[System]
Quinn Peterson

Character Quote: How fascinating is it to look at what has been and see what could be?

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Character Summary
Aliases: Quinny
Age: 26
Birthday: May 3
Ethnicity: British
Birth Place: Birmingham, England
Place of Residency: New York City
Gender: Female
Education: College, Majored in Anthropology and Criminal Justice
Occupation: Forensic Anthropologist
Languages: English (Fluent) and French (Fluent)

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Appearance
Height: 5'9''
Weight: 125 lbs
Body Type: Slim with slight curves
Eye Color: Light Brown
Hair Color: Red
Skin Tone: Pale White
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Scar along left wrist up towards arm, tattoo of brother's name on right hip
Personal Style: Quinn isn't picky about her clothes, but she prefers clothes that make her feel comfortable, otherwise what would be the point in wearing it? To that end, she will typically wear jeans and a sweater more often than not, but she will branch out with a dress, or blouse, or skirt if she is in the mood. For her job, she wears a lab coat and often dresses professionally. She will wear boots or sneakers mainly, but owns some heels if the event calls for fancy attire.

Quinn tends to go for darker tones in reds, oranges, purples, blues, and grays (her favorite color is scarlet). She wears her hair down unless on the job where she wears it in a nice bun. Jewelry is limited in her profession, but she wears a necklace given to her by her brother, a silver chain with a heart. Make-up is neutral in tone, but she wears color on her lip, usually red or pink. Her nails are never colored, but she will occasionally splurge for a french manicure.

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Psychology
Humble * Suspicious * Intelligent * Impulsive * Kind * Repentant

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Quinn has often been called the brainy one, especially when compared to her twin Quinton. Where Quinn was smart, Quinton was adventerous. Quinn prides herself in her intellect, finding new ways to question and learn. Despite this, she is humble in her opinion of herself. She beleives her accomplishments are due to hard work and hard work alone. Quinn can be impuslive most times, leaping before she thinks and often landing hard in return.

After losing her brother, Quinn has become suspicious of most other people. She isn't without friends and acquaintances, but she doesn't allow others to get too close to her less she be hurt again unless they can show they mean it. Quinn feels responsible for her brother's death and is repentant on most things, even when they are truly not her fault. Quinn is very kind, often putting others before herself, especially in the workplace where she feels the most when she is able to help piece together the after effects of someone.
Habits:* Chews on the ends of her pens

Hobbies:* Writing
* Jogging
* Dance

Fears:
* Seeing her father again
* Drowning
* Snakes

Likes:
* Riddles
* Strawberry Shortcake
* Scarlet
* Dogs (of any kind)
* Taking Walks
* A good book

Dislikes:
* Being looked down upon due to her gender
* Politics
* Traffic
* Seafood
* Bullies
* Unfair treatment of children

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Skills
General Skills:
* Computers
* Anthropology
* City Knowledge - New York City
* Writing
* Criminology
* Biology

Combat Skills:
* Athletics
* Self-Defense
* Stamina
* Strategy

What Do They Carry On Them:
* Clothing - Scarlet Sweater Dress, Black Jeans, Black Ankle Boots
* Purse - I.D., Passport, $50 (American), 2 Credit Cards, Various Rewards Cards, Pepper Spray
* Silver Heart Necklace
* ID For Job
* Apartment Keys
* Cell Phone

Possessions at Home:
* Personal Laptop
* TV
* Pictures From Home
* New York Subway Map
* Files From Work
* Chess Set
* Various Books (Fiction, Science, Psychology, Criminal Justice, True Crime, etc.)

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History

Biography: Quinn and Quinton were twins and as close one could be with their sibling. They were very close growing up, but that may have had more to do with their home life than anything else. It's hard to say where their father's anger came up. Quinn believes to this day that he was angry at them for killing their mother in childbirth, leaving him to raise two kids almost alone. Despite him having his own parents to help babysit while he worked two jobs, he was still angry. He would lash out at them, abuse and neglect was a common occurrence.

Things didn't escalate until the two of them were 14 years old. Quinton had been growing tired of being harassed by his own father and he was getting sick of Quinn being hurt as well. So he stood up to their father and fought back. No one could have predicted that their father would lash out like he did when he threatened Quinn's life. Quinton had enough and fought their father, despite Quinn's pleas. It all came to a head when their father pushed Quinton off the balcony in a fit of rage. Quinton did not survive. In her grief, Quinn threatened her father and called the authorities. Their father was arrested and she lived with her grandparents.

Quinn threw herself into her studies as it allowed her to not think about her brother. She continued through college. As much as she loved England, it had too many memories for her, so she packed up and moved to America, landing a job in New York through references. Here, she plans to live, hoping to have a fresh new life over here.

Discovery Of Your Power: Quinn didn't enjoy physical activity, but she was pretty good at it regardless of training. She chalked it up to genes. However, she noticed that she was quicker than her peers. She had better reflexes. She had better stamina. It was scary how good she was with little training. She decided to test herself and discovered she was unnaturally agile. She kept this a secret, even from Quinton. Something she regrets to this day.

Ability & Powers: Superhuman Agility: Quinn is far more agile than the average human. Due to this, she is quicker as well as more able to control her body movements, balance, strength, and endurance better than the average person. She is able to move effortlessly, dodge, flip, do gymnastics, and martial implements with little effort.

Ability & Powers Weaknesses: Quinn gets tired more easily with continued use of her power. Quinn's joints become sore and inflamed with continued use. Due to her power, Quinn must also eat constantly.

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Additional Information

Theme Song:
Extra Information: Link, Favorite Superpower is Telekinesis
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

[User]
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 Adalene Jones

 Location: New York, New York
 Interacting With: Emmie Adams
 Abilities being used: N/A

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 Adalene gave a look of surprise over to Emmie. "I'm sure of it." She said, nodding. "No idea why this is happening in the first place, but I know we aren't unique." She set up her phone to direct her to where she needed to go. "I told you that somebody else had shown up randomly in my apartment before you, right?" She thought she had, but honestly she wouldn't be surprised if she had kept that to herself. It'd been an insane couple of weeks, and that was probably the most normal things to have happened to her so far. "I'm a bit surprised we haven't seen anybody else, almost makes me think it was caused by something." She said quietly.

 She didn't know how to fit the pieces together, and that pissed her off more than anything really. Detective work wasn't her strong suit, and she didn't want that to be the thing to royally screw her over in the end. She kept close to Emmie as they walked, not wanting to get separated from her in the city for many reasons, not the least of which was the fact that she was her ride back home. Right now though, she looked forward to getting out of Central Park. While it sounded nice to start, tourists were not her favorite thing in the world.

[Assistant]
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Claire Winters

Location: New York City, New York
Interacting With: Partner & Co & Olivia@Nallore

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 "Bah... don't talk to me about luck. Traffic light changed to red just after he passed the street. Like the moment I was about to step on it and the bastard actually gave me the finger..." She growled in mild irritation. She was not a happy cop right now. She quickly then proceeded to contact dispatch with the additional info about the man and that he had family outside town so the cops at the exits of the city should be on the look. It was matter of time before they found him really. It was bound to happen. He had to show up somewhere, friends... family... a workplace. It was all fine anywhere he poped up if a cop was near her was going to be arrested. What's more he should be praying that it wasn't Claire that arrests him, because he was going to have troubles moving his hands after she was finished dislocating all his fingers.

 "Alright, you stay here and protect the place while the proper look out arrives." Claire stated to her servant... ahmm partner." I will come pick you up in a little bit after I drop the lovely lady at the police station so she can file her case against that man." She stated and quickly got into the car preparing to start driving when a message arrived. She pulled her phone and read it. Ahh Olivia remembered her. She smiled and quickly typed a reply.' Can't really talk right now. Busy day, a perp just got away. Got to escort a victim/witness to the station. What do you say I drop by in about an hour after I get off work? We can talk all we need then, when I'm not behind the wheel. -C' She typed in haste and started driving off. There was much to be done.

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Amelia Payne

Location: Los Angeles, California
Interacting With: Riley@Nalloreand @Jasonhero Fumiko "Kuīn" Nakamura

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 Amelia watched Fumiko leave as she arrived at the counter. Was the girl angry with her or something? She didn't think she should be... she hadn't done anything to anger Fumiko. Or was she overthinking this? She wasn't sure how to take it, but decided to think of it as them just finishing their work here and Fumiko just waiting outside as to not crowd the place. She nodded at Fumiko's statement that she was waiting for them outside." Alright."

 After Riley was done paying for the stuff and handed her the bag, Amelia smiled shyly and blushed a little." Thank you, Riley. Yeah we should follow her." She added with a nod, still smiling and holding the bag with the stuff tightly. This was a gift from her friend after all. She didn't have many friends and the only gifts she really usually received was something from her uncle at Christmas or her birthday.

 She followed outside with her roomie to Fumiko. Amelia vaguely wondered where the other girl would drag them to shop and rather to shop what. Amelia herself didn't overly enjoy shopping to the extreme. Then again she rarely had the money to go on a shopping spree proper. Maybe she'd enjoy it someday in the future if she gets a proper job that pays well.

[User]
Q U I N N P E T E R S O N:

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Wednesday, August 18
th
 - New York City, New York

Quinn shook her head as she was, more or less, brought back to reality. She looked up at the employee. "Oh no, I'm good. Sorry. I'll be out quickly." She finished her visit and got up and left. Once out on the street, she checked her phone. It seemed Olivia teleported also. Good, it made sharing her new information easier.

"We can meet at your place. I don't want more people to be around that don't need to know." As she waited for the address, Quinn checked around. For all she knew, she was being targeted or followed. She had always considered herself safe and protective of herself, but now more than ever, she felt she was being watched.


