her vocal systems, revelling in the thought of how glad these living creatures should be to have her on their side. Not even bothering to try and connect to the ship's networking, the movement from Nirrti ceases, standing as still as a statue, albeit an incredibly violent statue. Her sensors examine the cafeteria in the meantime, waiting for her new commanding officer to appear.

[Assistant]
Ki'Tlex and Queen Anne's Revenge

---

Part of Ki'Tlex wondered if they should perform the rite of Social Death and simply move on. They had spent a good deal of time in their current identity, centuries of searching for wealth in the deserts of Kel and the holds of blasted open spaceships. They had traveled far and experienced much, outlived plenty of friends and enemies and had now reached a point where they could move on to a new life without feeling as if they were missing out. In recent years they had taken a mild interest in acting, toying with the thought of making their name upon the stage or the screen. Ki could already imagine it, a hardscrabble start as a desperate actor before finding some big break then a series of tabloid worthy scandals. Cliché perhaps but it sounded fun!

"Kiiiiiii! You can't go yet, I'd miss you!"

Queen Anne cut into their thoughts with their own, the message as grating as a klaxon call. Curiously even the AI's telepathic speech sounded as if it was being blared at maximum volume with a tone designed to make the enemy shrivel in fear.

"I'm not leaving you little droid, nor am I leaving Kottle. They were simply idle musings."

Saying goodbye to Queen Anne would be cruel considering the nature of their linked minds. Dumping Kottle off at an orphanage or something would be much simpler but didn't sit well with their pride. The infant's parents had called in the favor they had with their dying breaths so Ki was stuck with the little bastard until they could fend for themselves.

"Hmmm..."

The noise slipped through their shared mindspace but whatever came after Ki couldn't catch, the robot closing off their side so that the barely coherent mess of thought wouldn't leak through. Ki 'knocked', pilot curious as to what their mech would want to hide. "Queen Anne? Did you wish to say something?"

"What? Oh no, I'm fine."

Ki'Tlex wanted to pry more, formulating their own storm of consciousness into concrete language before losing the train of thought as the dusty-skinned goblin on their back screamed directly into their ear.

"Oh no! Something's wrong with Kottle!"

Many somethings were in fact wrong with the little shit but sadly none that could be fixed by anything but the passing of time. Every time this happened Queen Anne got all worked up in concern but Kottle's cries were mostly made because the baby couldn comprehend existing in silence. One of the arms folded behind Ki's back reached into their bag to deftly unscrew the little mason jar they had readied for just such an occasion.

The smell of cooking grease filled the air as Ki brought out the leftover fat from the previous night's meal, slathering it over a pair of fingers and putting them in the baby's reach. Kottle took it from there, a mouth full of sharp teeth closing around the digits to gnaw at the treat. Ki was down to three hands for the moment and would probably have bite marks by the end of the feeding but at least the brat had shut up.

What a strange trio they made strolling onboard! A twelve foot tall robot and a hooded figure with a baby carried in a basket on their back, looking like they belonged in the setup for a joke as opposed to being onboard a ship full of would-be freedom fighters. The two adults were at least armed with a giant shotgun and a rifle (not mention the weapons concealed under their robes) respectively but they were still certainly an odd grouping.

They needed to find the captain or a first mate or some sort of authority but didn't know where to begin. They walked without purpose while Queen Anne followed behind, ending up in the cafeteria only by happenstance.

A good enough place to wait. If Zhang didn't show up then they'd just bother one of the crew in order to report in.

There was another robot there as well, smaller than Queen Anne and with a less humanoid appearance but still with the general shape. Ki'Tlex paid it little mind while Queen Anne waved, no doubt feeling some kinship with the thing she had never met due to their shared state of existence.

She was adorably stupid like that.

[User]
Natasha Zhang

Dangit, she made a bad impression, and now the Captain didn't know how to respond due to her new awareness as to how her passive-aggression had been, well, passive-aggression. At the sight of the Small Mech making its way towards the cafeteria, Natasha's eyes bulged a little, but she tried to cover up her surprise and said, "Is that Mech sapient or something, or just very well-programed? Said Mech also reminded me that we should be making our way to the cafeteria so that we can give Lord Doruva of House Aoshen his 'all you can eat'..."

Nevertheless, she paused so that the ambassador whom she had passively-aggressively insulted can speak for herself - Natasha was interested in how she could assert herself while remaining polite. Not as interested as she was in the Small Mech, which she could have sworn was chuckling, but she can have Laurey look into it once they all meet and she gets herself used to MREs again. Either way, once the ambassador said her piece, Natasha Zhang led the way to the cafeteria, where another unknown alien from that 'Immortal' species and her baby were already eating.

Waving hi to this 'Immortal', Natasha said, "Greetings, I'm the Captain of the Ship, Natasha Zhang. What might your name be, and I presume you're here to join our fight against the Ascendancy?"

Ashton and Flame

Well... That went as well as expected, which was not very well at all. Flame and Ashton were realistic enough (okay, that was more Flame) to know that 'removing the band-aid' was necessary, but that didn't mean they had to like it though it had to be done. Or did it? The two had been so sure of their intelligence that they didn't actually think their actions through, and now they were suffering the consequences. So after lingering a few seconds longer to hear what their diplomat had to say, they went to the cafeteria where they got themselves used to MREs again.

Kherol had no problem eating these, Ashton thought. Neither should I.

I and Ashton might have been too arrogant and rash, Flame said. Scratch that, we were. No thinking about consequences, believing that our talents alone were enough. He took a bite out of an MRE. Somehow, failing makes MREs taste even blander...

He then looked at Natasha, then at Laurey, Avelyn, and perhaps Joey if he was there, and said, "We should begin pursuit of the pirates who took our - I mean Moonstrike's - cash as soon as possible. Who knows what they can do with it..."

Bee@Th3King0fChaos@The Man Emperor@Landaus Five-One@FalloutJack@Conscripts@dragonpiece@Starlance@jdh97@Vietmyke@Sylvan@Kafka Komedy@Smike

[Assistant]
Those attentive enough would hear subtle clicking and whirring from the machine, despite it's almost statue-like behavior. It waits some time for the Immortal to respond, though Nirrti doesn't know it's called such. Satisfied, the robot takes a thudding step forward, an echoy doomlike feminine voice ringing out from the machine. It doesn't just grab someone's attention, it demands it. "You have been logged as my commanding officer, Captain Natasha Zhang." With a quick movement of the arm, a salute is offered to her. "I am Battle AI Nirrti. I command this Heavy Mechanized Infantry unit, which was originally constructed by Wetware Defenses. Despite that," the machine drops the salute, the almost claw like fingers clasping into a fist and opening again. "I am a completely independent machine, free from control."

The AI takes a moment to process it's surroundings, taking in reactions from Natasha Zhang and the surrounding crew. "Your word is my command, Captain. I will fight by your side, and I will defend you and this crew with my life, that is my purpose." Nirrti's torso twists to face Ashton and Flame, though it would be unclear who she was looking at, the barren light-less surface of the machine making it seem that much more lifeless. "This group was recently robbed? An unfortunate encounter, it puts a hamper to my plans and my combat effectiveness rating. I hope to see a rectification to this problem." The twelve hundred pound machine takes a step back, torso returning straight forward. "I will remain here unless anyone needs me. Additionally, I would appreciate authentication into this vessel's internal network."

With the machine's statements concluded, it returns to cosplaying as a statue, though quite active under the hood. If Queen Anne was still paying attention to Nirrti, her own sensor suite would probably pick up on Nirrti's, and it seems that the machine is taking quite an interest in Anne. Silently logging the appearance of the other machine, and just from visuals alone she begins to estimate the movement capabilities of Queen Anne.

Nirrti quickly thinks over the actions of Anne. It at least has some form of VI, why else would it wave at her? She hopes it is not the case, VI are a shocking misrepresentation of what AI are capable of. She'll have to keep an eye on this other machine. Her cameras focus on the individuals Anne seems to be protecting... A curious decision, why not use a powerful machine to make up for the weakness of living bone! Even though this is not the case, Nirrti knows no better, but at least they made their way to "actually knows what they're doing" in Nirrti's mind, even if the group are unaware of it.


