[System]
Character Sheet
Age: 19
Sex: Male
Gender: Male
Height: 6'1"
Major: Astrophysics
Occupation: Waiter at a local restaraunt
Hobby: Swimming, Jim is a huge swimming fan.
Personal Theme-Music: Ludovico Einaudi - Experience
Example of Speech: "I genuinely believe, 100%, that aliens are real. Are you kidding? Seriously? Where's your proof, goddammit!"
Example of Action: Jim sat in the chair, fingers twitching, eyes focusing on the girl across the room like a laser tracking beacon. "Do it," she said. He stood up, and slowly strutted his way to her. Body tense, eyes locked, footsteps careful. He leaned down, one hand softly cradling the velvety skin of her neck, the other combing her hair behind her ear, a glowering intensity between the two. His hand moved behind her head and pulled out a quarter. His lips moved closer to her ear and breathed, "Ta-da."
Description of Voice: Intense, passion behind every word he says. Not deep, but not high pitched either. Enough to give the impression that he isn't a boy, and not a man, but someone who should always stay a teenager and enjoy life.
Physical Appearance: Standing around 6'1" and with an athletic, lean build to help his swimming. Dirty blond hair, icy blue eyes and a long 5-inch scar running diagonally on his back from when he was a kid and fell out of a tree and landed on debris left underneath it.

[User]
"Nah, never fished," Paul admitted to Jim, "I'd like to though, I heard the lake was beautiful too." Make the most of it, huh? That's what he wanted, he figured.

He'd almost said he'd never even been out in nature before, but he didn't want to come off as 'that guy'. You know, the one who obviously didn't belong out here. Everything out here was going to be new to him. He was going to make the most of it though, and try not to look like a complete fool who didn't know what he was doing. Honestly he just really wanted to leave a good first impression on these people.

"I guess I should be," Paul chuckled in response to Mélanie, "Kinda sad I needed rescuing the moment I got out here though, huh?" He was about to respond to her about leaving like she suggested, but a fourth person soon arrived. Paul jumped when the guy honked his car horn, silently cursing to himself. What the hell? What kind of ass just does that? Paul's questions were answered when Jim apparently recognized the guy. Ah. So this was Dom. He was the shortest guy here, but also the most well-built. Overall, as the guy introduced himself, Paul got very bro-ish vibes from him. He wasn't really looking forward to spending a whole summer with this guy...but, the words "make the most of it" appeared in his mind, so he internally sighed and externally put on a friendly face. No point in being unfriendly with someone you were going to be living with for the next couple months.

"...Right," Paul affirmed to Dominic when Mélanie told him who they were, "It's uh, nice to meet you too." He shook Dominic's hand, who had a strong grip as expected.

Oh. He almost didn't catch it. Mélanie called Paul her friend. Well that confirmed it then, saying they were friends was alright then. Something about that helped him feel a little more at ease.

Mélanie and Jim soon talked about leaving once again, so Paul tossed in his two cents.

"Yeah, we probably should leave now. I think this is everyone...well, it should be. I was told other than me and our host, there would be four others coming along at the very least. By my count, that's everyone here. Maybe others will come later though, who knows." He shrugged. "If more people end up coming then hopefully it'll be a girl. It's kind of a sausage fest right now." Wow that was blunt.

By now, Jim's shy friend had finally introduced himself as well. He was Jim's cousin, Henri. Ah. He was foreign, that explained his demeanor, he must've felt a little out of place. Paul couldn't tell what his nationality was (unlike Mélanie, who he knew was French), but he definitely seemed European.

When Henri started walking off to presumably where the cabin was, Paul was a bit thrown off. Well you couldn't say the guy wasn't forward-thinking. It was just as well though, they'd all been standing there long enough. They could continue talking and getting to know each other more at the cabin.

"Yeah, we should probably get going now," Paul nodded in agreement, and was about to go down the dirt path as well, but stopped himself when he saw someone walk out of the tire replacement service shop. It was a girl who looked about their age, was she here for the summer break as well? He decided to wait, in case she was another of Victoria's invites, so that she could introduce herself.

[Assistant]
Deafeat

Casey stared at the word on her computer screen incredulously. Slumped in her leather chair she blew a stray hair out of her face. She was in the middle of deciding if she wanted to play another match or smoke a bowl when her father knocked on her door. She ignored it. Smoking sounded nice but she wasn't sure if she wanted to do that before she went to whatshername's cabin. On the other hand, playing another game just sounded boring... Another knock. Ignored. She kinda wanted to draw but kinda didn't. Casey's constant struggle in life- trying to decide how to kill time. She opened her desk drawer to see how much she had left to smoke. About a quarter of an ounce... Another knock. She had plenty to spare and thus decided smoking and drawing was how she'd kill most of the day.

"Casey, I know youre in there. Either you open the door or I open it for you."

Rolling her eyes Casey shut her drawer and stood to open the door when her father walked in anyway. The tall broad man could barely fit through the door frame.

"Jesus, Ben." She said. She called her father Ben when she wanted to get under his skin.

"I knocked three times. What were you doing?" Her father asked, his eyes scanning the dark room.

"What do you want?" She ignored the question.

"Otis needs some help with a couple things and I've got to work on fixing a few things downstairs so I told him I'd send you over."

"Awesome. Thanks."

Otis was the owner of the Tire Replacement shop across the street. A Fat bumbling idiot who also happened to be a complete pervert. Casey use to have a crush on his son, a fairly decent looking boy, and thus found her way over there often when she was younger. However, his son wasn't there anymore and it was just Mr. Otis. The perv.

"Well, you better get goin if you wanna be done any time soon." He grinned before turning to leave. "Didn't you say you had plans for this afternoon?"

Casey grumbled as her hulking father made his way downstairs. He could be such a jerk sometimes and yet still had enough charm so that you couldn't hate him. She shut her computer and opened her drawer to take one last look at what her day coulda been...

---

"Thanks Casey. Your help is always appreciated."

Casey closed the door behind her without saying a word. Three hours of that man basically making things up just so he could look at her. She wished it weren't summer. She wished she hadn't worn shorts and a tank top. She wished she wasn't sweating and covered in grease. She wished...

She was so caught up in her disgust she nearly walked headfirst into the group of people standing outside her father's store. Five of them to be exact. One girl, with a grunge style to her and a guitar case on her back. Then there were four guys all around her. Casey thought of a watering hole. In any case, they all looked to be her age and it wasn't very often people her age came out to her store. She wondered if they were friends of that girl... she really needed to remember her name.

"Uhhh, hello. Are you guys lost?" She asked, a hand covering her brow to block the sun as she tried to figure out who they were.

[User]
Mélanie giggled a bit at being called European, it wasn't something that she heard rarely, but she still found it funny for some reason. "No, not European, Canadienne. Québecois to be specific." Mélanie then realized that her laughter might come across as pompous or rude in some way, so she backpedaled a bit. "It's okay though, everyone always thinks I'm from France down here, but anyone from France can tell that I'm not from there."

Henri's accent confirmed Mélanie's suspicions of his European descent, definitely of some nordic country, though she wasn't sure of the exact one, she was sure it would come about as the summer continued. She smiled warmly at him when his accent became more apparent, knowing how hard it can be sometimes when around fairly anglicised people.

Mélanie smiled to Paul as he spoke about needing to be rescued. "Hey, everybody needs their own Jeanne d'Arc every once in a while." She said with a grin.

As they were about to leave another girl arrived to greet the group. Thank god for some estrogen to break through the masculinity on display. She was obviously a local, because why else would she be trying to help them find something. Mélanie spoke up. "Hi, I don't think we're lost specifically, but if you know where the, um… Cottage, that Victoria Rohde is staying at we'd appreciate the help getting there, I think."

[Assistant]
"Hi, I don't think we're lost specifically, but if you know where the, um… Cottage, that Victoria Rohde is staying at we'd appreciate the help getting there, I think."

"Victoria! That's her name!" Casey said as she finally remembered the girl's name. She had only met her earlier that day and had completely forgotten. "That was bothering me..." Casey's voice trailed off as the others gave her a rather puzzling look. "Uhh, yeah. The cottage. I was gonna head there in a few actually. That Victoria girl invited me over earlier today. I just need a quick shower," she looked at the black grease marks on her arms and tank top. "You might wanna wait for me. You see this road?" she pointed down the road, "It's all kinds of straight. You wouldn't want to get lost," she grinned.

"No but seriously, if someone would wait," she looked at the three guys, "it would be great. I wouldn't wanna have to walk alone. There's, y'know, bears and... well, yeah." She made her way passed the group and toward the store. "This is my place actually and it'll take all of ten minutes." More like thirty but she wasn't gonna say that. "You don't all have to wait. But if you want, you can come in for a few." She opened the front door in a welcoming gesture.

[User]
Dear sweet Jesus above, that giggle is adorable. "Oh, Canada! Nice! I have an auntie there, but she sounds less French and more... American I suppose. Wow, that sounds awful," Jim laughed. He could only laugh. He wasn't sure if it were racist or not, but if he played it off as bad wording or a poor joke it may slide easier. "It's alright, don't worry about it. Excuse my cultural ignorance," he replied to her apology. He watched as the group turned to walk up the road, but was startled by yet another voice. A female voice. Oh good, less junk in the inbox, he thought privately. The ratio stood at 4:3, guys outnumbering gals. Unfortunate odds. Jim had never been totally successful with the fairer sex, often relying on the girl liking him as much as he her. He wasn't particularly well versed in managing to win a girl over. Dom, however, did not have that issue. He was all talk and the women adored him. Jim hadn't seen Henri in action before, due to the distance, but if the shy personality he was displaying at the moment signaled anything it was that he was going to be the life of the party once he got a drink in him. He didn't know anything about Paul besides his name. He seemed a lot like Jim though, self-contained but not introverted, outgoing but not the centre of attention.