[System]
Age: 3423 (assuming the Silver Age of Ovid's Four Ages)

Gender: Female

Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Spider Queen (formally human)

Physical Description:

Talents:Mother of all spiders, expert weaver, informant, and political clout.

History:Arachne, the namesake and origin of all arachnids. In a bygone age her arrogance and haughty attitude brought the wrath of the Greek goddess, Athena. At the attempt to insult and put herself as an equal to the gods she was cursed so that she and her descendants would weave forever. Transformed the woman became the first spider. Under the thumb of those more powerful she remained hidden for thousands of years. But as fate would have it even so called gods had their time. The queens spawn spread across the four corners of the Earth. With no one to stop her Arachne used her children to begin gathering information. Very little escaped her far reaching grasp, spiders having become common place throughout the world. Of course humans were not highly liked by her as they were always crushing her creations. In retaliation she made more deadly variations to fight back.

As the ancient times gave way and humanity advanced the Spider Queen gained quite a reputation among the supernatural world. Everyone had their secrets and she would cling to them as her tiny agents crept and crawled their way into everything. Staying out of most internal politics she also made moves in the mortal world. Offering her services she could steal most anything either through persuasion, intimidation, or execution. Assassination of an individual took little more than a spider bite.

Growing in influence and wealth she changed her public appearance for modern times. Having again assumed a human form she has emerged from the darkness to build an empire among the mortals. For a time she had others hold her place as President of the company but recently has taken the position herself. Of course she still holds an influence in the supernatural, and largely remains "untouchable" for fear of untold secrets being revealed in both realms. Holding a high position in several courts the sudden silence from New Camden did not go unnoticed.

Psychological Profile:She can be cold and values information above most other things. It can be a flaw at times. Having an affinity for neither the human or supernatural sides she treats them both with little regard. Some would say that acting human has made her soft though. Still everything and everyone is another piece to be used. Obviously some must be treated better than others. There is something to be said for respect after all.

Possessions:Athenian Law Group, a law firm that has its hands in many facets of both worlds. A tribute or insult to the former goddess; Spiders, as the original source of all spiders she rules over them. It may not sound like much but varying in size and deadly potential the public only sees the surface.

Yes, and: Acting as a buffer between worlds, Arachne's firm will often intervene on behalf of the courts to keep those who do not belong in the human world off the radar. She both employed Karram and appointed him to handle Claudia's case.

[User]
The flames from Flint's hands extinguished as he moved out of the way of the vamp. Beth had stopped him from being sliced and Karrem was soon next to him, his sword drawn towards the offending vamp. Flint was panting, sweat drenching his face as he gulped in breaths of air, the strain of using his power in such a magnitude. People have asked Flint why he uses guns, he has such raw magical ability that can do much more destruction. His answer was simple and always the same.

"I could walk to work, but I use my car every day. Same thing"

"Where taking this one " Flint told Karrem, nodding to Kaori as he scooped up his tommy gun and shoved it into his inside jacket, when he removed his hand from within, he now held a small yellow firearm looking device. "Use this on her, it's a Taser just place it against her and squeeze the trigger. Just make sure you aren't touching her..." He said this to either of the allies in front of him. He wiped the sweat off his brow and turned around back to the fight. "Get her to the van then cover our escape, I'll go help Tony" He said this all in front of Kaori, knowing there was little she could do against the ghost and fairy.

Still panting, Flint began to walk towards where Tony fought. It was chaos around him but it seemed many people where pre-occupied. A vampire spotted Flint and was soon rushing towards him. Flint focused and splayed his hands towards the creature, air began to rush into the vamps mouth and it soon exited violently outwards, exploding the chest and lower jaw of the blood sucker. The husk collapsed as Flint continued, performing the party trick a few more times before he began to sway, the exhaustion was soon getting to him but he had to keep fighting. He removed his revolver from its shoulder holster and fired it rapidly at anything that came close. He barely made it to where Tony was slaughtering when he fell against the wall, his gun empty.

"Not yet…. Not… yet" He mumbled through gritted teeth. He eyes fluttering to stay conscious.

[Assistant]
Tony was being overcome quickly; a vampire took a while to heal wounds if inflicted, though it was hard to really inflict the wounds because they were fast and strong. A lycanthrope, by contrast was faster, stronger and healed rapidly enough to stay in a fight, unless the wounds came faster than the healing. Give a lycanthrope wounds in beast form, put them down and they got back up once they were able to heal it.

But shoot them with silver and it was all over, the silver had to come out before they could do any of that. They were weak as a mortal once it happened, with the silver burning into them, disrupting the uneasy spirit barely contained in the weak flesh.

The best werewolf hunters of the ancient era used slings, because they understood that a ball from a sling, a silver ball whirled around on a rope and then released expertly, was the best way to embed silver into the werecreatures while making it very hard for them to extract it. Arrows could be pulled out, swords tended to stay in the hands of users. So on and so forth.

But firearms came along and made it possible to put silver into werecreatures with more ease than a sling, which took such immense skill that it was reserved for a few people who did it from a very young age. A firearm was a weapon a peasant could employ with a small bit of training. It's why the armies issued them. And as more weapons were made, faster loading, more accurate, longer range, the werecreatures became easier to kill; aim a silver bullet for the skull and take them out in one shot. Silver bullet to anywhere that entailed an instant fatality was bound to finish the were fast, if the bullet wasn't pulled out.

Or you shot the were and followed it up with a fast attack to rip them to shreds when they were writhing around or otherwise distracted by the silver. It burned like nothing else, even when it came out.

In the era of rapid fire ballistic weaponry, it was even worse, if one was willing to spend on such rounds. Hunters did, for example; facing multiple baddies, they might load silver, magnesium based tracer and steel-jacketed hollowpoints, the lead exposed, figuring that the mix of rounds gave them a fair chance of engaging different types of supernatural bad. Silver, fire, iron and, of course, lead. Shotguns were popular too -- #4 buck had 41 pellets; if they were silver, it was impossible to dig them all out of a werewolf and get them back into the fight fast. More was better; double-ought buck was a thing for mortals putting down mortals, but some hunters going after weres specifically loaded birdshot, just to have a huge number of small silver pellets going into a werecreature.

It's why lycanthropes adapted and learned to fight in ambush, to get the hell away from anything that smelled like silver. They were cautious as a result of the way much of their own society figured out how to fight them and turned modernity against them.

In any case, it was also why some smart vampire grabbed a shotgun that was there in case of an emergency and shot Tony in the fucking back with it.

And it's why he went down with something like just seven 21 grain pellets in his shoulder, but it was enough to turn a rampaging were-lion, tearing through, holding his own, into a vanilla mortal black man in a lot of pain just like that.

[User]
Beth remained crouched on the floor by the tackled vamp with a hand on its chest to keep it down. Her ethereal boots, the very same she died in, met the edge of a puddle of blood spanning from the door to halfway across the club. Celestial and vampire intermingling. She pulled her eyes away from the vicious battle when Karram's sword appeared above her captured vamp. That helped.

Her eyes darted back to the fight as Flint began to give orders. Any other time, she might have had something to say about that. But today Beth was all too happy to do what he said. She took the taser from his outstretched hand and seized the vampire by the arm. Pulling her to her feet, with a grip tight and threatening to give the vamp a terrible sensation, she made for the door. "Come on," she called when she reached the doorway, sparing Flint and Tony a final glance.

With nauseating horror she watched Flint collapse against a wall, and soon after, Tony felled with what she could only guess were silver bullets. "Get them out of here!" she shouted to Karram, gesturing the the slumped bodies of their allies. This time, her voice bellowed over the din.

Parael was in for the world's greatest ass-kicking should he survive.

Beth raced out of the club then, the captured vampire girl in her hands, and took the quickest route to the van without passing through any buildings. "Stay still and I won't have to hurt you," she muttered to the girl. "And maybe they won't either." She shoved the vampire against the wall opposite the van, not daring to bring her any closer to Parael's body and the blood that surely coated the inside of the van. She pointed the taser at the girl's abdomen with her free hand, and called into the van to Rikive without taking her eyes off the vamp. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?"

[Assistant]
Well the plan fell apart quickly. watching from the van for a bit Autumn was almost tempted to just leave without them. But that wouldn't help her cause or make any friends, which were in short supply at the moment. With a reluctant sigh the woman grabbed the AK and stepped out of the van First she worked her way through the panicking wave of humans. They really could be in the way at times. But at the same time they gave cover. As vampires began to exit she stayed back and took aim. For her mostly unassuming look she has a good shot. Having practiced with firearms since their invention she had to admire their modern construction. In the beginning one pointed and hoped to hit the target. Advancements like the blunderbuss helped by spraying pellets and shrapnel. But it was hard to beat the satisfaction of a rifled weapon. Aim and fire. Automatic weapons just made missing less of an issue.

Sadly your average bullet was only effective in injuring a vampire for a moment. One would need some more specialized ammunition for that. Surely Gray was prepared for that. But not particularly fond of getting up close in a fight she peppered the vamps from behind most. Perry had been hauled out which meant they just needed to grab a target and go while they had the chance. Or at least that was how things should have went. Tony managed to get himself shot though and he went down.

Apparently Beth was dealing with a vampire as well. It was the one from earlier that she had noted. Hopefully Gray still had the venom she'd given him a long way back. She never did explain where she got it. At the time he knew better than to ask. The taser would be good to get her to stay still and make it easier to poison her. It wouldn't take long for the effects to kick in, a good neurotoxin was great for quick immobilization. "Grey, Beth has our target. Sedate her." She pointed to Kaori as the intended target. Now to save the pyro and lycanthrope.