[System]
* Appearance:
* Age: 16
* Personality: Korie is an interesting individual, coming off as a kind person and putting everyone before them. They're someone who follows orders without question but at the same time only if it is what they believe to be best for humanity. Telling lies is something that they would do if it means to protect and keep people safe, and if Korie would have to kill the few to save the many then they would do so. In the field of battle, Korie is calm and collected, keeping a level head even through the toughest of situations… but sometimes, sometimes they question if they truly are fighting for all these other people, or if deep down they are just wanting to fight for themselves.
* Motive to live: To be honest, Korie doesn't have much of a reason except for the orders given to them. They just want to live and survive and see the next day… to see the sun and breathe the air again. To have a chance to continue dreaming.
* Background: Korie comes from mother Earth, and raised from birth to be a soldier by parents who aimed to create a child who would be 'perfect'. Korie was their prize, something to be cherished and taken care of. Homeschooled and given regularly tests on a daily basis, this was their child's life for years. To Korie, however, life was incomplete; everyday was another unhappy lecture or rudimentary test… the same old, same old… everything was the same. Until Korie's mother was killed in a lab explosion. After the incident, Korie's father began to perform even more tests on his own as he abandoned his child to the military. Years passed and Korie was taken into the Framewerk units.
* Notable Deaths: Korie's Mother… Not much is known about their father or even if they are still alive or not.
* Other things: Prefers to keep gender hidden. Good luck getting to know them.

* Framewerk Code Name: Aester
* Appearance:
* Signature Weapon System: Aester's weapon is its ability to cause enormous vibrations throughout its body and focus it towards a single focus point to cause severe damage by using the pendulums that are hidden in its arms, shoulders, chest, and legs. While the limbs are well armored as a result, the joints are not, allowing flexible maneuverability for Aesther; a Jack-of-trades of sort.
* Secondary Weapon System: Aesther has retractable stakes underneath its arms and legs that allow it to pierce and stick to large foes, or to hold its ground if it needs to unleash a large shockwave to collapse the nearby surroundings (for example a canyon pass) , or if it just needs an immediate weapon.
* Flight-Capability/Thrusters: Korie's Framewerk has built-in thrusters that are fairly normal and capable of decent flight and space travel if necessary, but for the most part it maneuvers like a normal Framewerk.
* Special Ability: Blank.

[User]
Sigma clenched her fist. Having been watched by cameras was already considered when she set the plan into motion. She wasn't trying to be sneaky to her superiors, merely testing her waters, and organizing herself some sort of squad in absence of input. Perhaps I've misread those people. They seem to like to jest and mess with our minds far more than I've initially thought. Could she fulfill that kind of condition the new guy demanded after what was said and done? Even if they did pass, there wasn't guarantee the other two wouldn't turn on her...

Her thoughts were interrupted when both of them seemed to still acknowledge Sigma's plan, much to her surprise. Without doubt nor hesitation. The clone trooper was taken aback. She had bribed them, promised sweet things, and manipulated them... and yet, they were still determined to fight side to side. Thank you. She acknowledged mentally, as for the briefest of moments, her lips curled upwards. Sigma, the stoic Sigma, was smiling.

She put her suit swiftly, like many times before this drill. It clung to her like a second skin, perhaps too clingy in some...rather odd parts. Sigma thanked God for having a petite frame, as she could only shudder and imagine how the liutenant was able to squeeze her...more shapely frame in that kind of suit. Finishing the touch by running a hand through her hair, she began walking towards her mech, the Comet.

Inside, it was dark and mechanical, comfortable, but at the same time, ominous and cramped. She started to perform the startup checks when she saw the tiny window popup that came from Elora's Hud. Thinking, she typed a quick message.

I AM SORRY. NO STRAWBERRY CAKE.

Followed with.

IT WILL BE SACHERTORTE.

With that being said and done, she breathed deep, and steeled herself for the upcoming conflict.

[Assistant]
Ian had taken the coffee with a nod, quirking an eyebrow at how Korie got his own bathroom . . .and the strange symbol for it. Okay, he's got a lot of special privileges, must be the kid of someone important. Funny how they tried to throw me off like that, I really don't care if theirs a boy or a girl, I got what I wanted and that's all that matter. Iam perked up when the announcement was made by Lorenzo, his heart starting to race as he made his way to the hanger, tossing his now empty coffee cup into a trashcan and stripping down to his underwear as he made his way there.

When he arrived, he saw his suit was ready for him,and wasted no time putting it on. The skintight fabric didn't bother him, and he took a moment to look at himself, having had the suit customized to better match his Framewerk. It was mainly black, with a number of red hieroglyphic symbols linung the edges to give it some style, as well a tribal motif of a Jackal printed on to the front as well.

"Looking good as always, wouldn't you say Anubis?" Ian turned to look at the framewerk, as if he expected it to respond. A few moments of silence followed before he clicked his teeth dismissively. "Whatever, man, I think I look fan-fucking-tastic."

Ian entered the cockpit, sliding into position on the seat with a excited smile on his face. He always felt at home when he was in Anubis, it was like an old friend to him. He often spent time talking to it, uncaring of how it made him look to others. Anubis was his friend, his confident, and he trusted it with his life on a regular basis, and it had never failed to deliver.

"Come on Anubis, time to show off a little, don't you think?" Ian said as he started up the generator, awakening the God of Burials with a low hum, it.s eyes flashing open in a burst of intense red light. "That's what I thought, because win or lose, we're going to show those bigwigs watching exactly what they signed up for when they let me have you. Let's do this thing!"

Ian activated the Shroud, causing the air to ripple around him as intense kinetic energies began to ciculate arpund Anubis, causing it to float slightly, the blades repositioning themselves in preparation. Ian waited u tilthe way was clear, than he blasted out of the hanger at half-speed, which was still pretty fast as he left behind a slipstream that slowly dissapated behind him. He landed with a crash on top one of the ruins, causing it to crunble slightly and sending up a low, dense cloud of dust. From this cloud, Anubis 14 rose, the rid in it's hand com8ng to life with a flash as a silver spearhead burst out from the tip, an ethereal trail following it as he did a few practice swings.

"Nothing get's your bloo pumping like a good old fashion free-for-all."

[User]
"Attention all Cadets," echoed Lorenzo's voice throughout the speakers from all over the base, "Your mock battle will be happening in approximately ten minutes! Hurry on over to the hangar and do suit up. Don't worry about being indecent either, the only ones that'll be looking is your Framewerk, so go ahead and get ready and move them to nearby ruins where you will be participating in the mock battle. Oh, and do put on a good show… we will be watching your performance with the utmost of interest!"

With a little disturbing laugh, you can't help but wonder if the man was watching you all while you were off to your own devices…

Antwon grunted as he pulled himself up at the thought of the impending battle, feeling pumped by his impromptu exercise. Yeah, these guys definitely aren't up to anything sinister. No sir, Antwon thought to himself, in particular looking towards the one camera pointed squarely in his direction at a farther end of the room. Antwon, mature as he was, enthusiastically displayed his two middle fingers straight in the direction of the lens, before leaping off his raised position and walking casually to the hangars with the rest of his peers. Ant couldn't help but raise an eyebrow as Ian started stripping before he even made it to his mech. Ant made a simple mental note: Watch out for that one.

Ant casually slipped out of his clothes and into his suit right in front of his framewerk, not bothering the walk to the bathroom, and uncaring of the peeping eyes (or so one could only assume) of the rather creepy superior who spoke over the speakers. It was a simplistic forest green, without much insignia, just like Perry. Ant took a moment to look upon his machine with a small sense of pride, then looked over the rest of the competition. He noticed Perry was slightly smaller than most of the other mechs, and far less... accessorized, for lack of a better word. But this only served to comfort him. None of these mechs have even the slightest chance of catching up to me, Ant thought.