Jim watched as the dark-haired mechanic babbled away. There was a certain... odour about her. Sweet and strong and... dank? Yeah, there was that smell he definitely smelled. She described the road they would have to travel to get to the cabin, a long winding road of straight where one step off the path would make you right next to the path and not lost at all. "I'll wait for you, I ain't afraid of no bears," Jim joked, putting his hands up like a boxer and balancing on his tip toes. He grinned and dropped his arms by his sides. "But if there are bunnies I'm not staying. You can fend for yourself. I got bit by a bunny once," Jim said, half-joking and half-explaining. They were cute but he sure wouldn't be trying to feed one ever again, not after it chomped through his right index finger nail in one swift motion when he was about six. Vicious little balls of adorable. "Henri, you want to come with me?" he asked his cousin, knowing the answer would be yes. Jim didn't feel comfortable leaving him alone with others he didn't know, and Henri would probably prefer to stay with Jim anyway. He turned to Dom. "Hey bud, can you take this for me? Put it in the room with nicest view," he said, glancing at the Canadian girl unconsciously and then swinging his backpack at his friend.

The swimmer followed the mechanic, Casey was her name, to her home. Nice by all standards, if not a little dusty on the outside from gravel and dust being ejected from underneath tires and the admittedly lacking wind to carry it to the outer walls of the house. He smiled as she welcomed them into her home. Stepping inside, it was nothing remarkable. No dead bodies hanging from the rafters, ready for carving. No inbred deformed mass murderer. Everything so far was horrifyingly normal, this house included. It was homey, with newspapers and tv remotes lying where they would in his house, a fully functioning washing machine, a cold fridge. It kinda flipped his whole perception of these backwater towns on Jim's head. Horror culture had been lying to him for years, apparently. According to real life, not every backwoods swamp town ate roadkill and murdered tourists. The idea of staying in these woods seemed much tamer, but also much more exciting now. "You have a lovely house, Casey," Jim said as he leaned against the kitchen counter, taking in all the sights and smells of the homestead.


[System]
Age: 17
Race: Bugbear
Class: Barbarian
Level: 2
Background: Folk Hero
Personality: See persona section of the linked character sheet.

Backstory: In the middle of a grassy field stands a large rock. This rock is known to the locals as the Snoring Stone, a name it gained after people began to hear loud snoring with no discernible source when passing the rock sometimes. People were unsure of what to make of this weird phenomenon until someone made too much noise near the rock and the snoring turned to angry yelling. After that, people became convinced that a spirit had made its home in the rock and began leaving it offerings of food, drink, gold, and other kinds of gifts, hoping that this appeasement would calm the spirit and dissuade it from following through on the threats it had made to those who disturbed its slumber. These offerings pleased the spirit enough that it forgave the disturbance, on the condition that the offerings continued.

With the arrangement made, things returned to normal for a time. The Spirit Of The Snoring Stone rested peacefully in its rocky home and the locals regularly brought it offerings to keep it that way. Eventually, a brave and desperate carpenter decided to wake the Spirit again. Before the Spirit could begin angrily making threats though, the carpenter begged the Spirit's help with a problem no one else could help him with. Upon learning that the carpenter had brought a much grander offering that usual to convince it to help, the Spirit eagerly agreed. The very next morning, the carpenter awoke to find the solution to his problems awaiting him on his dining table. Overjoyed by the end of his woes, the carpenter told others of what had happened.

After that, many other locals came to petition the Spirit Of The Snoring Stone for its aid. A shepherd who had lost some of his sheep would find them tied to a post the morning after visiting the Stone. A fisherman whose usual spot had dried up found a map to a pond full of much tastier fish nailed to his door after asking the Spirit for help. And when an angry mob asked for help in tracking down a murderer, they found the murderer's corpse an hour later, clubbed to death and beheaded.

One day, a farmer arrived at the Snoring Stone out of breath and in a state of panic. His house had caught fire, no one could put it out, and his family was trapped inside. He offered everything he had in exchange for his family's safety. "Go 'ome an' wait." The Spirit said. "I'll do the rest." And so the farmer hurried home to where his wife, children, and elderly parents were still trapped and prayed to the Gods as he waited for the Spirit to come. Suddenly, the door burst open and the farmer's parents rushed from the house just before the fire blocked the way. Then, each window in the house smashed open, allowing one of the farmer's children to climb out of each one before the flames blocked those exits too. With no way out left, the farmer, his family, and the assembled crowd watched the burning house as they wondered how the spirit would rescue the farmer's wife. Their answer came when one of the house's walls gave way and the farmer's wife emerged from the hole... cradled in the arms of an enormous bugbear.

The bugbear, who went by the name of Brutrumukk, revealed himself to be the so called Spirit Of The Snoring Stone, having played along with their beliefs to sponge off the offerings the locals had brought to the Snoring Stone, which he explained had a hollow interior and a secret entrance. Remembering all that the 'Spirit' had done for them, the locals refrained from driving the hulking goblinoid away and decided to let their current arrangement stand due to how helpful Brutrumukk had proven himself, even if the black-hearted bugbear had only helped for personal gain.

A year after settling in the Snoring Stone, Brutrumukk was rudely awoken one day by the sound of a certain multiversal carnival being set up right next to his home.

Stat Generation: Point Buy

Day Count: 2 (349)
Kill Count: 1
Most Kills in a Dungeon: 1
Most Kills in an Encounter: 1
Most Kills in a Round: 1

[User]
Brutrumukk

Brutrumukk listened to Sir Talavar as the faerie dragon answered the question. Just as the bugbear drew breath to ask another question though, Jub began choking on his food. "Oi. Oi! Don't you go chokin' to death on my food. I know I ain't the best at cookin' but I also know I ain't that bad at it." Brutrumukk said as he moved over to Jub and gave the goblin a few firm pats on the back to help dislodge the snake chunk.

"Sorry, sorry, I just... really didn't like your use of past tense just now," Jub told Talavar once the blockage was clear.

"What d'you mean by that?" Brutrumukk asked.

[Assistant]
Jub the Peculiar

"Thank you," Jub said to Brutrumukk, even as he began to rub his own back to make sure his bugbear companion hadn't done any damage in his attempts to help. After a moment, he surmised he might have a bruise there tomorrow, but that was still far preferrable to joking to death.

"Past tense: a use of language donoting that something happened at an earlier point of time," the goblin explained. "Basically, he's implying that while this Zybilna would have been okay with us foraging and hunting in her lands, this Hourglass Covern likely won't."

[User]
Brutrumukk

"Past tense: a use of language denoting that something happened at an earlier point of time," Jub explained.

"Yeah, I know that bit." Brutrumukk said while making a 'get on with it' motion with one hand. "But why didn't you like the tiny dragon usin' it jus' now?"

"Basically, he's implying that while this Zybilna would have been okay with us foraging and hunting in her lands, this Hourglass Coven likely won't." Jub finished.

"Oh." Brutrumukk said thoughtfully. "Well seein' 'ow we jus' killed two snakes, ate one of 'em, an' no magical shenanigans 'ave turned up to get us back fer that, I think we're fine on that front... 'Ang on." Brutrumukk then turned to Sir Talavar and asked a question. "If these 'ags stole this place from this Sip-Ill-Nah lady you mentioned, why 'aven't the magical shenanigans come after the 'ags?"

[Assistant]
Aurora

Rory looked up at both Jub and Brut discussing the potential issue of the land punishing the group for stealing from the hags. As the small dragon had mentioned the hags viewed everything in Prismir as theirs, though the elf was not sure how that may extend to the inhabitants of the land.

"Would these living things be the property of the hags? I do not think that is the case Jub. If it were just by simply being here long enough you may end up as their property."  She paused to take another bit of the snake wiping the grease off with a small piece of cloth. "Now I will warn you that there is a potential that we could end up in some strange bargin do to the rule of reciprocity. Some Fey can see the giving of gifts as means to making a contract. If these hags believe in this rule so much, they could try to use it to put us in a poor position."

[User]
Hither
Slanty Tower

Sir Talavar agrees with Aurora first, "Lady Aurora is correct. Living beings aren't normally considered as possessions. But, they might be considered as subjects under their reign,"

He nods in agreement at her words warning of the gifts from the Fey.

He then looks to Brutrumukk and answers his question, "As for your question, Sir, It might be because either the Coven know how to protect themselves from such magic, or the Retribution of this Fey Realm is winding itself up into a powerful wallop, so to speak,"

[Assistant]
Brutrumukk

"Well if it's the second thing, I 'ope I'm there to see the wallop when it 'appens. Sounds like it'd be fun to watch." Brutrumukk said when Sir Talavar was done talking. "Either way, we've been sittin' around fer about an hour now. I'd say it's time we got movin'." With that said, Brutrumukk finished his meal and began to tidy away his things in preparation for the journey to Telemy Hill. "You said some goblin what lives on some 'ill can open yer cage, yeah?" Brutrumukk said to Sir Talavar as he worked. "What makes you so sure she can, does she work for the 'ags as some sort o' magical cage maker or somethin' like that?"

[User]
Hither
Slanty Tower

Sir Talavar nodded at Brutrumukk's first question before answering his next one about the goblin in question "Certainly not. From what I have heard, Jingle Jangle is a victim of Bavlorna Blightstraw's. I do not know why, but she collects keys. If anyone has the key to this cage, it would be her! I can guide you to Telemy Hill if you are ready,"

[Assistant]
G A B R I E L

"I know all but folktales and fanciful myths, of the Fey and Feywild." the half-elf said, finished wiping the detritus from his the sharp of the rapier that he hung at his belt "But forgive me for being blunt when I say, you must be in this cage for a reason." Gabriel looked at the cage with furrowed brow, his attention while not all there the half-elf had been half listening as the day had been exhausting "Or...Did you already explain that? Goodness, if so I certainly have egg on my face." Gabriel chuckled softly.

"Well, regardless of the if's and when's or how's...I'd be hardpressed to not lift a finger and help a fellow man...Erm or dragon." correcting himself with a not-so-subtle cough into his hand, Gabriel wondered if the small dragon considered himself man or beast but kept the musing to himself.