That was easier said than done. It would require doing more than a human could do given how many were around them. Kneeling down she pulled a small blade she had strapped to her leg. It was a small precaution that alone didn't pose much of a threat. Holding it up she placed it in her mouth and drew it across her shortened fangs. Firing bursts into several other vamps she advanced. When she became the subject of attention she avoided a direct contest and side stepped with inhuman speed. Just a light cut with the blade was all that was needed. Thralls were easy as they were slower and after getting a hit in and backing off they dropped like a rocks. The others took a little while longer but that just meant staying out of reach till it had done its job. There were too many to take them all out, but that wasn't the task at hand. With an opening she grabbed Flint and lurched him over to Tony to grab him as well. Purposely loosing her shoes her feet stuck to the concrete and gave her better traction and leverage to pull them both out. "I swear if that idiot survives I'm going to torture him." Hopefully the others could keep the torrent at bay long enough for them to get in the van and run like hell.


[System]
Age: 17

Gender: Female

Race: Faunus (Cat)

Weapon:

The Aurora Ravager is a weapon of two identical energy swords powered by a dust core. Engineered to provide excellent movement speed both swords are able to slice through the air at incredible speeds. Combined with that, they can also fold the first two thirds up to be two energy pistols, which are quite useless in long range combat and are mostly used to penetrate weak spots.

Specialty: Skyra is fast. Very fast. And agile. Both of those features together make her seem like a dancer on the battlefield. Her trademark move is slashing upwards with both blades launching herself into the air, flipping back around, then striking downwards at lightning speed.
However she is absolutely unusable at long range engagements and against flying creatures, not from the ground anyway.
Due to her cat Faunus heritage, she is able to sneak up on her targets without making a sound, which makes her a decent assassin when needed.
In short: If you need a striker, who can quickly dispose of targets in a flash, call Skyra. If you have flying beasts or monsters not reachable by close combat, don't call her.

Semblance: Blade Storm: Skyra channels her aura to manifest around her which starts levitating her two swords and swirls them around herself creating an absolutely deadly whirlwind of blades, which, when cancelled, sends a shockwave out, knocking close enemies off their feet. With her weapons modified to fire arrows, Blade Storm is able to be channelled into the bow to accelerate the arrow to blistering speeds.

Personality: At first glance Skyra seems pretty easy to categorize. An energetic, sometimes pretty mean spirited, tomboy. That is mostly how she will behave in public. In private, however, she will open up a lot more, even to a point where she will constantly hug and snuggle those who are close and dear to her. Don't get her mad, though, or she might go into berserk-mode smashing everything that is not nailed down. When she is in that mode, only a hug will get her out of it before she loses steam.

Colour: Sunrise orange  (Colourcode: F02100)

Emblem: A whirlwind of orange swords

Appearance: Pretty much like this, just her hair should have sunrise-orange coloured tips and black-white furred ears. Also she is rather small, at 155cm ~5'1"

[User]
Outside the Dragon's Den

The overconfident Antaeus crossed his arms and stood at a relaxed stance, reveling in Mokuren's 'compliments' as his massive ego was unable to see through her sarcasm. That's why he was completely off-guard when she lunged at him in an attack. The large bouncer knew he was too heavy to dodge out of the way in time, so he quickly reached behind his back and grabbed his weapon: a trident. The weapon, still in mid-transformation, clashed with Mokuren's sword. Antaeus deflected the strike enough to prevent it from cleaving him in half, but he was unable to prevent the sword from embedding itself into his side. "I shall drink from your skull!" he shouted in pain. The bouncer may have been 'immortal,' but he still felt pain. Lifting his now complete trident, he raised it above his head and stabbed downward at the huntress-in-training.

Inside the Dragon's Den

The students who were able to make it to the backroom now found themselves in a long hallway. There were several doors in the hallway, but all lead to mostly empty rooms. There was one exception though, a large metal door at the far end. Next to the door was a keypad to unlock it, but the code was currently unknown to the team. The sound of footsteps began to sound from the other side of the door that the students had entered from. The three teens had two options: hide in at least one of empty rooms and wait for the man coming toward them to pass or attack the man and interrogate him for the way inside of the safe-like door.

[Assistant]
Jack Orpheus | Back Area

"Well, this has to be it... Right?", Jack muttered to himself, looking at the large metal door. Fortunately he didn't seem to run into any guards, so no one knew he was back here except his team. As he took a few steps towards the metal door, he heard it lurch as it appeared to be opening. He wanted to maintain the whole stealth thing, not to mention he wouldn't be able to open it anyway, there appeared to be a keypad, and a code was required to open the door, so he instead decided to hide in one of the empty side rooms and wait and listen. He kept one hand ready on one of his daggers, and stood behind the wall next to the door, so even if they walked in, they wouldn't see him immediately and he would have a chance of an advantageous action.

[User]
Mokuren Sabella

This guy, was dumb. So dumb, in fact, that he didn't seem to understand Sarcasm. But, Mokuren had to admit, she was slightly impressed at the way he had drawn his Trident - and the uniqueness of the weapon amused her as well - in time to deflect her sword. It wasn't a total deflection, and Sarasagi managed to take a bit more of his blood from a rather nasty cut in his side. She wondered if he had to obey the rules of blood loss, and was inclined to agree, considering he still felt pain. But then he finished his trident and moved to stab her with it. The strangest thing happened then. Mokuren seemed to slightly maneuver herself so that her head was in the Trident's path, and then use her Semblance to reflect the blow. Then, she would pull out her blade and hope that a trident in the face was enough distraction to slip her sword into his crotch, and vertically bisect him, the sharp edge of Sarasagi ensuring she cut through flesh and bone until it cleanly popped out of the top of his skull.

"Drinking from a person's skull is horribly inefficient. It pours out of their eye sockets whenever you try to fill it up for more than a mouthful" she told the bouncer.

[Assistant]
Gren Orchid

Taking note of everything the boy said, Gren also noticed that Skiro was sending messages through his SCROLL. Gren forgot to report back to Sapphire. Oh well, he'll give her a quick update on what he knows, and what he was going to do, a little bit later. First it seemed like Shiro was able to convince the boy to take him further inside the laboratory. With nothing to hide behind Gren had to make his appearance but only after the boy had entered the building. This way Shiro could plainly see him, not that Gren was ever too great at stealth. It was hard enough just to make his footsteps quiet let alone stay out of sight. Either way Gren followed Shiro inside, but a few paces away as to not alert the young bear fauna's of his presence.

Gren didn't go anywhere that Shiro didn't, and seeing that he wasn't fighting for his life Gren took the moment to send a message to Sapphire.

From:
To: Sapphire Rode, Abel Fulgurate, Kuhaku Shiro,
Subject: Let's try to be subtle

Body: "As Kuhaku said, I'm tailing behind him and the bear faunas. I'll see if I can't do something about the security cameras, so try not to wreck them. We should try not to leave a trail."

Of course right as he said that Shiro had just gone and ripped a camera out from the wall. Sighing, Gren sent his message and followed after. He caught up with Shiro and grabbed him by the shoulders to stop him. "Let's try some subtly. Let me handle cameras and security. We don't want to cause any unnecessary stress by acting hasty, yeah?" This was Gren's first attempt to remind Shiro of the event that transpired just a short while ago. If it really mattered to him, Gren hoped that he would take some time to consider what his actions did, reflect on it, and try to do something about it... Though that was a lot to do in a few minutes. So just some coaxing for now. The training can be done later.

Letting Shiro go to follow the bear faunas Gren went to the now destroyed camera. Shiro didn't leave him much to work with but Gren had everything he needed anyways. Blocking the immediate view with his massive frame Gren took off the gauntlet on one of his hands, revealing his dull green hand. Which than revealed to have a removable compartment on the wrists, and inside contained a multitude of wires and, tubes, and mildly luminescence glowing bits. He pulled some choice wires out from his wrists and grabbed what few wires he could get a hold of from the wall. The tip of the wire from his wrists began to change shape to accommodate the new wires that were being fed into it. Now he just needed to do a bit of "reprogramming". Normally impossible to do from just the wire feed from a camera... But Gren wasn't doing things normally, so after a few minutes he was able to get most of the cameras around the facility to go on a loop. He was certain here were some cameras that were still functioning normally, but that was due to the fact that they were connected to the same system the other cameras were. It seemed like there were more security systems elsewhere in this facility, which meant there was some need to have a double-layer security system instead of just one. He also managed to pull some of the footage since the security's past boot up. There was a lot to filter through, but he just put the videos on double speed and watched from on the visor of his helmet.

Putting his gauntlet back on Gren sent his findings to the others.

From:
To: Sapphire Rode, Abel Fulgurate, Kuhaku Shiro,
Subject: Security Feed

Body: "I've dealt with the cameras. Most of them around the main building should no longer be an issue now. However I've detected another security station with their own cameras that I couldn't reach. I suspect what we need to find would be around there. I also managed to get the security feed from today. Review it on your own time.

Attachments:Security01.mpg, Security02.mpg, Security03.mpg, Security04.mpg, Security05.mpg, Security06.mpg, Security07.mpg, ..."

The videos weren't high quality but that wasn't Gren's fault. The facility was using some old stuff. Sending his text to the others Gren than took to the ceiling and continued to try to be stealthy.

Escort Mission

About fifteen minutes into the trip and there was talk on the radio.

"Slow down fellas. Looks like we might have to take a detour."

Ahead of the front truck one of the quarts crystals seem to have fallen over and blocked most of the road. This caused everyone to tense up. If there was any place for an ambush to happen, it was here. Team MODA would have about five minutes to get ahead of the trucks and clear the crystals out if they didn't want the trucks to stop moving. All the while, things were still quiet. There were sounds of wildlife in the distance, but it was rather silent near the trucks. Almost too silent...