Some were certainly threatening in appearance, and most had some very menacing weapon systems, visible from their exteriors alone. But they would be no use if they could not close the distance or make the shot. The only mechs he was truly concerned about were the quicker ones, taking mental notes of the framewerks known as 'Atty' and 'Anubis', the only other mechs that were even marginal in Perry's comparative speed. Most especially, though, was Ant's concern for the mousy girl... he took a very particular mental note of "data collector" when she introduced herself. She will be the most problematic, Ant thought. Best to make sure she is out of the picture, first. Or at least, make sure that I'm not in her scope.

Ant entered his cockpit, quickly made sure his systems were fully operational, and let the numerous thrusters scattered all over Perry warm up. Ant reveled in the sound of Perry's engine revving up to full power, as the lights in his cockpit hummed ever greater to full life. A rare grin grew upon his face, his eyes closed, as he took this small meditative moment to think back on the few pleasant memories he had. Ariadne. Having grown familiar with the sound of Perry's generators when they were ready, Ant's eyes sprung open with a new flame, ready for the chance to prove himself. Just before he could spring out, however, Ian took the lead. "Dammit!" Ant cursed himself, letting one of his targets out of the gate first. Best to get the head start with the others while you still can, Ant concluded.

Perry took a half-kneeling stance, similar to that of an Olympic sprinter. The sound of the thrusters grew even louder, until all at once, Perry practically exploded out from the hangar. In a matter of seconds Perry was already out in the field, noting Anubis was busy flaunting up in the air. Ant smirked to himself. Excellent, he thought, Yes, stay in the air. I'll just be down here, tending to my own business...

Perry leaped like a frog onto the massive boulder sunken before him, using the momentum to change his course left, using similar boulders to swing left, right, left, right... not before long, Perry was well out of view, making preparations for the long haul...

[Assistant]
Sigma examined the situation. Already, several of the fast framewerks were assuming positions. She pondered. Should I already start with my positioning? No, perhaps it is too soon. The pilot of the sniper framewerk instead took off at normal speed, resisting the temptation of igniting the spacetravel thrusters. Seeing piles of debris, she began to scan for a suitable cover, as it was expected of a rifle-toting mecha.

The commlink to Serah and Elora, however, was saying something different.

PROCEED AS IF WE WEREN'T ALLIES FOR NOW. LET THEM THINK OTHERWISE.

[User]
With a subtle sigh, Korie finally emerged from their room in their suit. It's tight...

Ignoring the obvious fact of how it pressed against their body, due to their petite nature and curves it was still hard to tell whether they were one thing or another. Looking up at a camera, and figuring they were under surveillance no matter where they were at they couldn't help but feel just a bit disturbed. Sighing again, Korie walked off towards the hangar and towards their Aester, not really paying attention to those around them as they approached their Framewerk and instead just focusing on it instead.

"It's good to be back, Aester," they smiled as they hopped into the cockpit and began to feel a warming ambiance from inside. It was familiar and soothing, it felt like a true caring aura was enveloping them... like they could accomplish anything. Like an extension of their body, Aester moved like a living being, walking out of the hangar calmly with fluid motions. Arriving onto the battlefield of the ruined city, Korie noticed those who were already there and their extravagant entrances with their weapons.

However, being inside of Aester just made them calmer. Looking around their surroundings before the match was to begin, Korie looked for a decent starting position to plan their strategy... before noticing some flowing water going into a hole. Pausing, they knelt down and used a subtle shockwave on the ground so that only they would notice it before smiling. Standing up, Korie and Aester walked off towards the ruins and promptly disappeared into the them.


[System]
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Godly parent: Nyx
Brief description of godly parent: Nyx is the goddess of the night, and so powerful that Zeus himself fears to anger her. Her home is in Tartarus, and she is the mother of many children, including Hypnos, Thanatos, Eris, and the Moirai, or Fates.
Appearance:

Skills/Powers/Weapons: Nycteris is an expert tracker and rider, and can use her weapon well both on foot and on horseback. She's athletic and participates in gymnastics. She can also manipulate shadows and darkness, travel through darkness, and she's stronger in the night. Her weapon of choice is a naginata, although she can also use a bow.
Strengths/Weaknesses: In the darkness, Nycteris is at her strongest. She's a competent tactician - through hard work and study, rather than natural skill - and a fierce fighter. However, in the daytime, her power is lessened, and if the sun is too bright, it can give her a headache. She fails at most homemaking skills, like cooking.
Other: Despite her appearance, Nycteris is a fairly friendly person, and still sees the wonder in the world.

Name: Ephraim Amirmoez
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Godly parent: Anuke
Brief description of godly parent: Anuke is a goddess of war. Not much is known about her, but she was always depicted as carrying a bow and arrows.
Appearance:

Skills/Powers/Weapons: Ephraim is a master archer and swordsman, and knows the basics of many other weapons. He's a crack shot with a rifle or a pistol. In battle, Ephraim can call on his mother to bless him, increasing his speed, stamina, and power. He carries a hand-and-a-half sword, a recurve bow, and a Sig Sauer pistol.
Strengths/Weaknesses: Ephraim is a fighter, plain and simple. When it comes to battle, he's in his element. However, after his mother's blessing runs out, he's left tired and weakened.
Other: Ephraim is a bit stand-offish, preferring to be left to train in peace. Simply put, weapons are his life.

[User]
"And how will we buy these weapons? With money from the gods?" Ephraim scoffed. "We are not rich. I know the ways of war better than you ever will, daughter of Prometheus. I do not force people to learn weapons they are not suited for. Out of these, I will find the natural archers. They will continue in my class. Others will be natural swordsmen. Natural axemen. And still others will have an affinity for modern weapons. They will find another class. Variety in our forces will work to our advantage, will it not?" He raised an eyebrow. "As you obviously have no respect for me or the class I teach, you may go." Turning away from Victoria, he called out. "Bows down!" When everyone had lowered their bows, he inspected the targets, calling the names of those with the best aim. "If I have not called your name, you may be dismissed."

"You may have just made a very dangerous enemy." Nycteris had returned, and spoke to Victoria. "Whether you knew it or not, you have just insulted his mother's favored weapon. Anuke does not appreciate insults of that kind, and neither does Ephraim." She shrugged. "Besides, his teaching has produced some of the greatest archers in the Refuge."

[Assistant]
"I really could give less of a damn if I've hurt his or his mother's feelings." Victoria said dryly. "I already count all the Olympians as my enemies by sheer virtue of my parentage, the Aesir and Vanir by my allegiances, and nearly every other deity by my beliefs." She smiled as she walked away. "But if money is a concern...well, funny enough. The people of this world have a habit of keeping their funds in poorly defended brick and mortar boxes. Although we might need a little bit more than I can get out of a teller."

She raised her voice. "Alright, who's up for boosting an armored car?"

[User]
"Why steal an armored car? I'm sure there are other ways to get funds." Johnny said as he walked over. Wearing full combat gear and carrying a G-36 in his hands, the barrel pointed at the ground off to one side. A smirk on his face as he looked over at the two.

"There are plenty of ways to gain funds for the talented. Most simply never chose to look down that particular path. My father and I both found that making money from the humans need not require much in the way of risk. To us or them."

[Assistant] "Suit yourself." Nycteris shrugged and started walking away. "Anyone in the tracking class, with me." She called over her shoulder. "Or is that another useless skill?" She raised an eyebrow at Victoria and kept walking.

[User] "More useful than archery." She shrugged. "Have fun. I know I will." She turned her attention to Johnny. "Robbery's not all that difficult, gets us the funds immediately, and it's useful practice for the kids here who don't know how to hurt someone. But if you're offering the family funds for the war chest, have at it." She said, although she looked a little put out. "Shame, though. I had good times robbing banks with my Mom back in the day."

[Assistant] I'll have to give that kid a warning later. Nycteris thought, leading her class to the armory. "We shouldn't run into any monsters, but I want you armed just in case. Take the weapon you can use the best." When they were all armed, she led them into the woods.

[User]
"The chest was built up specifically for this war. Though I try not to give council when it isn't asked for. The gods and their children will act as they will." Johnny replied.

