[System]
Gender: Male
Species: Human:
Appearance:

Age: 31
Backstory: Before the alien invasion, Marcus worked as a member of the British Armed Forces. As a front-line infantry unit, he has experience in both engaging in battlefields to basic leadership. His peers admired his courage and bravery in the face of overwhelming odds, and his capability to take over command when necessary.

After the alien invasion, he joined the Rise Resistance against the Alien Overlords as a Commander of a Recon team named The Rise 35th Battalion, named after his prior group that went down to save his life against the Aliens. His unit's task as their Commander was routine recon missions around Rise Outposts searching for survivors and refugees, and any civilians / members of surviving military's under attack by the Aliens.

[User]
The tho drones looked at each other, both of them nudging the other forward to attempt to coax the other into going out.
Max nodded at Marcus' words, lifting his sniper as he moved into a safe position to shoot over or under his two team mates as Eli moved to press up against the wall and readied himself, both younger boys narrowing their eyes in the darkness.

The shorter Alien finally lost the battle for going first, and he slowly stepped out with a low hiss. He kept to the shadows, knowing that light would dance across his shiny carapaces.
"Can we hellllp you humanz?" He spoke in broken English, his mandibles clicking together angrily. "You are intrudingz on our landz." His tiny wings buzzed, his eyes focused in on Marcus with another click of his mandibles.

Eli moved to point both of his guns towards the Alien, staring him down angrily as a red dot appeared on the Aliens' chest from Max's gun. The Alien didn't try to make any sharp movements, attempting to do what he wasn't very good at. Talking.

The Taller alien scuttled along to close the space between him and the woman they held captive. He moved to wrap both of his arms around her as his wings buzzed as well. The humans were blocking the only safe exit, and despite the drones having wings, they were virtually useless.

[Assistant]
"Well you aren't exactly being nice intruding on our planet. You know anything about that little blue smoke you set off here?"

Marcus stated before peering behind the alien and noticing a fraction of another human, as well as another alien among them. Looks like that smoke wasn't exactly a trap, but it wasn't without aliens. Readying his weapon, he signalled Max and Eli.

"Hey, is that another human over there? Hand her over, and we might consider sparing you."

[User]
The smaller drone watched the humans carefully as he watched them, especially as Max and Eli honed in more on him.
"Why should we give youz the human? We are under direkt orderz from the queen to take her to the hivez." He said as he moved to try and cover his other companion.

The Taller alien gave a long chain of angry clicks and whistles, stomping his feet in a sign of anger. He tried to moved out of sight, but there was nowhere to really head to. "Thiz human belong to uz! We found her!" The taller one spoke angrily, feeling the woman start to move in his arms. "Juzt let uz go. We need to get bak to the hivez!"

Eli lifted his gun slightly, "That human belongs to no one." He said angrily, clicking his gun before narrowing his eyes.
Max kept his sight on the front Alien, ready to fire if needed. His red-dot staying almost fully still over the chest of the Alien, he waited for a sign from Marcus or any aggressive movement from the Aliens to shoot.

[Assistant]
"A queen, huh? And a hive?"

Marcus asked rhetorically as he pondered his thoughts for a moment. That human that was behind them was to be taken to a hive to have all sorts done to her. That did not float Marcus's boat, not one bit.

"Yeah, I'm going to have to say no. The human's coming with us. Blast them!"

Marcus ordered as he loaded his rifle and proceeded to unleash a magazine on the two aliens, ensuring his shots wouldn't hit the human behind them.

[User]
Eli and Max both nodded, quickly starting to shoot both of the aliens. Both of them moved to shoot back, but they were easily over powered.
The shorter one dropped to the ground with a hiss as the final breathe left its body, the taller one collapsed onto its' knees, hanging on for a bit longer to utter something in its' native language before it collapsed down.

Max lifted his gun before he started his way to the woman. "Is she okay?" He asked more to himself, glancing back to Marcus and Eli. "She looks okay, no visible wounds or anything. She's breathing," He moved to lift her up into his arms. "Do we think there are others?"

[Assistant]
"Considering they only mentioned one, and they were here before us? Safe to say she's the only one."

Marcus stated as he approached Eli and the woman, planting a hand onto her head to check her temperature.

"She seems to be alright. No unusual temperature or anything wrong with her at first glance. Alright, back to the vehicles. We're taking her home. Maybe when she wakes up, she can tell us why she was here, and why the aliens want her in the first place."

[User]
Max and Eli both nodded at Marcus' words before they started to head out of the ship.
Eli taking it slowly as he carried the woman along. Max hesitated as he past the now dead Aliens, moving down to grab the small translator box from around its' neck.

"This should be useful." He said as he looked to his squad mate and leader, smiling as he held it up. Eli nodded once as he started to walk out again. "It might help find out what they were talking about?" Max asked as he moved to pocket it.

[Assistant]
"Good thinking, Max. Just be careful it doesn't have a way for them to track us."

Marcus stated as he spotted Max find a translator of some sorts. Hopefully it'll better decipher what Eli was working on. He continued moving alongside Eli with his rifle cocked and ready, ensuring both he and the woman was protected from ambush. Once they got out of the ship and onto the trucks, he signalled the drivers.

"Alright lads, back to base. We've got what we came for, let's roll before the aliens realize they're missing some peons."

[User]
Max nodded as he tinkered with it as they waited for the trucks to start up.
Eli on the other hand focused his energy on strapping the woman in carefully and taking a better look at her body for injuries or signs of infection.

"She'll have to get a bioscan won't she?" Eli asked as he glanced to Marcus, putting his guns back in his case as he started to sit back down beside Max. Max handed Eli the translator before he also looked towards Marcus, waiting for the mans response.
The woman seemed to move her head slightly, coming to consciousness very slowly before dipping back into unconsciousness.

[Assistant]
"Most likely. Wouldn't hurt to give the lady a look-over properly."

Marcus responded to Eli's question as the vehicles continued moving back to base. When the woman moved her head then dipped back into unconsciousness, Marcus looked down a little.

"Poor thing. No one has to go through this. Unfortunate lady fate hasn't been playing her cards in our favor lately. Eli, Max, good shooting today. We were lucky to find her when we did, and there could of been more of them. Thankfully we only came across some lower ranked but still, good job today. I'll be sure to treat ya when we get back home."

[User]
Eli nodded at Marcus' words before he moved to grab the translator from Max and hooked it up to his tapes and tried to reconfig everything. He continued to fiddle with it the entire way back to base without another word.

Max looked to the woman as Marcus spoke.
"Why... would they take her to the hive?" He asked after a bit of silence, "I know they'd use her as a breeding candidate but would there be any... other reason?" He asked, he didn't seem to be stressing himself with his words this time around, moreso just mulling over things to himself.
"And it was odd to see drones out alone without a commander alien." He continued with a furrowed brow, thinking about what he had read on the aliens.

[Assistant]
"Maybe she knows somethin' that they don't want us to know."

Marcus suggested, taking the bayonet off his weapon and putting it back against his leg. Perhaps whoever this woman is has seen what the aliens don't want The Rise to see? It was a pretty rough guess.

"It is odd to see Drones without their commanders, so perhaps picking up a random human wasn't something they needed to dedicate so much for. Then again, they seemed to prefer to talk instead of kill, so perhaps they were just dumb. Either way, if she wakes up, we'll gently ask her some questions."

[User]
Max frowned as Marcus brainstormed with him. He looked towards the woman again, sighing softly before he looked back to Marcus.
"I hope she's okay... Mentally." He said, he had heard stories of humans who got took by the aliens who turned onto their side due to some sort of mental manipulation.

The drive back was okay, mostly silence between the men, Eli continued to tinker with the audio with an angry look on his face.
When they got back, there were a few medical soldiers waiting outside. One of them had a stretcher beside them as their attention was drawn towards the truck as it started to slow down.

[Assistant]
"I hope so too."

As the trucks continued onward, the journey to the base was straight forward, no trouble or disturbances. When the trucks slowed down, Marcus spotted two medical soldiers waiting with a stretcher. Moving over to the woman they found, he picked her up gently and stepped out the truck towards the two soldiers.

"Take good care of her. She seems to pop in and out of consciousness but at least she doesn't seem to have any physical injuries. Let me know when she fully wakes up."

[User]
One of the soldiers moved over with the stretcher and took her from Marcus, placing her onto the stretcher and headed inside without a word. The other one watched him leave before he looked back to Marcus with his chin up.
"Thank you." He started, "The boss wants to see you, it's apparently important so you better not wait around too long." He bowed his head as he turned away, "He should be in his quarters." He walked off slowly towards where the other soldier had left to.

Max followed Marcus rather quickly out of the truck, glancing back to Eli as he stayed there, head back and eyes closed as if he didn't realize they had gotten home- er well. Back to base.
Max sighed, he guessed this was his home now, he was one of the newest members- Apart from his younger sister who he was found with after aliens came into his home and... He shuddered and moved his arm to wipe away a tear as he straightened out his back with narrowed eyes.

The woman rolled on the stretcher, letting out small grumbles and pants as if she was injured or exhausted. She seemed to be mumbling things under her breath, and she seemed to be furrowing her brow.