The quartz crystal blocking the path was about the size of a medium sized tree (four meters in length, average diameter of a meter maybe smaller, weight likely well over a thousand kg likely a tonne) but fortunately broken into three pieces already instead of one whole piece. If two of the three pieces were removed, the trucks could squeeze on through. Additionally simple observation would be able to deduce this much: There were truck tracks going past the fallen quartz, suggestion that this is a fairly recent development, and there's no obvious signs that this massive crystallized object was dragged here. Rather, it looked like it was formed along the side of the road and simply fell. There is, however, many small ant-sized holes inside the quartz. And unlike most of the others quarts crystals scattered about the area, this quartz was almost pitch black. There were some, but they were located further away and were much smaller than the more white quartz.

Patrol Mission

At the ComShops, business was bustling, but otherwise peaceful. People packed the streets browsing, purchasing, or hawking various technological hardware for "Great deals". Most of it were computers and computers accessories. The only real trouble was how aggressive some of these merchants were; neither Ebon nor Skyra could go more than ten feet without someone coming up to them and trying to get them to look at their goods or taking a brochure. And while they were easy enough to fend off, the two would be approached by at least fifteen before something interesting happened.

Walking through the ComShops district was a rather colorful group of girls. Unlike most regular customers, the merchants gave this group a lot of space. And it seemed like Skyra's and Ebon's appearance caught the attention of one of the girls with two small anchors attached to a chain, which she wore as a sort of belt. This girl detached herself from her friends and came over to the two. "Oi. I've never seen your faces around here before. I bet yer with Beacon, aren't you?" While her question was innocent enough, it was rather obvious that she was putting on an air of intimidation.

The Red Asphalt district, unlike the ComShops, were much quieter. While there were cars driving the streets, they were going at a modest speed and for mundane reasons. Still Krystanthe and Sephira would get to see and pass by many different types of cars and vehicles, some tuned for the purpose of racing, others that just looked gaudy as hell and with the purpose of being flashy and bright. The more they explored the stranger the Red Asphalt district was, turning from "Street Racing district" to "Rice Rockets and Itashas". And if the cars were strange enough, the people working on them were.

This this group of young men who approached the two girls. While they had the air of being troublemakers and playboys, their... Appearance may make others question just how legitimate their success was. The leader, the one openly showing his... "Chest hair" and wearing sunglasses, approached to flirt. "Hello cuties, I'd never though I'd see works of art like you in a place like this. Here for some modeling? I'm sure you two could show these dweebs around here what a real girl is like, right guys?" The other two young men spoke in agreement as they stood by the side of the presumed leader. "Say, why don't we go get some tea and talk? We'd love to get to know you ladies more."

The cat on his chest meowed cutely at Krystanthe and Sephira, reaching out with it's paw as if asking to play with them.

[User]
Skyra absolutely hated this. She got bumped around and shoved around like crazy. At some point she resorted to fiercely hissing at one of the shopkeepers.
The point was, she didn't want to pull out her weapon at all, scaring civilians wasn't exactly part of the plan.
Now, however, she, walking in front of Ebon, was blocked by that girl.

Not even directly answering the girl's question, she glared at her, cat-ears twitching with annoyance.
"You want trouble? No? Then move the fuck out of my way...", Skyra growled, her mood seriously in the gutter now.
She despised being touched and some of the merchants did go way too far for her taste. And now someone who thought it was a good idea to step in front of this tiny cat Faunus.
Now Skyra was mad enough to even bare her fangs.


[System]
Height:
5'4''

Weight:
Roughly 120 lbs, slightly muscular build

Occupation:
Bounty Hunter/Mercenary

Race:
Half Nord/Half Redguard/Werewolf

Class:
Archer

Gender:
Female

Age:
27

Attitude:
Cold, taciturn, and a woman of only a few words, Tarja isn't much when it comes to speaking, or smiling for that matter. Rather she mostly communicates through stern glares and harsh body motions. She's not afraid to get her hands dirty (or bloody) and has an absolute hatred for the Stormcloaks. For her, there is only one thrill, and that is the thrill of the hunt, but when it comes to matters other than hunting, Tarja enjoys to be out and about in nature, as it is where she feels most tranquil, whether it is traversing the high, jagged rocks of The Reach or taking a peaceful dip in the sparkling crystal waters of Lake Ilinalta. Tarja is also a bit more fond of women rather than men, though either man or woman, she finds it hard to trust others and mostly prefers to work alone.

Clothing:
Her attire is mostly a mix of Ancient Nord and Forsworn armor known as the Armor of the Huntress. She even has a hood that she wears when she is out hunting.

Weapons:
A Dragonbone Bow with Forsworn Arrows, a Forsworn War Axe, and a Steel Dagger. She also carries various poisons to coat her arrows and her blades with, all made by herself

Interesting facts/Bio:
Born in Markarth to a Nord silver smith and his Redguard wife after the Stormcloaks took the Reach, the woman was originally under the family name Cathis, and was being raised to craft beautiful silver jewelry just like her father. Over the years, her family accumulated such wealth in their trade and was among the most astute of merchants in Markarth, despite being under the thumb of the Silverblood family, making a name for themselves. Yet tragedy was soon to strike one horrible evening as the family traveled together, husband, wife, and their young child Tarja, from Markarth and through the treacherous terrain of the Reach, on their way to Solitude to trade silver and jewelry. Their wagon was attacked and seized by a band of savages known as the Forsworn. Her father tried to stop them and save his family, but in a matter of seconds the man was skewered with arrows. Tarja was even forced to watch as her mother was descended on by the savages and torn to pieces. All that was left...was her. She tried to run but was soon caught and about to have her throat slit, until the men were stopped by their chieftain, an intimdating Breton woman named Aeryn Eaglethorn.

Aeryn was a fearsome Forsworn, having earned the title Eaglethorn for her deadly skill in archery. She could pin a moth to a tree from nearly leagues away and when it came to hunting her targets, she was downright ruthless in her pursual.Chief Aeryn ordered her Forsworn not to harm the girl, but nevertheless Tarja was taken prisoner, the Forsworn believing that since her family was prominent in Markarth, they would receive a generous ransom for her. They chained Tarja to a post outside the camp leaving her out in the cold without any food, and for years they abused her phsyically and verbally, yet it was only the men and a few women who engaged in such vile behavior towards her.

The chieftain would have none of it, it seemed. A few months later while the rest of the camp slept and Tarja lied awake in pain during the night, the chieftain unlatched her from the post and brought the girl to her tent. As she tended to Tarja's wounds and fed her, Aeryn spoke of how she was in the same situation long ago, and how she disapproved of Tarja's treatment by her Forsworn, but decided to let them continue....because she was testing Tarja's strength and her resolve. She spoke of how impressed she was the girl stayed strong, even through months of rigorous torture, and that despite she wasn't a Breton, she had what it took to be a Forsworn. The girl held anger though for the woman killing her family, but nevertheless she decided to become a Forsworn...to survive longer.

A few weeks after that night, the woman came to her again releasing her from her bounds. She told Tarja that they were going hunting and that she wanted Tarja to join them, despite what the others thought of the girl. It was there upon the jagged, tall rocks of the Reach that Tarja made her first kill, a lowly mountain goat. Eventually, she began hunting more often with the chieftain and her tribe, becoming more and more skillful with a bow every day, until she too was a formidable archer, just as the woman who trained her. She had even gone with them on raids of nearby villages and killed her fair share of people. Soon she began to lose touch with her old self, shedding away the doughy exterior of a rich, snobby debutante of Markarth and truly becoming....a child of the Reach. The other Forsworn began to accept her as part of the tribe and to the chieftain she became a valuable ally and a close companion, perhaps...even more...as there was talk among the tribe of the chieftain taking the girl to her tent each night. The Forsworn also taught Tarja other valuable skills, such as alchemy and close combat. Soon, Tarja had no desire at all to return to Markarth. She was happy with the Forsworn, the tribe had become her family, and the chieftain Aeryn....the woman she loved dearly. But...this happiness of hers would not last.

On the night of the anniversary of King Madanach's rebellion, the Forsworn celebrated with a feast under the light of the moon, but their festivities were met with bloodshed as during the feast, the tribe was ambushed by a batallion of Stormcloaks sent to wipe out their camp. Many fought and many died, leaving only Chief Aeryn and Tarja alive. Tarja, though terrified her clan had been slaughtered, she tried to fight back, but Aeryn stood before her. Suddenly, the woman changed, her bones cracking and her limbs stretching, her body contorting into some mosntrous shape. Her fingers became sharp, vicious claws and her skin was covered in a thick black fur. Tarja couldn't believe her eyes. The woman...Aeryn...she was a werewolf! The werewolf's claws tore through the Stormcloak's ranks, limbs flying, blood spraying all over the place with horrible screams of agony. Tarja, as much death she had seen with the Forsworn, she couldn't even bare the sight of her beloved ripping apart men piece by piece, yet as horrible as it was, she couldn't look away, frozen with eyes wide as Masser above. Not only would she witness the slaughter of the Stormcloaks by Aeryn's hand, but she would also bare witness to....the woman's death.

In her gory and violent frenzy, the werewolf was run through with a silver sword and wrenched back with a blood curdling howl of pain. She fell to the ground, trembling in such agony, trying her damndest to pull the wretched blade from her gut, but it was too late. The silver charred her flesh and boiled her blood with such a horrific heat. With her last breath, the chieftan called Tarja to her. Tarja fell to her knees by the woman's side, still in her beastly form, and sobbed into her chest as she felt the woman slowly fading into the distance. It was then, she gave one final request......drink her blood. Tarja did so....and as the woman died in her arms, she wrenched her head to the sky and cried out, her cry...turning into a howl. Soon, by the light of Masser falling upon her, she became the very beast Aeryn was, wolf blood now ran through her veins.

She stormed off into the night with only one goal in mind, and soon that goal was met. The Stormcloak Camp in the Reach, by morning, nothing would be left of it...but nearly a hundred rotting, mutilated carcasses left strewn about their blood spattered tents and bedrolls. And it didn't just stop there. Soon, Tarja was seeking out all Stormcloak Camps across Skyrim, either leaving them bloody massacres after her werewolf form took over or picking off troops one by one with her deadly bow. Her savage deeds however didn't go unnoticed.

