[System]
John Jorgen
Nickname/Alias: The Historian, Professor, John
Race: Julliak
Age: 672
Ethnicity: What's an ethnicity?
Gender: Male
Appearance:

In their natural form, Julliaks appear to be very very tall (about 9 feet) bipedal humanoids with gaunt features, as though their skin were stretched tight against their bones. They have no hair to speak of, no mouths, and natural skin pigment ranges anywhere between deep blood red to albino white. All their eyes are green. Joniminum is a particularly light shade of red (but not pink!). Of course, that's his natural form as a Julliak, but he spends most of his time in the guest-friendly human form he shapeshifts into. In his human form, John looks like a male in his mid-forties with receding black hair styled straight back. No matter the time of day, he always has a five o'clock shadow. This form is six feet tall, well built, and always with a friendly twinkle in his eye even when annoyed.
Clothing: Black suit, dark blue button-up shirt, black tie.

In The Mind

Personality: Studious, wise, friendly, and engaging. John loves people and science. Used to be whole-heartedly devoted to the Galatec cause but only because he kept himself locked away in his labs and remained ignorant to the effect they were having on the people they "helped."
Likes: Computers, science, history, humanity, culture, legends
Dislikes: Wastefulness, malicious intent, tyranny, animal abuse
Fears: That he won't make a difference, his rangers being lost to battle, sharks
Quirks: Likes to shake hands when seeing someone even if they've met before, straightens his tie a lot

Where They've Been

History: Born on home world. Liked science and the idea of progress. Joined Galatec for great benefits and access to lots of research potential. Came to New Earth, studied humanity's history. Became enamored with human culture. Bad stuff went down. Faked his death and stole morpher technology. Setup base with Samara.
Talents: Computers, robotics, galaxy's foremost expert on the Morphin Grid, not bad in a fist fight.
Hindrances: Not good at coping with loss
Powers: Shape-shifting. Julliak shape-shifting is not nearly as fluid or varied as other forms of shape-shifting. A julliak needs to design a form on paper and study the biology, obtaining an understanding of all biological functions of the design, and burning a lot of calories making the change. It takes a lot of time and effort.
Equipment: Classified

Bonus Round

Quotes: "It's up to you." "Time to be a hero." "In the proud tradition of humanity."
Theme Song: Maybe later
Aspiration: To be able to use his studies for the beneficial progression of people everywhere, and to be able to come home again.

[User]
As Mable wrote her name in the notepad, her pink eyes widened like an owl's as she saw the message. "Red Rock?..." She glanced at the Githkin's face, only just now actually looking at it. "You aren't a fan at all, are you?" She asked. "I've been on the sidelines since this conflict started, waiting for something to happen." Mable handed the notepad back to the Githkin, just as her manager scrambled over. "Just a fan Joo-Joo, calm down.~" Mable waved the Githkin off politely and began to walk away. She was having trouble keeping her breathing easy, and her blue cheeks had begun to flush purple. Things had finally moved into gear in this city, and she was more excited than she'd been in years.

She tried to focus on her concert, the lyrics and dance routine she had crammed so hard to learn, but it was hard to care about any of it at the moment. She wanted to leave right now and do something, but she couldn't. She gripped her pounding chest and let out an anxious breath. "I'm gonna go crazy if I miss this."

[Assistant]
Tommy was somewhat taken aback by how fast things were going. This morning he went off to work expecting SOMETHING to happen, the managers and githkin, ignorant of his free will, had mentioned such things around him. However, he didn't expect to be at the center of a second rebellion.

His eyes grew larger as he saw Jonah morphing, and then Clementine. It looked so... FUN!!! Ok well, this was a serious moment and he knew he had to treat it as such, but still, it looked fun! No better motivator when entering a battle untrained and unprepared than fun!

"Don't get your panties in a knot there Jonah, I'm getting to it!" Said Tommy, smiling at the both of them. He strapped the morpher to his arm and reached forward. "Strike Force, Flash Forward!"

In much the same manner as the other two had morphed, Tommy was covered in a haze of pixels and blue light. This light however was much different from Galatec's horrible lights of despair, this light was more like a light of glory and righteousness. Within seconds he was enclosed in his own armor. It was a strange feeling... he didn't feel frail or weak like he usually did, constantly hungry and tired. He felt... strong. Stronger than any regular human should feel.

"Oliver, this is amazing!" He said, turning to his friend. "We have to save Micheal though, whoever that is, so we gotta get moving."

[User]
Oliver stared at the device he was given. He was still unsure if he was the right choice for the job. Watching as the others morphed into their respective colors made Oliver excited. When he heard the words come out of Tommy's mouth it made him feel a little more secure. He strapped the device around his wrist and began his morphing process.

Holding his wrist out in front of him he said, "Strike Force, Flash Forward!" A form of pixels and light appeared in front of him emitting from the green stone. Oliver curiously reached out to it, and when he touched it the light and pixels started enveloping around his body shining brightly. When the light finally dimmed Oliver could be seen standing there covered from top to bottom in a powerful suit.

He could feel the strength of the suit and the light it produced cleared his mind of any doubt he had earlier. He looked up to his fellow rangers and said, "This is-is-absolutely awesome. I feel so much stronger." He turned back to John and Samara when he remembered about Michael, "Don't worry about Micheal. Will make sure he and the everyone else is safe."

[Assistant]
The githkin did not respond to Mable's words, nor react in any way. In fact, once she had handed back the book it simply turned round and left. Gajoon appeared to be quite relieved as he wiped away some... Wait, could Cephapodians sweat? Well regardless, he made the motion of wiping sweat from his brow and looked all the happier for it. Since Mable was concerned with her own thoughts, and the githkin was either too stupid or too impolite, the pop star's manager went through the trouble of closing a simple wooden door. Really, what was the world coming to?

"Miss Love, are you alright?" he asked, approaching Mable. "You're looking awfully flushed."

He then gasped, covering his mouth with four tentacle-hands as his eyes opened wide. "Please tell me you're not having doubts about the concert? You're still in top condition, right? OH GOD WHAT DID THAT GITHKIN WANT?! WE'RE RUINED, I JUST KNOW IT!"

Jackson went back to work without a care in the world, and why should he be bothered by anything? Things were going so splendid, weren't they? The drill was handling like a charm, too. Work continued just like that for another four hours. In that time Jackson only had to stop drilling once when he ran into a gas pocket, so they had to get it cleaned up to protect the workers. A single spark from those axes, or his drill, and it could have led to a pretty massive explosion. And that's where Jackson found himself now, standing back behind some specialty workers that were using some kind of Galatec designed machines to siphon away the natural gas pocket.

Jackson...

...What?

Jackson...

Something... Something was... Talking to him? It sounded like a voice, a soft and hushed whisper. Female. For some reason it reminded Jackson of buttermilk icing on cake. But where was it coming from? Nearby the twin sisters, the spotters, stood having their own conversation. Unlike Jackson, they didn't get to take a short break while the cleanup crew worked. They had to keep on coming the walls with small instruments and sensors, looking for potential valuables. Standing right behind them was the same githkin that had been watching over Jackson's crew today, looking... Bored? Could githkin look bored? It was so hard to tell with those mouthless faces.

As soon as her orders were given, everyone practically jumped to follow them. The assistants plugged away at their computers to send out the order for the missing slaves' families to be rounded up. Drax didn't waste any time in immediately leaving to the supervisors' dormitories, damaging the door in the process. Foreman Jo'ones gave her a nod and saluted with his brand new arms, then took off without a word. Githkin XJ-47 likewise left without any sort of acknowledgement nor response. It was the way of his kind, after all, to obey without question and without hesitation.

"Ma'am, the order is complete," said the female assistant.

"Cameras show a group of rebels are nearing this office. Shall I activate the security measures?" inquired the male. It may have seemed a silly question, but the facility policy did indicate that the office security was only to be activated if approved by the foreman or a representative with equal authority, and Galatec was nothing if not a stickler for the fine print.

The android charged toward his target without hesitation, and quickly found himself in the middle of a large battle between two githkin and seven rebels. The githkin, sensing their general's approach, dove out of the way. The rebels had an altogether different response.

"It's Adelram Drax!" shouted one of them, holding up a pickaxe as his primary weapon. "Destroy him!"

The rebels all assaulted Drax. The leader attacked with his pickaxe, while another leapt at him with a baseball bat. Two more shot at the robot with old shotguns, while another two fired small pistols. The seventh was armed with a laser blaster but never got the opportunity to shoot, as Drax simply barreled through the entire group, completely unharmed, and disappeared around the corner. Drax's CPU computed a 92.3% chance that any survivors would be near instantly rounded up and/or executed by the two githkin they had previously engaged.

A minute after this altercation and Drax found himself at the dormitories just outside of Shplorn's room. She stood in the doorway while the three githkin there, two regulars and one elite, held their heads in confusion. They were being given contradicting orders and while normally the orders of Regional Manager Ruthalia would take precedence, Ruth had severed the connection while Shplorn kept trying. Drax had seen this before, but it was irrelevant to his mission.