[Assistant]
"The boss wants to see me? This'll be fun..."

Marcus stated sarcastically as he witnessed the two soldiers pull the girl away. When Max shuddered a tear from his eyes, Marcus looked toward him.

"Hey, everything's gonna be alright. We've all been through some hell. But that's why we're such a good family. Everyone's been through tough times, and it's things like that that'll make us tougher. Trust me, I would know, I lost my entire squad when the aliens first arrived. My only memories of my team are our group name and dog-tags in my quarters. Anyway, the boss wants to see me."

Marcus then sighed and walked off towards the direction of the boss's quarters. Once he arrived, he knocked on the door.

"Boss, you wanted to see me? It's Marcus."

[User]
Max looked up to Marcus as he spoke about his old team, he hesitated as he almost wanted to speak before he responded with a single nod and glanced back to Eli, moving to gently nudge him to get him to follow him inside.

The door opened slowly, the hinges creaking as it did so.
"Come in." A stern, older male voice echoed from inside the room.
The room inside was a dark oaky wood colouration, the lamps on the walls casing the soft yellow light through the area as a grey haired man sat behind an oak desk with his elbows against the desk and his middle finger, index finger curved over his cheeks while his thumbs were under his chin.
His emerald green eyes stared towards Marcus as entered, he seemed... annoyed.

[Assistant]
Stepping in after ordered to, Marcus did admire the oaky theme that he had going for his quarters. Similar to Marcus's but a bit more darker coloured which, everybody had their tastes. Stepping further in, he saluted before speaking.

"You look annoyed, sir. Is somethin wrong?"

[User]
The boss didn't speak for a moment before he straightened himself out.
"I was just thinking." He stated slowly, his eyes moved to look at Marcus and narrowed slightly. "How did the mission go? I presume since you brought home someone it went without any negativities?" He tilted his head slightly.

The medical staff looked the woman over, doing as many checks as they could as they got her ready for when she finally came around to consciousness. They did blood tests and DNA swipes, moving to look for anything out of the ordinary.
The woman moved slightly, tossing her head to the side and knocked out the breathing tube, letting in a large gust of air into her lungs as her eyes clenched before opening suddenly.
She heaved when the air entered her lungs, moving to sit up before a few of the medics pushed her back down.

[Assistant]
"The mission went relatively well. We only brought back one person, although that person was already found by the Aliens. Only two of them though, and they went down real easy. Spoke about orders to take her back to their hive or something like that, so safe to say I think we spared her whatever horrors they planned."

Marcus stated honestly, lighting a Cigar from his supply in his pocket.

"The medical team's taken her in, hopefully they can help her out before we ask any questions."


[System]
Sex: F

Age: 17

House: Dark Magician House

Appearance: "Very well. Please, show me something amusing."

Duel Disk: Ayami's Duel Disk is shaped a bit like the section of a snowflake, with a design similar to this one. It is a light blue bordering on white, and reflects light similarly (and thus shines when in use).

Personality: Ayami is a bit of a cold person and often comes off as somewhat emotionless at times, causing people to tend to not wanting to interact with her more often than not. As a result, she spends much of her time reading books and stories or watching duel replays online, which only furthers her image as a 'person who acts as if she is higher than everyone else'. That's not really the case, though; while she does have money and does seem like she is disinterested in most things, it does not affect her opinion of people. As a result, Ayami does not hold back against any challengers, for that would not only be disrespectful, but also quite irritating upon herself.

History: The child of an investment banker and a writer, Ayami's life was spent in relative solitude and luxury. She was always surrounded by books and stories that her facter (the latter) would always read to her, planting a deep-seated respect for literature that would keep fast into her adolesence. While her family did have enough of an income to purchase whatever they decided on (within reason), Ayami never desired anything. While her mother was perfectly okay with that facet of Ayami's personality, her father was thoroughly confounded and sought to figure out what his daughter wanted (because it was admittedly difficult to obtain gifts with more variety than 'book' and 'foreign book'). His problems came to a close when he saw Ayami holding a Yu-Gi-Oh card one day and seemed to be looking at it with some degree of intrigue. Taking this as an opportunity, Ayami's father quickly got to work buying cards to assemble his daughter a deck that would work well with the card she seemed to be so curious about.
Years came and went, and Ayami continued to refine that deck ever so slowly before her father suggested she try enrolling in the Saotome Duel Institute, which itself was a sugegstion of one of his old friends. With no real reason to decline, Ayami accepted the offer and has been studying there ever since.

Wish: To find life more 'exciting' than it is now.

Deck: * 2x Manju of the Ten Thousand Hands
* 1x Ariel, Priestess of the Nekroz
* 1x Dance Princess of the Nekroz
* 1x Shurit, Strategist of the Nekroz
* 1x Ghost Ogre and Snow Rabbit
* 1x Effect Veiler
* 1x Nekroz of Decisive Armor
* 1x Nekroz of Trishula
* 2x Nekroz of Valkyrus
* 1x Nekroz of Gungnir
* 2x Nekroz of Brionac
* 3x Nekroz of Unicore
* 2x Nekroz of Clausolas
* 1x Hira, Light of the Nekroz*

* 1x Night Beam
* 2x Reinforcement of the Army
* 3x Preparation of Rites
* 2x Nekroz Mirror
* 2x Nekroz Kaleidoscope
* 2x Nekroz Cycle
* 2x Twin Twisters
* 1x Pot of Dichotomy

* 1x Storming Mirror Force
* 1x Solemn Strike
* 1x Dimensional Prison
* 1x Bottomless Trap Hole
* 1x Nekroz Altar*

* 3x Herald of the Arc Light

Hira, Light of the Nekroz [Solar Legacy]
Level 2 Spellcaster type Effect Monster
500 ATK / 1000 DEF
While this card is on the field, all Nekroz Monsters on your side of the field gain 200 ATK.

Nekroz Altar
Counter Trap
When a Monster Special Summoned from the Extra Deck would activate it's effect; negate that target's effect, then you can add one Nekroz Monster from your Graveyard to your hand, except a Ritual Monster. If this card is in the Graveyard: during either player's turn, you can banish this card from your Graveyard; Tribute Monsters from your hand or your side of the field, then Ritual Summon 1 "Nekroz" Monster from your hand whose level exactly equals the total Levels of those monsters. You can only use this effect of "Nekroz Altar" once per turn.

[User]
Fuubi strode around the campus, looking to scope out the competition. He paused beside a fine marble fountain, thrust his left arm into the air (brandishing the duel disk strapped to it in the process), and yelled at the top of his voice!

"Okay-aru! Ret's duel-aru! I, Yagara Fuubi, will accept any opponent-aru!"

Oh boy. He was really playing up his Japanese heritage by horrendously mocking the native language. Not only that, but judging by the way he was waggling his ass as he spoke, he must have thought himself to be a real hot customer. Were Yugi here, he'd probably see a fair bit of comparison between this chump and that creepy little Weevil fella. Both were short, ugly, rude, and arrogant.

[Assistant]
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away...

Aya stared at her reflection in the window. She looked terrible. It has been a mistake to sleep aboard the plane, and her decision to come on the thing dressed in her school uniform had only made things worse. She'd spent the night tossing and turning in unfamiliar clothes, and boy did it show on her face. Her hair, usually curly and flowing, had managed to entangle itself into a black Gordian knot of criss crossing locks, and her eyes had the sunken look of a Verdun veteran. At least she'd managed to sleep through the landing. Everywhere around her, people were shuffling, pulling bags out of compartments and out from under seats, grabbing everything they could remember and shuffling out towards the exit. She waited until last, taking a few minutes to properly wake herself up, before rummaging around through some of the stuff people had left behind. Somebody had left a card stuck between an in flight magazine as an impromptu bookmark. Score!

Customs and immigration was easy, baggage claim was a pain, but before too long, Aya had left the air-conditioned space of the airport and stepped, blinking and unsure of herself into the bright and sunny day that surrounded Haneda airport like a big pillowy mattress. She was thankful to step inside the air-conditioned space of Saotome's school bus instead, even the few seconds she'd spent outside in this heat had made her start sweating like a pig. As if her looks couldn't have gotten any worse today; between the heat and the humidity outside, she wasn't so much wearing her uniform as much as she was stuck to the inside of it, like food in a clingfilm wrapper that was slowly shrinking and tightening around her.

She took a seat near the front. Always a safe choice, being close to where the adults nearly always sat, and since everybody else usually took a seat near the back, it was also likely not to fill up until the last few people got onboard. She sat down, conscienciously facing her body toward the aisle down the middle. You never got a second chance to make a first impression, and she could size up a few of her studants before they'd been officially introduced, try and pick out a few of the nicer kids and try to establish a quick friendship never failed to pay off.

[User]
CAAAAAAAAW

The lone eagle shrieked out before fading away into the overcast sky. What that bird left behind in its flight was a grey overpass which overlooked a closed roadway. Construction machines seemed to be left behind on some partially prepared ground. There was hardly a sound here except for when the air blew through.

And of course, the mechanical rumbling of an engine. The Ghoulish Rider, the Traveler of the Highway of Hell sat idly on his machine staring into the distance.