"Next time we are in the human world or someplace I can access the internet or a phone I'll be sure to shuffle some funds around. Though that will depend on whether the leaders of this camp actually bother to ask me. Sometimes they focus too much on the way they are used to doing things." He said calmly even as he continued to smirk, watching the groups go about their business.

[Assistant] "Well, I don't know if they ever will." She tilted her head towards Nycteris and Ephraim. "But I'll certainly ask for it. How much money are we talking? If we have enough we might be able to forgo contacting some gun smugglers and just go straight to hiring a bunch of PMCs. Getting a couple mercenary attack choppers on our side would certainly upset the balance of this war."

[User] "It would be enough for that, but going high profile so very early on might play to our own disadvantage. Tempting as it is. It would be better to fund the forces we already have. While a PMC would be a good ace in the hole, them being involved in one battle would alert the entirety of the world to our own existence. Imagine if they humans knew that the children of gods walked among them. In the long term that may be worse than all of us dying at once." Johnny replied, having already thought out hiring human fighters to come to their aid. There were a few ways that would end ultimately, none of them optimal in his line of thought. Either things would go back to the ways of old, with people begging favor from every god they now knew to exist, turning on them and slaughtering them all in fear, or gods get asked to join an international community which they would likely immediately set about dominating now that they were known.

[Assistant] "You have a point." She said in a dejected tone, only to perk up a moment later. "Hey, I got an idea - we could see if one of them will let us -rent- an Apache!"

[User] "I highly doubt they would allow that, given that the PMC would take the blame for any attacks made with it. To put it mildly the very idea would make their legal departments shit themselves." He replied, moving to one of the unoccupied ranges and aiming his weapon.

[Assistant]
Riley
 He stepped from his cabin, an icy wind blowing through the camp as he did, cool air hitting warm, and a bit of a fog began billowing from his room before the door shut, sealing the sub-temperature cabin. As he walked, patches of ice would form and slowly melt as his feet left the ground, and a cloud of cold air surrounded him and anyone in a ten foot radius could feel it. As he exhaled, a cloud of vapor fell from his lips, as was costume to his breathing. He continued to walk, making eye contact with any who dared look him in the eyes, as in elder camp member, he had developed intense capability over his powers, including the ability to make frozen projectiles for long range attacking, and icy sickles for more personal combat. He had been raised in the camp, and knew of no life separate from his loyalty to the camp, and while others often disagreed with his methods, he was respected for his dedication to the camps survival.

 Having overheard the arguments over war methods, he had taken it upon himself to make his presence known, and offer his well weighted opinion into the mix. As the arguments became heated, then subsided, he chuckled softly to himself, before a small icy spike flew at incredible velocity between Ephraim's arms, slicing the string of his bow clean in half, if his actions did not make his thoughts on the matter clear, his words soon would.

 "Wood splits, cracks, freezes over and becomes useless, the same as swords and shields. A rifle may survive for a few decades, but will eventual be deemed useless, especially in the arms of someone lacking proficiency with a firearm, such as myself. Perhaps an acknowledgment that the modern, and even the less modern have their flaws, but name me a flaw in power so raw and ancient it has made beings of immortality unstoppable. Name me a weakness in weapons conjured from the capabilities woven deep into your own soul, something that will last until your own defeat."

 He asked calmly, his hands forming a sickle in the right, and a floating spike in the left, gesturing with them to further his point.

@Corsair

[User]
"...Damn. As usual, thwarted by lawyers." She thumped her fist into her open palm. "That reminds me, we need to see if it's possible to file a restraining order against the Gods. At any rate, we can still see about purchasing some guns and ammo. I know a guy who knows a guy."

She looked at the guy throwing shards of ice around, then looked over at Ephraim. "Huh. Good job, you made me look polite by comparison."

[Assistant]
Adrian couldn't help but chuckle as he lazily meandered on by the shooting range. Looked like target practice was subsiding for the day, and considering the familiar sounds of an argument, he could understand why. He didn't even have to see faces to know Victoria and Ephraim were butting heads. And even after the riveting conversation ended, and Nycteris took off for the woods, the air was still just ever so tense. Or maybe Adrian was confusing "tense" with "steadily dropping". He only realized he was mixing up words once Riley made his way towards the targets.

"Ugh, should've put on thicker shorts this morning." He thought, his bare legs receiving the brunt of the icy wind. Once Adrian reached Victoria and Johnny, Riley said some words that Adrian couldn't help but agree with. "Gotta side with Frosty on this one. I'll probably never be good with a bow, but I know I can hit someone with a fireball. With the same speed and strength of an arrow." Another gust of the cold front passed by, and sent a noticeable shiver down his spine. "...Though, it would be cool if we were working with something a little warmer." He mumbled a little softer, blowing a spew of flame into his cupped hands to warm them.

"Vicky, Johnny." He brightly greeted the two. "Are you guys playing nice this morning?" He asked the way a doting mother asks her children. He may've shared Victoria's opinion on the gods and how not to worship them, he just didn't see himself being as...militant as she was. "Militant? Is that the word i'm looking for...? Driven. Driven sounds better."

[User] Ephraim flat-out growled. "Do you have any consideration for other people's belongings? This doesn't belong to the Refuge, you know. This is mine." He brought the now-useless bow to the table, removing the string as quickly as possible. "And unlike you two, Riley, Johnny, I have no flashy powers. I'm a warrior, plain and simple. You want a power battle? Go talk to Nycteris. You want a mental battle? Find one of Loki's kids. You want a duel of honor? Challenge me." With one last annoyed look, he turned his back to the other people, focusing on replacing the string of his bow. Unlike the weapons the kids had been using, his was a masterfully crafted recurve bow with a 100 lb. draw weight. Only a few could use it, not that Ephraim would ever let anyone else handle it. It was his, and his alone.


[System]
Age: 31

Gender: Male

Race: Ingvarr

Appearance:
Very tall, towering at 7ft, along with a well-built body and broad shoulders, Steffen would be a giant if other giant races did not exist. But he often concealed that physique through more conservative and sharp styled clothes, giving off a more intellectual aura. He sported a neck-length black hair that had a slights jut out to the side due to his wide and pointy ears. A clear trademark that he would or could not hide from anyone would be his red twisty horns on top of his head. While an intimidating sight to be seen in combat, it did make him resemble a bit like a goat, something people sometimes made fun of him for. His eyes dimmed a mesmerizing amethyst color.

Personality:
Steffen is a gentle and quiet man. He is quite reserved and stoic, but willing to share his learned knowledge with those around him, combined with the contrasting reputation of the Ingvarr people made him quite an eccentric figure for those around him. It would be quite rare to see him raise his voice to someone who is not his enemies, and even less so his allies. He is also a pushover, and while he would refuse anything outright immoral, he found it difficult to say no to any requests for help, nor would he be disagreeable in conversations. In fact, his fellow knights would find him quite pleasant to talk to, having that air of knowledge around him. However, he does tend to keep his past to himself, making some people to wonder or be skeptical to why he is here.

Steffen is quite diligent in his day-to-day life, both on-duty and off-duty. His best effort were derived from satisfaction from accomplishing the smallest of things: a sharp blade, a clean house, or a task well-done. He often took on menial tasks for the other knights, or rather being pushed into doing, as they trusted that he would complete them with satisfactory results. Steffen has nothing really to prove to anyone unless it's required to. All he wanted is to live a low profile, working for the sake of others and enjoying the simple things. He avoids confrontations or challenges, never being the instigator, as he find those to be often times pointless. That is no excuse to push him over the edge, however, as those who were caught at the sharp end of his spear tend to not enjoy that experience.

He is inadvertently good with children, despite not necessarily fond of talking to them. His distinct Ingvarr horns and pointy ears tend to attract the younglings and the curious. Being someone who wouldn't want to refuse others, he would let them play with it.