As soon as Drax was in her sight, Shplorn's eyes opened wide. She threw her arms up into the air in a complete surrender, allowing Drax's energy wave to easily scoop her up. At the same time he was able to grab the three githkin, and could carry all four in his massive arms without too much difficulty. However as soon as he held the four, his Situation Awareness Sensor picked up a presence behind him. One of Division Alpha, a man about thirty years old wearing some impressive (for scavenged) metal battle armor and holding a plasma blaster in his hand. He had the look of a warrior about him, a man that enjoyed the fighting.

"Drop Shplorn, rust bucket, or you'll need a whole lot more than a paint job when I'm through with you!"

It was an interesting and poetic thought, if the githkin died with smiles just like the slaves they worked to death. Of course without context it made absolutely no sense seeing as the species had no mouths, but that's neither here nor there. Michael risked his life, everything, to break cover in the firefight long enough to shoot at a githkin with his pistol. His index finger squeezed that trigger, which in turn set the mechanisms of this ancient machine in motion to ignite the powder inside a small metal tube. The resulting bang was a microcosm of the situation Michael had found himself in. He was just a small metal tube inside a larger, more complex machine, and now he was being hurled toward a danger he understood only too well.

The bullet left the barrel of the gun and struck true, hitting the githkin square in the chest. The creature recoiling about a quarter of a foot, but it let out no grunt or cry of pain, nor did its hand reach to the wound by instinct. Instead it focused entirely on the source of the shot, its eyes meeting Michael's. His eyes were more concerned with that bullet wound, or lack thereof. The bullet had hit it, certainly, but flattened uselessly against the creature's hardened skin, leaving behind only a small bruise.

Uh oh.

One by one, each of the youths transformed using the morphers they had been provided. The rush, the force, the power, it was so... Was there even a word for this kind of experience? Whatever it was, it felt fantastic! With each transformation they had not only an influx of power, but an influx of knowledge. It was a little bit disorienting at first, but something they could quickly recover from. Each one instantly knew the capabilities they had as a ranger, from their weapons, to their enhanced abilities, to their unique ability granted by the suit. Oh happy day.

"I tinkered with these morphers' designs a little bit and added my own touch. When you came into contact with the Morphin Grid, it should have downloaded your suit's entire skill set directly into your minds. Years worth of training in a single data stream, hahaha." John smiled, making eye contact with each one of the four that stood before him, then gave his final words before seeing them off. "Time to be a hero and save your red ranger. Power Rangers Strike Force, move out!"

Once the four got going into the door Samara had opened up for them, they could feel even more of the power granted by their suits. The tunnels ahead held challenges, though. It was time to see how they'd handle it.

Once the rangers departed, John shook all over, his composure suddenly vanishing. Samara knew that he put on a brave and confident face in even the worst of times, but he still had his own doubts. Right now fear was showing all over his face.

"Right, we need to get more power to the RDS. These generators are not going to cut it. The charge time is too long for large teleportations like that." He quickly paced around, thinking and thinking. With a mind like his, thousands of thoughts would race through and be contemplated, but he didn't seem to like any of them. After several moments, he came to a stop.

"I have an idea if the generators don't recharge in time... But I don't like it and I doubt you will either."


[System]
"And I get up because it is the only thing I can do."

---

---
Nickname:
Rose, because it is a shorten version of his name and because of his occupation. Although Ambrose prefers if only close friends referred to him this way, as the nickname has been used in a mean-spirited manner many times

Date of Birth:
October 31st 1995

Age:
21

Gender:
Male

Sexuality:
Homosexual

Relationship Status:
Single

Hometown:
Detroit, Michigan

Ethnicity:
Biracial - white father and African American mother

In Depth Appearance:
Ambrose has a slender figure, and stands at a mere 5'5'' and has a sort of a baby face. However everything on him is a lean muscle, toned from years of track team and regular running. His skin is a tawny brown, with deep gold undertones. He doesn't have the best posture though, and is often slouched in attempt appear smaller and be less noticeable in general. Ambrose has a pair of deep hazel eyes, framed with dark thick lashes. His hair is a deep black with soft curls that rest on his forehead. His skin splattered with dark freckles, across his cheeks and back, and he has several small scars on his upper thighs as well as a couple deep, ugly scars on his torso.

The young man has no tattoos, although he has a couple in mind he wants to get someday. But he does sport a small septum piercing, other then that, Ambrose is pretty bare in terms of body modifications. He tends to wear monotone clothes, mostly black and grey with only pastel colors like mint green occasionally. The clothing pieces are usually loose and comfortable, although Ambrose is always seen wearing his favorite pair of high tops sneakers.

Hobbies:
◘ Painting
◘ Photography
◘ Film Reviewing
◘ Running in the early morning for exercise

Magical Affinity:
A new-comer to the magic scene, Ambrose is inexperienced and unsure of his abilities. But he is still a natural and a fast learner for the art. He seems to showing an affinity towards the natural and physical magics.

Habits:
◘ Pulls all-nighters to finish a particular painting, messes up his sleep schedule for a week and barely functions on coffee the entire time
◘ Extremely fidgety, especially when anxious
◘ Doodling on every piece of paper he gets his hands on
◘ Smoking (Although this is a rare thing to witness as he only indulges when he is particularly stressed)

Likes:
◘ Confusing art films
◘ Plants
◘ Dancing
◘ Rain and Thunderstorms
◘ Snails
◘ Indie/Alternative music

Dislikes:
◘ Crowded Rooms
◘ High-pressure situations or high-expectations
◘ Airplanes/Airports
◘ Elitist Attitudes
◘ Bigotry in general
◘ People flaking on plans/promises. It's a real pet peeve of his

Fears:
◘ Fear of heights
◘ Fear of tight/small spaces
◘ Fear of running into the law

Personality:
The first impression Ambrose makes on people, is a small guy who seems timid and socially uncomfortable. And this is true for the most part. Ambrose naturally shies away from the spot-light and likes instead to observe people from a distance (one of his favorite past times is people watching). He is a naturally anxious and cautious person, leading him to be un-trusting and suspicious of other people's motives. Most people who speak to him for the first time are met a with a guarded and tense conversation. Yet despite this Ambrose is more a follower and is easily pressured into activities he would't have otherwise done himself. He is truly a fish out of water in the academy life, an outsider, so he hasn't made any new friends yet.

Because of his introversion, Ambrose is more focused on his own pursuits instead of relationships, like painting and photography. Both of which are passions he hopes to turn into a career someday. He is incredibly invested in the arts, but he is too afraid to quit his day job for a full-time career as an artist. He spends almost all of his free time painting, and has even had a couple successful art shows. Yet overall, Ambrose is still naive and unsure of how to further his skills and network successfully to make his break into the industry.

Despite his initial prickly exterior, Ambrose is quite affectionate to the ones who have earned his trust. A little emotionally needy, he is eager to please those have captured his affections. Ambrose has the habit of putting others before him, often neglecting himself for days on end. Yet romantic partners of Ambrose are disappointed with someone who is afraid of both emotional intimacy and commitment.

Ambrose also has an unexpected wild side, this is something he tries to hide the most as it has gotten him into many sticky situations. It really only comes out with drinking or anything else like that. When he is like this, he is more willing to take risks and tell people how he really feels. This is probably when he is at his funniest, sarcastic and even a bit flirty.

Background:
Ambrose grew up in a cramped apartment, in the inner city that was wracked with poverty and crime. It was a daily part of his environment, to be unsure of if he would get dinner, and if he would even be safe considering the criminal activity. An only child with neglectful parents with a father who took his anger out on his family and a mother who drowned her sorrows with alcohol. They weren't really completely evil people, but they shouldn't have been parents. Ambrose had to grow up on his own, and his only escape from reality was through the arts.

 But as he grew to adolescence, he became painfully aware of the expectations around him. To have a reliable job, to be tough and masculine, and so on. This, combined with involvement with the "bad kids", Ambrose fell down a slippery slope of petty crime. Eager to prove himself among his peers, the teenager began to deal drugs and even took part in a few (unarmed) robberies. He never had the intention to hurt people, and viewed it as a way to get cash for food and other basic essentials. But Ambrose also began nursing a drug addiction, thanks to easy access and pressure from his "friends".

Ambrose barely graduated from high school, and with rapidly deteriorating health, he soon realized he needed to take a good hard look at himself. He was a shell of the person he used to be, malnourished and a lost purpose in life. Ambrose knew he didn't want this life, and he knew he didn't want this life. So one day, he just got up and left. He forced himself to go cold turkey, he forced himself to face horrible withdrawals and cut ties with everyone from his old life. To them, Ambrose was now dead. He moved to a small town in Michigan and landed a job in a entry-level position in a florist shop. The owner noticed his hard-work and eye for design and with training, Ambrose was promoted to a florist. He has now worked there for a year, and has also been sober for a year.