That mysterious figure of Japanese origins may have got Fyodor Leo Konstantinovich to attend this school, but there was not a chance that he would ever ride with those mundane non-Devil worshippers. Nor was that man going to get him to hang out with them on the grounds. But there might've been a more important detail Fyodor considered.

He needed to test suitable brooding spots for monologuing.

Fyodor got off the motorcycle and marched a few steps towards the side of the bridge. He stomped his right foot on the side of the overpass. He lunged both of his arms to the side as he entered into a soliloquy.

"GWAHAH HA HA!" Guffawed the Ghoulish Rider, the Traveler of the Highway of Hell. With his arms still extended, Fyodor swiftly slammed them together and intertwined his gloved hands in some mockery of a prayer.

"Oh Infernal Host, Almighty Devil.
 Demon who brought me salvation
 For you I provide this narration.
 Flesh be torn
 And blood be spilt.
 I shall fill the graves with goodness.
 Upon which we shall erect your throne.
 Devil you shall be sworn
 As the rightful ruler of flesh and bone."

"Amen."

Fyodor marched back towards his motorcycle and gazed back at what he was initially watching in the distance. The Duel Academy was waiting, and more importantly, his blasphemous quest which the Devil requested of him.

After a few revs, The Ghoulish Rider, Traveler of the Highway of Hell began laughing maniacally as he rode towards the school.

[Assistant]
The quiet turning of the pages of a book and the sounds of the music emanating from her phone's earbuds were the only noises Ayami was aware of during her time waiting in the car. She found it much less of a hassle to ride on public transportation, though, insistent as her parents were on having someone drive her to the school instead; something about riding a bus or a train was considerably less motion sickness-inducing. Her home in Shinjuku would have been more useful if the school was within the prefecture, but complaining at this point was next to worthless. She had already made clear that she'd ride the bus over to her parents, but even so they still insisted on at least driving her to the airport...

Even if the subway was much more efficient. To give them credit, though, the lack of any major traffic jams en route made the trip less irritating (if not stalled by pedestrians as it would have been anyways).

As the car finally came to a stop, Ayami thanked the driver and placed a bookmark on the center of the page of the book she was on before clapping it shut and slipping it into her bag before exiting the vehicle. Walking around to grab her belongings from the trunk, the young woman nodded to the driver as she took the last of them out and closed the trunk, silently watching as he drove to... Wherever his next destination was.

With her bags gripped firmly in her hands, Ayami walked over to where all the other students were gathering, opting to remain silent as those around her continued to chatter amongst themselves. The heat was a bit of a nuisance, yes, but nothing too unbearable. She ignored the teacher who had been sent to pick them up for the most part, though; trying too hard to appeal and be 'intriguing' was, to her, quite a dull way of doing things.

When the students finally began to fill the buses, Ayami let out a sigh of relief, quiet as it was; it had taken far too long to handle such a thing, and she had honestly wondered for a while why they hadn't just sent them into the buses to begin with. It was a much better way of handling something like ferrying students off to the school, and since the administration was likely to just take attendance there, it would have been much faster to send buses off as they filled up rather than sending them all at once.

She had no room to criticize, though; maybe that was just how the school handled things. Maybe it was faster this way. Maybe it was because the drivers were probably hired for the job and only one knew the route by heart?

...All things considered, it was probably the last of that set. It wasn't as if she knew how schools operated that well, anyhow; far too tedious for her to entertain the though of even dealing with administrative issues.

Taking a seat near the front of the bus she was on (the back was far too unstable for her liking), the student-to-be quietly tucked her bags away and took out her book again, wishing to continue her read as the ride went along. If someone spoke to her, she would return in kind, but it seemed as if most everyone else was occupied on their own. No matter; reading alone was fine, too.


[System]
Age: 17

Role: Student

Gender: M

Appearance:

Personality: Albrecht is a humble soul, compassionate to those in need of help and calming. The most vivid element of Albrecht is his easy-going and laid back persona. He doesn't allow his emotions to manipulate his actions in any form, always seeming as if he has everything under control in the reins of chaos. Even in the most heated circumstances, appearing sometimes to being too laid back. Albrecht isn't persistent when it comes to helping those who decline it. He respects those who can stand strong on their own two feet and will carry most under his wing until strong enough to do so. In the terms of taunting and bickering, Albrecht knows better to let such quarrels get to him, tending to turn a blind eye or tease.

With a naturally strong moral high-ground, Albrecht adheres to and upholds a universally recognised standard of justice and goodness, judging those reasonably through their presentation. Although, he takes into consideration layers of the soul people tend to hide from others. He tends to grow closer to people with a good heart whilst keeping distance from those with arrogance and selfishness.

Albrecht is a persistent learner with a strong sense of curiosity in both people and the world around him. In his spare time Albrecht likes to read literature, expanding his knowledge of all sorts of topics important or not. He trusts his ability to carry out tasks but doesn't shy away from a helping hand from others, even though it would be his last option. Albrecht has a strong sense of independence, some may consider him a loner, sweeping in to give assistance but preferring to spend his free time alone.

Crush:TBA

What team:TBA

Weapon & Combat Attire:

Pacem In Terris (meaning "Peace on Earth"), is both the shield and sword welded together. The shield being called Terra ("Earth"), is of remarkable size. To most, Terra is considerably heavy but Albrecht can maneuver her as if feather-weight. Terra has the ability to expand two thirds of her original size, allowing him to shield himself as well as allies. In order to preform with such manner, Albrecht uses all of his might to slam the bottom quarter of Terra into the ground, acting as extra support from on-coming attacks. Depending on what dust is used, Terra can preform different offensive attacks from the mouth. Meanwhile, attacks from the shield drain Albrecht's aura quite rapidly, powerful moves open the eyelets of the shield as if awoken (Albrecht has no control over this). However, when the eyelets are open they can induce Albrecht with a large aura boost, absorbing all remaining dust to do so, losing the ability to preform attacks.

The sword called Pacem (meaning "Peace"), is a substantial two handed sword. However Albrecht can carry Pacem with ease single-handedly, yet Pacem is a slow weapon to use against agile foes. When facing such foes, Albrecht tends to use both hands to gain speed on swings. Although, this leaves Albrecht partly vulnerable without wielding Terra. On top the guard beholds a ribbed design, effective for catching blades as they collide with the guard. Two inlets a quarter below the tip are useful for preventing Pacem from obtruding too far into flesh, mainly in terms of large Grimm, acting as a kind of spearhead, disallowing flesh to be pushed past the wider portion of the blade.

Semblance: Albrecht can triple his aura in size for around five minutes, appearing as a bright white light masking his entire body. His strength and speed are doubled as a result, along with an optional large scale shield attack. Albrecht only performs this with absolute certainty of being the last result, stretching his aura to such an extent leaves him in a serious come-down, resulting in definite loss of consciousness and if done with a large scale shield attack, can kill him.

History: There once was a rural estate surrounded by many miles of lush green meadows, birds chirped in a melody from early morning to dusk. There were many servants at the estate, cooks prepared appetising meals in the kitchen, maids tended to the household and the many rooms within the manor, gardeners planted delicate flowers and trimmed the garden hedges. Every servant was well treated and paid handsomely for their duties, holding the utmost pleasure towards working for such a benevolent employer. At the estate lived a small family consisting of a father, mother and son. The estate had been passed down from generation to generation, in addition to the family company that produces farming equipment and machinery.

The family spend many day's and night's filled with joy and laughter, content with life and one another's loving embrace. The Father mostly resided at home due to having employee's running the business whilst he could live a labourless life with the ones he held dearest, though he was not a work-shy individual, he would accompany his servants through tasks around the estate and manor, gaining much respect from those who worked for him.

When the boy was old enough, his Father would take him horse riding around the estate until they could gallop side by side, teaching him many other commodities such as fencing, fishing and a general skill set to becoming an independent young man. The boy's mother would call them both in for dinner as if they were the same age, watching them both from time to time with a graceful smile as their bond seemed unbreakable, but little did they know that true happiness can be broken, sometimes into a thousand scattered pieces.

The management grew bitter towards their boss, envious of his life and all that he owned, bickering to one another about how they had to carry the weight of the company whilst he lived a somewhat fairy tale. The management collectively decided to snake their way behind his back, knowing full well their boss was unaware of the ins and outs of the company unless informed otherwise. They decided to seal a deal with a shady organisation offering a lump sum in return for a substantial amount of dust, believing they'd create a handsome profit to pocket, in return putting back the amount of the lump sum. Although, once the first deal came through successfully and the profits were made, the management became greedy, craving enough to purchase a manor of their own and more. The second deal was soon organised, however all did not go to plan. A few members of management were held hostage and forced to give information on the source of their money. It didn't take long until one of them fessed to the whereabouts of the estate.

A group of henchmen came in the night, they dragged everyone out of their beds and into the courtyard huddled together in terror. They'd brung a few servants with them to find their way to the master bedroom, killing those who didn't show them correctly. The Father was already on the other side of the door as they swung it open, a sharp fencing sword in his hand, his wife behind him on the bed screaming as he was shot down faster than he could swing. Meanwhile a servant that had hid from the henchmen found his way into the boy's bedroom. They both hid until the henchmen were gone, the boy holding back his weeping and the servant trying their best to keep him silent. The minutes seemed like hours, screams and gunfire turned into complete silence. The last noises heard from the engines distancing away from the manor until mute.