After returning from another night of bloodshed, Tarja, now a woman in her mid twenties, rested beside Lake Ilinalta. Twas there, she was met by a ghostly apparition, taking the form of a majestic white stag. Tarja drew her arrow to the ethereal beast, but instead of flee...it spoke to her in a male voice. This was the voice of the Hunter, the Daedric Lord Hircine.

Hircine was impressed with Tarja's ruthlessness and her keen hunting skills. He offered to make her his champion and give her power like no other, but at a cost. Tarja, being wolf-blood now, her soul would belong to Hircine, and when she died, she, like many, would become part of the hunt. Nevertheless, Tarja swore fealty to Hircine and was sent on her first task, kill another werewolf named Hrothi. Hrothi was a bandit chief, who led a gang of vagrants in Hjalmarch, he was also once a champion of Hircine as well, but abused his power for his own gain.

It wasn't long, Tarja tracked Hrothi and his miscreants to a cavern in Hjalmarch. The lesser humans she easily picked off from the shadows with her bow, but Hrothi proved much of a challenge. Taking on his wolf form, he engaged the woman in a fearsome brawl, which ended with Tarja ripping his head off and carving the skin from his flesh as offering to Hircine. Twas from this skin Hircine made for her armor, cristening it the Armor of the Huntress. By wearing it, Tarja became an even deadlier foe. Her skills became sharpened. She could draw an arrow faster than before, her stamina and her speed increased and another effect...it allowed her the ability to transform whenever she felt, no longer needing the light of a full moon to provoke her.

Now Tarja uses the power of Hircine to hunt and kill across Skyrim, taking whatever job she can find, mostly bounties out on the heads of notorious bandit leaders, but still her devotion lies with her Lord....and of course....to Aeryn, as she now carries the woman's title of Eaglethorn to honor the chieftain's memory.

Other: To Oblivion with your damn cheese and your Wabbajacks! HAIL THE STAG PRINCE!! HAIL THE HUNT!!

[User]
Murkan decided that after so much of the Breton's droning, he would at least numb the pain. He came to the point that he don't care if his employer is robbed or killed. "Breton, be silent. You talk much like imperial women.." His eyes trailed off to notice the young Imperial talking to the hardened Nord. He tried to listen into the conversation, curiosity may kill the pig-man. The young lady seemed familiar. Every time he chased the thought, it evaded him somehow.

Murkan gave a slight frown when the lady started to cry. The Breton mocked him for it. "Orc has feelings? I thought you lot were into killing and whats nots?" Something inside of Murkan snapped, maybe it was Malacath defending his own, maybe he was just sick of the Breton being a dimwit. The brute put one hand around the Breton's neck and squeezed. The Breton kicked, gasping for breath, the stool was knocked over. The Merchant was slowly lifted in the air. "Murkan is not pig. Murkan is not monster." He finally let go before the Breton passed. The Man crumbled to the ground, clinging his throat, gasping for air. The Mer sat down, looking straight ahead at something that didn't exist.

[Assistant]
Asuma had a face of Horror, watching the gigantic Green giant smash the Mage, HES on the trustable-people list!?, She wasn't used to people fighting, but this was obviously what it was like, what it was like when the Soldiers found her village, this is what probably happened to her father

More thoughts went through Asumas mind, Her eyes were glued to the Orc beating up the person, however, a feel of release had came to her as the giant let the man live, But it still lingered in her mind.

[User]
Just as Tarja feared.

Such grim words to hear, Riker, dead, and certainly not by age, for the old man had the strength of a full-grown mammoth and could fare more than a few harsh winters in old Skyrim. Just by the painful lamentations and sobs of poor Asuma, shedding every last burning tear she could bring to her sore, melancholic eyes, the Forsworn woman could only believe his death was not a peaceful one, that there was foul play afoot, hence why Asuma would be in search of her father's last known companion, at least from what Tarja could tell. Well, Hircine rest his weary soul upon the verdant plains of the Great Hunt, and may someday Tarja join the man Riker again on another outing with the Stag Prince under the Blood Moon.

"There there, child." Tarja whispered kneeling down and resting a comforting hand on Asuma's shoulder. "This is grave news indeed you bring from Cyrodiil, but your father was a warrior, strong and courageous. His death was not in vain if it were to protect you, his only kin." Given, she may have wrapped the weeping youth in a hug, yet Tarja wasn't much for showing that sort of emotion. "You need to dry your tears, Asuma, and carry on, for the sake of your father Riker. He'd be proud to see the warrior you've blossomed into."

And just as her hand retreated to her side, a commotion sounded from behind her. Tarja turned, just in time to catch eye of the Orismer roughing up that mouthy Breton he was escorting. A tad bitter was the sight, since Tarja, though not a Breton herself, was fond of the people of High Rock, and in a curt motion she drew her dagger and leveled it at the Orc just as he released the man, leaving him on the floor to cough and wheeze at his throat nearly crushed by brute strength. "Ease that temper, Orismer! Or it shall be my blade in your throat!" Tarja snarled clenching the hilt of her dagger tighter. Not only did the big green bastard rough up a Reachman, but he also evidently terrified poor Asuma with his show of natural Orcish brutality, just making the situation worse it seemed.


[System]
Callsign: Short Round

Age: 28
Sex: F
Height: 160 cm
Weight: 53 kg
Nationality: Chinese

Aircraft: CAC Super-7 (Chengdu J-7 with improved nose-fairings and a GE F404 turbine found in later blocks of F-16)

Appearance:
Eye colour: Brown
Hair colour: Black

Likes: Strawberries.
Dislikes: Being called inferior on account of being shorter
Personality: Short-tempered and abrasive to go with his stature, very prideful of her nation's role in the great war.

Born sometime around 1988 in China's Gansu Provinence, Kie just happened to be at the forefront of the conventional Russo-Sino border-conflicts of 1992 and continued to live in the war-weary region even as the event went nuclear in 1998, when she and her family fled to Pakistan following the Haifa incident.

However, during the retreat, a mushroom-cloud was seen in the distance just as they were about to cross the Pakistani-border. She was only eleven years old.

They re-settled in the Nanjing Military Region, where she volunteered to help the war-effort by working the fields by day and repairing planes whenever they returned. After awhile she learned how to fly the JJ-7M, and made it into the newly raised 14th Fighter-Division of the PLAAF flying and testing an extensively modified version thereof.

In 2006, she had the opportunity to actually fly into combat against the North Koreans, trying to turn the tide to their favor by steadily moving away from the attrition of a People's War and more towards a better equipped professional all volunteer fighting force.

After fighting the Americans and their allies for over a year, the Chinese government switched sides and redeployed what remained of her shattered division on the northern-front just a few kilometers north of her hometown as they unleashed newer and newer weapons of mass destruction upon the Soviet-Union.

After the war, the government thanked Kie for her service, and simply let her go. The economy was so shattered they could not offer her a job, and to help fund the war she and her family had literally purchased her own plane. So with so much money invested in fighting, and that being the only worthwhile job she ever had, Kei answered an advertisement for a unit in the Bahamas.

It even had a name similar to what the Pakistani refugees called her plane when it went on night-time raids: "Black Thunder".

Personal Weapons and misc. Gear:
Type 85 submachine gun (7.62x25 TT)

Aircraft Sheet
Name: Chengdu Air Corporation Super 7
Profile Link: Modification of the J-7M, Gun armarment: GSh-23-2L and a single GSh-30-1

Appearance:

Paint Job: Navy-blue on sky-blue with anti-flash white undercarriage

Owned or loaned: Owned

[User] "You have to fucking kidding me." Was all Marciano said as the tone that warned of an incoming missile lock filled his cabin and ears. He pushed his throttle once more to the near edges of casing and threw his jet into a hard right bank. He gritted his teeth as the dull thumps of the countermeasure flares launching reverberated in the hull. Pulling to the left, Marciano turned the Tornado out of the right bank and into a hard left bank, the missile closing closer. Mumbling something under his breath that sounded vaguely prayer like, Marciano launched more flares, his eyes fixed on his review mirror and on the contrail that was creeping closer and closer to his hull. As the bright stars shot out from the planes underside, he held his breath, the missile wavered and finally took the bait, veering off after a flare, a fireball errupting from the jungle where it went down. Bringing the hound into a level position, and slowing the jet away from the sound barrier, Marciano scanned the sky for any sign of who shot at him "Stalin, Viking, this is Charnel. you guys good? Also, who the hell was that!?" looking around the European pilot thought he saw a glimmer in the distance, but couldn't be too sure until the others checked in, he didn't want to go chasing phantoms alone.

[Assistant]
As soon as the cockpit was filled with alerts and eerily calm, robotic voices uttering words of warning in Russian, Dmitry spat out the worst curses his brain could muster under the stress and mild panic that hit him in a matter of seconds after he enjoyed the spectacular display two thirds of Eagle Flight put out. Pulling and pushing every control surface in all possible directions, the pilot grunted and hiccuped as he felt his body pulled about by invisible forces that had grown dangerously familiar to him as he tried to shake off all lock-ons. He kept trying to look over his shoulder when he had the time, but, he would get a face full of chair instead of a visual on any ground-to-air or air-to-air missiles trailing him; he thought he saw smoke trails littering the air like a paper string, but the alerts just wouldn't cease no matter how hard he tried to shake the foxes off. Multiple pairs of flares dropped from the jet's frame as Dmitry pulled up and, thankfully, at least two alarms stopped assaulting his ears; now, he could understand the jet announcing him about the low altitude and low speed, so, he pushed the thrust forward, resulting in an immediate force pushing the pilot back in his seat as the Su-35 ascended from a dangerous altitude, engines screaming as they pushed the weight of the fighter upwards. The pilot gritted his teeth and squeezed his muscles tight as he could physically feel the heavy mass of his jet as it climbed back to relative safety and by the time he finally recovered, he managed to catch an uncertain glimpse at the radar spotting more bogeys. This was a definite message that he had to become active in the engagement.