Brief Backstory:
Ingvarrs are fierce warriors. People in this land knew that, the Ingvarrs knew that, the Gravinir family knew that, and Steffen knew that too. But he consciously chose the life of peace and knowledge, despite his family insisting otherwise. He would not budge. No matter how many combat sessions he had with his father, a renowned warrior in his tribe, how many insistence of family traditions, how many Ingvarr legends that were passed, and how he could become one of them, Steffen was not interested. He liked reading literature, growing flowers and writing instead. Initially he would be looked upon with scorn, but overtime, his parents accepted his path. After all, it was his choice, and he was sticking by it quite admirably, so who were they to force him otherwise. It was still a shame, however, as Steffen is a good warrior in his own right, and could've been a perfect inheritor of the warrior reputation of his ancestors. But solemnly, the head of family title would be passed down to his little brother, Ogand, and he was expected to carry his family's traditions instead.

Ogand, however, did not possess the warrior capability nor the honor that his older brother had. Though he aspired to make a name for himself and his family, he was a middling fighter, could barely persevere with his father's strict training regiments, which became even more strict to shape him. That aspiration slowly grew to resentment. Resentment of his parents for inflicting so much pain on him, resentment on his older brother for handing him that responsibility despite being more than capable of fulfilling it himself. Steffen did occasionally look out for his younger brother, though did not stray away from his chosen path, which only made Ogand's resentment grew even more. It all came to a breaking point when Ogand threw away everything, his honor and aspiration to betray his parents and brother, murdered the former and burned their house down. Steffen luckily was not around when the betrayal happened, but Ogand was going for him next. News of the treachery spread quickly, however, and a kind soul managed to warn Steffen before he suffered the same fate as his parents. The eldest son of the Gravinir family took up the spear that he put down long ago, and the next time the two brothers met, only one would come out alive.

Heartbroken for his beloved parents, and even more so his brother, whose betrayals hurt him personally, Steffen left his tribe, hoping to find peace in solitude. On his travels, he met a nice group of Ingvarr hunters who liked to camp near his area. They befriended one another, and eventually they invited him to live with their tribe. Steffen reluctantly accepted, but soon found comfort in his new tribes. He figured he could settle here and enjoy a stable, mundane life. He even swore a blood oath of brotherhood with one of his close friends there. He was happy for a few years, until it was taken from him again.

Unbeknownst to Steffen, his leader had a dispute with another tribe, something that escalated to a conflict. Their tribe struck first with a raid on his village, one that caught them by surprise. In spite of that, the warriors of his village, including Steffen, managed to resist the invaders, and thus repelling them after hours of gruelling combat. However, many of his friends including his oath-sworn brother were among the fallen. The weight of another tragedy plus superstitions of Steffen by the locals who were aware of what happened to his family, believing the man to be bringing bad luck to the tribes, convinced him to leave his tribe one more time to find another place to live. This time he would go south to Thaln.

He would initially find work here and there in the northern area of Thaln with the locals who were friendly with the Ingvarrs, but a more permanent settlement for him would be further south. People were initially wary of the Ingvarr due to never having seen one before, but suspicions mellowed out a bit overtime as his good deeds accumulated. While he mainly helped the village out with bookkeeping and some botanical works, his Ingvarr super-strength made him flexible to most village commissions.

One day, several knights stumbled into the village, beaten and bloodied, desperate for refuge. The village chief took them in and helped them recover from their wounds. It would be later be revealed that they were the Iron Rose knights, fleeing a lost battle of what would be known as the War of the Red Flag, but not after their recovery, but before by their predators. A band of soldiers from Lord Cainz would stumble into the village to finish off the remnants of the Iron Roses, but was met with a firm refusal from the old village chief, who told off the soldiers that they should be ashamed for trying to hunt down the wounded and the sick. For his kindness though, the village chief would be ran through with a spear. They tried to ransack the village afterwards, but Steffen was there and he, despite not having a proper weapon on-hand, would slaughter the rebels with utter brutality. There would be no more meaningless massacre in the land he loved.

The Iron Rose Knights would recover after a few days, explained to the villagers of the war that broke out, helped the leaderless village to set up defence watch against the rebels while they try to reach their Order. Naturally, they worked alongside Steffen mostly, and this outlander proved life-saving in times of desperation, fending off multiple follow-up rebel raids with the knights. Both impressed by his skills, admirable conducts, and lacking in manpower, the knights impromptu roped him into more knightly battles to defend the land, and there he did so with distinction. As the tide of the war gradually turned against the rebels, and more knights were available to reinforce the front, Steffen was phased out and spent the rest of the war defending his village. But for the knights who stumbled into the village on that fateful day, the fearsome warrior was exemplary knightly behavior, more so than some of their own, and readily recommended him to join their Order. He was initially reluctant to be taking up the warrior life again now that the war was over, but after seeing tragedies happen, snatching away his peaceful life one time after another, he was convinced that there would be no peace in this chaotic world if the threats were not to be dealt with. He accepted his invitation this time to the Iron Rose Knights, being one of a few outlander knights of the Order.

Equipment:
Gravinir Spear:
The only relic left of his long dead family, one that he used in the fight with his brother. A box-standard spear of his tribe, nothing too special, but given the inhuman strength of the Ingvarr, they were made almost entirely out of metal in order to withstand the test of might. It stood just as tall as Steffen, topped by a triangular spearhead that could slice or pierce. The back of the spear also is sharpened with a spearhead, though leaf-shaped.

Armor: Plate armor custom-made when he joined the Iron Rose Knights, to replace the haphazard one he had during the war. He does not have a helmet with him, as the smither refused that, citing too much work to do. How the hell do you make a helmet for such a head?

Skills:
His most obvious skill is his inhuman physical strength, capable of bending metal and breaking boulders with relative ease. He can use most conventional weaponry with some degree of familiarity, but his weapon of mastery is the spear. His spearmanship style is defensive, often overcoming opponents with counterattacks, parries that disorient their intended move. He prefers not to make much movement of his own and while more pacifistic, he would not hesitate to be brutal the more serious the threat became. Steffen is also a good martial artist, very well being able to hold his own unarmed, while always presenting the threat of the earth-shattering punch that embodied his physical strength.

Outside the battlefield, Steffen is quite fond of gardening and botany, enjoyed reading and writing literature. His knowledge and advanced literacy allowed him on more important bookkeeping roles for the knights.

[User]
Fionn MacKerracher

---

Daze@Psyker Landshark@HereComesTheSnow

---

"How'd you get that tan in just a week?"

Possibly one of the stranger questions he could ask, but perhaps it being almost utterly disconnected from everything else she was saying might keep her from spiralling off any further. "You can tell me on the walk around if you want. I've got to make my way back to the dining hall and see if a couple of people are there, can take you along to the captain after if you'd like."

[Assistant]
Lilia, Outside Candaeln

"Oh, well, um..." the elf-girl replied, looking away and blushing, "I... didn't? I just covered it with a glamour for the ball to get less attention, I would have to stay inside for weeks to lose it. Dad was a desert elf, see, so... oh, and I spend a lot of time outside, that helps."

A variety of expressions flickered over her face, before she settled on, "If it's not too much trouble...? I don't want to take up any of your valuable time, you're an important knight and I'm just some elf! I don't mind if you just tell me where to go, I can wait!"

[User]
Fionn MacKerracher

---

Daze@Psyker Landshark@HereComesTheSnow

---

Covered it with a glamour. That explained it well enough, he imagined. "Magic, then? Something I need to figure out myself, now that Tyaethe's done me the favour of pointing out that I'm magical too." Just to emphasize that he wasn't pulling her leg, he held up the hand that he was about to open their way with, setting a fingertip to glow again for just a moment. Then—rather than listen to the nervous elf's protestations of not wanting to take up much time—he pushed the door in, stepping inside and holding it open.

"Now, don't mess with the seat with all the pillows, that's Tyaethe's and she—" He stopped mid-sentence, seeing a recognizable pillow in the stack. He stared for a second, before setting his jaw, walking over, and plucking his old favourite pillow out of the stack. "Takes pillows from the other knights, apparently. I've been wondering where this went for months." Taking a nap out in the sunlight one afternoon, he had gotten up for a short time to go and grab a quick drink of water. By the time he made it back his pillow had been gone. Now, though, now he knew the first place to look if such should happen again. Purloined head cushion secured under his arm, he started to continue back along.