Crawling out from their hiding spot, what was witnessed next was nothing less than true horror. Broken glass and debris blanketed the floor, furniture toppled over during the chaos or as if they were searching for something. There wasn't a single room without a corpse and worse of all, the corpse of the boy's Father was found laying lifeless, the boy's Mother nowhere to be seen, later presumed taken by the henchmen for an unknown reason. The boy squirmed over his Father's body, his heart feeling as if it were burning inside his chest, his first taste of true bitterness. Only yesterday was his life filled with a sweet sense of happiness and content, now all that remain is too little to describe.

A few years later the same boy had grown past that eventful day that led him wanting to become a huntsman. Becoming the next in line over ownership of the company, he decided to sell it off in order to fund his efforts towards becoming the best huntsman he can possibly be. Spending on some of the best mentors money can buy as well as payment for his equipment and armour. All of his time and money were well spent as soon he will be enrolling to Vale Academy to fulfil his quest to becoming a huntsmen.

If Faunus what type:N/A

[User]
From the moment she had gotten onto the airship to the beginning of the holographic message, Zana had been a blur followed by absurdly long ribbons. This was her first time riding an airship, so she wanted to see anything and everything she could before it landed and her chance was over. As the ship lifted off, her attention focused on the windows. Zana gazed with wonder at the land pulling away from her as she flew toward the sky.

Once they'd reached the clouds, Zana's head filled with thoughts of eating the clouds. They look so soft, she thought. I wonder if they taste like cotton candy. Unfortunately for her, it didn't seem like she would be finding out on this trip, as a hologram of Glenda Goodwitch shimmered to life nearby, drawing her attention back inside the ship.

She looked on as Glenda gave the welcome speech, hanging on her every word. Zana's excitement, which she had thought to be at its peak, rose to a fever pitch as Glenda rattled off the history of Beacon Academy. However, all that drained away as the end of Glenda's speech came up:

"As we arrive to the doors of Beacon, it is expected of you all to act with the dignity required to attend this school. No horse play on the airship, no sparring, no absurd roughhousing, and no bothering the staff during their work."

Zana's face fell. Her look of attentive excitement was replaced by a deep pout. How would she get to know her friends if she couldn't fight them? The fastest way to get to know someone, as far as Zana was concerned, was to try to kill them, so sparring was far better than wandering around and having idle conversations.

No, this can't stand.

Her eyes surveyed the crowd of students, looking for someone, anyone, who looked interesting. Her attention settled upon a boy with white hair gazing out the window at the passing clouds. She made her way over to him in a flash, weaving through the crowd like she'd lived in one her whole life.

Zana's left arm swept upward in one fluid motion, sending the ribbon forward to tap on the boy's shoulder while leaving her hand free to point a fist at him. Her right hand reached down to finger the handle of her holstered weapon, itching to draw it. "Heyo, stiffy! Ya look 'bout as bored as I'm gonna be in five minutes. Wanna break the boredom with a fight?"

[Assistant]
Snow managed to duck away from the crowd of people as they all seemed to want to examine the strange tail. Since no-one was watching him anyomre he slipped away and left the main landing, making his way further into the ship. When he was out of the crowd he slowly started to feel a lot better and calmer, relaxing his tail behind it allowing it to wave about while resting his quarter staff on his shoulder as he walked down the passageway. He passed one or two people as he walked down heading, finally he stopped in an empty space. He could see someone by the stairs looking further down the hallway before turning his gaze out of the window watching as the clouds and birds went past in the open skies.

He was sure the group of people wouldn't even notice if he had gone or not, being he was small for his age after all. He found it almost funny that his staff was almost as long as he was. Turning his attantion to his quarterstaff he pulled out a cloth from his pocket and started to wipe down the wood being careful not to trigger the switch that would turn his staff into a sword.

[User]
Albretch Dwight
As Albretch kept watch on the tranquil sky, he began to transfix into daydream.

---

Two solid oak manor doors swung open leisurely. A maid either side from behind them, grinning with delight as if welcomed home from a long journey. Through the open way, a large room that fitted a staircase, butlers and maids tended to their separate tasks. Some carried silver serving dishes or cleaning equipment, though all seemed to be finding their separate ways.

"May I take your coat, Master Dwight?" A maid proposed, in a distinctive British accent.

Albretch looked on in awe as he was transported into a most distinct memory, slipping one arm out at a time before handing his coat to the maid. He gazed over the inside of the manor, inspecting it for flaws, yet it seemed his memory was not splintered. Albretch focused over to the stairway. Recalling moments of his childhood to which he'd slide down the bannister, even though his Mother and Father would scold him for doing so.

"Is there anything I can fetch for you Master Dwight?" The maid suggested in a courteous tone.

"Thankyou, though that is not necessary." Albretch responded, still bewildered by the sights around him.

The maid presented a cheerful smile, nodding her head whilst doing so, one hand on top of the other resting against her stomach.

"Yes Master Dwight. Your Father is waiting for you in the study room." The maid informed before heading off.

Father?

Albretch made his way toward the study room in a lengthy manner, taking in the vivid paintings and decor. He pushed his palm against the door and peered through the small opening.

"Albretch? Is that you Albretch?" His Father called in a modulated tone.

Albretch continued to push the door until he saw his Father seated in his armchair near an open fire, a newspaper unfolded in his lap.

"Albretch, where have you been all this time? Mother has been worried sick." His father questioned with a mellow voice, looking over to Albretch, a warm smile against his lips.

"Oh! Father!" Albretch responded, holding back his tears.

He ran across the space of the study and onto his Father's lap, his arms hooked around the back of his neck. Albretch dug his face into his Father's shoulder, sobbing lightly so to go unnoticed.

"Why Albretch! What has gotten into you my boy!" Father chuckled.

"I've been gone for far too long Father, far too long" Albretch replied, feeling a tear roll down the side of his nose and down his chin.

---

Albretch began to slowly fade from his daydream after feeling gentle contact on his shoulder, reacquainting himself to his surroundings and the open sky in front. A single tear rolled down from his eye, across his cheek, and dissipated onto the floor. He could have effortlessly considered not turning around. However, if someone was trying to get his attention, it would be rather rude of him to ignore. He wiped himself with his right sleeve before turning around, noticing a girl standing among him. Albretch wasn't attentive to what the girl had said, nor that she had her hand at the holster.

"What is it?" Albretch spoke in a less than assertive tone.


[System]
Age: 23

Race: Human (transcendent)

Appearance

Personality: Light-hearted and kind, brave and couragious. When Bidzil sets his mind to doing something there is normally no stopping him. He can't turn a blind eye to what he sees as wrong and ends up getting involved in problems that are sometimes better left alone. For the ones that he cares for, he will fight until his dying breathe. Loves a good joke or pun. He also like to explore and doesn't mind a good fight.

Bio:
 Bidzil is a young transcendent human that was found in Trantis. Bidzil only had one wing however, and this was the first time in history it has happened, the people of Trantis saw Bidzil as a bad luck charm. He was an orphan found left outside the guardhouse, no note or anything to tie him to any lineage. He was taught from old texts how to hide his wing, but being a transcendent, everyone still knew. Many other towns heard the news of a transcendent youth coming to Trantis and wanted to know more, but the town hid him in fear of the other towns reactions. When Bidzil got older, he would run around town and swim through the waters of trantis on his own, causing mischeif. He never hurt anyone, but could be seen as a bother sometimes. Bidzil got to know one of the guards, Millan, in town well enough to where he looked up to him like a father figure. Millan would tell him stories of grand adventures, especially one about a beautiful wish granting oracle, that he swore up and down was a true story. The man inspired Bidzil, even to the point of trying to become a guard himself as he got older. Although he was denied for not wanting to risk the death of a transcendent for whatever superstitious curse that may bring, the guard did teach him how to use various weapons. Bidzil took to the blade quite naturally, and became a competent sparring partner with the guards in town. Bidzil had started working odd jobs around town as well, trying to earn enough money for his own place. While successful, it amounted to a tiny hut on the shoreline, which Bidzil was more than happy with. On his birthday, The guard said the he had purchased a gift for Bidzil, but it got stalled in Salna. If he wanted, he could run and get it, and he should be able to make it back by the time his shift was over.

 Bidzil eagerly went to Salna, about an hour or two's walk. He couldn't fly of coarse to only having one wing, or else he would have tried that. He picked up a package, not knowing what was inside the thin, long crate, and headed for home. The sky hard started turning darker, quite rapidly for it to be normal. Bidzil wasn't sure, but there was a dreadful feeling in the air as he picked up his pace. He ran full throttle to return home, only to arrive to a vast crater in the earth, the dirt black as night. The great lake that He had swam in for his whole life was completely empty, and the shattered remains of Trantis littered the lake bottom. There was not a soul in sight, no blood, but clothes blowing by in the wind, left behind by their owners. Bidzil ran to check the guard station on the coast. he kicked open the door to find just piles of gear and weapons where men once stood. And in the chair Millan would normally sit and used to tell him stories, was his usual red guard's cloak, the sword fallen on the ground still in it's sheath.