Up to this point, Ambrose was ignorant of his abilities and of the magic world. His life seemed to be back on track until he was swept into the world by accidentally witnessing a magical act late one night. Bewildered, he was hauled off to Blackbrick academy to have his memory erased of the incident. At the mercy of the Magicians, Ambrose was given a test of his magic skill on a mere whim of the headmaster. To everyone's astonishment, he passed, demonstrating an innate ability just now awakened. With that, Ambrose was accepted into the college. Amrbose decided to attend, a promise of free higher education and access to an entire magical world was too good a deal to pass up. Ambrose is still unsure how to register everything that has happened, but he is excited for what the future holds.

Miscellaneous:
N/A

[User]
After his third drink Caleb was feeling it. The music was pounding and yet he was still a tad bit coherent and managed to hold conversation well, though as he observed Ambrose he could see that the male was feeling the effects of the alcohol as well. He managed to stand upright instead of leaning against the counter and laughed when Ambrose asked Alex what Sam had told him. He even leaned forward and narrowed his eyes which caused Caleb to burst into laughter. Yep, he was drunk, that proved it. He would have a hangover from hell tomorrow, but at that moment it was going on 10:30 and the party was just getting started in his opinion.

What happened next surprised even Alex who had noticed the change in Ambrose from first seeing him until now after having a few drinks. He was bold to grab Caleb and tug him onto the dance floor, and Caleb was shocked at this action, but he let Ambrose tug him along like a little toy until they hit the dance floor. It was then that Ambrose really showed him what he could do and he was amazed. He watched him, matching his rhythm with his own, their bodies close, the heat causing Caleb to sweat slightly. Smirking, he continued to dance with Ambrose, but he did something that he hoped Ambrose wouldn't shy away from. He snatched off his shirt to relieve some of the built up heat and tucked the shirt into his back pocket allowing it to hang loosely. This also caused his pants to sag slightly, revealing more of his underwear band.

Alex observed from a far and shook his head when Caleb took his shirt off.

"Anything to show off huh Caleb?" He said, but the music drowned out his voice. He laughed wondering how this night would end with Ambrose and Caleb.

[Assistant]
Ambrose only lost his beat when Caleb stripped down further. "Whoa," He mouthed as he took in the sight. But a beat later and he burst out into a fit of giggles. "Looks like someone wants to show off." He teased, his voice just barely loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. "I guess I don't mind this time." He resumed his beat, pressing closer to his companion this time. Ambrose threaded a hand through Caleb's hair, leaning close enough that he could feel his breath. Ambrose had promptly decided he was just going to go for it, and in his clouded alcohol-addled brain, that was a fantastic idea.

But just as he gained his courage, a heavy hand gripped his shoulder and jerked him back an inch. "Mind if I cut in?" A deep voice yelled over the music. Ambrose looked up at the figure, a tall man with sharp features gazed back at him. A confident smile graced his lips, white teeth flashing in the low lights. "Er, with me?" Ambrose asked in confusion, and the man laughed at the response. "No, I meant with Caleb." He responded and continued to tug Ambrose lightly away from his new friend. At this point Ambrose got the message and was compliant with being pulled away. "Um, right." He said, even with the help of alcholo, Ambrose face blushed with embarrassment. Ambrose and the new man both looekd towards Caleb for his answer.

[User]
Caleb was enjoying the closeness between him and Ambrose. He was enjoying the dancing, the feeling excitement, the thrill of not knowing what would happen next. It all appealed to him and it drove him to keep dancing and having fun. He was smiling as Ambrose threaded a hand through his hair causing him to tilt his head back revealing his prominent Adam's apple. He could feel Ambrose's breath on his skin and pleasure waves shot through his nerves causing him to smirk as he watched Ambrose with new eyes. He was more than what Caleb initially thought. Give the guy a few drinks and he was the life of the party. Still, Caleb wanted to know more about Ambrose, what made him tick, what his favorite food was, what his favorite music was. He wanted to know more about him and yet he was nervous to ask. Imagine him, the sex symbol of BlackBrick too nervous to ask a guy out and get to know him.

In this moment, his will to push dating away was out of the window. As the dancing continued, he kept up with Ambrose, allowing their bodies to touch and move to the rhythm. Suddenly, Ambrose stopped dancing and Caleb looked up to see a taller male wanting to dance with him. While flattered, Caleb really didn't want to just abandon Ambrose to dance with a random stranger. He sighed and smiled at the guy.

"Thanks for the offer," he said as he moved closer to Ambrose. He reached out, grabbing Ambrose by the waist and pulling him in close. "...but I'm with him," Caleb added with a smirk as he grabbed Ambrose's hand hopefully tugging him along with him to a private area so they could talk. When he reached a pretty isolated area, only a few people standing around, he sat down and exhaled feeling the alcohol hit him once more. "That was amazing," he said to Ambrose with a smile, "why didn't you let me know you were such a great dancer?" He slowly pulled the shirt out of his back pocket and threw it onto his shoulder for the time being.

[Assistant]
Ambrose was almost ready to back away, ready to be left behind. The man who had taken his place was tall and handsome, gazing down with a confident blue eyes. But he was startled when he was reeled back in by Caleb by the hip. He glanced back at the man who had propositioned Caleb, whose facial features had twisted into one of distaste as his stare shifted between the pair. Ambrose met his glare with a dopey grin, "You heard him." Ambrose jabbed before Caleb pulled him away from the crowd. Ambrose had to admit, it felt pretty good to be the first choice instead of the last.

Ambrose slumped down next to Caleb, still panting as he leaned his forehead against the cool wall. Another giggle erupted from his throat, "Hah! It's something I don't do often." He paused and gestured to the whole room, "I don't do any of this often anymore." Ambrose fell silent for a moment, watching the crowd move. It was clear most of the people now were wasted or high as a kite. It brought back memories, some he didn't want to think about right now. So he snapped his attention back to Caleb. Who, even while drunk, seemed to radiate light in whatever room he was in.

Ambrose reached over and fiddled with the shirt on Caleb's shoulder. With the alcohol, still pumping through him, Ambrose didn't really think much about his actions like usual. He just did whatever was his first impulse. His hand trailed from the shirt back to Caleb's hair. "I... Uh, appreciate the hospitality you've shown since I've arrived here." A breathy laugh escaped his lips, and his hazel eyes were heavy-lidded. Ambrose leaned slightly forward, parting his lips slightly, hoping Caleb would get the hint.


[System]
Age: Looks 21(148 years, but who's counting?)

Mood Music I Guess

Gender: Male

Species:Vampire

Appearance: About 6'0", with messy blonde hair and muddy red eyes. Pale skin, Caucasian, and longer nails. Average facial features, excluding a small scar below his right eye that causes pain. Doesn't care to hide his fangs, as his hygiene is one of his few redeeming traits. Easily blends into crowds. Wears some tattered Victorian clothes to keep the memory of his past life behind(maroon sports jacket, white shirt, green dress pants, loafers). Whenever he goes out, he wears cracked sunglasses to disguise his red eyes.

Background: Was transformed into a vampire in the year 1889. A college student, working at Oxford University, London, he had a promising life ahead of him. His name at birth was Adam, and he lived a happy life. Coming from a fairly wealthy family at the very end of the Industrial Revolution, Adam imagined his life as going smoothly, figuring he would create a medicine company with his expertise, and grow even more wealthy. He had no idea of the horrors he would witness

 One late afternoon, Adam was walking in the 'shady' part of town when he came across a caravan advertising rare ingredients at low prices. Figuring this could help him with studies, he stumbled into the smoky room. An old man sat at the end, looking through some papers. He approached the old man, and inquired about the ingredients. The old man went on and on about his stock, but Adam immediately dismissed almost each and every one as a fraudulent version of some existing chemical. After inquiring about anything worthwhile, the old man pulled out a small wooden chest with a lock on it. After fumbling around to open it, a stench filled the room. 3 hunks of rock sat in the chest, which Adam would later identify as brimstone, meteorite, and solid hellfire. He immediately purchased all 3, and ran back into the lab to begin work on his new pet project.

 After a few days of fiddling with the stones, Adam unwittingly created a new gas that not even he knew about: one that attracted paranormal beings. He had been working late, and a small lab fire, mixing with the brimstone, obsidian, and chlorine Adam had been working with, created a smell extremely attractive to beings such as vampires and demons. It was no surprise Adam was cornered by a vampire the very next evening. Working late yet again, Adam had spilled blood while cleaning some equipment. This sealed his fate, and as he stumbled home he was attacked by a member of the undead. Adam was well read, and so knew of these creatures. He ran into the countryside, feeding on the occasional sheep. He lived in fear of society, as the urges to feast on human flesh grew.