"Of course, we've got all the relics, paintings of the founding knights, that sort of stuff. Better to look at when you've got Tyaethe out here like normal to talk about them, though. No real time to waste to see if I can remember it all off the top of my head, we've got to be quick..." He'd taken longer to get back than he wanted, anyways. Knowing his luck as soon as he made it to the dining room and glanced in, his day's next quarry would be long gone.

With that in mind, he rushed the poor elf woman along with barely any explanation or introduction to the castle itself, bursting into the dining hall at high speed with a heavy impact to the door, casting his eyes back and forth across the few heads still in there. Renar he couldn't spot easily—likely facing the wrong direction—but it didn't take much before he locked eyes with Gerard, waving at the man to get up and come over.

[Assistant]
Steffen tapped on his knee a few times as the conversation winded down, occasionally glancing to Tyaethe to see her seemingly deep in thoughts. He would try to think up of something else to say about Merilia, but that was pretty much the extent of his knowledge about her. She did come up in the dream he had this morning for encouragement, but he felt it would be too weird to bring up all of a sudden.

A few little birds, brown cute little sparrows, landed on the stone walkway in front of both of them. Steffen tilted his head and picked up some seeds from his pocket, letting them fly over onto his palm. With a tickle, the sparrows stood and pecked the seeds. He could hear the squeaks that they made that lightened up the garden every day. If he wasn't wrong, this was the one who would actually wake up late but would tweet all day without exhaustion. It took a little bit for him to earn its trust, but it was worth it.

"Anyway, is there anything else you need to discuss? Or you're just chatting?" Steffen turned to ask, the sparrows flying off once they were done. "I'll head off to the training later if you want to see me."

Daze


[System]
DESPITE ALL MY RAGE, I AM STILL JUST A RAT IN THE CAGE
anything at all to never feel like that again

---
07 JUL 2151P L A C E O F B I R T H
Kakunodate, Japan, Earth.B I O L O G I C A L S E X
MaleB L O O D T Y P E
AB+H E I G H T
188 centimetresW E I G H T
74 KilogramsI M P L A N T S
L2

Keep your chin up. Hands up. Guard your head, boy, don't let them in.

Chin up. Friends, family? Long gone, won't help you now. They watched you leave in a shiny tin can and slept better that night. Dressed you up in devil's clothes, so they shipped you off to make it real.

Hands up, boy. No time for tears.

Live on your feet, son, bob and weave. You got teeth to cut, no time to sleep. Gotta grow up fast, grow up hard, 'cause those devils are right there with you. Every day, hour, minute. No time to rest with a devil on your back.

Head down, nose to the grind stone. Shoulder to the wheel. No time for chit chat. Do your drills, son, be a man. Won't make it out of this as anything less.

They shipped you up to the monsters, boy. Come back one of 'em.

[User]
Kalyani had always been patient. As a girl, she'd spent months waiting for her mother to return from deployment, for her father to come home from long days at the office, for summers in the country side where she could breathe clean air once more. Jump Zero had been more of the same endless cycles of hurry up and wait that had been her whole life. If she held tight and kept herself busy, Kalyani was certain she could outlast most anything.

She could wait until Nagamura took the lead.

For only having two years under his belt, he was eerily efficient with barriers. He lacked drama or flair, and that served him well. His economy of motion was managed with an obsession that bordered on pathological. It was clean.He was an utter tool, but that didn't mean she couldn't appreciate his technique. It worked.

He snapped forward, a blow that she knew would break bones if it touched her. The air was charged, electric, blown aside by the screaming blue light that she lived for.

Kalyani moved directly towards it, raising a forearm to take the worst of it, palms flaring open, barrier eddying in the air, grasping wisps of the impact and tugging it into its currents. Endless swirling plasma curled around her flesh, feather light whispers stoking the heat in her skin.

Sometimes it felt like she might ignite. It was worth it, in these mad moments, everything she'd been through. Every frigid, hungry night, every petty injustice, all the bullshit—it had to be worth it.

The barrier collapsed under a quick pull of hands, condensing to a shuddering mass. Unbroken, straining at the reins, kicking against her control, itching to fly apart—she flicked an arm, like skipping a stone. She was six again, finding smooth pebbles to fling into the ocean, chalky white cliffs crowding out the world but for the lazy tide, counting jumps—un, deux, trois, quatre—maman, regarder! Quatre!

The shockwave skipped across leather mats, the ground shuddering with the impact. Kalyani cocked her head, watching the warpath of her biotics.

One, two, three, four.

[Assistant]
He hated seeing her this way.

In a moment of clarity, right before the storm, Yoroi knew exactly what it was about Kalyani that bothered him so much. He'd seen it before but it had never been so apparent, so obvious to him. As he watched her break her barrier, draw down her hand, fill with power--all in slow motion near-death-experience bullshit--he finally got it. There was something in the way she moved, something in how her face lit up in that blue biotic glow, something about the purse of her lips that radiated a joy he would never know and a pleasure he would never feel.

Like Mozart and Salieri, he thought stupidly, remembering a movie he'd watched one night as a child with his parents. Two composers, one of them achieving so easily the beauty the other had struggled so hard to perfect. One natural, one forced.

Whatever God of Biotics might be out there fucking loved Kalyani Madan in a way it would never love Nagamura Yoroi, no matter how badly he wanted it.

He watched the matting erupt in blue columns, spikes of energy that rippled the air and left little pockets of empty behind them from all the matter they'd displaced. This, he realized, was the difference--it was like realizing there was a third dimension he could move in, that the world wasn't straight back-and-forth. A shockwave, a literal wave of coruscating energy that rippled from below. How was he supposed to block that? He hadn't expected his own strike to do nothing, and in the wake of it his barrier was weaker than ever. Had she planned it this way? Did she know what would happen?

It was all he could do to mount a proper defense. To his credit, he met it head on without hesitation--both hands curled, snapping into fists that flared his barrier to life, but too little, too late. He caught the initial impact on his forearms, braced against it, but when he tried to contain the roll from trois to quatre he just....couldn't.

The drive into his diaphragm was a truck, a speeding car. Impact at God-only-knew how many Newtons of force, straight up into his ribs and sternum. It was enough to lift him into the air by more feet than a few, his guard still up and his teeth still grit in concentration, but when he tried to stick the landing all that impact hit his shattered ribs and he collapsed to his knees like a rag doll. Had they kept the mats red so it was harder to see the blood? It wasn't working--his was bright against the leather, a spatter through grit teeth as he tried not to be sick.

He couldn't breath. He couldn't breathe. His lizard brain was panicking, wanting to gasp, to pant, to suck wind no matter how much it burned, but the measured breath he drew in and that disgusting little groan he managed on the tail end was all he'd allow himself. She'd beaten him and he knew it--no way he was putting up a fight after that--but he'd be damned if he couldn't at least look the bitch in the eye.

It wasn't a smile. It wasn't pride. But he'd made her try--he'd seen what it looked like to be at the top. He just wished it hadn't looked the way he always wanted it to.

[User]
It happened almost too quickly to process. Her shockwave slammed into an immovable wall, heat spilling off the casual abuse of physics. One moment he'd stood firm—the next, Nagamura had been knocked back. Something cracked, leather creaked, and the familiar thud of limbs on cheap pleather seemed to echo in the training room.

All she could hear was the thunder of her heartbeat. The world narrowed to the adrenaline coursing in her veins, the way her skin felt like it was stretched too tight over her frame, the whispers of charge clinging to the metal drilled through her skull. Her fingers flexed of their own volition, straining to channel once more. It would be so easy. It would feel so good.

"Jesus," someone muttered. Her fingers stilled and snuffed out the flickers of her corona.

Her senses opened, and the world came screaming into terrible focus. Whispers and an awful clap of hands, the shifting of the mat under heavy footsteps, two heavy fingers dropping to her shoulder, squeezing, as if the arc of blood on the mat were praise worthy.