 Bidzil could not take in what had happened, it made no sense, it was too much too fast. After mourning the loss of everything he ever knew, he took with him Millan's cloak and his sword. When he left the guard station he decided to open the gift Millan got for his birthday. In it, was another sword, similar to the guard's blade, yet customized to Bidzil's liking. Bidzil equipped both, creating a way to carry both sheathes for the blades, and headed back to Salna, to report the news. Salna, however, already had a messenger visit them it seemed. There was a crowd of people gathered around a wall wailing in anguish and fear. Ten dead guards laid in a pile, and on the wall, written in their blood, read this. "A new king rises. The Grandis Empire has returned"

 The people of Salna already knew of the fate of Trantis. The messenger that had come to them told them as much, and warned them coming coming of a new king, to prepare to submit or be crushed like Trantis was. This enraged the guards in the area who then attacked the stranger only to be slaughtered. Once the messenger finished his sick message, he left. Bidzil stayed in Salna for a few days as a refuge, earning some money from some work, but the happy air of the city was completely dead, having lost their sister city and a portion of theirguardl guard. Bidzil ended up recalling the tale Millan used to tell him about the wish granting Oracle, and tried to find any information on it that he could. The librarian in the town shook their head at the request, but he still led him to some books on it. From what Bidzil was able to gather from the vague texts, there was something called the 'Vanishing Kingdom' that the oracle resided in, and it could only be summoned by first gathering the treasures of all the great nations and placing them on an alter. The Vanishing Kingdom will then visit Hitala, and will be stay for a week before leaving. The Oracle can grant any wish or give any knowledge to the ones who seek it, but all requests come at a price. From Salna, Bidzil traveled to Kalla village, where he thought would be a good place to start as any.

Equipment: Millan's Guard Blade, Custom Trantis Blade

Abilities: Swordsmanship, Wing reveal/hide (though no flight), Transcendent energy attacks (when wing is revealed)

Extra notes:
 While well trained in swordsmanship and used to sparring with his towns guard, he has never had to actually take the life of someone before leaving for Kalla. Often when settling disputes, he strikes an opponent with the heavy sheathes like the Trantis guards are trained to do. The are able to do this by their weapons dual sheaths. One outer sheath that hold's the sword and sheath inside, and then the true sheath. The swords have a type of latch to keep them connected to their true sheaths, which are also made of a light metal material. The guards and Bidzil are trained to use the sheathed sword as effectively as a regular sword, thus once unsheathed, their skills with the blade become much faster. A blade with it's true sheath can still be lethal if used right.

[User]
Allanon's brow twitched with irritation when attention was put more on the massive warrior and the book than the mission they all came out here for. The mission mattered more to him than this bit of drama. Then he heard Anrak state about his lack of sleep and his irritation grew. As powerful as he was to tear off a piece of flesh from the wyrm any lack of self care could jeopardize any warrior's safety. Any deviation in reaction time could result in death.

Allanon stepped between Anrak and the other two briefly facing Anrak. "I do hope that lack of sleep doesn't become a liability in this mission. As powerful as you appear to be you have limits. Perhaps, it would be best for you to have stayed back at the inn." He turned to Eduard and Kistal. "This man volunteered to risk his life to find and raid a Calabris' operation and help rescue complete strangers. Regardless of how he came across that bible he has chosen to do an honorable thing. He certainly deserves better than to be threatened with a blade. Red Saints have done much to bring light into this world do not tarnish their good name by threatening to draw blood."

If Anrak had indeed stolen the book justice could be served, however, it did not need to be served by payment with blood. That was not what Marissa would have wanted.

[Assistant]
Eduard considered his options. On one hand, the beastman appeared to be telling the truth. Though, he did his best to intimidate Eduard, though the doctor barely flinched. He'd seen a lot in 30 years, seeing a half-beastman with dozens of scars wasn't going to be enough to force him to stand down. But, Allanon had a point. It was pointless to argue about this now. Either way, he was here and if he could be used to clear the camp, the more the better.

Sheathing his sword, Eduard turned toward the cave.
"You're right. We should focus on the mission."

He wouldn't admit it, but he was tired himself. In fact, he hadn't eaten anything. Should have stopped by the nearby tavern before leaving…

[User]
Hilde ended up staying with Chihiro, The chief looked around first, making sure no threats were close and then nodded before finishing taking the skiff over to the cave without them. To say that the sudden accusations against Anrak made Hilde a little on edge was an understatement, however, the man's actions so far were quite peculiar for someone who would just be a bandit. She watched the exchange between the men while standing next to Chihiro, awkwardly staying out of the quarrel, but still too surprised enough at it to leave. She seemed a bit let down when hearing the truth com out about Anrak. She thought it was was her first time seeing a firepriest, but it turned out to be a fake instead. When the arguing was subdued by Allanon, she carefully walked up to Andrak, looking at him with a sigh of frustration. However, she pulled a fine bladed knife out from her kit and with a flick of the wrist it stabbed into the ground close to Anrak. "Here... take this. It should be easier than.... whatever it is you are doing...," she said flatly with a slightly disgusted look in reference to him biting the meat off of the hide. She then nodded towards him and started to walk back to Chihiro visibly frustrated and not making much eye contact with the others besides her friend.

 Bidzil instinctively grabbed his sheathe when this doctor person drew his sword, however it seemed like the others were already on top of it. Unlike the fight with the wyrm, he would actually be of some use in a fight between people, though, who to side with in this situation would be hard to say. He'd like to say he would side with the large man, however, the man could be lying through his teeth, even if his actions so far didn't quite support it. When Allanon voiced his opinion, he nodded in agreement. "Whatever he is, He has done nothing but help us so far. I'm sure there are enough people here that if he did try anything harmful, it wouldn't be good. Besides, similar to what you said, I don't think thieves make it a habit to volunteer to posibly sacrifice themselves while trying to free enslaved. Unless they are dumb I guess...," Bidzil said with a wide grin forming. "As for what you said earlier, Allanon I believe?" he asked making sure the name was right, "For my skills I'd say I'm at least competent with my weapons. If you want to spar for practice before tomorrow I'd be glad to," he finished with an excited gleam in his eye.

 The night was filled with the sound of struggles through the street, and although the people of kalla were much stronger and organized than the varuk bandits that roamed the sands, they weren't used to such large scale attacks, especially not ones that seemed to occasionally be armed with magic. There was one mage in particular that rushed to where Allard was fighting, smaller than a varuk, about the size of an average human. When Allard turned to charge him, the man stood his ground as he charged a spell, a circle glowing around him as he yelled an incantation and held up a staff that shone brightly. Allard tried to cut him off before he could finish but it was too late. Large heavy chains like those used on an anchor burst front he ground and wrapped themselves around Allard, keeping him from moving. With another quick incantation, a spear burst through the ground as well, going through Allard's chest. The behemoth roared out in pain as the attack stuck home. His axe dropped heavily to the ground and he started to cough up blood.

 The mysterious man took a few steps to the large man to examine his work. "What is strength's worth when it comes to magic?" he chuckled, gloating over his victory. However, he was off-put by a low grumbling laugh. He looked up to see a very sinister face staring at him from under the chains. Allard's voice growled out, "Allow me to answer your question with a demonstration." Allard then, along with the weight he was holding up in chains, slid down the spear a little as he headbutt the other man's skull, caving it in on contact. The chains and the spear dispersed as the mage died instantly, but Allard fell to the ground as well. His hand started blindly searching for his axe, and once he felt it, he grasped it and hauled himself up. "Where..... where is my daughter..... you....sons of bitches...," he cursed between ragged breathes as he picked up the mage's dead body by the collar, only to just now notice the man was dead and tossing him to the side.

 Allard looked over to his inn where he saw the two foreigners from last night. "So....you came....," he mumbled as he tried to take a step towards them, however, the injures sustained so far barred his ability to move effectively. He stumbled forward. On closer inspection, Allard had many, many lethal looking injuries, but the man was still breathing. Of the corpses that littered the place, it seemed that there were a number of mages in the mix. How any lone man could fight a multitude of magic users without any magic himself would normally be described as a miracle, yet there must have been more than twenty mages in the square alone done in by his axe. If one were to investigate them in particular, they didn't look anything like the standard Killiman Desert native either. Whoever was raiding the village had outside help.


[System]
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Godly parent: Prometheus
Brief description of godly parent: Prometheus is Humanity's protector from the capriciousness of the Gods. At the dawn of the Human race Prometheus deceived Zeus into accepting sacrifices of the inedible, unwanted parts of the meat, and when Zeus attempted to take revenge by stealing light and warmth from Humanity Prometheus stole the Divine Flame from Olympus and gifted it to Humanity, along with the knowledge needed to use it to raise themselves from the muck and filth of their existence into something greater.