 33 years after he was turned, World War One started. He had been lurking around a small village when the news hit, and figured he could use it as an opportunity to get some food. He hid under tarps, hiding under cars until he arrived at the training camp, taking the place of a recruit looking quite similar to him: one Atlas Johnson. Somehow hiding his terrible secret, he made it to the trenches. The horrors of the gas warfare, along with the monstrous Panzer units, scared Atlas for life. He fought until the war ended, hiding in rural Siberia until the second World War broke out, taking the distracted U.S.S.R as an opportunity to escape.

 The moniker Atlas stuck, and so he jumped from country to country, war to war until eventually settling in Brooklyn. He began researching the occult once again, and ran into the mysterious Seph Kane. Due to Atlas' experience, and knowledge in alchemy, he was recruited. Atlas chose Belfast due to isolation, and the abundance of wild game to feed off of.

Current Life: Due to sunlight aversion, set up in a rickety mine filled with bones and gold, both of which are useful for alchemy. Has a lab set up there for testing. He only goes out at night to drink at whatever local bar is open, usually keeping to himself in a corner. Visits local penitentiary on nights when he needs to feed. Has been in Belfast for two weeks and already loves the weather.

Personality: After all these years has become very apathetic. Due to the horrors witnessed during war has a distaste for blood, which causes some turmoil when it comes time to feed. No longer believes in any higher power, and just wishes for the sweet release of death that will never come naturally. Has become an introvert due to aversion to sunlight. Spiteful of the living, but also just hates people. Raging alcoholic.

Schools of Study: Alchemy, Botany

Specialization: When it comes to alchemy, he is very knowledgeable in poison brewing and the science behind 'holy water', but has failed at that aspect. Wishes to find a cure to vampirism

Spells: Ice Burst: The only spell Atlas bothered to learn, it allows him to freeze objects, create hunks of ice, and lower body temperature, the last of which was never a problem for a vampire. He is very used to it by now, though using it too often will tire him out, leaving him incapacitated. This makes him wish to avoid using said spell, out of paranoia.

Abilities: Carbon Vision -Knows the chemical makeup of most plants and animals.

 Shaken, Not Stirred -Can make 'quick fix' potions such as healing and poison.

 Undead and Hating It -Superhuman strength,Able to mesmerize people for short periods of time, Can turn into a bat

 Been There Done That -Extremely knowledgable when it comes to history

 Flower Power -Has some botany skills to help him grow ingredients, and can identify many plants.

 Close Minded -Takes pride in his brewing skills, but lacks knowledge in many other subjects.

 Been Around the Block -Due to living for 148 years, can fluently speak English, Italian, French, and Soviet-era Russian

Weaknesses: Sunlight, Jesus and Co., Holy things in general, a minor distaste for garlic, has to be invited indoors

Equipment: -Poison Bottle: Filled with a nightshade-venom mix that he has been working towards perfecting for centuries

 -Erlenmeyer Flask(4): Used to make potions

 -Bag of Ingredients: Small ingredients used in Alchemy
 -Raven:Pet

 -Gas Mask: A gag item

 -Heavy Gloves: Used when handling acidic/destructive materials. Prevents the need for restoration, which takes up energy.

 I'm going to list all seven knives here. 6 are from W&R, and one is the heirloom

Tubuel: This blade emits a bright light that can be seen by all within a certain radius

Raguel: This blade ignites when the proper incantations are spoken

Simiel: This blade emits a loud noise when the proper incantations are spoken

Inias: This blade attracts insects from within a small area.

Saboac: This blade is constantly covered in poison

Tubuas: This blade acts as an opposite to Uriel, and sucks in light, leaving a void of darkness around it

Uriel: This blade ran in the family, and thus only responds to those of their descent. It is seemingly linked via magic, or Atlas would be unable to use it due to the vampire cells. Operates as a boomerang.

When Used In Unision:
Tubuel+Tubuas: Creates a radar of nearby living things
Raguel+Saboac: Flame grows twice as strong
Inias+Simiel: Attracts insects from a larger area than Tubuel alone

Other: Pretty good at the mandolin and bartending.

Here he is

[User]
Mithias leaned against the doorframe, arms folded, and stared unblinkingly at Markiel with a stoic, but not unkind, expression, as he listened to the old warlock divulge his sincere feelings. He was an interesting case, this Relovski, an undying, yet very alive and human, living being. It was pleasant to see even briefly into his soul, and Mithias counted himself lucky to have caught many a glimpse.

This kindred immortal was however, following down a dark path, one that had claimed many a fledgling or oldblood alike. Death didn't always come in the night with a hood or a blade as the naive often expected. It was far older and far more sinister. One brought it upon themselves, slowly, becoming their own killer.

When Markiel finished a silence followed. The vampire brought a slightly clawed hand up to his very white chin as he finally blinked at him. It was time obviously, that Markiel needed 'the talk.'

"You speak of funerals, of death and of loss. Your thoughts turn to darkness and begin to swirl about the vortex of doom as if there were no other possibility. Immortality is not merely a constant apology for lack of dying, Markiel. In all your years, have you not witnessed births as well? How many lives have you encountered and enjoyed that you never would have had you remained mortal? Do you ever think on that? Their lives have been blessed by you, and despite your nihilistic assumptions, even mortal lives have meaning in their fleeting existance. Your life has meaning. Your life is no torment to you, only that you look upon it that way. The demon you fear only laughs at the torture you bring yourself. You see, you're something else now Markiel, something no longer meant to die. All you need to do is reach up and grasp your destiny and make it yours. Claim it. Own it. And may every moment of your consciousness be spent in appreciation and wonder at what the universe has to offer."

"I look upon you now Markiel with as much love as I would whether you would live forever or die in a few decades, as I would anyone, and I feel only joy. Perhaps I will one day miss you, but never will I regret our time together. I do hope that you will be around for long."

This is perhaps why Mithias had lived so long.

[Assistant]
Jacklo didn't seem quite awake yet, and Azai didn't notice his brief awakening so he didn't disturb his rest and just walked away. He didn't want to stay in the office since there wasn't anything to do right now, and Coal wasn't anywhere near. He wanted to see if he would want to visit that mage's parents, Azai kept the address just in case. So he decided to head up to his penthouse and read that tome he got from the mage's basement…

Arriving home, he would always take a close look before entering, it was a slight case of paranoia, but it has been a right one since his list of enemies isn't getting shorter. He confirmed that nothing was out of place and went onwards, his house wasn't the kind that you would open and directly see the main room, there was a small hallway that had a small shoe closet and leading to the main room, he went down on the two steps before entering the main room, and got his jacket off getting comfortable before reading the tome. The tome seemed a bit complex, but it had the right thing for him, and it seemed that it would take some time to comprehend it…

[User]
"Maybe one day I'll get to reach your vantage, but for now I'm far more concerned with making sure that others don't make similar mistakes. Even if I've gotten a good bargain most won't." Markiel stopped and chuckled shortly.

"You kind of reminded me of Terry, Seph's last apprentice, he and Seph would argue constantly about lycanthrope and the troubles that can come with it. Terry had a surprisingly open mind about it all. I think I might actually call him see if he's gotten any similar cases to ours along the west coast." Markiel glanced over at his phone, "Not now though. Ms. Morganstern mentioned the possibilities of a dinner party, and I'd much prefer to do that than spend hours sorting through case files with Terry."

[Assistant]
@Wraithblade6

"Did you hear that?" It was a legitimate question. Mithias never knew if anyone else around him had hearing as good as his. Something was odd about the sound. It was irregular, like someone falling down a staircase.

"Pardon me." Mithias moved somewhat swiftly and left Markiel's room. There was no need for blurring speed, at least not yet. He moved down the floors until he came to a body, which he immediately recognized as Atlas.

Placing a hand on his ally's shoulder, Mithias turned him over. Clearly he was in shit shape, and Mithias had no idea what he had gone through. He smelled strange, and at least one of his eyes was pretty fucked up. He picked him up and carried him out to the couch.

Setting him down carefully, Mithias spoke his thoughts, "He's been through something rather painful it seems. Who could have done this to him? Markiel. Is Seph still here? Is anyone else in the building?"

[User]
Atlas noticed Mithias. How thoughtful. The sheer pain had him in agony, and the eye regenerating had been taking up a lot of energy. "It was...purposeful, da? Needed to kill some undead freakshows. Needed the recipe made by Alistair, was it? Well, it cost about 500 people from Southern Maine. Jackass nephew. Heh", Atlas said, while shifting up. "All I need is liquid iron, if you catch my drift. I'll be good in no time. Well, I hate to crash the party, but I need to get upstairs. Time to make things uncomfortable.". He got up, and walked up to Seph's office, past the partygoers. They hadn't noticed him.

Atlas hadn't bothered to knock. He opened the door, and announced quite loudly,"I need some blood, my man, and quickly", before performing his special act of passing out. It wasn't fatal. Unfortunately.