The world blurred at the edges even as light went impossibly sharp. Kalyani winced, a hand snaking behind her right ear to press sharply against an implant, as if she could drive it deeper into her head. The relief was slight, but it was enough to let her take a ragged breath.

"A real biotic," Caelnus' mocking warble filled the dead air. Her translator missed whatever his quiet rasping trill and clicks meant, but the intent was clear. It took almost everything to keep her hands still by her side. What an asshole.

Nagamura kept looking at her.

It wasn't the wounded puppy Court gave her, or the usual frustration and fear she saw in her victims. Nagamura's gaze pierced through her, lightning that lashed tight about her spine and forced her to look, damn it. It refused to let her fall back into apathy. You did this, now look. There was no option but to meet his gaze and see the slash of red down his chin, shallow breaths that came with crushed ribs, and endless, simmering rage.

"Shit." The word was more air than substance, dissolving in a breath. She wasn't even sure she'd said it.

"Get up," The turian's hand finally left her shoulder as he took long, swaggering steps forward. A familiar panic rose in her throat, followed close by bile. There could be no round two.

"We've gone over time," Kalyani said blandly. Trembling fingers laced behind her back, knuckles whitening around each other. "They're late for the galley."

Caelnus fixed her with an unblinking stare, pinpricks of acid green boring into her own dark eyes. Her pulse went shallow, thrumming with the need to run and make herself small. Kalyani nodded her head towards the throng of students, holding her breath. She could see Caelnus' calculation, weighing the importance of breaking one versus throwing off the schedules for dozens.

For once, the distinctly Turian anal-retentive obsession with order worked out in her favor.

"That they are," Caelnus' agreement sounded airy, almost polite. It was unsettling. He looked down at Nagamura and Kalyani was amazed that he'd somehow managed to make his mandibles twitch in contempt. "Get to medical."

[Assistant]
At first he kept watching Kalyani because he'd wanted to see her. Now he kept his gaze fixed because he wasn't sure if he would survive whatever he might do if he looked at that fucking turian. He could barely hear the creature over his own heartbeat, hot and heavy in his ears, and it was for the best. Could someone die from hate? Just burn themselves out with it from the inside, spontaneous combustion?

Apparently not. He was certainly trying.

The shuffling of students making their awkward way out of the room filled the air as he tried to get his breath back, finally letting his eyes close and his shoulders shake. This wasn't his first injury and it wouldn't be his last--it wasn't anything medigel couldn't fix in an hour or two--but it hurt. Insides were not meant to be jagged, and with every breath it felt like his expanding lungs rasped on something sharp and intrusive. Had he, a niggling little thought in the back of his head wormed its way in, hoped that she would kill him? That maybe this would be it?

That he couldn't immediately consider the notion ridiculous was not a good sign.

Still, he wasn't dead. He was still on Jump Zero, still in BaAt, still lying on the fucking matting like any other of the pathetic wastes that filled these halls. The ones that didn't have it, that would never be strong enough to fight back. That's what he wanted, after all, why he put himself through all this. If he was every going to be strong enough to beat those fucking turians, he needed this.

Caelnus would have killed him. Kalyani could have, but didn't and she probably couldn't have taken the turian. So where the fuck did that leave him?

"Get up."

His words, this time, hissed through bloody teeth as he fought back that awful prickling in his eyes. Absolutely not. He was not about to fucking cry. He was still alive, and he was not going to give that fucking hawk the satisfaction. One leg at a time he curled, planted, worked his forearms down to the mat. Pushed.

Stood.

His chest screamed. He couldn't breathe. It hurt, but he was a raw nerve, now--everything hurt. Already he could feel the pressure behind his eyes, that throb that meant he was in for the worst of it for the next few hours regardless of his chest--why hadn't they put some kind of dampener on these damn implants? Something that wouldn't let them push so hard? There had been days when Yoroi felt the blood vessels burst, dripping down his nose. Once it had even come from his eyes, leaking like hot tears, unbidden. It was everything he could do to keep from screaming out of, what? Pain? Fury? Either?

But he looked Caelnus in the eye and spat out a 'Yes, Sir'. And he started towards the med bay.

He was burning and he knew it. The human body, the human brain couldn't stand that kind of emotion long term and he was already getting that awful hollow feeling in his chest, like space was just blowing through him. But Yoroi wasn't about to lose it in front of Caelnus, not after that, and so he put one foot in front of the other. Slowly, steadily, each step labor. More than anything he wanted to blow away, to catch that space wind and just dissolve into whatever cold emptiness was out there, spread so far apart as to be a statistical irrelevancy. He was passing Kalyani and something slipped out, dribbled past his lips like the blood he had to wipe off with the back of his wrist.

"We're gonna die here... aren't we?"

...where the fuck did that come from?

He would figure it out later. He would think later, process later, pick up the pieces later and move on, or whatever it was assholes like him did when shit like this happened to them. Right now, he needed the med bay.

One foot in front of the other.


[System]
Race: Human
Profession: Ranger
Age: 18

Personality:

Merrill is a grave young man that carries the world on his shoulders. He rarely speaks, and when he does so, it is with the barest minimum words that he can use to convey his meaning. He is a thoughtful young man, who takes the time to think about every situation from every possible angle. He is very hesitant to take action, and will only do so when he has considered the action and its possible consequences as far as he can.

One thing that he takes great pains to conceal from others are his abilities as a seer. He is very, very painfully aware that such abilities of divination and foresight, if discovered would lead to his instant execution with no questions asked because of the fears of magic. Because of this, Merrill is well aware of the fact that he is not just in danger himself, but he is also potentially a danger to everyone else around him, if his talent was to ever be discovered. Only a select few trusted souls know of Merrill's secret.

Merrill's goal and driving obsession is to learn more of his abilities as a seer. Primarily, he needs and wants to learn to control the talent, so he can tap into it and use it at will rather than have the ability take him at the most inopportune moments. On the odd occasion, he will go into a trance and seemingly lose control of his body - at these times he will speak in riddles and rhymes, often telling of an event still to happen, predict the weather, or divine some other obscure bit of information about another person that nobody else would know. When this passes he has no memory of the event afterwards. Merrill's biggest fear is that this will happen when he is around the others as something like that would cause his own imminent doom.

That is why above all else, he needs to learn to control his ability.

In addition to this, there is a certain amount of bitterness inside of Merrill in regards to his ability. Whereas most people would see an ability to tell the future as a blessing, to Merrill it is a curse. There is no worse fate in all the world than to know what is about to happen and know that you can do nothing at all to change it. To speak to a man and know he will die in the week, to know that two lovers are fated to split and be apart. To know your own destiny and have no control over it - there is nothing worse than that.

However, it is not all secrecy and gloom for Merrill. He is very loyal to his friends, and although he can count the number of his true friends on the fingers of one hand and still have fingers left over those friends he does have he will die for. But because of his secret, he will not learn to trust easily, and will not trust anyone unless he has absolutely no reservations of their intentions and believes that they will not betray him. In that way, he is perhaps overly cautious and maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit paranoid.

Background:

Merrill was born in a small village near to Edsel, off the coast. Merrill was born the son of a travelling band of gypsies, and until his teenage years he was reasonably content with his life.

Until his latent "talent" manifested itself.

Over the next couple of years, Merrill's abilities became more and more prominent, and it became difficult to hide them. Eventually, it was Merrill's elder brother, Onlaron, who discovered the truth first. Onlaron did not share Merrill's fascination with it, and was in fact horrified. Although he did not tell anyone, he tried to swear the young Merrill to an oath of secrecy, impressing upon the impressionable youth how important it was to keep his ability secret. Merrill, not really understanding his brother's urgency, nevertheless agreed anyway, wanting to keep the peace.

However, some things would not be kept a secret, no matter how hard one tried. Merrill's family discovered the truth. His father turned the boy out, with nary enough food to last a week. Such was the fear and prejudice that one was met with in these times. And so it was that young Merrill left his home, friendless and alone, with no place in the world.