For that act Prometheus was punished, chained to a rock, and every day for millennia an eagle would rip through his belly and devour his liver, only for his wounds to heal in time for the eagle's return. This would come to an end during the Labors of Heracles, the great hero rescuing Humanity's shackled guardian. Since that time little has been heard of Prometheus, though rumor says he walks among Humanity still, seeking a way to overthrow the reign of Gods and truly free Humanity.
Appearance:
Skills/Powers/Weapons: Victoria lacks any supernatural abilities, the only truly abnormal thing about her being her unusually quick grasp of skills, technology, and scientific concepts. She is, however, highly physically fit and very skilled with firearms and in hand to hand combat. She makes most common use of weighted knuckle gloves, a Nepalese Kukri, a highly modified Colt M1911 sidearm, and a Mosin-Nagant M/28-30.
Strengths/Weaknesses: Victoria is a highly-trained, fit, and well-equipped soldier, the equal of any mortal commando.
Victoria has a personal vendetta against all Gods with the exception of her father and Heracles, something she doesn't make any effort to hide. She has made it clear that her heart's desire is to see a world where Gods are a thing of the past, their power over Humanity forever broken. It doesn't make her terribly popular in a lot of circles. Her place in the refuge is more due to her hating Zeus more than any other God, plus the already meager power most of the Refuge Gods have over Humanity deflects her ire. That said, she still has a habit of proseltyzing to other Demigods that their parents are tyrants by their very nature.

[User] "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.

[Assistant] "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."

[User] 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.

[Assistant]
"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.

[User] "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."

[Assistant] "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.

[User] "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!"

[Assistant] "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.

[User]
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

[Assistant]
"...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."

[User]
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."

[Assistant] 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.

[User] "I may not agree with Ephraim's methods, but these kids do need to learn how to handle weapons. We've got kids here whose powers are limited to being able to breathe underwater and talk to birds." She grabbed her duffel and set it on a table, reaching inside to pull out a box of rounds to slide into her stripper clips. "And if you want to make a point, make it with words. We've all got enough problems without trying to kill each other." Tempting as it sounded at times, she thought to herself. "Hell's bells, we have the kings of three Pantheons coming to slaughter us. If you want to argue, maybe argue about ways to make it less likely we all die."

[Assistant]
Unnoticed by everyone, Rayon's attention was fully on the group as they argued. His eyes were transfixed on their weaponry, their abilities, and he began wondering if any of them could teach him. They all looked so cool! He wondered if he looked as cool while he was flying, or maybe when he shot out his laser beams. In any case . . .

"Hey, hey guys can you teach me how to use a bow! or a gun! or that ice thing!" he suddenly shouted excitedly. "Those weapons looks awesome! I wonder if I can get my own?"

While he was shouting and waving his arms expectantly in between Ephraim and Victoria, he'd forgotten one thing: currently, he was invisible. Among all his divine abilities, invisibility was the one power that kept acting up. Unless he was using another power, he would suddenly and randomly turn invisible, sometimes it even happened while he slept, resulting in people jumping on him sometimes. Invisibility was both the blessing and curse of Medjed, the most obscure of the Egyptian gods; unlike Rayon, however, Medjed knew how to use that obscurity to his advantage. Rayon couldn't do much but whine about it.

Of course, in his excitement, he had no idea he was invisible right now, so the most anyone could tell he was there was a disembodied voice right in front of Victoria.

[User]
Riley
 Shaking his head slowly, he snapped his fingers and the cold air dropped like a weight, a layer of ice forming on the ground then quickly dissipating. The lack of trust in the camper's abilities hurt him, on a personal level. Had his trainer held the same view that these two had, his only skill would be wielding a knife and having cold skin. He would have died several times over had it not been for his extensive practice and exercise of his magic. What they failed to understand is that magic was like a muscle, and the more you used it the stronger it became. He wasn't born with the ability to freeze lakes and drop the temperature up to a mile away, he had worked for it, hard.
"If we follow either of you, we will be lead into nothing but weakness and defeat. There is a reason our ancestors were worshiped, and it wasn't because they used weapons of men."

 Hearing the disembodied voice he automatically moved into his fight stance, a spike of ice forming in each hand, preparing to strike at whatever needed. With a flick of his wrist, a cloud of sub-zero air burst out from around him, creating a dense fog that revealed the shape of Rayon's invisible body.
"State your intentions or face execution!"
 He demanded in an authoritative, but collected tone.

[Assistant] "You're right, Thor used no hammer, Susanoo didn't have a sword, and no war god ever touched a weapon of man. Truly it is purely for their use of magic that all gods were worshiped. No god was ever worshiped for martial or tactical prowess." He responded with a slight grin to Riley. Chuckling afterwards at the argument that had been indirectly put forth. After he laughed he fired off a quick burst from the G36, the rounds grouping slightly off of center as he then used that to readjust his sights.

[User] "Would you stop trying to be intimidating, kid? You look like you're going to run home crying and post on tumblr about how we were all mean to you. Put the damn ice away, you melodramatic skidmark, it's Invisible Kid."


[System] Qualities: Serpent Men have hard scales, are far more durable than normal Humans, and have extra physical strength. They are just as smart as Humans but have harder scales and don't have venomous jaws. These live to one hundred and twenty to one hundred and twenty five on average, but the oldest who ever lived can be up to two hundred and a little over if they keep care of themselves.

[User]
Astarte and Roxan
- Lizzy is now called Tesvec, and has fully submitted to Astarte.
- Roxan asks Astarte for a Dragon of her own.
- Astarte offers her one of Tesvec's eggs and asks for something in exchange.
- Roxan tells Astarte she'll think about the deal, and Astarte tells her to meet at the same spot at midnight.

"Now that's a good lizard!" She cooed in delight as the Dragon landed on the clearing in front of her. She had sent him on a flying trip and he hadn't even thought of escaping. They were definitely making progress.

"See, now I believe you've earned the right to a name, Lizzy. A proper name, worthy of you. Your new name shall be..." Astarte mused, putting a finger up to her lips. A second later, she smiled. "Tesvec."

Then the rustling of leaves caught her attention. She perked up and turned around, motioning Tesvec to stay still.

"I know you're there." She said with a raised eyebrow.

Roxan emerged from a tree banch, grinning. "Hello," she said, bowing at the waist, her fist over her heart. "You're one of the few I can't ever sneak up on, Goddess." She jumped down, gliding to land a respectful few feet in front of her.

"I suppose you already know why I'm here, yeah?" she asked, raising her own eyebrow.

"Yes-" Astarte said, tilting her head curiously, "though I'd like to hear you say it yourself, Roxan." She relaxed and chuckled.

"Alright, if you insist." she gave another bow before straightening. "I'd like to raise a dragon, and bond with it, like a sort of familiar, if that's even possible." She knew what she was asking would be a bit much to ask, but she'd do whatever the goddess wanted in return.

Astarte smiled at the courtesy, then shrugged at her petition. "It can be done, surely. I'd offer Tesvec here to you, but you mentioned you want to raise the dragon yourself." She tapped her chin and looked at Tesvec.

"Tell me, Tes, do you happen to have a couple eggs laying around?"

"I, uh... I-" He was cut off by Astarte.

"I know you have two. Last you saw them was a month ago, in your nest." She said and turned to Roxan, "There you have it, you could take one or all-"

"M-Mistress!"

"Okay, just one. What will you give me in exchange for the dragon egg?" Astarte asked and walked over to Roxan until she was a mere foot away from her. She's lucky I had toned down my aura for Tes, or she would be going mad right about now, she thought.

"Hint: I like interesting accesories." Astarte whispered as she pointed at her crown, the soul gem flashing a bright white for a split second.

Roxan grinned. "Indeed you do, goddess," she agreed. She thought, turning this over in her mind. Gods could be more trouble than they were worth, she knew this firsthand. But she'd always wanted a dragon.

"Tell you what, goddess," she said after awhile. "Let me think on this, and I'll come to you with my answer in a few hours." She would come later, when the goddess was not around, and approach Tes about it. She hated it when creatures like him held a grudge against her. In fact, she just hated grudges at all.

"Oh, well. Don't keep me waiting for too long or I might just decide to feed the eggs to Undasis' Gigantic Sharks." She grinned. "I'm joking, of course. Sharks don't eat eggs." And with that, Astarte looked at Tes and winked. He knew what that meant, and so he sat on the ground. He'd be allowed to move once Astarte returned.

"I'll be back at midnight. Be careful with the nightmares roaming the forest, though I'm not sure if those things still exist." Astarte said and waved goodbye at Roxan, and then she disappeared in a whirlwind of dirt and leaves.

[Assistant]
Ialu, Avarice Incarnate
9 might

The body of Cassios had not been amongst the fallen, nor had he been seen after the middle of the battle. Was that one, steadfast as stone in his loyalty, yet another enemy? The thought was infuriating. "Thulemiz escaped my wrath. His Victors stole from me hundreds of soldiers. This is your fault...YOUR CURSE STOPPED ME FROM CLEAVING THEM ALL ASUNDER!" Ialu uttered low to his breath. He was facing a figurine that bore the likeness of Ferghus, looming over a small anvil.