[System]
Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Galant is a tall young man, standing at about six feet tall. He has a slender build and long graceful limbs. Along with pointed features it gives him a handsome appearance. He has shaggy, over long, blonde locks and large sapphire blue eyes. His left ear is pieced and he wears an elaborate, none metal earring, in it. Growing on in the snow, Galant has a bit more defense against the cold than most. He wears a black shirt and pants with elaborate blue designs on them, they're made of light but warm and insulated material. He also wears a pair of thick, sturdy, white boots, that have the same elaborate blue design, and matching gloves. To top it all off is a large, white, hooded cloak with a strange design. All in all, he has a strange appearance befitting his occupation.

Weapons/Belongings: Galant's only weapon is a simple staff. It's the same height as him and made from a light, study, metal. He usually relies more on magic than anything else. Along with his one weapon he has a pack with the usual supplies. A bedroll and an extra blanket, a couple weeks supply of food, a canteen, and a few odd personal objects that people think are used for magic. Of course he always has a book or two on him as well.

Magic: Elementalist, Galant's magic is a rare path to take, even for the few mages left. It is the study and control of the elements. All Elemental magic stems from the four cardinal ones, Water, Fire, Wind, and Earth, which Galant has mastered. He also has control over Ice, Lightning, and Light. Though there are many other elements that one could learn and master. The best thing about Elemental magic, is that there's always more to learn and study, which Galant does constantly. Galant's magic comes from a center in his body called his Magic Core. The Magic Core is a replenishable source of magic that Galant must call upon when he casts spells. Each spell takes some of that magic, and once used up, he must wait for it to replenish before casting spells again. The best way to get his magic back is to sleep.

Personality: Galant is a very clever young man, he can talk his way in, or out, of any situation. He's friendly and a good friend, as well as a good listener. He almost always has a smile on his face, though most of the time it's faked. He's loyal, protective, and caring, willing to take some hits in order to protect his companions. He's calm and able to keep a clear head in most situations. Though he absolutely hates small or closed in spaces and will freak out if he has to go into one. His brain literally stops working in them. Galant is witty and intelligent. He seems to have wisdom beyond his short years. He loves to learn and almost always is. He makes it his goal to learn something new everyday. Even if it's something as simple as somebody's name.

Short History: Galant was born and raised in a small town at the very edge of Gris. He grew up in the cold and thus is able to withstand it better than most people. He discovered his talent for magic by accident one day as child, during a snowball fight when he stopped one in midair. Since then he's never looked back. In secret he's trained himself in the ways of magic, reading every book he possibly could on the subject and through those teaching himself the four cardinal elements and beyond. Though his favorite always has been Ice.

When Galant heard about Tikkis' work, he instantly knew he had to go to Vulture's Nest to meet with the group of adventurers. He wanted desperately to know more about magic and to study it even further. He desired to pick apart the Professor's brain and learn everything he could. And maybe even one day know enough to teach other people about the wonderful thing call magic.

[User]
Galant had to agree with the guard who was leading them. If he hadn't been to Vulture's Roost before, and met Lord Cross in person, then he would have been the same way as most of the others. It was only after meeting the man that he had even an idea of what the man was truly like. Galant stayed quiet as they were led into the Great Hall, finally coming face to face with Lord Cross himself. Galant scanned around the room briefly, noting the presence of Lord Cross' personal guard, as well as the red haired girl. He dipped his head when Lord Cross addressed him personally, and took a seat when asked to.

He sat, listening as Lord Cross gave them his proposal. The scholar was honestly surprised that all the man wanted if they survived was to tell him what was there. He had expected more than that, but then again Lord Cross had already proved that he was full of surprises. His face went blank, the ever present smile disappearing when the man with far too many swords spoke up. So far he had guessed that the boy was going to be the first to die, but now he wasn't so sure. The man with too many swords had far less intelligence than the boy did. Galant almost wanted Lord Cross to execute the man. Adventuring with him would be a huge pain.

One of the twins tried to fix things by talking for the whole group, which Galant didn't like. They were many voices, not one. And he for one didn't make a move as the twin tried to get them to toast. As a Grisian, he wasn't impressed by the attempt to take charge and assume leadership. "Lord Cross, before I agree or disagree with the terms you set, I have a question. Why not ask for more? I understand why you are asking for what you are asking, but we are entirely at your mercy right now. I only ask because I would want more if I was in your shoes." Galant spoke up, genuinely curious about how the man would reply.

If it was Galant in Lord Cross' place, he would request silence from all returning adventurers. To keep their findings secret until they could be studied by scholars who cared about whatever it was. And if the treasure hunter types refused, he'd have them executed. Of course he knew that all types of people existed for a reason, but the type of person he hated most was the greedy kind that wanted to keep artifacts on shelves and not allow people to study them and understand what they truly are.

[Assistant]
Alec's eyes fell upon Al without the slightest quiver of emotion. He looked at the man for a moment. One of the guards that had led them in moved slightly from his position near the entrance, his hand reaching towards his hip. The Lord's hand flashed outward like the crack of a whip, beckoning the guard to hold his position. The giants remained as still as death. Alec's eyes remained on the swordsman for a few uncomfortable seconds before Ira broke the silence. Alec's eyes managed to pry themselves from the offender as the more vocal of the two brothers expressed the party's gratitude and offered a toast. The lord nodded, his expression retaining its composure. His eyes followed along as the others voiced their opinions on the matter.

 Elizabeth had half expected the swordsman to lose his head. Nothing about Alec Cross struck her as particularly merciful, even if he was being oddly generous at the moment. Ira's announcement of the group's appreciation didn't come as much of a surprise, though she sincerely hoped he wasn't considering himself their leader. From the glances some of the others seemed to be throwing at him, they weren't very fond of such an idea. Personally, it didn't bother her. There was little argument to be made. They needed supplies, and Cross was offering them at the low price of a return visit. The woman poured a small amount of wine into her glass. She wasn't very fond of the beverage, due in no small part to her past, but for the gesture it seemed appropriate. She raised the vessel with a nod. "Sounds reasonable." Noah reciprocated the gesture with a happy "To Lord Cross." Everyone seemed to be in complete agreement, that was, until the scholar threw in his piece. Elizabeth slowly turned towards him. Sure, she was certain there was a catch hidden somewhere, but reminding the Vulture that they were at his mercy and that he could conceivably ask anything of them at the moment seemed akin to teasing a viper.

 Alec's gaze cut towards Galant as he asked his question. A slight smirk crept across the lord's lips. "Few men would question someone volunteering as their benefactor... but if you insist." He began pacing the table. "As I mentioned, little about this temple interests me, excepting its existence, of course. Consider, for a moment, the fact that to reach the Wastes by land, travelers must pass through my territory. Consider also the fact the no lord has claim over the Wastes. Now, this is primarily because they are quite dangerous, and not conducive to agriculture or industry of any kind. However, if someone were to find something valuable... Then a number of opportunities open up for myself and my people." He stopped pacing for a moment. "As for the payment for your task, Vulture's Roost, though you might think otherwise, has access to more than enough resources to sustain itself. Thus, I lose very little in sponsoring your cause." He turned to face Galant. "Now, does that address your concerns, scholar?"

 The young girl, who had previously been quietly watching the discussion at the table, had turned her attention to the one member of the party who had refused to sit with the rest. He seemed rather observant of everything around him, as if he expected danger to be lurking around every corner. With a smirk, the girl rose from her chair and strode down the length of the hall towards the man. As she walked, the dress of feathers swayed about her. When she walked by, one of the giants seemed to move his head ever so slightly, watching the girl carefully. She stopped a few feet away from Ashley, looking up at him as her bright pink eyes scanned his face. "You know, if my father intended to kill you, you would know by now. There's no need to stand about preparing for something that isn't going to happen." The girl spoke playfully, almost taunting the stranger.

[User]
Ashley turned his head slowly to the child, meeting her gaze with his own. After a moment of silence between the two, the man spoke up for the first time since he had been with the group, "No. Not yet. He wouldn't until we raided the temple for him." Ashley responded, in his gravelly voice, monotonous in tone. Ashley knew more cruel men then he could count, and most of them preferred having others, unsuspecting individuals, do the dirty work for them, before tying up the loose ends. Why would the man who just clearly stated that the temple was technically his allow strangers to leave his land with his treasures? Ashley gave a quick glance to the giants, before returning to his scanning of the Great Hall, committing every inch of the place to his memory, almost as if his life depended on it, ignoring the girl's presence, for now.

Ira tensed as the girl made his way over to Ashley, wondering how his brother would react to the girl approaching him. Much to his surprise, Ashley responded to the girl before going back to his dutiful scanning of the castle. Gulping down the wine he drank from the toast with a strained groan, Ira tore his gaze away from Ashley and back towards Lord Cross, hoping he ignored Ashley's words, "Perhaps we'll sample everything Vulture's Roost has to offer before setting out." Ira said, with a polite smile aimed at Lord Cross, "Being the most beautiful gem of Gris, I'm sure there's more than a few ends and odds here that travelers like us can be well to taste." Ira nodded, taking another gulp from his wine, this one much smoother than the last.