Once he finally recovered from the near crash, Dmitry forced the grim thought of death out of the cockpit and launched his Su-35 forwards, determined to kick ass and take names for nearly ruining his very expensive piece of military engineering. As his fighter ripped through the sky, he caught a glimpse of the canopy reflecting the sunlight, offering him a general direction of possible enemies. He then heard Charnel speak through the comms, just as panicked and angry as he was, to which the Ukrainian replied:

"Charnel, Stalin, I didn't die yet. I'm going to kill the koorva before she does smart things again. I can't get a lock-on, though, that is really not good."

He was prepared to dodge any remaining AA ordnance launched from below and retaliate with his own set of AGMs, but his main focus was to survive and rip the aggressors to pieces. It suddenly became a personal issue for the pilot, fact that gave him drive to commit to the support effort of the ground team.

[User]
The small flotilla of riverine craft were a mess after the round of attacks by the Black Knights flight dedicated to ground-attacks. With Kei's assault rounding off the run on the small force of repurposed civilian boats, the reinforcements were left treading water, floundering or drowning - or floating in charred, dead lumps with the flow towards the ocean. The attack on the ground had, for the moment, been broken. A breathless message from Major Constantine confirmed as much; the Gendarmerie and Militia forces had been able to take back positions to the edge of town, forcing the surviving rebels to fall back to earlier positions, and giving the defenders a line to hold, until the Thunderbolt Black ground reinforcements arrived with armour and heavy weapons.
The majority of his ordnance expended, Scott turned his attention back to the skies, bringing his flight back into formation - and was immediately alerted by St Helen to the ongoing duel between the air-to-air flight, and their newly arrived opponents.

***

The quick reactions of Marciano and Dmitry kept them alive and unhurt. The inbound AAM's were fired from long-range, and with a poor initial lock from the front angle. As the ADV and the SU-35 broke sharply and blasted out countermeasures, the brightly burning flares were enough to distract the inbound missiles - or at least, for long enough that they had trouble re-acquiring their targets, and self-destructed instead.
From the direction of the missiles, a pair of aircraft blasted past, performing their own superbly executed break, splitting wide and curving in the morning skies, faint trails of vapour gleaming from their wingtips as the two sleek, angular tactical aircraft turned to engage.
The pair were a mis-matched duo; an SU-37 Terminator and a Dassault Rafale. Both were coal-black, with the Rafale having electric blue accents on the wingtips, canards and rudder, and the Terminator having deep orange in the same places. Both also sported a horned skull insignia in various places, and the numbers '2' and '5' in gothic script. Each were laden down with ordnance, both aerial and ground-attack, and at the sight of the Black Knights, turned to engage their aircraft. The Rafale began to pursue the Tornado, positioning itself between Marciano and Stalin, while the Terminator harassed its' sukhoi stablemate, driving hard towards Charnel with the powerful radar in the SU-37's large nose hunting down the Ukranians' aircraft as it banked to 270 degrees at the apex of its' climb, hammering down hard toward his plane.

Scott observed the situation from his position. St. Helen had fed the image from the powerful and huge AESA radar in the ASF-14's nose to his console and he quickly assesed the situation. His ordnance for ground attack was virtually depleted. Both Kei and Rodrieguez had more rounds to expend, however, and the airstrip was visible. The pair of bandits hadn't dallied with the ground-attack flight as of yet, and Austin looked to be in the clear too: perfect opportunity for a two-on-two.
"Short Round, Spirit. Go turn that Airstrip back into a jungle clearing. Break. Viking, this is Heartbreak; go give Charnel a hand with his new fan, I've got Stalin's tail, over"
He pushed more power into the ASF-14's engines, the wings sweeping back that little more as he climbed and banked, angling to slot in on the SU-37's tail as it dove for Stalins' jet. "Razorblade, lock that fucker up for me!" he grunted over the intercom, keeping his eyes fixed on the gleaming shimmer of the Terminator, a good half-mile distant above the sea of green below.

The skies over the airstrip were clear; the airstrip itself was nothing more than a logging camp roughly repurposed into a temporary strip. Sheds for construction equipment, now left out in the open, shielded the few light aircraft and helicopters in position, and sandbagged heavy machine-guns or truck-bed mounted guns were the only air defences along with handfuls of shoulder-fired SAMs dotted here and there.
Traces, aimed manually and fired too early or on reflex, curved wildly up into the skies along with small-arms fire, and it was easy to see people running in terror as the sounds of the oncoming jets was heard. The last Dragonfly from the earlier attack was still at the end of the runway, waiting for whatever the rebels had planned for it.

[Assistant]
Barrel-rolling victoriously out of her latest pass in order to stay low tight and fast on the corner, Short-Round had made short-work of her foe's efforts to outflank her client in the thick forests with small and nimble boats (likely from former narcotics-smugglers). And was given token-appreciation from Constantine's forces on the ground.

But just as suddenly as they themselves appeared upon the scene, the balance of favor quickly began to shift against them all with the arrival of two sleek multinational multiroles that most definately were not part of the locals. Although she had some good air-to-air capabilities, her jet was still lugging three quarters of a ton of ordnance as Scott identified just one more target to hit: their airfield.

Although nobody would see or hear it, Kei nodded at her orders and flicked-on a tape-recording of an old song as her air-superiority fighter flirted with the idea of moving some mud to raise hell just one more time. She started her attack inverted in a high-G turn to line-up with the runway, firing a few volleys of 'nails' at anything that so much as blinked something shiny at her plane as it came barreling-in from three kilometers as her plane snaked into position for a bombing-run with her last napalm-can diagonaly across the 'strip' and hopefully into what appeared to be a control tower or bunker of some sort, likely to render the whole field useless for at least an hour.

A quick glance at her multi-function panel indicated somewhere in the mid-teens when it came to 'nails' remaining, and most of the soft targets had been well peppered already... still they had one more trick...

A 'nail', when fired at a target less than a kilometer away, behaved exatcly as the name describes: as a single solid lump of armor-penetrating hardened steel traveling at about mach 6... resaulting in lovely over-penetration as the nose breaks-up like a twenty-pound glaser-slug followed by still-burning solid rocket fuel. Only problem was that her 68mm SNEBs were never the most accurate things in the world, but at those ranges, it was pretty hard to miss. She just had to remember to pull-up, roll over, pick another target while leveling-out, fire another pair of nails, and pull-out again, rinse and repeat until either every sandbagged ammo and fuel bunker was on-fire, or her insides found a new home on the front of her visor... but in this case she simply ran out of rockets.

"Rounds complete, egressing. All yours, Spirit.

Time elapsed since first bomb: 2 minutes, 36 seconds.


[System]
Chosen by the gods to weild magic, the mages are fully human although none believe that. Magic is a fickle thing, typically if one parent is a mage there is no gauruntee that their children would be as well. Magic can show itself multiple times in a single generation or it may take a hundred years to show back up in the bloodlines. Families that advertise themselves as a strong line of mages usually aren't blood related.

As a trade off for great skills in magic all mages have some degree of disability. This may range to having only one arm or leg, deafness, muteness or blindness to missing an organ (never the heart, lungs or brain). Sometimes mages may have multiple disabilities although it is quite rare.

Mages run the risk of dying young if they are pushed beyond their limits. They must keep their emotions under check at all times or they may loose concentration on spells and have them backfire or in cases of extreme emotion like rage or sadness, they can get out of control.

WIP

This is the main kingdom of the humans. It is located along a coast, giving Danycia a great fishing economy. A majority of Danycia lies inland where it extends to the farthest boarders of the smallest human kingdoms. For generations the ruling family of Danycia has brought prosperity to their people, currently only three kings have been tyrants and almost all of them have died early.

Within this world magic is linked directly to the life force. It can kill you if you use too much magic at once or if you run out of it.

All living things possess magic and can be trained to use it. Mages are special beings who have a larger quantity of magic (and life force) and learning to use magic comes easier to them. Mages usually show signs of magical abilities as children through simple means like levitating objects of themselves, accidentally setting fires and things like that.

There are schools for teaching magic although they have been regulated to be only for the higher classes.

[User]
The other mages soon joined Ser'deni in their places behind the king. There were ten in total, counting her. Most of them were men although there were a few men who wore their hair long and held feminine faces. Ser'deni had been raised alongside the nine other mages and knew them all quite well. Six of them were blind; some wore cloth over their eyes while some did not. A man was missing a leg and leaned heavily on a carved walking stick. Another was mute although his physical appearance bore no indication. And one could not hear or talk.

The mages held no loyalty towards each other despite being brought up and raised with the others. They were bonded by their use of magic and their disabilities and nothing more.

For this occasion they were handed heavy black cloaks that hid their faces and disabilities from the eyes of the would-be knights. The mages were not only here for the safety of the King and his son, they were also here to participate in the choosing of the knights. All mages were skilled in many areas of magic but each held their own strength in one area.

"This is going to be fun." A man off to the right of Ser'deni said, he was standing directly behind the Prince.

"Inaris...keep your voice down." Another scolded the man.

Inaris made a sound of displeasure before falling into silence.

Triver wanted to talk to the mages behind him but the arrival of the knight candidates took his attention. They all seemed so young, although Triver wasn't old by any means. As a young man of only twenty years, he still had a lot to learn and see. Triver, his father, the mages and a few nobles sat on a raised platform covered with a richly decorated canopy of blue and gold.