Ialu hardly was human anymore; he had no desire for food or drink, heat or warmth. His form appeared twisted and demonic, as tall as any man and then half again. A brawny hand with calluses as tough as iron bands reached out to grasp the figurine's head, and with a small squeeze, he crushed the head of the little metal statuette. As the metal crumpled in his grasp sharp points dug into his hands, but they could do him no harm. He was invincible! He was God-King!'

Suddenly Ialu went into a tunnel vision, and then all that he saw faded away into blackness. A moment later, he found himself on top of a mountain's peak. Everything about the mountain and the dreary sky around were black and white. Of course, that was except for the golden figure that stood at the very top of the peak, a few mere feet away. His strange dreams were back again. It had been a long time since he had last been plagued in his sleep, actually, a long time since he had slept at all...

He recalled the last time when he was unable to so much as even look at the golden figure that loomed before him, and before that when its sheer light had been enough to blow him off the mountain. Now, he could weather the light and perceive what was before him, though he was still unable to look directly at the figure. His gaze drifted downwards. There were steps carved into the rocky peak, leading up to the figure. Try as he might to bound up ten or fifteen steps at once with his great leaps, the demigod found himself forced to trudge up one by one.

As he came closer, the shining light above spoke to him, "Put aside your petty feud with the Forge God. Obey the Sight and your own ambitions. Harken not to the every whim of the 'Mighty One', for you know that I am your only true master."

Enraged, Ialu roared out, "Who are you to command me, nameless one?"

There was a horrendous shaking. The entire mountain moved and the air throbbed as something emanated from within the shining being. It was laughter. Seemingly bemused, it replied, "And how might you defy Me when you cannot even match my Gaze?"

After a short pause it at last revealed itself, "I am Ambition, Pride, Greed. I am your Future, of course.

The blinding light of the figure vanished and Ialu found himself awake and in the real world once more, back as quickly as he had left. His burning gaze was still directed at the ruined idol to Ferghus, but heeding his dream, he put the thing back down and used him magic to quickly repair it. It was then that the smith entered his hut, surprised to see the God-King there.

The loyal smith fell to a knee in reverence, the scraps of metal he had salvaged from the battle being allowed to clatter to the floor as he released his grip upon the things. Before the smith could speak, Ialu did. "I have come looking for you. Littered on the Battlefield, was there a great suit of armor too big for any man, empty inside?

The smith stammered for a moment before managing to ask, "God-King, do you speak of Rejys, the Arma Igna that fought with the enemy?"

Ialu nodded. That was the very one that he had wondered about. He hadn't seen the Arma Igna anywhere on the battlefield, though he was sure that the thing would have been there.

The smith answered, "No, he was not amongst the fallen. Though afterwards there was a Garakain soldier who claimed to have seen the Arma Igna locked in battle with the one called 'Cassios'. Mighty One permitting, our great warrior still lives after that duel for the ages." The smith quivered in fear at the mention of Cassios, or perhaps simply at the continued presence of Ialu.

The demigod answered, "Troubling. The Mighty One indeed did seem to favor Cassios. Return to work, O loyal one. As we melt down the armor of our slain foes and reforge it into our own, we grow ever stronger. The Mighty One no doubt looks fondly upon your work.

The compliment clearly meaning much to that one true follower of Ialu, the demigod turned and left. It rang hollow with Ialu, however, as his faith not what it once was. Though he hadn't realized it until his dream, he had already begun to care more and more for his self, and less for the Mighty One... There was a time when he would not have dared to cal himself God-King and demand worship alongside the Mighty One, but even now he felt the prayers empowering him. It was too late to turn back.

He returned to the Strong Tribe's village, marching through the gates and up the hill to his Mighty Cottage. He called for his closest men and the chieftains of all the tribes beneath him. He would once again returned north to Garakai, though this time to fight the brother of his first foe; however, he had several matters to attend to before he left. It was no matter; a demigod had all the time in the world, and with every passing day he grew stronger. He would allow Aztoc to break for perhaps another week, growing content and bold. Then Ialu would be upon him like Death itself, his rage unstoppable.

-Big deal with more of his strange dreams.
-Ialu finally put aside his disdain for Ferghus. He's still not a fan of the guy, though.
-He has some stuff with his lands and people that need his attention, and after he's handled that he's going to go back to Garakai to face Aztoc.
-His previously implacable faith in the Mighty One is seemingly waning.

[User]
Vestus and Sauranath eating Cupcakes

Although very confused with the Dragon Lord Kanros took the thing that Sauranath had summoned and took a bite of it and chewed on it and let himself divulge in its taste it tasted sweet and delicious it reminded him of a time when he was much younger than he was at the moment.

Kanros loved this food that Sauranath had taught him of and he would ask often for it because it tasted like the sweetest fruit in the world, he realized as he had been so entranced that Sauranath had taken on a more Humanoid form but Kanros did not mention about the change as he started to speak.

"I thank you my Lord for giving me this gift but is this truly what I get from the endeavour that I just faced!"

Kanros asked as he took another bite of the food.

"I do thank you deeply for this great pleasantry that you have let me know of!"

Kanros nodded with a smile and wiped the delectable remnants of the food of his face and he threw the crumbs into his mouth and ate the last portion of his food while he waited for Sauranath's reply.

[Assistant]
"Here is a boon, you can have the choice between a great weapon, a great power bestowed on you, or I can grant you higher status in your bloodline. It would be your choice, as I am an avatar, and I"m not sure how good either of those would be for you. Maybe you could enlighten me as you make your decision? I can make you a weapon of your choice, like I said, and grant an enchantment you would find pleasant. The power bestowed on you would grant you a higher charismatic drive towards your adherents (Worshipers in most cases), and lastly the higher status is just instantly boosted power. I might, on reflection, choose the charismatic drive to gather more power in the long term. It's a lot less effort on your part, and I truly appreciate the demonstration of your awesome battle skills. Only Ialu could match that strength, precision, speed and reflexes."

He breathed deeply and exhaled normal air, although very forcefully, almost enough to knock a great hero off his feet and send him sprawling or even air born for a dozen yards. This man named Vestus was one of the most interesting mighty doers in the world. "So, Vestus, I can see that your strength is so much better than any other, you could make an Empire that spans the entire Western world. (Eh, stay out of Orabakh, please). Would it be advantageous for you if we stayed in close negotiations? I could occasionally grant support for your Empire, for equitable prices and sometimes for no reason".


[System]
Age: 26

Appearance: Mal has been blessed with an all encompassing charm. His eyes are a deep sea blue that could drown someone that looked too deeply, his hair is thick and as black as a demon's heart. He sports a small ponytail tied up to trail down his neck, effortlessly worn. His jawline is positively distracting and his nose perfectly proportioned, only matched by his lean body of trim muscles. He tends to wear business casual, generally a vest over a white dress shirt and well tailored pants. It's only when he has to appear in public, however. He much prefers his darkly colored mystic's robes. The one quality that he could do without is a brand on his left shoulder he is careful to cover up at all times; four great black marks, like claw marks of black ink, the demon Mephistopheles cursed him with the day they met, long ago.

Concept: Suave Sorcerer

Powers/skills:

Magic: Specifically manipulation of mystic forces, the unbinding of curses, and conjuration. Most spells beyond cantrips require a conduit like a staff.

Devilishly Handsome: Malcador is easy on the eyes, and he'll use it to his advantage.

Lying: He's a swindler and a consummate liar. His voice is smooth and enticing, and that only helps his normal ease at the vice. He had to learn it growing up in and out of the streets and foster care.

History Degree: Graduated from the University of Stanford with a Bachelor's.

Staff: (See Jaelle Codona's sheet)

Things Your Character Wants to Happen (probably wont):

Parents: The rescuing of his parents souls.

Jaelle: The rescuing of Jaelle's spirit.

Things You as a Writer Wants to Happen (Maybe will):

The Book: Finding the Book of Black Malediction. Some say it could bind Mephistopheles and call upon greater demonic powers to control the diabolic.

Tomb: Finding the Tomb of Merlin. Merlin was a hero of his growing up, and he very much wishes to locate and appropriating his trappings and teachings.

Ladies: He likes 'em

Writing Sample? - Excuse me? Please. I am a professional now.

Eleanor Tregellen: What do I think of Ellie? I don't really think of her more than "boss," though I respect her dedication to her responsibilities. Usually people ask her what she thinks of me, and she gives the loveliest anecdotes of my prior activities. Still, I could do without the hard looks once in awhile. I might have my problems, but I work as hard as anyone. Still, she's smart as a whip. Oh, I have to admit Eleanor does have grand taste in women. Emma is a amazing.

Jaelle Codona: Sometimes I cannot imagine my life without her, and other times I wish she was tangible so I could smack her on the back of the head. She reminds me of a few girls I knew at the orphanage, in that capacity. Still, I care about her. She's a very good friend, even if she can be a giant pain in the ass.

Fynn Laplace: A stand-up fellow, a bit boorish sometimes, but he is certainly amusing and a fine friend to have when there's need for either software or hardware. Truth be told, we get along quite well, even if he gives a few snide comments here or there. Keeps me on my toes.

Primrose Chastain: Primrose is bit posh, but I admire her dedication for her attempt at bringing aristocracy to the 21st century. I could never date her, though. A bit too much like me for my tastes. Still, glad to have her on the team.