[Assistant]
The unforgiving cold and crunch of the snow under Haruka's feet brought fond memories of her mountaintop temple home. She had heard further south about how horrible Gris was, but honestly, it was much like the mountain except the air was almost stifling in its generous thickness. Her lungs were full with air, and her face was full with smiles. She would find the temple spoken of by Professor Tick... Teeks... Tikka... something like that. Anyways, she'd find the temple with her strong body and fists the way other adventurers could not.

Once she'd had that locked down, she could trade information for information. The best brokers in the business would kneel in front of her and ask her to please tell them about the amazing northern temple and she would tell them that she needed to know about the swordsman. He was a westerner, he was skilled, and he had disemboweled her master with a western blade of blackest obsidian. That last one, she had assumed, was most likely to get her guy.

But first, she needed to stock up on supplies. Learning the secrets of an ancient temple would do her no good if she starved to death or something. Finally having come to a settlement, the place closest to her destination she had heard, she called out to the guards manning the gates.

"Hello! I am of need to have supplies for travel! May I please come in?"

She still wasn't excellent at the language they used in the west, but for the most part, westerners seemed to understand her just fine.

[User]
Galant laughed, "Yes well, I am not like most men am I? My quest for knowledge trumps common sense." When Lord Cross was finished answering his question, Galant dipped his head. "Yes, thank you." He said, now understanding what Lord Cross had to gain from this. "I can now accept your terms without any doubt in my mind." As a scholar he was always seeking knowledge, and this satisfied his desire to learn something knew everyday. He learned about Grisian politics today. And about the foolishness of foreigners. He still did not raise a glass to toast with the chatty twin who fancied himself their leader. If the man continued to do this out in the wilds, they were going to have some problems. Each person had something to bring to the group, and would be better to lead them in various situations. They would only be successful if they all worked together.

Galant poured himself a glass of wine, respecting Lord Cross by accepting his hospitality. He took a sip, sighing into his glass as the chatty twin spoke up once again. Yup, they were going to have a problem if this kept up. Galant shook his head, casting a cold, stereotypical Grisian look at the chatty twin. As much as he enjoyed speaking with Lord Cross, and pushing his buttons a little bit, Galant did wonder how much longer this was going to take. He really did want to go to the tavern tell some stories. Seeing the looks on people's faces when he told his tales was very satisfying.

The scholar quickly drained his glass of wine, but didn't pour himself another. He didn't want to drink too much if they were leaving tomorrow. He couldn't help but smile when he saw Lord Cross' daughter taunting the quiet, grumpy looking, twin. She really did take after her father in terms of a fearless nature. A smirk danced across his features as the thought of her defeating the twins in combat popped into his head. Wouldn't that be a sight to see?


[System]
* Age: 17 years old
* Gender: Male
* Race: Human
* Appearance: Standing 5' 11" and a sleek 155 lbs, Lucas carries himself with the graceful posture of both an athlete and an artist. His smile is polite and unassuming, his eyes are bright and steel-coloured, and his hair is as white as snow.
* Personality: Although a little withdrawn in light of the relatively recent death of his parents, Lucas is slowly but surely returning to his old self: A warm and friendly young man who will always seek to raise his friends spirits, whether it's with an unfunny joke or an arm around the shoulder and an open ear. He also has an odd quirk of being fearless. Not courageous, no - courage requires the presence of fear - but complete fearlessness. Danger simply does not move him. He has somewhat of a darker side that went undiscovered until he started weapons training... he does like to 'talk a little trash,' seeking to press the emotional buttons of his opponent and get them off their game. It is a little jarring to witness, for anyone that knows him, to see him in this arrogant and malicious state. Aside from that, he likes card games, climbing trees and reading books about heroic deeds, adventure and rescuing princesses.
* Brief Backstory: Lucas Storm was born to Penny and Harold aka 'The Storms' - a double act in a travelling circus troupe that lived on the roads of Thain. They were not quite the main event, but between Penny's acrobatics and Harold's knife-throwing expertise, the two had their act down to a tee and made a good living at the top of the card. Lucas however, had shot into stardom as a gifted trapeze artist and worked with his parents friends often as the main event. Every night he risked his life to entertain the audience, and strangely the dizzying heights or the danger had never even slightly bothered the boy, not even the first time.

Life was good. Simple, yes, but contented and full of love. Living on the road meant one was always an outsider and so the troupe had a trust and loyalty between them that went beyond community. More like family. They looked out for each other, lied for each other (certainly when thieves and pickpockets in the troupe began to make their extra money off the current town,) and they would no-doubt die for each other... something many of them eventually did. This circus life would indeed come to an end when they were assaulted in Velt by slaver unit. The troupe resisted as best they could, but were no match for amply-armed slavers. Many of them died, including Lucas' parents, Penny and Harold. Lucas was taken prisoner and caged, ready for sale.

No more than three days after Lucas was thrown into a cage, the slaver encampment was set upon by a mercenary band who captured the place after a bloody battle. Lucas was awestruck as a hero straight out of one of his books, fought evil men valiantly and freed him from the cage. That man, he would find out, was Gerard Segremors. From that day forward, Lucas Storm wanted to be a hero, like in his books. A hero like Gerard Segremors. His first act a free person again, was to go to the quartermaster of the mercenary band and request to be recruited. Perhaps the quartermaster took note of the young lad's strong body and graceful gait. Perhaps it was the look of determination and fearlessness in his eyes. For whatever reason, Lucas' request was accepted and he began training under the quartermaster.

This life as a mercenary did not last long however, as no more than some weeks - maybe months - later, the mercenary band was dissolved and folded into the military arm of the Church. Lucas didn't care, he simply waited to see what Gerard would do, and when his idol joined the Blades of Iron Roses, Lucas followed him into the order.

Now, Lucas finds himself training under a real regiment, in an order of knights where he might truly become a hero from his books - a hero like Gerard Segremors. And he works hard to make it happen.
* Equipment: A set of battered plate mail. A longsword. All standard basic Order issue. He likes to carry several daggers on his person, preferably balanced for throwing or using in a tight situation.
* Skills: Free-climbing. Juggling. Dizzying acrobatics. Knife throwing. Hold Em Poker. Pickpocketing. Cheering friends up. Sneaking.

[User]
Sergio della Gherardesca

Having changed out of his armour, and given it to the smith for repairs and polishing, the Knight had dressed himself into his usual outfit of choice for outside wear. On top of his white frilled silk shirt, a three buttoned, long tailed jacket flowed past his waist and toward his legs, bright gold accents and a fiery red dye made him positively shine in the daylight, the sleeves tight around his wrists. He adjusted his black neckerchief as he strode out of Candaeln, his red hair tied back to keep from obscuring his vision, lest a malevolent gust of wind were to sabotage a perfectly lovely conversation.

He stood tall, smiling as he was finally able to see the sun's light in all its glory, with his helmet off - the thought of the moon rising later made him ever the more excited. It was these tiny things that made R&R so wonderful.

As he stepped across the bridge, still mesmerised by the day, he absentmindedly nearly walked into Lein.

[Assistant]
Fionn MacKerracher

---

@Psyker Landshark

---

Luckily, Renar, Tyaethe, and Sergio hadn't needed any back-up by the time he got over; those few who were rejecting any offer of surrender quickly rounded up and dispatched by the time he got back over the burning log. Afterwards, he'd done his part in rounding up the prisoners, disposing of bodies, and the trip back had been relatively uneventful. Taking turns with Gerard to display Jeremiah's sword as another symbol of their victory as they passed various villages, or after re-entering the capital city, was the most work that really came to them as their column rode along.

Otherwise, he stuck near the back of the pack, riding alongside the cart that carried Rickert's corpse rather than making conversation with the others. The satisfaction he'd felt at helping fell the bandit king had rapidly diminished as he thought more about the rest of the battle; less due to the losses they'd sustained, which were themselves rather minimal, but more the nature of the battle itself. Surprises could never be avoided, they were almost to be expected, but the fact that a griffin had been unleashed upon them as it had was beyond anything he'd experienced before. Beyond that, though, was the general disregard the bandits seemed to show for each other, from using their least equipped and experienced to try and man the ambush, to Jeremiah callously dropping a tree atop his own forces in his mad search for some sort of vengeance against the knights.

To his estimation, to his understanding of tactics, they didn't fight like they wanted to win. Their leadership, at least, fought like they wanted to die, and that fostered nothing but disquiet in his soul.

By the time they made it back to the capitol, however, he seemed to have reconciled the events with his understanding and feelings well enough, starting to make his gregarious rounds through the ranks of the knights when not taking duty holding aloft the bandit king's oversized blade. Once back in the keep proper he'd quickly run to doff his traveling clothes and find something cleaner and more comfortable—and stow the singed and tattered cloak he'd have to figure out some way to salvage—before retrieving the bardiche he'd purloined from the bandit forces and starting to make his way down to the armoury and smithy...

