[System]
YonyThe Last Warden

---
A G E

15 GSA

B L O O D Q U A N T U M S

* 1/2 Lutran
* 1/2 Human

D E S C R I P T I O N

Yonath is a stocky young man with shaggy auburn hair. He generally wears a contrast of shorts and pink hoodie with "zef laaitie" scrawled on it in black marker. He appears to be a Lutran physically though there are signs of his mixed species heritage in his extremities. He typically rotates between threatening, smug, coy and condescending looks at regular intervals.

C A P A B I L I T I E S

* "Mercantile": Yonath watched his parents unique talent for trading from a very young age. When his father passed, though young, Yonath quickly took over the family business and continued it even after his mother's death.

* Persuasion: Tying in the first to the second Yonath has a unique knack for finding the exact method to bring others around to his way of thinking.

* Zef: It means you're a piece of shit, but somehow Yonath has turned this not only into an identity but a selling point.

C H A N G E L O G

* "Zef Laaite" means a kid who is a piece of shit.

*

[User]
---

X e l lSoutheastern Mir - The Fall

---

Xell continued to zig zag across the forest. His journey started from the top of the cloudy ridden cliff as he ventured downwards towards the darker, more shadowy parts of the woods. The nurturing part of the scenery was all but starting to fall to shadow and become more murky the more he trudged through the leaves, mud and dirt down all the winding pathways.

The mud was slick, tarry and cold. A bit more than what Xell was used to. The thought swiftly crossing his mind, had he really ventured this deep into the forest before? Even the sounds of nature were a bit more wild and distant. Instead of chirping birds, he could hear a deafening electrobuzz of a crickets. Wild, hissing and foreboding, as if violated by him passing through.

"Ouch!" Xell yelped as his arm brushed against barbed nettles. Despite a fleeting contact with the plant, he could already see the area of contact on his deltoid muscle start to inflame, redden and boil up.

"Damned forest. I'm never coming here on vacation!" he uttered as he slowed down to catch his breath, momentarily losing track of the smoke which he was hoping would lead him to whatever it was that caused that bang early.
He swatted the air around his face to rid himself of buzzing flies and mosquitoes.

"You need to watch yourself in these parts. Do you know intoxicating that plant is?"

Xell turned around with tense eyes. The scenery around him somewhat blurred and distorted.

"It's enough to make you chase dragons."

"I see what you did there." Xell said coolly but composed. He hoped whatever supplies he could find at that site might help keep his sanity afloat. The sweat from running and the plant sting was dehydrating him.
Making him somewhat dizzy.

He spotted the smoke again. Laughing lightly and almost mockingly, he began making a light jog in the direction. Almost certain he was now close.

He trailed to a slower pace when he heard some voices overhead.

"If anyone's in there, I'm here to help!" he heard a female voice say. Followed by another statement. He was unable to tell if it was frustrated or helpless.

"Darn you, c'mon!"

Hiding behind a brush which had flush pine-green elephant ear leaves, he could make out a raccoon with a red shirt banging on a door. The door of a crashed plane. Smoke continued to pour out of the vessel. It really wasn't looking safe.

"So that's what crash landed…" Xell uttered to himself. Almost disappointed that finding whatever supplies may be there would be more difficult then he anticipated. With other Novans in the way.
After all, who the hell would venture out so far in these parts of the woods?

He was even more surprised to find that there was now 2 amongst him! At least from where he was standing.
For what he saw next was a young otter boy. Worse for wear from what he could see, covered in blood and bandages and limping towards the plane.

'Had he been a passenger?' Xell speculated 'Impossible. Or he'd be trapped in the plane, duh.'

But then what had caused those injuries? Nothing dangerous in this forest, was it?

Xell's thoughts finally snapped back to reality when he heard the most obscene voice cut through everything. Causing the Draconi to wrinkle his snout.

"Oi! You fucks ain't gonna be finding jack nor shit up in there! I jumped out, get it? Parachute? Everything's fine!"

The voice appeared to belong to a red hedgehog. His looks as gruff and as abrasive as his attitude. Judging from his aviator attire much akin to a pilot, Xell assumed that this may have been the pilot of the plane. Parachute landing or not, why was he so ungrateful to have people show concern towards his well being?

"What a circus," Xell said drearily "may have to wait this one out until they clear off."
He was hoping the plane wouldn't explode by the time the party had had their chinwag.
If they became too oblivious, he may have to cut in and help.