"I just hope this odd feeling I keep getting will go away..." Gabriel said offhandedly, more speaking to himself but loud enough that his companions heard his worried tone "Gods forbid I find a skeleton clutching a set of dice in this bloody swamp." he muttered looking into the campfire with a hand resting under his chin.

[User]
Hither
Random Encounter 2

The party, now rested and recovered from their fight with the serpents, continue on their journey through the Fey Realm, with a new friend in tow and new information brought to light.

As they continue to move through the swamps, they notice the tide slowly rising. Thankfully, the group can use Brutrumukk's raft to navigate the waters without having to swim. The only issue? They find that they need a ten foot pole or a similar tool to push the raft along the waters.

Upon learning this fact, the group also notice that they can hear the sound of rushing water in the distance.

The swamps are now at High Tide!

Depth. The water's depth is 5 feet. Creatures that don't have a swimming speed move at half speed through the water.
Visibility. Visibility underwater is 10 feet.

[Assistant]
Brutrumukk

"Guess that take care o' puttin' out the fire." Brutrumukk said as the tide came in. "Everybody on the raft!" Once everyone was on the raft, Brutrumukk took one of the stilts out of the stilt pant he got from the Witchlight Carnival for use as an oar. But just as he was about to start rowing, the sound of rushing water met Brutrumukk's ears. "Er... booyagh?" Brutrumukk asked nervously as he set the makeshift oar down on the raft and lifted the goblin into the air. "Don't suppose you can see what's makin' that noise from up there?"

It's the ciiircle of liiiiiife!

[User]
Jub the Peculiar

As the group was finishing up their meal and getting ready to continue on, Jub looked over to Gabriel. "So, these dice you lost," he began. "Are they like really expensive, fancy dice or do they just have sentimental value?" He quickly added, "I'm not making fun of you or anything, my good fellow , but it does seem odd how... whatever it was that stole from us all chose its target. I lose the ability to keep a secret, Miss Aurora here lost a ring and a letter which no doubt had high value, several individuals lost family members... and you lost dice. It does seem a very picky-choosy sort of thief, does it not? Like how does it decide- WHOA!" He didn't get to finish that thought because Brutrumukk suddenly picked him up and hoisted him up into the air, saying something about a strange noise and asking Jub to see if he could find the source. "You know, you really need to start warning me before you do that!" he said as he began to scan his surroundings for anything particularly out of place.

So I got some bad news...
Perception check = 6
Perception check advantage = 9
Yeah, Jub can't see shit.

[Assistant]
Aurora

Aurora had clambered onto the raft sitting near the middle. Hearing the sound that the others were hearing drew her attention away from cleaning her boots. She stood up and went to the front of the raft as Jub mentioned he could not see anything as there was a tree blocking his view. "There appears to be a well gushing water up. It's on a small bit of land still aways down." She turned and looked up to Jub. "You might be onto something Jub. Most of these things that were taken don't exactly have a physical value. Zavakri would an hag or other being from the fey be interested in such things?"

[User] "Oh good. It's just a well." Brutrumukk said with a sigh of relief. "Thank Mag fer that. Though we was 'eaded fer a waterfall fer a moment there... Well the moment 'as passed. Let's get a move on." With that said, Brutrumukk set Jub back down on the raft and took up his makeshift oar once again. "Next stop, Telemy 'Ill." Brutrumukk said as he made ready to row... but then paused as he realized he didn't know how to get there. "Which way was that again?"


[System]
Basics
Nickname/title: Maus (Mouse - because carried a toy mouse to school all the time as a kid)
Gender: M
Age: 20
Build/physicality: 6'2'', average build.

Appearance:

Background

Psychological status: He is clinically sane, although he suffers from insomnia and anxiety from time to time due to reasons I will state below.
Quirks, ticks, conditions, sensitivities to the paranormal: Healthy, save for occasional tinnitus and visual noise that remains a secret medically unchecked because his fathers political party on the rise (the Nazis) does not tolerate genetic or any other deformities.

Magical potential (Y/N): No potential
Personality: Fond of football (yes, I mean soccer) and fishing. You can find him watching the matches of different sports at the university grounds or riding a burrowed bicycle to go and hang out with the local fishermen. He comes off as pessimistic at times. He's got a certain routine he likes to follow every day, starting with morning body exercise and library visit and all up to an evening cigarette and coffee at the bar after all the classes.
More to be revealed throughout the RP by showing his inner thoughts.
Hometown: Hannover, Germany
Education: Currently a student
Occupation: Student of linguistics
Achievements: Nothing worth mention; several published stories and poems in magazines.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Religion/philosophy: Baptised, although not very devout. Interested in studying pre-Christian European religions.
Marital status: Single
Family status: Father Frank (45); Mother Anna (42); Sister Erika (18)

Biographical writeup: Emil has come to Arkham to study at the Miskatonic University. His father thought it would be a good idea to send his son abroad in times of political turmoil in his homeland. He was born in Berlin, but they moved to Hannover soon after due to business reasons.
(I also plan to reveal more throughout the game.)
Miscellaneous information

Combative belongings: Nothing but a pocket knife he brought with him for no specific reason.
Noncombative belongings: A few books of fiction in his backpack, some spare clothes, an English dictionary, a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, reading glasses, a notebook and a pencil.

[User]
August Dupin
Physical State: Tense.
Mental State: Calming down

"I'm sorry, I…I wasn't paying attention. I hope I didn't ruin your…" The man who'd bumped into August paused for the briefest of moments as his eyes made contact with one of the various horrifying photographs strewn about in the snow-it was an act August took note of. "…photographs…"

Following the strangers gaze August's eyes fell upon a rather well framed photograph that was the only publicly released picture of one of the many gruesome suicides around town and its accompanying story. August immediately recognized the framed moment in time that held this strangers gaze.

Suicide wasn't an unknown to August at this point in his life; quite the contrary in fact as he'd seen the vile act enough times to form some basic things to look for when dealing with the subject. Needless to say in Augusts' vast experience people tended to choose what they believed to be the least painful way out when taking their own lives-hell, even those with a guilty conscience often opted for a quick bullet to the head or the quite release that certain narcotics often brought. It was for that very reason the Killigan suicide had so clearly stuck in his head and why he recognized it at a mere glance: afterall crushing yourself to death beneath a slow hydraulic lift was pretty high up there on the "painful ways to die" list, something that made August question the whole thing entirely.

Seemingly lost in thought the rude stranger before him didn't even respond until August prodded him with another similar question "Hey, I asked you a question. Do I know you?"

Finally the man piped up while simultaneously scrambling to help August pick up all the scattered evidence. The way he spoke made August take it as a question initialy.

"August Dupin?"

The man went on speaking, his voice much more assuring in a way that made August genuinely believe him for the moment.

"I do, yes, when I think about it. It's been years, but I do remember having met you. France, during the war, right? You probably don't remember me, I looked different back then, it's funny how war changes you." So that explained it August found himself thinking. Now knowing what to look for August quickly decided that the man did indeed carry himself with the tell tale signs of a war veteran much like August himself did. He was actually surprised he hadn't noticed it right off the bat. Nodding in silent agreement while his eyes clearly tried to place the face-even though he couldn't remember specifics of the man currently talking to him he was also more than willing to believe that somewhere among the sea of faces he had met during the Great War there had to have been one or two that completely escaped his memory.

"It's been long since that though. I take it you're a reporter, since you have the photograph of a suicide victim? I knew him, actually, it wasn't a grand time for me back then. So what are you doing with the picture, is there something new the newspaper has discovered?"

Quick to chase a lead and fall into a given roll August nodded his head in agreement. All the momentary anger from before having seemingly vanished from equal parts respect and the sudden need to make the man like him. "Quite astute of you, Jeremy was it?" The name rolled off his tongue before August even realized he had no real way of knowing that was in fact his name. He simply went on speaking however. Somehow he was sure of his words. "I am in fact a reporter for the Arkham Herald." He lied through a smile, repeating the name of the paper delivered to his rented room each morning. "And if I'm being completely honest with you Jeremy, soldier to soldier," He gave the man a wink "the paper isn't necessarily releasing any new information as mutch as we are chasing down leads that the unfortunate...events...that befell Mr. Killigan may have infact been tied to a bigger picture of sorts. I'm just doing my best to connect some dots at the moment, hence this stack." He slapped the now fully collected photographs against his free hand to signify that he was talking about them. "In fact if you have the free time, I would love to ask you some questions? Perhaps over a cup of coffee? Afterall, you never know where what random factoid you could provide might lead."

[Assistant]
Jeremiah Dupree
Physical state: Exhausted
Mental state: Sane

Professor Dupree couldn't help but frown as he nodded in agreement with Dr. Steiner. The words were harsh, but Dr. Steiner had never been a soft man. Dupree supposed he was fortunate that he had been given adequate alibi and would no longer need to deal with Officer Lexington's investigation - actually, now that he thought on it...

"For what it's worth, Dr. Steiner, and my apologies for dragging your thoughts back to yesterday - the police seem to agree with you. That it was unlikely Dr. Atkins simply jumped." After all, Dr. Steiner had said Dr. Atkins was not particularly...suicidal. He wasn't sure yet how to tell Dr. Steiner about the apparent break-in of the deceased man's office, assuming Officer Lexington hadn't already shared that much. Nor could he reconcile what he had witnessed with what evidence was found at the scene - or lack thereof. He almost wished he had not been so quick to shoo the bystanders away but, then again, he doubted many would have remained once the police had arrived. No one to explain how Dr. Howard Atkins had gotten up on that rooftop, and if anyone had understood his bizarre ramblings. The end of the world, he had caught that much. Not that it differed much from typical doomsayers who had sworn that God himself would descend from the sky and strike down this wicked society at the turn of the century. Merely the source was different.

The wait had been dragged out as long as they were able, and the gates soon swung open, the weight creating an audible squeak from the otherwise oiled hinges. Professor Dupree looked over the large brick building, ivy vine trails trimmed neatly away from the windows and doors and left otherwise unchecked to creep along the brightly-scrubbed bricks like blackening veins.