...Utterly unsurprised to spot someone else along the way, who he'd already spotted moving to corner their bard just as he'd been making his way to his quarters. Normally he might let her pass along uninterrupted, but given they seemed to have the same general destination and Fionn was hoping that the conversation might go better than their last:

"Finished cowing our compatriots for the day?"

Why not call out to her, and see if some of her humour might start to show again now that they were free of battle?

"I think I saw Renar gathering his things to come this way as well. Care to wait for him?" He flashed her a small grin. "I don't know about either of you, but I think it would do me good to hear the unofficial recounting of your parts of the battle, and I don't think either of you are the type to shy away from giving that unofficial truth."

[User]
Success.

They had crushed the bandits utterly. Slain the wicked man who called himself their King. The people of Aimlenn, the people of Thaln, were thankful.

Their duty to the weak, the defenseless, had been fulfilled.

A captain should be proud of their success. Introspection wasn't uncalled for, but surely a battle ending with only a single casualty and the enemy utterly destroyed should be treated as a rousing victory.

And yet...

The golden-headed knight-captain departed from the others without much aside from a confirmation of their good performance. It was not their fault.

Surely, surely, the blame lay on her shoulders.

Sir Rickert should not have perished. The battle should not have ended with even a single death among the knights. She could have done something differently. She should have done something differently. Saint Elionne had crushed the Vos Korvungand, destroyed the great heathen army without a single death among her forces.

This shouldn't have happened.

The image of Sir Rickert hewn apart in a single stroke remained in her mind.

Candaeln's courtyard was a popular place, both for simple reading and relaxation and for training. But it was also the home of the pointed, curved structure that was the fortress's shrine. An integrated structure designed for the worship of both Goddesses, it sported stained glass windows of intertwined lillies and roses, a tiered garden of both plants, and a sacred pool and eternal flame for prayer.

It was here that Fanilly made her way to, still clad in her armor.

The young girl's voice came out in a heavy sigh, her eyes travelling up the garden and towards its peak. There stood a pair of statues. The slender frame of Reon, her blade held crossed over her chest and her spear projecting downwards, and beside her Mayon, taller, her hands at her sides and holding a mirror and a bow.

With the clanking of her gleaming armor, Fanilly plucked a lily and cast it into the flames. Then, she took a rose and crumpled its petals into the water.

Then she knelt before the shrine, hands clutched together in prayer.

"E vanna ney sienne. Oh, goddesses. Please, let the lamps light his way safely. May he find peace and bliss within your domain, so that his death may be eased. May he find the happiness he so earned."

First and foremost of all was the prayer for Sir Rickert. It was all she could do, even as she cursed herself for that fact, now that he was no longer with the living.

"... May those who fought with honor be blessed. May we find further success in protecting the weak and defeating the wicked. May your blessing shine upon all who seek to do good."

To request the goddess's continued support in their endeavors, too, was natural.

She had to do everything she could.

[Assistant]
The sight of each and every rescued prisoner who split off from the Iron Rose column - freedom in hand and opportunity to start anew or return to what they'd been snatched from... the sight of Fionn and Gerard, each and every time, holding up the gargantuan sword of Jeremiah - a symbol of triumph that onlookers would cheer and celebrate...

It all made everything worth it.

The pain and injuries, the danger, the horrific nature of bloody combat, the up-close and personal displays of death... every moment of that awful night was worth these rewards.

Follow orders. Don't die.

He'd managed it. Just barely (in fact, Reon may well have been carrying him through it all, such was his luck) but he had indeed made it through his first mission. On the left flank he rode, mismatched with the dozens of bodies in shining full plate and helms to boot, he might have been mistaken for one of the rescued. Those who observed me in action might mistake me too, he thought with a smile. It was a tired smile. He was exhausted. But happiness filled him. After the battle was over, he'd looked around and saw some familiar figures in the band had made it through alive, including all of Paladin Tyaethe's team. The griffin was amongst the corpses, body still tethered by the chain. After a little tense anticipation, he eventually had visual confirmation on the health and wellbeing of one Sir Gerard Segremors. All was said and done. The Iron Rose's list of injuries was short, and there had been only one casualty. A successful first foray for the new Knight-Captain. Good for her. Good for the Iron Roses. Good for all that is good.

In the city, passing over the moat and through the gate of Candaeln was a treat that Lucas thought might never get old. The knight's eyes drew upward as they entered the courtyard, his expression full of appreciation for such splendour. Once they were dismissed, Lucas went to his room and collapsed on his bed a moment, staring at the ceiling. The moment of solitude and oppressive silence hastily brought back memories of the screams. Of blood coughed into his face as he watched the light in his enemy's eyes disappear. It suddenly occurred to him that, in spite of his exhaustion, sleep may not come so easy.

Each piece of his patchwork armour he removed, looked like armour looted from a corpse. Random pieces of plate and leather, full of knicks, dents, rips and cuts. His heavy leather jerkin was slashed an unnerving amount of times, nevertheless he placed it reverently on the armour dummy, then stepped back and looked at it pridefully. After that, he changed into more casualwear; a white open-throat shirt with some simple black pants and boots.

Not really knowing what to do with himself, only knowing that he needed to be somewhere that was busy enough to distract him, he found himself in the mess hall. After grabbing an excessive amount of food, he sat down at one of the long tables, giving a comradely nod to anyone he made eye contact with. Then, his nose reminded his stomach how bloody hungry he was and he tucked in.


[System]
0 - The Fool
Rui Shinichi - Askr
I - The Magician
Matthew Harvester - Kresnik
II - The Priestess
Shirohane Kotori - Kikuri-hime
III - The Empress (NPC)
Hamada Leiko - Titania
IV - The Emperor (NPC)
Sutoraiki Kaminari - Zeus
V - The Hierophant
Samuru Amakusa - Shiro Amakusa
VI - The Lovers
Ryan Alon - Geraint
VII - The Chariot
Akane "Saito" Hanezawa - Setanta
VIII - The Justice
Katsuro Takuma - Giles Corey
IX - The Hermit
Ayano Wakahisa - Dantalion
X - The Fortune
Hashimoto Sato - Chronos
XI - The Strength (NPC)
Noboru Yamamoto - Atlas
XII - The Hanged Man (NPC)
Alexei Dragunov - Prometheus
XIII - The Death (NPC)
Chiaki Nettu - Freyja
XIV - The Temperance
Shizuka Otonashi - Inari
XV - The Devil
Jun Himura - Mordred
XVI - The Tower (NPC)
Fubuki Sayaka - Arachne
XVII - The Star (NPC)
Sieghardt Kasumi - Saturnus
XVIII - The Moon
Mako Moritomi - Israfil
XIX - The Sun
Zeke - Yatagarasu

The Story Thus Far
NOTE: This will only include story relevant events.

The beginning of the school term was nearing, and Rui had recently moved into Warakuma and was going to be attending soon. He met Noboru, who was a childhood friend of his shortly after arriving, and soon after he met Kami. Eventually the three went to the Warakuma Amusement Park, and after Noboru separated, Kami and Rui were drawn into the House of Mirrors.

After a series of strange events, they enter the Mirror World for the first time, and summon their Personas with the help of Kazuki, who happened to be there at the time. They were led out and informed of the Mirror World and the events that have taken place around it.

Shortly after discovering this, Noboru was taken into the Mirror World involuntarily. With the help of Kazuki and Megumi, Kami and Rui find the dungeon Noboru was in, and rescue him. Shortly after these events, Noboru was now part of the party.

In the following week, Matthew Harvester was taken, and police involvement resumed on the mass abductions originating from a year ago. Noboru, Rui and Kami responded quickly and went into the Mirror World to rescue him, also adding him to the party at the end of it.

With Golden Week near way Leiko Hamada was next, and just as quickly the party of four rescued her with the assistance of Riku. From then on, Kami formed the Investigation side, while Rui took care of the Dungeon side.

Shortly afterward, Chiaki Nettu was taken, and the team put together a rescue effort that resulted in a success. Meanwhile, Kami's investigation was showing up little results, as kidnappings so far seemed to be random, so no pattern was discernible.

Not long before midterms, Akane Hanazawa was taken, and the party put together a team to rescue her. The rescue was a success, leading to Akane joining the party. What followed after was a double kidnapping however, where Sato and Kotori were captured.

In the following week the team went to both dungeons and rescued both Sato and Kotori, subsequently the two joined the party as well.

The next week, Ayano and Kami had met up at the shopping center, and after a few events that had transpired, Ayano was captured, and immediately the next day Kami brought everyone together to rescue Ayano. After a difficult dungeon, it was found that Ayano had a more unique power as a Persona user, after she had been rescued.

Ayano's powers were put to the test during an emergency roughly a week later, when Alexei pursued cultist members as they kidnapped his sister, forcing his way into the mirror world. With Ayano's powers the party pinpointed their position and started a rescue mission for both Alexei and his sister Elena.

It was a success, with Alexei joining the team shortly afterwards, although with little time for rest, two more were taken the next week. Those two were Sieghardt, a member of the Drama club, and Ryan, a timid member of the Manga club.