[Assistant]
---

T a f f ySoutheastern Mir - At Max's crash site

---

Moments before the shout from behind, Taffy took a risk to glance in the window again, and this time she concentrated. Her bright blue eyes glowed with a soft yet unmistakable inner light that filled her pupils as she swept her gaze across the glass, peering through it to the inside of the small cockpit. If there had been no window, then what she was doing now would have been completely useless through the metal of the plane's sides, but this ability of hers did work through glass, even dirty glass. No one inside, for sure, she thought to herself. That's a relie-

Then she was shouted at, and the shock of it caused her black-and-gray striped tail to puff out as she straightened up and whirled around to face the speaker. Her focus disappeared instantly after the loud and objectionable voice had disrupted her concentration, but the illumination in her eyes remained there for a few seconds, like pinpoints of bright starlight disappearing behind the horizon, or the afterimages left on the eye after an incautious glance at the sun.

Even after the light had faded from her eyes, the glare she leveled at the dripping red-quilled Spicati in pilot's fatigues still blazed with fire. She saw the otter boy out of the corner of her vision, running toward her, but for the moment, her sight was lined up with the hedgehog who regarded her with what she thought was a mixture of disbelief and exasperation...like he thought it had been the most obvious thing in the world that there was no one else in the plane. Whatever else she possibly could have thought of in that first impression was burned out by her anger.

"So that's how you treat someone who's risking their life to help you?" she snarled as she hopped off the plane. The boy at the edge of her vision faltered as he apparently sensed the shift in the situation. She stomped forward, her shoulders tense as she "This is still dangerous! It's dry as a bone this time of year!" She ignored the hedgehog shake his dripping hands, demonstrating his cynicism about this remark. "If we don't put out that fire, the whole forest could light up!"

There was a terrific snapping sound as the great oak tree, that the plane had crashed into, tilted...then fell over, directly on top of the plane. The impact shook the ground, and as the leaf-filled branches collapsed, they snuffed out the flames in a single smothering collision. Soon, even the smoke was dissipating as its source was no longer there. What was left of the plane tilted up on either side of the oak tree's trunk, as if giving it wings of its own.

Taffy slowly glanced over her shoulder at the sight, then looked back to see an incorrigible grin on the hedgehog's face, which she met with a dour frown. Thanks, forest, she grumbled mentally, then she huffed. "Are you hurt?" she asked the hedgehog with a calmness that belied her frustration at being embarrassed by this circumstance.

Just as the hedgehog opened his mouth, Taffy turned away from him while saying, "'Oh, just a few bumps and bruises, but I'm sure I'll live,'" she said in a vicious mocking imitation of his voice as she turned toward the otter boy and regarded him...then she gave a start as she saw the bandages and blood, her gruffness softening in an instant. She immediately went to him and pulled out the first aid kit from her backpack, ignoring the hedgehog and turning almost motherly toward the otter boy. "You're hurt! And those bandages are so messy. Let's get you cleaned up and those bandages redone, okay?"

She shot a brief glare at the hedgehog. "Is this the best you could do?" she snapped. "It's amazing he hasn't gotten infected yet!"

[User]
---

M a xSoutheastern Mir - The Fall

---

Max pushed his tongue against his upper leftmost canine, mouth slightly open as he saw the Lotori girl turn around right and mock him as she asked him a question. The red-furred Spicati wasn't exactly known for his manners, but even to him, that sort of action was rather impolite. It reminded him of when a particular feline would do similar things to patronize his sense of direction or luck or skill. Fortunately, right as he was about to give her a piece of his mind in his uncandid way, she glared back at him as she tried to help out the boy that had come running out of the woods. Max wrinkled his nose; the boy smelled like a mixture of dogshit and urine and looked like he was worse off than his plane. Why was this little girl blaming her for the way this child was, anyway? He wasn't his responsibility!

Still damp wet, he approached the two to get a better look. He was no medic, but the shit-smelling stranger was still a child at the end of it.

"You can act like you're not a right out cunt, yeh? Not my fault this fuckin' let smells and looks like he came out a skank's asshole." He crossed his arms, looking over the kid. "Fuck you lot doin' out in this mess, anyhow? Fuckin' Fall is for ferals and fuckheads, not little girls and lets."

[Assistant]
Yony Southeastern Mir - The 'Fall'

---

The youth had darted forward, jamming the bar into the planes now jammed door and wrenching on it as if trying to get into to plane rather than get anyone out. The rust on the bar started to cut through the wrapping on his hands but he kept going, remember how valuable any parts for machinery had become at the height of an occupation that had held his home. Even though it felt like a lifetime ago he knew the same would apply to, wherever this was.