Truly, the home of the insane belonged in Arkham.

The inside was much less remarkable - Professor Dupree noted how the dark coating of the wooden flooring seemed to, in fact, thin as the students and professors trailed water in from the half-melting snow and ice outside. The heavy wooden door creaked as it opened, clearly less cared for than the wrought gate, and shuddered as it closed behind the group.

The second they entered the reception room to find the doctor who would serve as their guide, pandemonium struck. Professor Dupree wished he could say he had been attentive, intervening to stop the poor sick man before any harm could befall the man or the group and managed to pick an important thread of the tapestry known to them all as Arkham, but, no, he had froze, still-exhausted brain struggling to process what was going on in the midst of the chaos and screaming that reminded him far too much of his nightmare. A man in white - briefly his brain superimposed splashes of blood and feathers clinging and staining the white - instead pulled the patient off one of the students, a young man who seemed familiar but Dupree was sure he was not in any of his lectures. Thus did the patient leave, unconscious and treated and his circumstances now requiring translation through a man taught that all human actions were based around a drive for sex or death.

Praise be to psychology.

The man in white introduced himself - Dr. Martin Gabrowski. Jeremiah thought back to a Father Martin who had occasionally visited his boarding school as a youth. He had eventually immolated himself, when faced with the guilt of his crimes, Jeremiah heard years later. Too little too late.
With that bit of strangeness tucked into the corner of his mind, Dupree again found himself nodding to Dr. Steiner. "Indeed. Any other day, I think I'd be looking forward to this. As much as one could in the name of anthropology, at least." An attempt to mitigate the apparent callousness of the statement, more the students' benefit than Dr. Steiner's. Their brand of knowledge had always come from the study of other human beings. Several students, he knew, hadn't come along on this trip for the expressed reason that it seemed 'cruel' to treat humans like animals in a cage for study.

Dupree nodded and quietly wondered why the hell they were in an anthropology course. Where had knowledge of other cultures come from, asking politely for letters?

With the trip formally begun and their guide leading the way into the jungles of bars and barriers to meet the natives, Dupree allowed himself to slow a little and, through the decreased pace, catch up with the student who had been grabbed by the insane man. "I should hope you are alright?" He knew this face, he was so sure he did.

[User]
Physical state: Sick
Mental state: Wandering in thoughts

The perfume of a nurse walking by assaulted him. The waves of her hair and the breeze of her scent. Even like this I can smell it. The odor adorns her, and yet it is as if she adorns it. Lovely, the light adhering to her skin. He turned behind to catch a glimpse of her once more, but she had taken a corner, only a trail of the edge of her white skirt visible for a second at the wall edge, like a fast grey wing of a moth flying in the night. He focused on the nape of the student in front of him. A mole on his neck. Brown little tumor. An imperfection. They make a difference. I remember her, too. Many liked her when we were young and school children. Beautiful, with a tiny beauty mark on her cheek. The ones without it were not as liked. Falling for one's imperfections, yes. That is the hook. That we bite. The jig in the water. Listen to them. He looked at his shoes marching with the others on the floor tiles. A thud after a thud. That is also what I hear coming from behind the locked doors of this mystery. Like a heart locked in there, primordial but refusing to die, fueled by its own malignance. Thud, thud, thud.

A serene man, whom Emil would have, had he had the time to think artistically, described as 'sternly frail' approached him. Not am asylum staff member. No sterile white on him. The professor, from yesterday. Has he seen me?

"I should hope you are alright?", the man said.
"I...am well, sir," Emil said through a membrane of mucus in his sore throat. "Regarding the incident, at least." He swallowed saliva to wetten that irritating spot in his neck. "Now I know what people mean when they say the world's gone mad."


[System]
Child of
Darkness

Nickname:
"Tread carefully." (Will respond to Prince and Asher, but not much else)

Age:
"Old enough to make you regret prying so much." (27)

Gender:
"You're not going to ask me to drop my drawers to check, are you?" (Male)

Sexuality:
"You're joking, right?" (Heterosexual)

Relationship Status:
"Do I look like the type to waste time with such things?" (Single)

Species:
"You mean the big black wings don't give it away?" (Demon)

Occupation:
"Oh you know, crown prince of darkness and all that." (Prince, warrior)

Likes:
-People with strength of character
-Confident individuals
-Those with a sharp wit
-Books

Dislikes:
-Sweet things (figurative and literal)
-Formalities
-Weak willed people
-Naivety
-Flattery

Fears:
-Failure
-Being tied down by others

Balmung- A weapon that denotes Asher's status as royalty. The blade has seen many battles long before it came into his possession and is known throughout both kingdoms. Asher personally thinks it looks downright ridiculous.

Personality:
As prince of the land of Darkness, Asher has long since known that he has an image to uphold and in many ways, he is almost the quintessential child of darkness. He is generally cold and calculating, keeping everybody around him at an arm's length and then then telling them to take another step back. Most would describe him as curt, if not sardonic at the best of times, dismissive and hostile at the worst. This goes doubly so for those that try to suck up to him or merely say what they think he wants to hear.

The one person Asher relies on is himself, which has led to him being extremely independent and having an air of confidence that skirts all too dangerously with arrogance. Consequently, his problems are dealt with pragmatically and with little sentiment. But above all else, he values strength and cunning, as he believes using both in equal measure is the only way to make it far in this world.

Asher values people that are bluntly honest and willing to challenge him and his ideals, although this is a quality he finds to be in awfully short supply in the capital. For the few that have managed to get close to him, despite his best efforts, they will find an individual that is proud of his land and will do whatever he believes is necessary to better his people.

History:
To this day, Asher is still unsure of why the King of Darkness took him in after his parents died. It is impossible to say whether the old man took pity on the infant or merely believed that Asher would prove to be useful to him later on. Truth be told, the prince does not truly care which it was, because even though the king has never been the warmest father figure, he is still the only family he has ever known. Their relationship has always been a distant one, with Asher playing the role of the son always chasing after those brief moments where he caught his father looking at him with pride, even if they were few and far between.

Whether he is conscious of it or not, the effects of this dynamic can be traced throughout Asher's past. It was the reason he studied hard and practiced harder. It was why he kept taking on more responsibilities and challenges as he grew up. And every time he caught that faint hint of surprise in his father's eyes, it made him try all that much harder to be better. In time, it was his own successes that began to drive him forward. Each new spell he mastered, each new sword technique he learned, and every bruise he received taught him the value of hard work.

Childhood flew past him in a hurry, which left little time for friends or innocence. But Asher was fine with that and was well past ready to leave the capital, the place in which he had been confined to for the first 25 years of his life. And although he was still a toddler by most demons' standards, the prince had long since been ready to see the world outside of those walls. This desire led him to the battlefield, where he quickly made a name for himself. But the war was never something Asher took joy in, as he fought more so as a duty he owed to the people that had bled for him. And after only two years of it, he has found the futility of it all exhausting.

Change, he realized, was exactly what the world was in desperate need of.

Extra
Although he does sport a pair of nifty wings, Asher does not find flying to be all that enjoyable. "It's grossly overrated, really."

Theme song

[User]
Naya finds her spear first, then her dagger, both weapons lying by the tree Livia had speared her to. The witch winces at the memory as she gazes at the trunk of the tree where her blood still painted the bark in a macabre display. "...stupid wraith," she grumbles as she continues searching, coming across her satchel beside the remains of her bonfire. She sifts through the bag and finds that Skellington's skull is still safely tucked inside, but where is her grimoire…?

That's when she notices the vaguely familiar faerie in the clearing. Had she been here yesterday too? Naya couldn't quite remember, all she could really focus on was the book in the other woman's hands.

"Hello Fae-thing," Naya starts, shifting her weight anxiously as her eyes darted down to the worn book in the light creature's hands before flitting back up to her face. The faerie had beautiful, expressive eyes. "I am Naya and that is my spellbook," the witch explains, not daring to take a step closer and risking the other woman destroying it in a panic.

"It seems like you're struggling a bit to get free of the Deathwood," the brunette states, nodding towards the different bits of leaves and earth that were still stuck in the other's hair. "We could take you to the border," she offers, shooting Uriel a look and hoping he was okay with it. "...you could even hold onto to my grimoire, j-just until we get there," Naya adds, stumbling over the last bit. The last thing she wanted was for the child of light to continue to hold the warn book, seeing as how most of them looked down on that sort of magic as being unclean, but the witch felt like she didn't have much of a choice.

@Polaris North

[Assistant]
Asher didn't truly appreciate the comical amount of books he had piled around him until he heard the sounds of some poor sod getting buried under them. But it wasn't until he heard the person quoting one of his more interesting reads that he took his attention away from the book in his hand, his head perked up in curiosity. Worlds Apart, the book the stranger had quoted, took a look at the similarities and differences between the Dark and Light and attempted to establish a sense of common ground for the reader. Personally, the prince found the book too overly idealistic, but even he couldn't refute some of the points the author had made.

From his position, the stranger was invisible behind one of the stacks of books he had gathered, so he leaned his chair back and craned his neck to try and get a better look. A glimpse of red hair made him stop dead in his tracks. Asher blinked once as he realized that he had recognized the stranger's voice. Two blinks this time, as it occurred to him that it was the same creature from yesterday. Another blink, as he questioned the odds of running into her in a city as large as Linore. His expression must have been a delightful mix of disbelief and astonishment as the ridiculousness of the situation fully dawned on him. The prince didn't realize he had lost his balance on the chair until he found himself falling backwards, but he was honestly too shocked to try and catch himself.

There was a loud crash as the prince hit the floor most ungracefully, but his face still illustrated just how dumbfounded he was. Asher found himself pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight, as he considered his options. Unfortunately for him, they were all terrible. "You have to be joking," he finally sighed, but even he wasn't sure if his remark was directed at the strange creature on the floor next to him or to whatever cruel being that appeared to be in charge of his fate. "What in the world are you doing here?"

of Flames01

[User]
Renard

Octavia flinched and hurriedly crawled over to the stranger. Upon gazing at the stranger's face, fear, shock, surprise, and slight happiness overcme her. "It's you." She whispered surprised, her eyes stretched open wide with shock. Suddenly, another avalanche buried her underneath hundreds of books.