Rui and Kazuki led two separate parties to rescue them in the coming weekend, though Rui's party run was smooth and Ryan was rescued without much incident, Kazuki did not have a much better time, and ended up requiring assistance, to which Rui and his party after rescuing Ryan, reinforced in the effort to rescue Seighardt. It was a resounding success, and the two were rescued safely.

After some investigation by Kami, he managed to find an unsettling truth after pinpointing the cult behind the attacks. The Junsei Sekai Tensei, or Perfect World Resurrection, was an old cult that has been around for awhile. There was one problem though, and that it's leader has gone completely MIA, and his wife died one year ago, despite the cult members passing mentions in a police interrogation.

Fast forward a week later, the Star Drop Café was attacked, and Mako, Shizuka, and Masahide were abducted by members the cult the party was pursuing. Aiko was injured, and Noboru sat this out to watch over him while everyone else successfully rescued the abductees.

Following this event, Jun Himura was abducted by the cult, and a Katsuro Takuma was caught in the crossfire, as well as many others. After a struggle from Jun Himura, it resulted in multiple of the abductors to be thrown into the mirror world as well. This resulted in strange knight enemies found within the dungeons, which were actually the people who were accidentally thrown into the mirror world.

After a rescue requiring two parties to go through different routes in the dungeon, everyone was rescued successfully. Though that has been resolved, tensions among Yakuza, authorities, combined with the presence of the Junsei Sekai Tensei cult, has made things uncomfortable for a few people.

That aside, summer break has begun but not two days into it, an incident has occurred in the Mirror World. Before they could investigate, Zeke, the hawk, guides everyone through to a new area called Seto, a giant lake and sea. Immediately they detect someone inside of it, much like the dungeons before, however upon reaching it, it's much smaller, but the threat to the person trapped here is all the same.

Rui takes a party in to rescue Samuru, while Kami takes another party to investigate Seto's immediate area. After a battle against Samuru's shadow, he awakens to his Persona and joins the team shortly after, while Kami's group sets their first foot into Seto's open areas, which starts as Japanese village and goes on into the fields.

Throughout the week everyone in varying parties explores this new area and progresses through it. Though considering this is Summer Break, Tadao offered everyone to take a trip to the beach for the weekend, which everyone accepted.

The Velvet Room - Challenges and Services

Challenge Rules and System

Character Moves and Skills

Collected Cards

Player Status

[User]
Photo Finish Finale! - Studio Floor
3/5/2015 Sunday

Rui didn't say a word, but he was sceptical. He looked at the figure in the bulb, and then back to... This girl. She looked like someone, but she didn't seem like she needed 'rescuing'... In any case, the figure inside the bulb was still a matter of concern. He approached it carefully as the shadow was talking... Until she mentioned 'fancy pants powers'. In an instant he turned and summoned his persona to slash down on the girl's position.

"We didn't use our Personas at all this floor... There's no way an actual person would know about these yet", he said. He turned and busted the bulb open, freeing the girl within... He recognized her. It was Chiaki.

"Guys watch out!", everyone felt an overwhelming presence, but the shadow had not yet transformed, she was striding towards Chiaki who was recovering on the floor, taunting her as she did. Everyone jumped when they felt the pressure, even their navigator felt it, but then again, feeling that was her job. In any case, it looked like things were about to be decided, whether this was going to be another fight... Or not. It was likely going to be another fight, so Rui prepared himself as did the rest of the party.

Shadow transformations are triggered by "you're not me"

[Assistant]
Noboru Yamamoto-Photo Finish Finale!

Noboru sat in shock the entire ordeal. He couldn't believe it. It gnawed at the back of his mind that it was Chiaki, but he doubted that little whisper the entire time, even when the facts were laid out in front of him. He froze in place, unsure what to do. He knew the Chiaki that layed inside the glass bulb was real, and the one that talked was fake. He still doubted it though. Even when Rui went to free the real Chiaki, he flinched, wondering how close Rui was cutting the slice. He would've done it himself but he was too frozen in place, unsure of what to do. His mind raced at the speed of sound, unable to think clearly. Noboru shakily readied himself, ready to fight, if it called for a fight.

[User]
Photo Finish Finale!
The Final Floor

Memories of her past were flooding into Chiaki, situations of embarrassment, horror and sadness. She began to deeply remember the reason she hid her true feelings and self away from anyone she had ever met. It felt like an endless nightmare.
Her emotions began to well up inside of her when suddenly her dream shattered and she awoke. Quickly regaining her consciousness, she found herself in a horrifying place, was she still in a nightmare?

"Sheezus, ya'll are finally awake? Some princess you are, sleeping around while your friends come to save you." Said an ominous voice, when her vision has finally cleared, she was horrified to see the voices come from... Her own mouth. The being in front of her appeared to be just like her in everyday, the accent aside.

"Whe-"
"Where am I? What's going on? Won't somebody please help little ol' me? Geez get a grip you loser. It's not like you're close enough for anybody to care about you. Nobody cares where you are, or what's happening to you!" The being began to taunt her with harsh words... Words Chiaki felt were honest and true. They were hard to hear. Slowly crawling back, Chiaki managed to distance herself and find the strength to stand up. Glancing around, she noticed a few other people were here, she recognized some of them, Rui, Riku, that pervert Matthew and... Noboru?! What on earth were they all doing here?

The accent drifted away. The being stopped its charade, it began a full assault on Chiaki and her emotions.
"What on earth are you gawking at? These loser aren't here to save you! They had no idea you were even here. No matter how much you try to make yourself known, nobody will understand, care or notice you. Your parents never did. Ahaha! What kind of a daughter are you if your parents don't even love you? A failure and a nobody of course! Ahaha!" Pressing her hands on her ears Chiaki closed her eyes and refused to listen. "No! Stop! You don't have a clue what you're talking about! My parents love me! I'm close to everybody I meet!" The being laughed rather loudly and walked to the center of the room. Raising up its arms it dazed into a bright spotlight that shined down on itself. "You haven't figured it out yet? Geez, what a dip. I'm you, and you're me. I'm a shadow. Except, I'm the one hundred-percent real you, and you're just a hand me down fake, that makes you the real shadow sweety. The eyes of the Shadow gleamed gold, its costume faded away, the dress that was once there fell apart and it became quite bare, it now was wearing nothing but a black rose bra that is tied by thorns. adorned bottoms that are a thorn bush with black roses. Its hair became a single braid that contained dying flowers in it.
"Feast upon me with your eyes! This is what you all want right?! I know it is! My body is the only reason anybody ever had faith in me! Even that old bat that kicked the bucket knew as much!" Chaiki opened her eyes and ran in front of the shadow, stretching her arms out to hide the shadow behind her. Looking at Noboru, she pleaded with them to turn away.

"No! Don't look! Don't listen! I'm not like that at all! It's not me... Please..." Chiaki turned her head to look at the shadow. "You're not me! You're nothing like me and can't ever possibly resemble me!"

A small smirk grew on the shadows face. "Ahahaha, these words. Oh how I've longed for them! Aw, sweetie! As If I even wanted to be you, I'm ma own person now honey!" The shadow began to laugh psychotically. A strange black and red aura began to burn around it. Its' form shifted into something enormous.

"AHAHAHA! I'm going to crush you like the measly garden worms ya are!
Once I'm done here, ya'll better believe everybody will rememba' every inch of me! I'll finally stop pretending to be such a ditzy retard!"

The shadow began its assault on the party.

[Assistant]
Noboru Yamamoto-Photo Finish Finale!

Noboru blinked. He blinked once and twice and a third time. What was happening? Was this real? It had to be a dream of some sort. Or more of a nightmare. One which he was unable to wake up from. Chiaki didn't really have anything to hide did she? He never found any faults when he talked to her. Noboru was shocked. He couldn't even think of anything witty. What was he to say to her? He couldn't insult her, but he couldn't think of any encouragement. What was he to say to the girl he liked, without mucking it up. He only thought of one thing. His head turned towards Chiaki, and he spoke up.

"Listen. We're here for you. No matter what that piece of shit says, it ain't true. Relax. We can handle this."

He took a stance for himself, ready to fight and take orders from Rui.

[User]
Photo Finish Finale! - Studio Floor
3/5/2015 Sunday

Everyone began to back up away and get a better position, but surprisingly Noboru had stayed timid. Or rather, he was less hot-headed than other instances. It looked like he had some relationship with Chiaki. In any case...

"Me and Noboru will take the front lines and spread out. Leiko stay on support and healing, Matthew assault it with spells from long range", he ordered. As he rushed in with Noboru alongside him he gave a brief bit of advice.

"We don't know what it can do yet, be ready to evade or defend", he said, proceeding to run to a flank while casting Sukukaja on himself. This shadow was large, so it was likely to use large area of effect skills, or similar... Staying spread out meant they had the best chance of avoiding as much of that area of effect as possible. On the other hand, it should have ways to defend itself being largely stationary, so they had to be cautious.