The shout made him pause, glancing at the other person to see if it came from them. The woman's eyes were glowing like two sapphires. Yonath's eyes softened for a moment.

He knew that light.

That light had swept away the plague that destroyed everything.

The boy stopped his assault and stepped aside, looking at the woman curiously. He had found so many bodies but it never occurred to him that… But they'd seen so many worlds where similar phenomena happened, it was likely just a coincidence.

'I didn't mean to say that.'

His own failed apology hung in his brain mockingly. Maybe, if there was even a tiny chance.

He tensed up, wincing as the tree slammed down, trying his best to shield his face from flying debris and branches. The boy's senses returned and with it rolled eyes and a grumble looking at the carnage of what was to be spare parts.

He'd dug out worse wrecks before and came away with more than a few amount of fixable pieces to trade and use. Logistics formed in his head, something resembling a shovel had to have survived the survived the wreck, he must have just missed it in his delirium. Another trip down would yield more useful items, shovels and struts maybe even more medical supplies and weapons.

"You're hurt! And those bandages are so messy. Let's get you cleaned up and those bandages redone, okay?"

The woman was far too close for him, almost in his face. He started shrinking away, but yet was searching her eyes. Trying to find something, but it was completely gone now. He started to worm away from her but suddenly stopped after hearing Max.

"Fuck you lot doin' out in this mess, anyhow? Fuckin' Fall is for ferals and fuckheads, not little girls and lets."

He relented and let her work to undo the sloppily done and now stretched out elastic bandage, the antibiotic ointment from the prior day would be worn off anyway. There was no real reason not to let her waste her supplies when his own were already half gone. His callous expression returned, turning his head to Max and answering the question in a mutter with three words.

"Jou moeder, moffie."

He looked back, eyes widening, the light seemed to be returning, though it seemed more white this time. The woman's eyes seemed to glow again, brighter and brighter, maybe hearing him woke it up. Maybe he just needed to…

As Taffy was finally able to work, pulling the old bandages off, the boy suddenly collapsed backward. Falling to the ground unconscious.


[System]
Nicknames: Scythe-Freak, Rock for brains, Wannabe-hero - Nicknames gifted by his blacksmithing master.
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Level: 7

Class: Fighter

Hero Class: ----

Specializations: Forging, weapon making, enchantments

Magic Affinity: Fire/Earth

Griffon comes from a small village, far on the outskirts of no where and I think I've seen that tree before. It was a small farming village, Larozenia, There wasn't much to write home about at the village. The lord who ruled over them was fairly kind and fair to the villagers, he didn't tax them too harshly and would accept their crops, or wool… whatever they managed to make, as payment when money was tight. The village itself was far out of the way of most people, so they never did see a whole lot of travelers.

The villagers made most of their money selling to various traveling adventurers and merchants who'd make their way through to trade and sell wares. Griffon was the son of a beer maker, often during his childhood his father would send him out with the scythe to harvest the grains. This may have been where his love for the weapon began. The villages life was peaceful and often Griffon's father would try to get him to learn how to brew the beer… but he was met with the same response each time. "DON'T WANNA!"

When his father would ask him why, Griffon would shy away from an answer… normally instead running off to go play with his friends shouting "It's a secret!" But… One day, when he was a little older, he decided to let his father in on the secret. "I want to be one of the great heros!" He shouted proudly holding his scythe up to the air. His father simply laughed and pat his son on the head… before heading back to work.

That was the last real conversation Griffon had with his father. After that, things got… dark. Monsters befell the village, with it being so far from any reinforcement's it was left to the town guard to try to protect it! But the once noble lord, called them all to his mansion, to defend himself and his staff. The villagers stood no chance against the monsters. Griffon's father did his best to protect the family, trying to hide them away… but Griffon didn't hide, he wanted to be a hero! He rushed for the shed where the tools were kept and took up his mighty scythe!

He charged at the beasts that tried to kill his family, preparing to swing his mighty weapon! But… it was shattered in an instant, the beasts claws tearing through the wooden handle as if it were paper. Griffon was left speechless, his weapon destroyed, staring eye to eye with a monster about to do to him what it did to his scythe. As the beast went to strike him, his father leaped in the way, taking the hit.

"RUN!" The last words his father ever said, like a good son, Griffon obeyed his fathers orders and ran. He didn't know where to go, he just ran. A few days past, the village was in shambles and his family was no more. A merchant had been kind enough to take him in for a little while, dropping him off in a fairly well populated village.