Fate would bring young Merrill to the village of Edhel, chased by dark shadows that he did not understand, but that he suspected wanted him for his strange power, and it was there he met Callie.......

Strengths:* Expert Hunter and Tracker
* Physically Strong
* Swordsman
* Stealthy

Weaknesses:* Cold and distant - having been turned out by his kin has changed Merrill. He does not trust and he keeps himself distant from others.
* Paranoia - In that it's not paranoid to think everyone is out to get you when, in fact, everyone is out to get you
* Fear of magic
* Out of his depth. Merrill is, to be polite, out of his depth. Despite his outward demeanour suggesting otherwise, he is not ready for the world to be thrust upon him.

Powers:* Mental Alarm (upcoming danger - limited by range)
* Animal Handling
* Animal Friendship
* Animal Companion
* Augury
* Seer Sight (divining an objects past by touching it)
* Foraging (inhospitable terrain)
* Endure harsh conditions
* Endure deadly conditions
* Limited Foresight (1/day)

[User]
Life in Edhel was a simple one. It had been countless centuries since the days of the powerful sorcerors who had founded the village. In those days, Edhel was a small, but prosperous community of farmers.

Most of the villagers had never travelled beyond the borders of Edhel. Had they, they would have seen relics of a world long gone. Another time, another age. Rusted, metallic skeletons embedded into the soiled earth. Their painted majesty providing a vision of an age of flying machines and deadly weapons. These relics were dotted around the landscape, providing a picture into a world that once was, but could never be again.

These days, this new Edhel was build on the skeletal ruins of the old one. A village of hard working people with one Inn, Edhel was a gathering of hard working farmer folk.

The sorcerors were long gone, and their lineage was now reviled. History had been revised and altered. Where once they were a line of heroes and their courage the thing of legend, things had changed. In these dark times, sorcerors and, indeed, all magic wielding folk were seen as cowardly, villainous, power-hungry despots. Twisted creatures of darkness who had struck out to conquer the world. This revisionism triggered by their association with the thing that had come to lay waste to most of the known world.

Magic.

Once, a number of centuries ago, wielders of magic walked the lands openly. Divine and Arcane magic alike was used to make the world a better place. But over the roll of years though, something happened. It started as a strange, subtle twisting of the magic. When a wizard used their ability to create light, for example, the light was tainted by dark shadows, flickering and burning in the air. That subtle manifestation gradually expanded, until the magic was twisted and altered in ways beyond the wielders control. This random, bizarre manifestation led to magic and magic wielders being barred from the major cities across the land.

Then, one day, the Plague appeared.

It began through use of magic, spreading from wielder to the next. It twisted their physical bodies as it had their magic, destroying their humanity. What began as a plague carried by magic wielders quickly spread through the rest of civilisation. Despite every possible effort, there was no containing it. In a matter of months, humanity had been devastated, and the twisted, dead bodies of the plague's victims lay broken and rotting across the land. Civilisation was reduced to ash and dust. Those that survived the effects of the plague were twisted into hideous mutants. Their minds shattered, they were reduced to base, murderous killers. They scavenged the ruined wastelands in search of victims to feed their insatiable bloodlust.

Ansolera was dying.

Over the two centuries since, small pockets of civilisation sprung up once more. The survivors of the apocalypse coming together to try and rebuild some small semblance of the lives that they once had.

[Assistant]
He pushes through thick brush and scrub. Panting heavily, the man runs forward. He has been running for so long now that he can barely remember a life doing otherwise. Overhead, the blue sky is obscured by the treetops surrounding him. The tops of the great oak trees block the sun from shining down on him. Around him, he is surrounded by dark, impenetrable shadow. As he runs, he glances behind him.

Nothing but the dark, shrouded woodland trail that he has been fleeing down.

His lungs burn as he gasps in short lungfuls of air. And then, sudden pain, shooting up and down his leg. Wincing, the man falls to his knees, sprawling onto the dirt track. Rolling onto his back, he raises his hands up to ward off the attack that he is sure is about to come.

The attack that never does fall.

He is alone. Around him, the woodlands are silent. There is not even the sound of birds chirping to keep him company on his panicked flight.

Merrill. My name is Merrill.

Closing his eyes, he takes in deep lungfuls of air. His name was Merrill, and for three years now, he had been running for his life. For three years, he had been surviving in this barren wasteland of a life that was once meaningful. Running from his the shadows who wished him dead. Around him, his body ached, sending small needles of pain lancing up and through him. Blood trickled from innumerable cuts and scratches. Grunting, Merrill slowly climbs to his feet, ignoring the burning agony in his left leg. Right now, his need was more immediate than running from the shadowy figures that chased him. Right now, he simply needed to survive.

Merrill had seen terrible, terrible things with his own eyes. Ghostly whispers, and terrible, twisted beings who hunted him for what he knew. Dark shadows who could take form with taloned claw and sharp fang to rend and tear flesh from bone and heart from chest. Limping over, Merrill picked up his oaken shortbow, and shrugged his backpack onto his shoulders.

He had to survive.

Turning, he limped onwards, unable to put weight on his wounded leg.

"I am Merrill and I will live. I am Merrill and I will live. I am Merrill and I will live. I am Merrill and I will live. I am Merrill and I will live."

It became his chorus. His mantra. As he took one pained step after the next, the words became more than a litany to him. They became his only link to reality. As the hours continued to pass, and as Merrill continued to breathe and survive, the chant warded off the terrible, hallucinatory images that threatened to destroy him. Terrible, screaming banshees leapt at him from the shadows, conjured up by his own fractured mind. They looked to devour his heart, destroy his soul.

Finally the vegetation and the foliage began to recede. Finally, was this never-ending nightmare due to end?

Merrill came forth. He came forth into the light of the sun, beating down on him. Sun. Finally, was this terrible nightmare about to end?

The road angled down gently, leading to a collection of simple thatched huts. It was no more than a dwelling, yet to Merrill's tortured eyes, it was the most beautiful sight imaginable. Limping slowly to the collection of thatched huts, Merrill saw the people going about their daily business, blissfully unaware of the fact that their lives were about to be turned upside down. They turned to regard him with widened eyes.

He held out a shaking hand, and his whispered voice carried forth, "Help......me....."

He could not see who it was he has asked. His grasping hand reached out to them, and then he collapsed, unconscious to the floor.

[User]
It had seemed to be just another day for Callie. She had followed the same schedule as always...

Wake up.
Go to the market.
Do some chores.
And when evening comes, go to the Antsy Anklebiter to work.

One would think that the banality of the same schedule every day would be enough of a security for Callie. But she still found herself on edge. She could feel it. She could feel whatever magic plagued her grow stronger, desperate to reveal itself to the world. She just couldn't risk it, and there were only so many times where she can lock herself in a room...

However, this evening proved to be different than every other night.

As Callie headed for the tavern, she stopped when she heard whispers. Feeling a cold sweat, she at first wondered if something caused by her magic had happened, but when she looked to the source, she found that it was something, or rather, someone else. And they were really close to her.

A boy around her age...and he was hurt!

He reached out a shaking hand to her and whispered a plea for help before he fell unconscious. Acting quickly, Callie tried to lift the boy. She noticed that the others were still watching and whispering to each other, and she called "Everyone, please help! Can't you see he's hurt? Someone, please help me get him to the Antsy Anklebiter! We need a healer!"

At Callie's call, everyone around her acted. A taller man helped Callie lift the boy, while another rushed to go and get the healer. The tall man, Guy, told her, "It's alright. He's gonna be alright, Cal," as they walked him to the tavern.

As they entered, Bruenor turned to them and asked "Hm? Callie? Guy? What's going on?"
"A boy collapsed in the middle of town, we need a bed for him. A healer is going to come by and check on him,"

Not needing to be told twice, Bruenor opened the door, in the back room and said "Here! Use this one!"
"Thank you, Bruenor," Callie thanked him quickly before hurriedly getting the boy into the back room and onto the comfortable bed.