Octavia groaned and tried to get up, but slipped on her own blood from reopening a wound from yesterday, and fell back down with a tiny, startled scream. She groaned again. "I could be asking you the same thing, Ash. " She replied painfully. Eventually she gave up on trying to get up and layed on the floor next to him. " You sure like to read, don't you Ash? It's quite admirable how much you have read! How long have you been here, anyway? An eternity?" She ask jokingly with a laugh and a smile.

 Octavia then noticed her Star Dust pendant glowing a few feet away, on the other side of Asher. Frantically, she got up and crawled over Asher and grabbed her pendant. "Got it!" She said happily and relieved, only to slip on her own blood again and fall ontop of Asher, knocking the wind out her as she hit his hard, muscular chest. Octavia coughed a bit then laughed as she layed ontop of him. "We really should stop meeting like this...!" She laughed then got up and off from him. "Sorry... I must be a real pain, huh?" Her tone became apologetic as she helped him up."Though... I'm happy we got to meet again." She smiled warmly and gently.

[Assistant]
@Narcotic Dollie

Uriel was searching but he never did find anything that would somehow connect to Naya. Then he saw that young child of Fae that he had fought in the invasion. Well that certainly didn't spell 'good' at all but it seems she was having some trouble navigating out of Deathwood. But of course, by instinct, he went on the defensive and was mentally prepared for a fight. But he didn't take his sword or shield out. He bowed his head to acknowledge the fairie's presence. "Greetings Aurora." He said and then allowed Naya to speak.

When Naya offered that they take Aurora to the border, he nodded in agreement. As long as this fairie didn't attack them, he was more than willing to help, mostly because Aurora was holding the grimoire and they need that. This would be the second time he would aid a Child of Light out of their kingdom. This could be considered a betrayal by some of the generals but he was quite sure that no one would even think of telling some other people about this. "As long as you promise to give us the grimoire back, we'll take you to your end of the border."

[User]
Well, this was quite the conundrum. Aurora's eyes flitted between the two Children of the Dark, slowly processing the information that had just given her. She only had two real options, and neither of them were very appealing. Option one, try to leave the Deathwood under her own power. If she chose to carry out with this one, she has a very high chance of death. There was no telling who else was in these woods if a General of the Dark is patrolling in these parts. In addition, with the high probability of smashing into trees and damaging her body even further, the faerie was surprised that she hadn't broken her own neck yet. As uncaring as she was about her own mortality, the brunette would rather not die in such an unsightly manner. The second choice was just as bad, having to trust the enemy to bring her safely to the Light side of the border... Like they weren't just going to stab her in the back when she let her guard down.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Aurora picked herself up from the ground and looked at the duo infront of her with a curious intensity. Why did they care so much about a single grimore, enough to betray their own Kingdom? Couldn't they just buy another one from their witch friends? Her free hand channeled a hint of magic, creating a small tongue of flame on the tip of her index finger. Well, she was going to find out. The last time she was suspicious about the Children of Darkness, they were kidnapping the angel princess of the Light. There would be no lucky guessing this time.

Aurora held the book near the tongue of flame she had generated, the fire not yet touching the book, and not near enough for the wind to blow and catch the object on fire. The faerie focused on the witch in particular as she did the action. Let's make them sweat a little. "Why don't you tell me why you care about a stupid book? What kind of evil secrets are hidden inside?" Aurora asked the witch, completely and totally relaxed as the upper hand within this situation. If they get too close, the book burns, and then she will fight them to the death. If they give their answer... Well, it depends upon the answer, in all honesty.

North@Narcotic Dollie

[Assistant]
Hearing the creature's surprised whisper, Asher removed his hand from his face and looked at her with a look mixed with uncertainty and mild exasperation. Words were proving to be difficult to find, especially when she complimented his voracious appetite for books. Usually, he would have simply wrote it off as idle flattery, but something about the way she said it and the way looked at him told him that she was being genuine. And something about that caught him completely off guard and made it difficult for him to look her in the eyes. "It's hardly been an eternity, I just couldn't decide which ones to take," he muttered demurely in response to her question. Thankfully, the prince knew he wasn't blushing, but it was still painfully obvious that the creature still had quite the effect on him. But before he could give it more thought, Asher felt her flop on him in a spectacular fashion.

"We really should stop meeting like this...!" she said with a laugh. And with that insufferably infectious smile of hers, Asher found himself smiling as well. Not a small smirk or a mere grin, but an honest damn smile, the likes of which the prince hadn't made in a long time. "True, but something tells me you are a bit too clumsy for either of us to hope for much better," he shot back lightheartedly. It surprised and worried him just how natural it was for him to lower his guard around the angel, but at the same time he was finding the feeling to be oddly pleasant.

But that was when he noticed the blood leaking out of the angel's reopened wound. It was because you grew soft! Asher's smile died in a heartbeat as his father's words echoed in his head once more. His eyes grew cold, focusing on her wound, as he remembered that he was the one responsible for the pain and suffering she went through the day before. The creature was saying something to him, but he couldn't make it out as it felt as if she was talking to him from a long ways off. Or else... They will have the same fate as her, understand?

"We're not friends," he said sternly, almost as much for himself as for the angel. The prince got back on his feet on his own and regarded Octavia with an icy expression. "In fact, I'm the one that gave you those injuries, or did you forget that part?" he asked with, even by his standards, a harsh acerbic bite.


[System]
*In addition to black iridescent scales on her body, horns, and a tail, she also has wings.
Age: 32
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Bisexual
Race: Half-human/Half-dragon (shadow)
Occupation: Thief, spy, sellsword.
Talents: Lockpicking, traps, most martial weapons, rope-climbing, translating.
Supernatural Abilies: Darkvision, Shadow-weaving

Brief Personality: Serendi is, out of an instinct for self-preservation, secretive and aloof. Friendship and camaraderie has never been her strong suite, primarily because being a half-breed has not lent itself well to being social. Her chosen occupation has further instilled a need for caution about who she trusts. She has learned to suspect that kindness is only a form of manipulation and that there is no such thing as a free meal. However, there exists within her the capacity for love and affection if one has the patience it takes to earn her trust. Unfortunately, she is the kind of person who will test every offer with potentially abrasive and cruel doubt.

Brief History: Serendi is the cast-off offspring of a human whore and an impulsive shadow dragon named Glimmershade, who enjoyed the shameless use of shape-shifting to lurk among the lesser races. Growing up in the streets with obvious non-human features taught her to be quick, quiet, secretive. With the help of her adopted sister, a powerful half-dragon sorceress named Drachiathoryx, Serendi discovered her talent for shadow-weaving, which made it easier to sneak and spy. It was not long before her talents earned the notice of those who dwell in the dark underbelly of society. The jobs were small at first. Pick this pocket. Copy what is written on that letter. Listen in on the secret meeting tomorrow night. Disable that Watchman at the third toll of the city bells. The money was good, and since she was beholden to no one, the money was all that mattered. Recently, she has been hired to travel to a distant land to recover an ancient book from a royal tomb. Unlike any job before, she is having misgivings about the task and fears the repercussions if she should fail.

[User]
There was a tingle down her spine that gave Serendi pause. Waiting for the ship to weigh anchor and take to the skies, she had perched herself neatly on a silver-enameled railing, her long legs and sinuous tail draping precariously over the side towards the distant blue-green surf. Though perhaps not so precariously, owing to the presence of bat-like wings folded causally at her back.

The hour was still early, the sun rising in the east over the city, and the black-scaled woman was taking refuge from the brightness in the shade of the airship's forecastle. At mid-day she would likely retreat into the dim interior, sequestering herself in the pitifully tiny cabin that she had hired for the month-long journey.

But for now, excitement and a sense of adventure was palpable in the air, and not just because of the static hum tingling along the slender bones of her wings. The charged crystal mech-engine deep in the belly of the Drakkar-class ship was like a distant hum that the shadow-weaver could hear with her blood rather than her frilled ears. Her sister, an extraordinarily talented fire-mage, had once told her that riding on an airship felt to her as though her fangs might vibrate right out of her head. If there was a time in her life that Serendi was thankful her arcane abilities were only mild, it was now.

Yet, the tingle she felt along her spine that made her black tail give a little twitch was not due to the thrum of the engines below. She was being watched, and the half-dragon turned to observe a young human woman who was, in turn, watching her. Serendi matched the young woman's stare, her own eyes a smokey, silvery gray and slitted like a cat's, unblinking and reserved. Serendi's skin, where it wasn't brushed with tiny black scales, was a wraithlike grey. A pair of bold black horns sprouted from her forehead and swept back around her temples, framing the frill-like ears on the sides of her face. Apart from these obvious inhuman features, the woman was basically humanoid in shape, garbed in a dark, travel-worn cloak and a corseted vest over tight black breeches. A variety of pouches and leather cases hiding various implements were strapped neatly to her body, as though she preferred to store none of her belongings out of her sight. Or rather, if she felt the need to be prepared for...something.

The silent exchange of looks did not last long, though Serendi's face turned to follow Eva's progress as the curly-haired girl moved to the rail and looked over into the water. Not long after, the gangplank was raised and the already-bustling activity on the upper deck seemed to intensify. The ship was a smaller vessel, primarily a long-range cargo ship, and the chartered journey did not take passengers into account. Being so, Serendi had anticipated the rather boorish behaviour of the crew, who had been selected for their brawn rather than their charm. A broken-horned minotaur with a scarred and mangy pelt of fur hurried by with a rough shipping cask on each shoulder, and it was only by virtue of her practiced grace that Serendi was able to side-step him to avoid being knocked over the railing. Irritated at having to dodge the beast, the half-dragon's eyes narrowed at his broad back and there was a faint growl in her throat in wordless response. But the creature was already past her, leering, a lewd smirk on his bovine snout at Eva until he had passed her by as well.