He wondered if any of the candidates knew what was in store for them. The Prince had pestered Ser'deni and the others for information about their roles in all of this. "Our job is to break the weak from the strong. We will use our skills as mages to ensure that only the strongest are chosen." Those words left a chill that ran down his spine. Triver had never seen the mages in action before but he had heard stories of the generals who were given a mage as part of their army; they always told tales of the brutality of their magic. The mages were what helped win more land for Danycia and they were what kept the people under his father's thumb.

Triver would be lying if he said that he didn't hold some fear of the black-clad figures behind him.

The King watched the candidates with a dark gaze; he was uninterested in having new knights. He mostly wanted to see them bend and break under his mages so that all would know his power. The King was a twisted man who enjoyed the look of pain on others. His wife and son were the only ones exempt from his cruelty; his son would carry on his legacy as a ruthless ruler and his wife would remain obedient and serve as a link to further his influence in her native kingdom.

The Prince beside him had always been disgusted with the way that his father took such pleasure in the pain and terror of others. He was not close to his father; the man was nothing more than one he had to deal with in order to survive. Rumors floated around that his father had murdered his own brother to gain the throne. Triver didn't doubt those rumors although he should have defended his father. He should have tried to protect his father's reputation as a "grand and fine" king but he found that he could not. Triver wanted to change things within the kingdom. He wanted to live in a world of peace but with his father alive, that could never be possible.

The King waited for the start of the tests to be announced. He would not give those commoners the experience of hearing his voice. He was better than they were, as he was chosen by the gods to rule them.

The man that had given the candidates their instructions stood tall in front of the nervous looking potential knights, but under the king. "Let the trials begin!"

One after the other had stepped in front of the King and read out loud from one of the classic Danycian books that detailed the adventures of a hero before they were given their riddle. One man, almost immediately after he started reading, grasped his head and screamed in agony as his body crumpled to the floor. Triver knew without looking behind him what had happened. His stomach turned and it brought little comfort that he did not know which mage had turned the man into a pile of helpless and hurting flesh.

[Assistant]
Daryn looked around the room, taking in each and every face. The mages lined up behind the king and his son, faces covered by the black cloaks they wore. Seeing them sent a chill up her spine. Daryn didn't like magic. When her father's business had begun to fail, he had went to a local mage and asked him to help us. For more money than they had to spare, the mage did, but all the fish they caught, though plenty, were spoiled. Daelyn said that the mage was a fake, improperly trained. But when she looked at the mages, Daryn still felt a little sick to her stomach. Their mother used to read them stories of the mages parts in the war; both knew what they could do. As curious as she was to their part here, she felt mostly fear.

Daelyn wanted the first man go up, stepping just a few feet above the crowd. The way they were lined up, Daryn would be next. He could see her face twisting, worry lines between her brows. He understood her fear. He listened to the words of the man, lost in the story he read. Then, the man started screaming. He dropped the book- mistake number one- and held his head in his hands. He fell to the floor, and Daelyn moved to help him stand. Daryn caught his arm, her eyes wide. It hurt him to see the man in pain, lying in a broken pile in the floor. When he stopped screaming, the room was silent. No one moved, and Daelyn shook violently. Daryn released his arm, and he moved forward, picking the shaking, unconscious man up off the floor. He was covered in his own urine; his face was whiter than a sheet. Daelyn carried the man to the door and leaned him against the wall, only to return to the scene.

One down. Nine to go.

Daryn stared at the book now in her hands. The knight in charge told her to turn to a certain page. She didn't shake, didn't falter. Her words were clear, her voice nice. Their mother had taught them to read a long time ago; the lessons hadn't faded. The image of the man raced through her head, a fault of the mages. It couldn't be proved, but she knew. When she was almost finished, the pain began at the back of her head. It was like someone held a torch up to the nape of her neck, a fire spreading through her skull. She closed her eyes, but she didn't scream. An anger built up in her, towards everyone in the room, and it fueled her resistance. Nothing could stop the pain, though, and she was blinded by it. Unable to stand, she fell to her knees, felt hands on her shoulders, but she didn't scream. Clutching the book tight against her chest, she spoke to her brother behind her,

"Get back in line, I'm okay."

He did, and the pain stopped. It went as quickly as it came. Daryn opened her eyes and let out a long breath. She was dizzy, but she stood, finishing her part and then answering her riddle. It gave her pride to know she passed, even though she felt like fainting. Daelyn touched her cheek, and she couldn't even smile at him. Instead, she stood behind the line, waiting for this whole ordeal to be over.

Daelyn stepped up, holding the book. He flipped the page and read, just like his sister. He didn't know what was coming, and his hands shook violently. His voice remained steady, but his eyes kept darting up to the mages. Wondering what he would need to endure for their sick pleasure. Or was it the king's pleasure? Either way, Daelyn didn't like the group of people on stage. He made it through the entire piece and was given his riddle. That's when the voices came. They were loud, echoing voices. It didn't hurt, no, it was just distracting. He couldn't think, found himself searching around the room violently for lips to read, to figure out what was going on. In his haste, he turned towards Daryn, who had her brows furrowed in that way that she did, but she was repeating his riddle over and over again. He couldn't hear her, and the headache was building from the white noise. Finally, he screamed out the answer, clutching both ears and then handed the book to the knight and went to stand by Daryn. The voices left him, and he could hear clearly again.

He found Daryn's hand, and they stood like that, both of them panting, both feeling extremely proud of the other one. In the time that passed, they lost two more people, leaving a group of eight, seven boys and one girl. But every face was already exhausted, mentally strained from the first trial.

[User]
"And I thought my handling of people was harsh." Inaris teased once the first trial was over. Beside him Ser'deni made a face of disapproval, even if she had never seen the expression for herself and the man standing next to her hadn't either. Inaris was the best of using mental magic and he was quite proud that he was able to master one of the most difficult types of magic, and the only known "Seer of Truths" in Danycia. He was well known for a streak of cruelty and he had a nasty habit of burning through slaves like wildfire.

"I am not like you, Inaris. I find no pleasure in this." Ser'deni only did as she was told like a good little girl. She did not enjoy tormenting others and she certainly did not enjoy the reputation that came with it.

Inaris grunted before turning his attention to the Prince. Since Inaris lacked the ability of sight, he often used his magic to supplement his missing sense. Most of the mages used their magic to fill the voids left by their disabilities. For Ser'deni it was having some sort of creature feed information to her about the environment.

"The little Prince is afraid~" Inaris cooed softly. Triver did his best to ignore the male behind him, Inaris had always teased him in their younger years and even as adults that would never change. The prince fixed his gaze to the remaining eight; it had been painful to watch the others fall under the mages magic. As a prince, Triver was immune to the mages and their magic. He was one that they could not touch (as he was the only surviving heir to the throne it was forbidden that the mages used their magic on him.) The rustling of the heavy cloaks caught his ears and a gentle hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Do not listen to Inaris." Ser'deni whispered. The King ignored the words shared between the mages and his son. He had always allowed Triver to interact with the mages since one day
(in the very distant future) the boy would become king and follow in the footsteps of his father. "We are only doing our job. Please allow us to continue, the candidates must be able to endure pain and suffering to be deemed worthy." Her words made a bubble of nervousness rise in Triver's throat. They were doing this for his safety? He didn't want to be protected by them or the knights; he didn't want to be protected by anyone! Ser'deni returned to her previous location, allowing Inaris to return to his place.

The King scanned the small group of candidates before silently betting with himself which would crack first. His money was on the lone woman. The King had little respect for women and even his wife wasn't immune to his treatment. She might have been his wife but the King held little respect for anyone who wasn't capable of holding political power. The female mages behind him, as few as they were, were only valued for their magic. He stood up and finally addressed the crowd. The King was tall, like his son with similar features although the boy had his mother's gold spun hair. The King's hair was a dark and earthy brown that he wore short to hide the many silver hairs that streaked through it.

"The time has come for the second trial!" He barked out and the knight in charge of announcing the events quickly parroted his words. Some might say the King was mad and there probably wasn't a soul in the room that wouldn't agree. He sat back down heavily in his gold colored mini-throne, as Triver had called it. It was simply a smaller version of the Danycian throne that had been a symbol of power for hundreds of years.

Just as soon as the King had settled into his seat, it began to rain.


[System]
Age: 23

Magic: Tatsumi has a natural proficiency for Darkness magic, the dangerous nature of the skill perfectly fitting his reckless nature. Despite the risks he relies heavily upon his magic in combat.

Weapon: It is perhaps a stroke of irony, or typecasting, that the first weapon Tatsumi received upon arriving in the World of Wasted Dreams was a katana. He wields the sword as his primary weapon, favoring it greatly over other weapons. When forced to attack from a range Tatsumi does not rely upon conventional weaponry, instead turning to the somewhat dubious magic he wields. Besides his skill with the katana Tatsumi is a skilled martial artist, noted as a practitioner of Muay Thai and Kendo.

Bio: I remember something... it feels so long ago. It's like another life... The Shinai made a harsh thunk as they repeatedly crashed against each other. I can hear that sound so clearly, but everything else feels distant. He knew that the match that happened there was what mattered most to him. Everything else was pointless. Yes... that's what matters. The opponent. The dojo. Nothing else. I remember... wanting a life like that. A life of adventure, where I fought seemingly insurmountable foes... but I won. The thunks sped up, blows of increasing fury meeting each other. But one simple slip up, and it was over. There was no protective gear, was there? Why? After that, everything was fuzzy.

He remembered the blinding white lights of the hospital. Being propelled down the hallway on the gurney. The thumping, throbbing, all-consuming pain in his head. And the blood. The blood was everywhere.

And then Tatsumi woke up. That must've been a dream, nothing about that made sense... Tatsumi wasn't sure where he was, but it felt right. He knew he belonged here.