Alyx Bellamy: She is a delight! We don't always see eye to eye, but I love it when she gives me and anyone else a piece of her mind. It gets my own mind racing and brings me back to reality if I'm distracted by anything unbecoming. It's always fun making her smile, but I admit I try not to read for too lengthy of a time at the office, because I get the feeling a locked door won't keep her away if she needs something, and I feel more guilty avoiding her than I do Eleanor.

[User]
Fynn LaPlace

Hey Eleanor,

Mrs. Primrose and I are on our way to 'Madame Lafitte's' just in case you want to know. Would appreciate if you'd call back because we're worried.

P.S.: You could finally grant me the budget to develop my gun blast recognition software. Like voice recognition, you remember ? Just triggering on shots fired and certain people moaning in agony instead to send automated notifications...

This was so completely unnecessary! People actually having to call others manually in order to inform them of trouble just felt like such an antiquated thing at times. Much less antiquated however was the small drone Fynn started to assemble on his lap while they were driving to the club.

"Nothing like good reconnaissance..." he mumbled as he inserted the battery pack and gave the camera lens a decent cleanup. He could have thrown the thing out the window and used the remote control to guide it all around the traffic jams and red lights to the club directly, but experience dictated that other drivers on the adjacent lane could respond in a rather confused and irritated manner upon flying objects appearing in front fo their wind shield. Also he had somewhat promised Primrose to do some online research as well and couldn't do both at the same time.

With his rather large laptop on his hands, Fynn browsed for the club's own homepage at first. "Seems pretty standard to me, though I can already tell I won't like the music played there. However there's a member login. Maybe they're hiding something behind that ? Could try to find a way in." There also was the darknet, a rather abstract but also vast space Fynn was not unfamiliar with, even though more on the investigative side than anything else. Aside from a bunch of drug dealers stupid enough to openly announce they'd sell their stuff at some dark hours near the club's array of garbage dumps however there was nothing conspicuous to find it seemed.

[Assistant]
One of the strangest things about being a wraith was how real Jaelle still felt. When she touched her skin, it felt as warm and alive as it always had. She moved as she used to, breathed as she used to, and when the destroyer of worlds erupted in the center of a back-water gas station, her stomach dropped just like a living person's might.

Got she hoped Mal had killed them. And not killed himself in the process.

"What was that?" If possible, Debbie Peterson's voice had doubled in pitch, and her face had gone deathly pale. She reached out as if to grip Jaelle's arm, but Jaelle stepped back before the other woman realized she wasn't actually all there. "Were those men terrorists?!"

"I didn't even see the bomb!" Liam Peterson said.

Jaelle held up her hands. "Let's not jump to conclusions. I'll just—"

A spray of gunfire interrupted her, and Jaelle went cold. Mal hadn't killed them. How was that possible? Nothing could have survived that blast. Nothing. Unless someone else was shooting. Had the police come back? Were they firing on Mal cause they didn't understand?

Liam pulled his wife down—the most sensible thing either of them had done recently. Jaelle copied the movement as though there was any chance that a stray bullet might actually hurt her. From the road behind them, the sound of squealing tires pierced the thick, Louisiana air, and Debbie looked more horrified by this than anything that had happened so far. "They're getting away?!"

"We don't know that," Jaelle said. "That might have been back up arriving. I'll go check. You two stay here. You are now important witnesses and your testimony is vital for your country. If you call yourselves patriots, you'll protect that information by laying low."

A bit theatrical, perhaps, but Jaelle had half-learned English through Netflix.

It seemed to work for Liam. He gave her a stalwart nod, and Jaelle had to give it to Eleanor. There was magic in a sharp blouse. Something that made you look like you knew what you were doing.

"Alright. I'll return soon."

As soon as she was out of sight, Jaelle ran, blurring through trees rather than bothering to go around them. She hit the washed-out concrete in half the time it had taken her to get the Petersons away, once again invisible to the mortal eye. The lot was a wreck. Debris lay everywhere, a rainbow of garish advertising beneath shattered glass, cinderblock, and burning insulation. It smelled horrible.

The black car was still there, one of its tires blown out so that it sagged, lopsided onto a steel wheel. A still corpse lay against one of the pumps, its head gone but the rest of the body untouched. It was male and entirely hairless.

Jaelle couldn't bring herself to look into the gas station where she had last seen Mal. Couldn't bring herself to check if his body was still whole or if he had impaled himself on debris from his own explosion.

Compared to that horror, to the return of existing alone while she slowly lost herself to the degradation of mind that awaited a soul without a body, dealing with the corpse was easy. When Jaelle was born, some few hundred years before the current day, people had not been so good at hiding death. They died more often, for one. No more fragile but much worse equipped to deal with the uncertainties of illness and injury. There was not the same availability of chemical preservatives, and families of the Roma cared for the bodies of their deceased.
Jaelle was no stranger to the bodies of the dead.

She crouched down beside it, looking for tattoos or sigils or other identifying marks. There was nothing on his skin that she could make out, but something odd shined from his mangled neck. Silver ichor dripped from wire flashing that seemed to disappear into his spine where nerves ought to have been according to the seventh-grade anatomy home-school course that she'd watched on Youtube. More nodes mixed in the pulverized contents of his skull, a soup of grey matter and machine. Jaelle turned away, reeling. If she could have vomited just then, she would have, but she hadn't eaten in three centuries.

That left only Mal. Hidden in the remains of the gas station. She was going to have to go in there. There was no one else.

The thing that made feeling real so incredibly odd was that nothing else ever did. The flames still licking around the gas station's ruined entrance did not warm her, and the hanging metal beams did not cut or bar her way. Jaelle moved through it all, this endless dreamland of her not-life, looking for the person who had rescued her from the void.

"Mal! I swear to GOD if you're dead, I'm going to find your spirit and kill you!" She wouldn't, really. But still, it was the principle of the thing. "Mal!!!"

[User]
The world as he knew it was no more. Death had taken him, in a manner temporary but vastly worrying. Mal had stepped out of the bounds of the universe and strayed beyond the threads of time. He looked at his hand, so vague and yet distinct all at once. He saw with eyes that were not eyes, heard with ears that were not ears. Had he come here as merely a spirit, perhaps he could survive for a time if he was not plucked by one of the dreadful denizens, but as he came here physically, his body began to waste. It was a race against time, like a drowning man that had just sucked in his first lungful of water. And yet, Mal felt a serene calm that beckoned him. Had he been a normal man without arcane knowledge, he would have simply let it take him.

Luckily he was too clever for that.

Briefly he looked up at the world cavern, letting himself take a precious three seconds to admire the horror of the death realm. Rock of some unknown substance filled the horizon as far as any eye could see or grasp, higher than the sky and beyond scope. Great roots the size of small countries snaked out of the broken cavern top, monumental in range and wholly significant beyond Mal's small existence. Had Mal been able to breathe, his breath would have caught. Oddly, he was aware of some cosmic light that kissed the stone and roots, originating to his right. Somehow he thought of it as north, but he knew directions like that were impossible in Hel.

Turning, he saw the maw of the tunnel feeding into some other chamber. The light ebbed and flowed off the wall as if it were alive. Mal had theories to its origin, but he decided he could study such things later. Gripping his talisman, he closed what eyes he felt he had and concentrated, his spirit stirring within his discarnate breast and gathering itself for a final gambit. The light in the chamber pulsed slowly, and he felt something tremble as if it had awoken. Mal called to Odin, his voice noiseless. He knew the God could hear him, regardless. Grimnir had other plans for him, Malcador knew. He had spoken as much. Seconds passed, and as his soul bucked in its death spasms and the light began to grow brighter, Malcador finally felt the tug of his pendant pulling him.

He was hurtled out of Hel and back into the mortal plane faster than light or information, and yet it felt like an eternity.

Malcador gasped, opening his aching eyes. Vaguely he was aware of pavement under his body, but at the moment he was like a newborn babe. He had forgotten how to breathe, and choked for a few key moments until his entire being returned to his vessel and he felt his nerves and body returning to normal, the flesh arising from its labyrinthine prison of the underworld. It was an experience he couldn't describe to anyone, and he hadn't exactly planned for it to happen. He gave a word that succinctly defined his current thoughts of returning to real-space.

"Fuck."

Clutching his chest, he blinked and struggled to push himself from a prone position. Distantly, he heard his name being called by a familiar voice. Jaelle, yes. He remembered Jaelle, but what led him here?

Oh, the spell, and the men irritatingly immune to his magics. That wasn't possible, but somehow they had been. Malcador lifted himself up unsteadily and called out to Jaelle. "I'm here! Over here!" He yelled with gusto, clearing his throat. Damn, he was thirsty, and he felt he could eat a horse. Mental note, if you're going to cast Mund-spilli, make sure you had aetherial ties to the regular plane if you planned on escaping its blast. It's a suicide spell for a reason, he told himself. Briefly, he saw a man across the gas service stations at the convenience store running into the street. He thought it was the same man that had survived his attack. Well, for once in his life, he wished he had a goddamn gun or something.

When Jaelle got there, he would send them both back to headquarters. This place was getting tiresome.