"You'd best stay out of the way, ladies," a sailor advised, addressing both of them simply because they were standing near enough to both be included. It was the same man who had thrust his hand in Eva's face when she arrived. Though Serendi noticed the slight sarcastic quip in his tone, as though not convinced that a half-breed could, indeed, be called a lady. "We'll be under way in a moment and it won't do to have either of you underfoot while the lads work, no matter how you managed to get a pass to come aboard."

"I would have hoped that an esteemed vessel such as this one could attract a crew with enough sense to avoid trampling people across the deck," the half-dragon replied, her tone smooth and scathing at the same time, her lips curved into a scornful smile. "Apparently I was mistaken."

Even as she traded glares with the ship's bosun, his comment made her wonder about Eva, and how someone who was dressed so proper would come to be on this ship. She suspected that money had secured the pass, leaving her to wonder at the why.

[Assistant]
If Eva had heard the man's warning she had chosen not to show it, because instead of spinning around or replying or even turning her head to the side, she kept her focus on the water below for noticeable moments afterwards. The man that had given the warning shrugged off the dragon's reply and scoffed softly at the little girl looking off the side before wandering away - he was gentlemen-like enough to give a warning but he didn't have time to babysit either of them. After all, he was less concerned about his few passengers and more so for the cargo that needed to make it within time or he wouldn't get his full payment.

The princess on the other hand continued to stare for only a moment more and likely when Serendi was just about to leave or tap her on the shoulder, she seemed to spring to life and as if out of nowhere, came a notebook flying into her hands. It was like a magic trick, keeping that sort of book hidden under a dress or it might've been actual magic, it's regal red skin giving way to the obviousness that she was with plenty of money. She started to write something down and then as quickly as the notebook appeared, it was gone, giving pause to wonder what the small flare had been all about. Most would've called her odd or quirky or maybe even a bit daft, but she didn't seem to mind any shot glares and glances she got from the crew as they passed her by.

Biting her lip, her eyes wandered over the deck of the ship - it seemed Eva was in her own little world at the moment until she finally spun towards the cabin's entrance and looked back up at the half-dragon. She figured it might've been interesting, looking and observing from the other side, because out of all the men and creatures aboard she was most curious about the black-scaled woman. Eva gave her a small, polite, curious smile, perhaps even mistakenly casting herself in a mysterious light of sorts before she hugged her stomach and put her head down a little. Promptly, she began to make her way inside the cabin until she took a sudden turn towards another door.

At this point, Eva wasn't sure if the dragon was watching or even cared, but she had a mission... and she had a talent that she wasn't so proud of. She easily stayed out of the way of the men and stood near the door that lead to the engine room until just the right moment. Besides the few men giving her crude, greedy glances, she was mostly ignored - in fact she knew that even those glares were at a minimum. She didn't present herself as an authority figure and certainly not like a sex figure, making her the little strange object on the boat instead more than anything. She was interesting enough to glance at, but they had more important things to do to get ready - everyone always had more important things to do and that was her 'talent.' Being ignored. Eva figured she might as might use of it as she quickly slipped inside the door without anyone noticing (to her knowledge).

She quietly closed it behind her and waited for a moment or two, to see if one of the member's would come in after yelling at her to not be where she belonged. No one did and she smiled softly to herself, relaxing as she climbed the stairs down. She was far from some expert thief or spy, but she supposed maybe in another life she could've mastered the skill somehow, the thought giving her another small smile. As she came to the bottom of the stairs, it became a bit more obvious why the door wasn't being as guarded as she figured. A long hallway before her had several metal doors and as she walked down it, they read things like mess hall, clinic, barracks, and so on. She bit down on her lip softly as she approached the engine room. Looking both ways, she took in a deep breathe, her focus entirely on the door. She hoped no one was inside guarding it... hoping that she'd get time to study and examine all of the machinery. It was like entering a candy store for the first time after reading about it your whole life. She wanted to savor the moment.

[User]
An attempt to touch or speak to Eva was not forth-coming. The half-dragon's attention flicked back and forth between the sailors who were too busy securing cargo and readying the Sapphire for her voyage. As the lean, reclusive woman leaned her hip against the railing, she began to play a mental game that helped pass the time. In her line of work there was a lot of waiting. Waiting for guards to pass, waiting for a mark to arrive, waiting for the delivery of her money. The game was simple. She would look at a person and try to guess to the best of her ability how she would strike if they were a mark. What valuables could she see, and what might they be concealing in their clothes? How would she escape them? How would she fight them? It was a grim or even morbid contemplation, but she liked to think that it kept her sharp, helped her avoid attachments.

Serendi was in the process of wondering if an angular bulge in the back pocket of a particularly rude-looking sailor was a cigar case or a shard-powered pistol when a flash of something bright red caught her attention. Tilting her horned head slowly, she watched Eva scribble something down in a book, a journal more likely, and then tuck it away again. It was curious that Serendi hadn't noticed the hidden object before. The Game still on her mind, she couldn't help turn those thoughts on Eva. She suspected that apart from the arrogant boatswain, the human girl was likely the only other person on deck carrying an unwise amount of money. She looked like a girl from a wealthy family. Perhaps she would find jewelry on her. She suspected the girl would be easy to rob, likely too shocked by the act to put up much of a fight, too demure of personality to make much fuss, and she didn't look like she had any kind of martial skill. It was all guesswork, and as usual the shadow-weaver didn't expect to ever have a chance to discover if her assumptions were correct.

Not that she actually intended to do any such thing, though the callous mindset was reflected in her silver eyes. Her black eyebrow twitched up as Eva passed her by, but she did not follow her or comment. A few moments later there was a barely perceptible whine and the constant thrum of energy from belowdecks tripled.

They were under way at last, drifting out on the salty waves until they were clear of the docks. The blue and silver sails stretched tautly above filled with wind and the deck gave a forward lurch, a shift that was repeated a moment later as the vessel began to rise. Water glittered and streamed from the hull back down to the surface of the sea as the Sapphire took to the skies, a marvel of wind-power and the combined might of magic and clockwork engineering.

Serendi reached up to curl her fingers around a single rope of the rigging, looking out across the horizon as it sank below the railings, replaced by fluffy white clouds.

Down in the stuffy darkness, hot and full of the repetitive clunks and whirrs and steamy blastings of the ship's workings, Eva had yet to be discovered. Voices muttured secretively through a vent into a neighbouring room, partially obscurred by the noise of the engines.

"...dangerous this time of year."

"The Kingfisher never made it to port. I hard it was pirates..."

"...it was a bad idea to take on so much cargo. And two women...that's bad luck!"

"Well, only one woman. The other one is nothing but a dragon-bitch..."

There was a reason that the engines were not being watched during the launch. The crew in charge with such a task were loitering, gossiping like fish-wives at a market.


[System]
Age:
30

Sex:
Female

Race:
Half Dwarf by her mother, half Human (Rivaini) by her father.

Class:
Rogue/Duelist

Appearance:
At first glance, Feri could quite easily pass as a strangely tall Dwarf, or a very short human, what with her mixed blood giving her a strange height for both races. Her figure is less stocky than that of a female Dwarf, with a more defined waist and hips, and being generally slimmer in the arms and legs. However, in human standards, she would be considered as curvaceous and voluptuous. Her face too, is more angular than that of a dwarf, with prominent cheekbones, full lips, and green eyes.

Feri's Rivaini heritage has given her a tanned complexion, lighter than that of her Father, but enough so to indicate she is no pale-skinned Fereldan. Her skin is mostly clear around her face, barring a few freckles across her nose, which will appear when she's been in the sun too long; however, her body is littered with scars of past skirmishes. While most remain minor, the pale scar tissue stands out against her tanned skin and makes them more obvious. Not that she cares, that is – the main one she dislikes is a particularly deep one running down the length of her back. The tissue there is knotted and ugly, but as it's usually hidden by either clothes or her nearly waist-length hair, she doesn't really have issues with it. As for her hair – a black so dark it almost has tinges of blue in it – it is rarely tied up, usually with some strands plaited together to frame her face, or pushed back with a colourful scarf or bandana.

As far as her outfits go, they are as lightweight and durable as any other rogue's. Leather and fur in a theme of browns and blue's; her leather armour consists of a teal cotton undershirt with elbow-length sleeves; a brown corset and leggings along with knee-length leather boots, light leather pauldrons and gauntlets with teal fingerless gloves beneath. She also has a lightweight and tattered brown leather coat, trimed with fur along the neck and shoulders and tied with a blue sash. As for jewellery, she has seven piercings; two in each earlobe, three along the cartilage of her right ear and two along her left; she also wears her father's amulet (Medium in size, gold, and with a sapphire pendant set within), and a woven leather bracelet – a good luck token from Antiva.

Personality:
While generally a pleasant sort of individual, Feri can often come across as brusque and tactless - not caring much for whining or complaining, she prefers the philosophy of "Get over it and fix the issue." There's no point in feeling sad or angry over something you can't control - all it will do is make you feel worse and not help the situation at all. While this advice can often seem overly harsh - especially if the situation is particularly dire - Feri can be compassionate. She feels a driving need to look after the underdog, the weak or the helpless, particularly children. Because of that, she is appreciative of strength and solidarity, particularly in the face of danger.

In terms of the varying politics of the land, Feri tries to keep herself removed from it all - unless it begins to threaten herself or her morals. She will not stand for discrimination against a race or people, particularly if it is over something they cannot control. Sympathy is often shown for elves and Mages for the toils of their lives, unless they've been ungracious towards someone offering aid. While she can understand hesitancy when trusting others, she gets annoyed when someone becomes angry at everyone for what only a small group has done. To her, life is too short to remain angry for all of it.

Backstory:
Work in progress - y'all know it anyhoo!

Weapons
2 shortswords, steel.
Several steel knives of varying length and style hidden about her body.