Personality: Tatsumi is perhaps first noted by those he meets for his sheer amicability. He's very friendly and outgoing, and meets strangers with an unusual eagerness to make friends. He's a natural when it comes to getting along with people, and is bound to make new friends in every locale he visits. He has what could be defined as a 'hero complex', wishing to be seen by those around him as someone strong, someone to admire. He's a paragon of morality, a shameless goody-two-shoes. He's incredibly helpful, willing to lend a hand to those in need, notably a sucker for the 'damsel in distress' stereotype, oft going out of his way to save the girl.

Tatsumi's negative features come in the form of his cocksureness. He's dangerously confident, reckless, and ridiculously cocky. Naturally, this combined with his wont to be a hero leads him to crave adventure and danger. Despite his somewhat 'goofy' attitude Tatsumi is surprisingly bright, perceptive, and calculating. When approaching an enemy clearly out of his league he always endeavors to have a plan to beat the insurmountable odds.

Underneath Tatsumi's shell of cheerfulness even he seems to harbor some sadness: Perhaps some lingering resentment from his time in the world before that of Wasted Dreams...

[User]
Tatsumi rallied as their attacks started to wear down the Monolith. Alright! This hunting stuff is kind of fun! He thought to himself, a grin making itself clear on his face. He felt in his element. At first the Monolith appeared to be failing, We beat it already?! So quickly? But Tatsumi was proven incorrect as a stony hand clutched for support against the ravine. The earth shook as the massive creature recovered. Now it was on the offensive! It shot lava from it's mouth like a cannon, and the ravine was rapidly getting a whole lot less roomy as it began to fill with the molten rock. We better close this up quick before that stuff gets too high, or we'll be roasted alive!

The lava attack was quickly wasn't all. Massive rocks began to fly towards the hunters. Not only that, they were really flying directly towards them, assumingly propelled by magic. Gotta get a move on if I don't want to get crushed! A trio of boulders were moving right for the happy-go-lucky hunter. The first was the easiest, Tatsumi diving to the right, going into a roll and barely moving out of the way before the rock crashed against the ground. By the time he recovered the second boulder was already almost upon him. He didn't have time to dive again so instead he pushed himself off the ground and deftly leaped above the attack. The final one was really homing in on him, looking to catch him in the air. There's no way I can dodge! For a moment he panicked, but he took a deep breath, realizing he had to keep calm if he wanted to survive. His shadow sword was still in hand, so he had a chance! He extended the blade, bringing it down on the stone and cleaving it in two. As he landed on the ground he thought to himself, Wow, that was too close!

Tatsumi took a moment to rest, finding himself out of breath after his acrobatics. His attention was taken by a man who seemed to be a completely unfamiliar hunter. Tatsumi realized that he came in earlier, when they were attacking the Monolith. He attacked the monster with two massive swords, and then greeted their apathetic vixen companion. He must be another vet! I can't wait to see him in action! Tatsumi watched him eagerly. He dodged the boulders effortlessly, all while handling his two unwieldy weapons. Two greatswords?! He must be strong! Tatsumi was in awe as he threw one of his heavy swords into the air like it weighed nothing. He then rushed forward and snatched it from it's fall, using the momentum for his attack. Amazing! He's way cooler than Akemi, and seems a lot more lively! I wonder if he'll teach me moves like that?! The coordination and strength an attack like that must take! Is this the power of a veteran hunter?! Tatsumi was, to say the least, highly entertained by the new hunter's skills. He eyed the slovenly fox-girl. I wonder if she's that strong when she's trying?

Tatsumi steeled himself. He was getting pumped up. He couldn't sit on the sidelines when a guy like this was here! The monolith was only down one arm from his attack, after all! He readied his shadow sword, and rushed towards the lava monster. I've gotta pull out some cool move too! Tatsumi thought to himself excitedly. As he closed the distance between himself and the monster he formulated his plan. I'll make sure to impress even Akemi! He grinned to himself. The monolith was in front of him Let's go! He used the shadows below him, using the magic that he was rapidly growing accustomed to, and perhaps dependent on. He formed a 'springboard' of sorts, bounding off the shadows and pushing himself upwards. Soon enough he was above the beast. He raised his dark sword, the length of it rapidly expanding. "I'm gonna cut you in two!" Tatsumi cried out excitedly. He brought the shadowy sword down.

He didn't exactly cut it in two. In fact, he only barely clipped it. Tatsumi highly underestimated how unwieldy a sword as long as the one he had made would be. Damn! Everyone saw that, didn't they? He thought to himself as he was rapidly falling towards the ground. He made contact with the stony surface of the ravine, using shadows to cushion his fall. And that was almost cool!

[Assistant]
Sinthe saw the new hunter appear wielding two great swords, his first thought of the guy was that his fighting style was clunky and slow since he's wielding a two big swords, he appeared and attacked the monolith with Akemi, when the monolith began trying to attack Sinthe, the tall white haired guy dove out the way of the creature's attack, he then got back to his feet and began moving away from the creature's attacks, he then noticed the creature was bring up magma from the ground.

He sighed seeing the creature's attack and began to climb up the side of the ravine to stay off the ground, then that's when the monster began to shake the ravine to bring rocks down on them, Sinthe groaned as he hugged the wall as rocks began to rain down on them, Sinthe made sure none of the rocks came down on him, as he put his back to the wall and looked up to see a large rock heading towards him, he dodged the rock by jumping to another point on the wall and looking at the others, he stayed out of the fighting again knowing his fist weren't fire proof.

[User]
Here it is:

---

Akemi turned turned to look when someone called her name in rather loud way. The only one who could be this flamboyant was obviously Alto, which was proven right once he came crashing down on the monolith with a dynamic entry, while wielding his trademark zweihanders.

"Not bad, but I've seen better" the vixen replied taking a shot at his pride, butb surprisingly not maliciously "Anyway, this thing is what they call the Monolith, though I never seen before. The important is to know that to kill it, we have to target its weakspot" she pointed to the monster's chest.

A couple minutes later...

Well if the fight wasn't being easy, almost depressingly so, Akemi thought as the Monolith's joints creaked and it fell, using the walls of the ravine to support its massive body. However, it was about to change when lava began to spew from the creature's neck and rocks flew in their direction.

Avoiding the fiery death was easy, all that Akemi had to do was stay away from the lava and she would be ok, though it was easier said than done, since it keept pilling on with every passing second. The rocks would prove more of a challenge, but Akemi had a plan that to actually use her brain in this fight, unlike those fools who fought driven by their lower heads.

Instead of dodging the first boulder to fly towards her, the vixen waited until it was too late for that and jumped on it, using rock as a stepping stone to jump even higher, bounding off of the second stone's path and landing at the small of the walking volcano. As the third and last stone came homing in a her, Akemi steeled herself and gritted her teeth waiting for the very last moment to side step off of its path and let it crash on the monster's back, splitting the nigh unbreakable as easily as an egg shell.

Or so she thought, as at exactly that moment Alto split the giant's arm making it lose its already precarious balance and the boulder only grazed it's left flank, cracking the armor, but not splitting it like Akemi planned to. Not only that, but Tatsumi literally came down on her wit a shadow sword large enough to cleave the Monolith in one hit, but missed the attack completely and fell on the ground. "That idiot, when will he listen?" Akemi clicked her tongue, extremely displeased with Tatsumi's ignorance and bullheadedness.

After jumping off of the giant's back, Akemi landed in front of the place where Tatsumi stood, lowered her hood and walked to him with her fangs bared in an angry scowl, before yelling "What's your problem, you fucking idiot? Why do all of you newbies act like you knew everything and never listen to what I say?" Her voice like that of a raging demon, which in a sense was true, but still it looked like Akemi was truly worried about Tatsumi.

"If you do not believe me, why don't you take a look at you own shadow, then?" In fact, if Tatsumi did, he would notice that his shadow was distorted and seemed to be kind of alive, which is the first of many signs that he was abusing shadow magic a little too much. "Also, I doubt you'll be able to sleep for a couple days because of the nightmares, so I hope you like to stay awake."

With that said, she turned back to the fight, but not before closing in even more and licking Tatsumi's ear before saying in her typical provocative voice "If you want to impress me so much do it on another place..."

[Assistant]
"She's right actually, next time you sleep you might actually die." Alto said, appearing behind Akemi. He poked the new guy's gigantic darkness sword, and unexpectedly, his finger went in it. He felt a prick, and his finger came out with a little darkness fish on it. "Yeah, you're definitely going to die, so hold off for a bit."

He shook it off and turned back to face the Monolith. Then he turned back around again.

"Actually, how do we kill this thing?" He said to Akemi. He'd never seen this beast before or anything similar so he really had no idea. He was assuming they had to smash up its molten core, but his Zweihanders were going to melt before that happened.

[User]
Tatsumi was really at the end of his rope with Akemi. He was the kind of person that tried to look past people's faults, but that was getting really difficult, and he was at his boiling point. "I am so sick of you! Like, really, I tried being nice, but you're just... a really bad person! All you do is yell at us, and tell us nothing! This is our first day here! We just came from our completely normal world! This is the first time I've ever seen anything like... this! You might be experienced, but we know literally nothing! We've lost all our memories, you know that, right?! Honestly, maybe you should've told me that using this magic would..." Tatsumi finally looked at his shadow.

"What the fuck?! Would it be so hard to say 'Hey, newbie, by the way, shadow magic really fucks you up' All you did was yell something about shadow magic inbetween yelling at the rest of us! You're really supposed to be our teacher?! And now... and now you're coming onto me?! What is your problem?! Do you just fuck anything that has a cock?! I'm tired of this," Tatsumi vaguely gestured towards the Monolith, "I'm tired of the people around here making no sense, I'm tired of monsters, I'm tired of darkness,and I'm really fucking tired of you, Akemi! I really try to believe everyone is a nice person past whatever the show on the outside... but... geez!"

Tatsumi felt at first that this world was right, but it was clear to him now that it was really fucked up.