[User]
Rannon wasn't one to not say what he meant. If he found Loghain, he knew he wouldn't stop until he saw the man dead. Not only for what he did to Ferelden, not only because Rannon had given his word, but because his best friends had all fallen on that field. What right did Rannon have to still be breathing (Or Loghain for that matter)? A swift death avenging them only to be killed by Loghain's guards seemed ideal, he realized. So he could see his brothers again. So he didn't need to live with this shame, and so he could die honorably. Not in some bed sixty years from now. Where was the glory in that?

Still...he supposed the Blight could swallow them all up eventually. Somehow in this war, he would die. He couldn't shake the feeling he was living on borrowed time now that all of his squad had been destroyed. He'd keep that a secret for now. It wasn't exactly a feeling that one brought up in conversation, and he didn't want to worry Feri anymore. Right now there was wrongs to be righted, and two friends to be seen to Redcliffe.

"You're right," he said, honestly agreeing they needed to see the Arl. He reached up and rubbed one of the 'X' scars on his cheek, feeling it, as he sometimes felt his scars when trying to think properly. "Let's head over there and see the Arl. Sorry I just..."

He realized he'd apologized quite a bit recently. He wasn't used to it, honestly. Usually he was blunt and he didn't care who heard it. He guessed Feri was already growing on him. He let out a frustrated groan as he grinned at himself in a self depreciating manner. "Thanks Feri. How's about we walk for a bit? I think we're just a few days short of a town if we head northeast, and stretching my legs would do me some good I think."

Gideon barked in agreement, wagging his tail so hard it shook his body, which was in turn rubbing into Feri.

[Assistant]
Glad to see a smile back on Rannon's face, Feri agreed, laughing as Gideon's wagging hind-quarters kept bumping into her.

"I think we've made him excited at the word "walk"." Giving Gideon another scratch on the ears, Feri gathered her things together; putting her corset and coat back on to save her carrying them as the trio journeyed.

---

---

After a good few hours of hard walking, the trees around them began to thin out, marking the end of the Kokari Wilds and their entrance into the Hinterlands. While not exactly safe from the Darkspawn, Rannon and Feri had been lucky in avoiding any other attacks during their trek through the forests, and they had travelled quite some distance by keeping their breaks short and infrequent. However, as they entered safer lands, Feri felt spent. For Rannon, perhaps it was easier to walk so long and so fast with his long legs... but Feri was rather short, and her legs did not fare well over long distances. As told to her by her mother, Dwarves were natural sprinters, and were very dangerous over short distances. They were not however, built for cross-country jogging. Her human half wasn't doing much to help her, and with slightly winded breath, she collapsed onto a rock near a large outcropping, holding her head in her hands for a moment.

"Rannon - I think perhaps we should get some rest. The light is dying, and we'll need to be up early tomorrow to make the most of the daylight." She said, tone heavy with exhaustion as she sat up and looked back to him. The sun was on the cusp of setting, lighting the sky with brilliant orange and pink hues, casting long shadows across the grassy earth. "Besides, I don't think my legs will work again now that I've sat down. My feet are killing me." Feri kicked her boots off with a groan, looking at the still upright Rannon expectantly.

"Well? Let's get a fire going! This is a good a place to camp as any." She said, struggling to her feet in just her socks with a strained smile at the soldier and his dog. There were plenty of trees nearby, the grounds littered with dead sticks and branches - with the lack of rain for a few days, it meant everything was bone dry. Perfect for a warm, crackling fire against the cold of the night.

In no time at all, the three were settled by the fire, the sun completely set and the sky clear enough to see the stars above. Head upturned to gaze upon the wondrous sight, Feri smiled before turning back to her small cooking pot. The stew inside was plain, but it would fill the two rumbling bellies of herself and Rannon.

"Are you from Redcliffe, Rannon?" She asked as she sprinkled some salt into the pot, giving it another stir before turning back to him. Their walk had been so exhausting, the two hadn't had much time to discuss anything; also being on edge all the way up to the border of the Wilds, hoping they wouldn't run into more of the Darkspawn, yet every noise they heard was assumed to be such. Those creatures were so foul that even long after a fight, they left a mark on you. It was no wonder their blood was poison, thought Feri. Their mere presence is enough to turn your stomach.

[User]
Rannon looked about, vigilant when they stopped. It was hard to imagine they might be relatively safe for the time being, but...that's what it seemed like. He let out a breath, his broad shoulders swelling and lowering like a wave. He cleared his throat, and began to take off his armor once more just he did less than a day previous. He couldn't help but smile as Feri plopped down and grumbled a tiny bit.

Not because he enjoyed her discomfort, but her endurance despite her short legs was admirable to him. He was also used to the other soldiers keeping their discomforts hidden within and not being voiced, and it was a nice change. He settled down, wearing his trousers and linen (albeit cut up) shirt, but keeping his large sword close just in case. Gideon, much like the dog he was, sat right next to Feri after they had collected the firewood, sniffing the food and looking at it hungrily.

Rannon was very much like a dog himself, something he often didn't notice. Vigilant and alert when on the move, but having very loyal and kind eyes when near comrades, and often giving a lopsided smile when happy or content. That and, of course, being protective of his friends. Perhaps he'd found a new one in Feri. "You can sit back and I can grab the food," he told her, pushing himself off the ground to shuffle over to her on his knees. He knew how much the trek took out of the ruddy skinned Half Dwarf.

The heat of the fire and the steam of the pot along with the salt gave Rannon a feeling of openness. He couldn't rightly guess it was his sinuses clearing, but something felt a bit good being so close to it. The light of the fire caused his eyes to look like polished steel, and his hair the likeness of bronze. He gave her a smile and a wink to let her know it was ok, and nodded for her to sit back over by the soft blankets. "No," he replied. "I'm from Ironbrook, next to the wilds." His voicing that brought back many memories of growing up among the townsfolk, and the leaving as well...

"I've had a lot of experience around the Kokari and, I guess I'm used to them now. By the way, I was wondering how you got so good with those Knives."

[Assistant]
Feri leaned back with a content sigh, stretching her sore muscles and folding her hands behind her head, cupping it as she reclined. Rannon seemed far more at ease now; the flickering of the fire bringing out new shades of light in his hair and eyes - as for the latter, perhaps he was just happier? Feri was sure the colour of one's eyes could change with emotion. Anger can light flames of fury in iris', or dull any once-inviting hue to a harsh cold. As for Rannon, his eyes seemed to do the same. Feri had never considered gray to be an appealing colour in the least; after spending only a day with the Ferelden soldier, she was beginning to think differently of it.

As he answered her question, Feri's hand seemed to make it's way back to Gideon's fur, petting the hound in a very familiar manner. The Mabari seemed not to mind; in fact, from what she could tell, he'd taken to her quite nicely. He was curled up by her side, after all - but then again, his eyes were glued to the cooking pot. Perhaps he was wanting some more jerky? At Rannon's query however, she paused in her stroking of the hound's fur as she straightened up, a grin on her face.

"Oh, you were, were you?" She asked, a mischievous tone in her voice. "If you're wanting lessons, I'll have to say no. I'm pretty good, but you're way too big to handle something that delicate." Laughing lightly, she pulled one of her knives from it's scabbard, stroking the edge of the blade lightly with her forefinger. "They belonged to my father - he's the one that taught me how to use them. Taught me most things about fighting actually. My Mother wanted me to learn something sturdier, more dangerous. I remember him laughing at her, at the notion that because something is small, it's safe." Looking back to Rannon, she tossed the blade in the air, catching it nimbly by the hilt and twirling it around effortlessly. While slightly showing off, it was more of a hobby for her to do things like that. The more dexterous you were with it, the more damage you could inflict.

"It's all about balance, you see. And not just the balance of the blade, but of the situation. Big guy like yourself with a big sword, you can storm on in and most definitely inflict some damage, and at a good arm's distance away from your enemy too. With knives like these, you have to be a bit more careful. Choose your opponent, where you'll attack them, and use everything you possibly can to your advantage. Balance the good outcomes against the bad - then make your mark." She shrugged then, placing the blade carefully back in it's scabbard. "But I'm no expert. Certainly pretend to be, but I'm far from mastering the art of duelling - I'm just glad it can keep me alive in this blighted world."

As the stew continued to bubble, she couldn't help but notice how quickly Rannon had changed the subject of his home. As far as she knew, Ironbrook had been free of calamities, and was a good way away from the Darkspawn horde. Had he lost someone there, to avoid the subject so? Or perhaps he was just homesick?


[System]
Superhero identity: Captain America.

Age: Technically ninety years old, but physically in his mid-twenties due to the magic of cryogenics.

Brief History:

Once the teenaged sidekick of Captain America, Bucky was thought lost in 1945 to an explosion caused by Heinrich Zemo. In fact Bucky was found by Soviet soldiers who wiped the sidekick's brain, fitted him with a prosthetic arm, and programmed him to assassinate enemies of the Soviet Union. In between assassinations "The Winter Soldier", as Barnes would come to be known, would have his mind wiped once more and be placed in a cryogenic sleep until he was needed again. It isn't until the fall of the Soviet Union that Barnes reappears under the control of Aleksander Lukin, former KGB agent turned Kronas CEO.

After some time Steve Rogers is able to break Lukin's hold over Bucky using the Cosmic Cube and restore his sidekick's memories to him. Bucky disappears, traumatised by the knowledge of the crimes he had committed, reappearing upon learning that Steve had been arrested in the fallout of the superhero "civil war" over the Registration Act with intents to break him free. Instead he watched on whilst Steve was shot dead. In the aftermath, Bucky is approached by Tony Stark with a proposition: carry the shield and keep Steve's memory alive by becoming the Captain America the world so desperately needs. A reluctant Bucky accepts, knowing he'd never be able to stomach someone else in Steve's uniform, and sets about trying to live up to the mantle.

[User]
With a wave of the little gem in Quill's hand, Bucky had been outfitted in his uniform and his shield had appeared in his hand. It was a surreal experience to say the least but certainly a lot more convenient than the three of them hauling ass across Manhattan on the back of Bucky's motorbike. The three of them had watched Daredevil fighting a guy Howard had identified as "Stilt-Man" from a rooftop and once the man in red had successfully pursued him and the police were out of their way they had made their way down.

"Fine," Bucky could be heard to say to Quill as they approached Daredevil. He rooted around in his pocket for a minute. "And to think back at the restaurant I thought that Eternity was wrong to pick me. We're meant to be saving the universe and you're more interested in buying a hot dog."

They stopped in front of Daredevil and Bucky gestured to Quill and Howard with an awkward smile, knowing how surreal the image must have seemed. "No, your eyes are not lying to you. That is a talking duck in clothes. He assures me his name is Howard and the guy in the coat hankering for some food is Star Lord. Where I'm from people call me Captain America. We need your help, friend. The universe needs your help."

[Assistant]
"As a guy who has been tricked into attending one too many furry orgies, let me assure you this is not a sex thing," Howard said. "What my friend, Captain America, is trying to say is hop on board the team train, loser. We're going to save the universe... and get kickass t-shirts for our troubles."

Howard removed his suit coat, revealing a navy blue t-shirt that showed a photo of himself and Star-Lord high fiving. BEST FRIENDS FOREVER was written underneath the photo in bright pink comic sans font.

"Where'd you get that?" Quill asked.

"That little gem of yours has a mind of its own," Howard said with a wink.

[User]
The wailing, booming, strangled cacophony of the clubs stereo's easily ranked as some of the most grating noises that Hercules had ever heard, ranking somewhere between the cries of the Stygian birds, and the toneless singing of Benjamin Grimm. The wine was little better, boasting a sourness he imagined could only be attained by the vintner purposefully setting out to make undrinkable swill. The company was a silver-lining, three women in their late thirties who, he was reliably informed, qualified as 'MILFS', one blonde and two brunettes. The women had flooded his corner booth a little while after he had entered the establishment, with the intention's of drinking away his woes.

The Demi-God realized that he was probably being overly harsh towards the club, that the music and the wine was probably no worse than any of the other small-town watering hole's that he had ever graced, and that the only foulness present, real or imagined, was the foulness he himself had tracked in.

The hero had been on the road now for three days, he, his sister, Wise Athena, and his young ally Amadeus Cho, with pup in tow. Long days, with sifting cities blurring into the background while he was left with little else to do save muse on the grim turn of his fate. At being declared a renegade after throwing his lot in with powerful Hulk, after the green giant was sorely wronged by powerful men he had once called allies. At Hulks rage, and the devastation it had caused. At the temporary destruction, an act committed, and rectified, by Amadaeus', one that had seen Herc and his young ally going on the run, and leading to his current situation, trying to drink away his woes in a poor fitting disguise.

By Zeus, how he longed for the simple days of heroism, when the villains looked like scaled serpents, the heroes were the one's punching the serpents, and everyone wrote songs about his greatness. He downed his wine with a sullen swig, before calling for a new bottle. He knew better than that though. Things had 'never' been simpler, not in his three thousands years of life.

"Sigh," He sighed, the three lady's that had been talking animatedly amongst each other dropping their conversations and showering him with attention.

"What is the matter Hercules?" Asked the blonde, her face full of concern. His renegade status did not seem to bother the trio a wit. In fact it might have added to his allure.

"Nothing," He responded, before sighing once more.

"I think he's sad." Said one brunette.

"No!" cried the second, "We can't have that now, can we!"

"Hmm, let's see if we can't cheer him up." Purred the blonde, melting into his side while sliding a hand up his t-shirt, running silky smooth fingers across his abs. Despite himself he felt a smile crawl across his face.

Ok, so there was something to recommend this club after all, even if it couldn't offer the chance for some the honest hero work he so desired..

[Assistant]
The four heroes made a quick trans-spatial stop for the suit and shield of Captain America before the gem on Peter Quill's wrist put them where they needed to be for the next pick-up: even if it had put them there a full hour before Quill knew, as the gem told him, they needed to be there. Timing was always an issue with the gem, and Quill knew why...even if he kept tight lipped about the gem, what it was, who gave it to him, and why the timing was usually off. The analogy he had used with Ernie to confirm he understood was: It's my phone booth, and you're my Rufus?

Quill swore he thought he heard the giant Cosmicdude Ernie chuckle after phrasing their arrangement in terms of Bill & Ted.

But he knew he was on anything but an excellent adventure, the only true relief that it hadn't been overly difficult to convince anyone to hop into the phonebooth with him so far. Or was their ease in acceptance part of Ernie's plan? Is that why THESE heroes were on the list? They were all ready for a fight bigger than the ordinary hero stuff. They were all ready to save the infinite, endless, of creation. He hoped so. Who knew, maybe they'd even make a movie about it one day? Not that Quill was leading man material, anyway. Always a Han, never a Luke. Just the way he liked it.

The odd hour before they needed to be at the club was spent at a place of his insistence, after one of the new guys let Quill borrow some scratch: McDonald's. They all sat in a booth tucked into the back corner of the "establishment", the Duck gnawing on fries, Cap looking tormented, the Devil sipping on a milkshake, and the great Star Lord demolished a Quarter-Pounder with Cheese meal with large fries and a large Coke like it was an easy Xandarian girl. Cap and the Devil drawing way too much attention to their table with their totally obvious super-suits, only Quill and the Duck keeping it on the d-low.

Cap alone seemed to have a selfie request from some starstruck stranger every five minutes, though none of them seemed to believe the Star Lord when he piped in that it was the REAL Captain America. Whatever a "cosplayer" was. Quill would've ordered another burger, but it quickly became time to ditch and head for the club--if only to get Cap and el Diablo a momentary reprieve. Quill was about to give the two of them another round of shit for causing such a scene, until they hit the club's rope line: it was only when the mountain of a man in a black shirt five sizes too small that acted as Bouncer saw Cap that he suddenly smiled, and welcomed them in.

Quill was the last one through, smiling at a young honey that was still trying to talk her way into the door, delaying him for a few moments. The coat girl was even hotter, but she gave him a strange look when he declined to hand over his coat--yet Cap seemed to get no grief for holding onto the shield. Quill muttered until they entered the club proper; the music blasting just funky enough for Star Lord's awesome tastes, his hips instantly grooving this way and that slightly as his gait became part dance at the song that seemed to be about "getting lucky."

Some girl shouted a "Shake ya tailfeather!" at the Duck as they passed her group on the dancefloor, heading towards the back, where the one of them with the peek senses had already found their intended target. The four of them approached the big man's private booth side-by-side-by-side-by ducky side, Quill smiling at the ladies as their attention was piqued. "Hey ladies, take a hike. We need to chat with this guy."

[User]
Howard ran his fingers through the feathers on his head and smiled at the Greek demigod.

"Herc, hate to Quackblock you like this but we need your help. More importantly, the world and the entire universe need your help."

Howard jumped onto the table and held on the lapels of his jacket and padded across the table as he spoke.

"Now we are engaged in a great cosmic war, testing whether that a dude, or any group of dudes so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war by jerks. We here highly resolve that these dudes here shall not die in vain— that this group of dudes, under some weird ass cosmic being, shall have a new birth of awesomeness—and that these dudes fighting for the babes, to get the babes, and keep the babes, shall not perish from this reality!"

[Assistant] A pained expression appeared on Cap's face and he leaned over towards Quill and whispered to him. "Do you know what that meant? He lost me somewhere around the fourth dude."

[User]
Quill couldn't help himself. When the smirk came to his lips, he didn't even fight it, just kept it toned down a bit. Yeah, he liked the duck. Gotta be awesome to use that many dudes correctly in an awesome sentence. With a returned whisper, Quill gave the bad news: "It's a 'babes' thing, dude...you probably wouldn't understand......unless that red head you were with is...?"

And Quill let the question linger, until the beginnings of a hard edge in Cap's eyes gave all the response needed on that note. "...totally get it. Who doesn't like redheads?"

Lord knows I do.

[Assistant]
The women didn't take a hike, in fact they squeezed into Hercules, tighter than ever, afraid that this motley crew of rag tag adventurers would steal away their burly paramour. For his part the Prince of Power eyed the Duck and red-coated figure somewhat suspiciously, until he spotted Captain America and Daredevil lurking in the background, noble heroes and true comrades both. The Demi-God's misgivings about the group dispersed, and so he scooted aside to give the group space to sit. Let it never be said that Hercules was an ungracious host.

"Captain! Sit and. . ." He began, before being cut off by the duck. Usually the Prince of Power would find himself peeved to be interrupted by mere talking fowl, but on this occasion the content of the feathered word smith's speech served as cooling water to the flames of Herc's rage. Admittedly he struggled to follow the exact point the duck was making, but he got the jist. The universe was in need of saving, and Hercules was picked to stand amongst it's champions.

Made sense.

Wine and milfs spilt to the floor as the big man leapt to his feet, a jubilant smile upon his face. Finally, a chance to do some real good again! A labour worthy of song, and one that didn't seem to have any shades of grey to the tale!

"Your words hearten me, bold and noble Duck!" He cried, wrapping his brawny arms around Howard and Quill, squeezing them in a good natured, yet nearly bone breaking hug. "Let us waste no more breath and be on with this quest!" He stepped out of the booth (over the complaining women) and strutted towards the exit, no idea where he was going.

"After all, the universe wont save itself!"

[User] Quill found himself on hands and knees, wincing, gasping, and just able to raise his right index finger into the air before croaking the words, "...right behind you guys."

[Assistant] Bucky sighed heartily and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet, and producing his Avengers card. He handed it towards the women who were sat at the table dressed in revealing clothing and plastered in makeup. Cap reached down, grabbed Quill by the arm and lifted him to his feet, before gesturing to Hercules bounding out of the club without so much as a look back at them. "I'm sorry about him, he's usually a really nice guy. Buy yourselves some drinks on Tony Stark and please, please, don't be shy about it. He can more than afford it."