He didn't want to give up his dream… He had seen how weak he was. This time, Griffon dedicated himself to becoming an adventurer. But he needed money and weapons… He managed to convince a local blacksmith to take him on as an apprentice… at first things were clumsy, he'd be yelled at often. His master would call him rocks for brains, scythe freak, wanna-be hero… all sorts of nasty names. But it didn't dissuade him from his goal.

As time went on, he learned the tricks of the trade and the yelling became a thing of the past. He didn't screw up the material mixtures, or over head the metal anymore. He even got quite good at sewing… though he doesn't brag about that too much.

When the time came, his master allowed him to make one weapon, using the materials they had… a weapon he could take with him on his adventuring. That is the scythe that he currently wields today. It's nothing special, a simple scythe, but it's constructed well and the wood used for it's handle section came from his old village.

Griffon started his adventuring career! It started off simple enough, some balloons here and there… a couple wolve's going after some traveling merchants. Truth be told, he hasn't been adventuring too long, he spent most of his life at the blacksmiths learning how to forge weapons… and when he wasn't doing that he'd go out to the forest and practice with them till the sun had completely vanished and the moon was far over head…

But recently he'd taken up a job clearing out some bandits from a mining facility. The villagers were too afraid to confront them themselves and he gladly took up the job… though it was rough going, the bandit leader was quite strong and Griffon felt like he was going to die… he managed to pull it out somehow and was even given some ore as a reward… all in all, it was a fairly good job for him.

Now though, he hears tell that the waves are coming and the heroes will be summoned… He's looking forward to finally getting his chance to shine, among the heroes of legend… even if it's just as a companion.

---
Preferred Weapon(s): Scythe, Pole-arms

Appearance of Weapon:

Abilities of Weapon: None Currently
---

Name of Skill: Tempest Strike

Abilities of Skill: Spins his scythe around above his head before slashing the enemy, adds a little extra damage.

Downsides of Skill: Leave's his body open for attacks.

Name of Skill: Root Bash

Abilities of Skill: uses the back end of the scythe, with the blade facing away, to strike at the enemies feet. Intending to knock them down.

Downsides of Skill: Can be easily avoided and leaves him open to attacks from above and behind.

Name of Skill: Inferno Blade

Abilities of Skill: Using a bit of magic, ignites the blade of his weapon on fire adding mild burning damage to his attacks.

Downsides of Skill: Can only be used once per combat, as it has the tendency to dull his blade after use. "I'm still new at this!" - Griffon to his master.

Name of Skill: The Griffon Special

Abilities of Skill: There's nothing special here- He punches them in the face.

Downsides of Skill: It brings shame to himself and his comrades.
----
Inventory:
Tent.
Tinderbox.
12 bandages.
3 bottles of disinfecting medicine.
1 bedroll.
34 silver.
2 gold.
Portable anvil and hammer.
a small satchel of ore.

[User]
---

---

 Well, they bought the act. While it was true she didn't want her status as a demi-human to get out, it wasn't because of the reason she stated. If the people in charge of this get together realized a demi-human child had snuck in alone she doubted she'd be able to convince them she was supposed to be here. There was a chance they had a list of people who were coming and she couldn't risk putting herself out in the open.

 Then they were told that it was finally time to meet the heroes. Well, this could be the make or break time. I've either got to get in a heroes group without being noticed to early or just hope the hero says nothing. Elysia activated her conceal skill walking in the center of the throng of adventurers. She had been distracted for too long talking to the other two and was just lucky that no one else seemed to notice her. Once they entered the room in which the heroes were waiting she stood towards the back of the crowd looking through the cracks studying each hero. She partially paid attention to the words being said by everyone else but her attention was largely on the heroes. She had to determine her target.

 The first one who spoke up, someone calling themselves Cole Smith. He looked kind of creepy but something about him seemed prim and proper. Maybe it was just the way he introduced himself. The next was definitely not prim and proper. Elysia wasn't gonna lie to herself, that girl terrified her. Absolutely no chance of her joining that hero, if she could even call her that. After her was one Garret Lancaster. For some reason, upon hearing that he was the shield hero she started remembering stories that she had been told about past shield heroes and how they seemed to be the kindest of the heroes to demi-humans. That right now didn't matter to her as if she went through with stealing from her mark it wouldn't be likely they'd be kind to her. The last hero to introduce himself said his name was Frederick Ryker Jones. He seemed quite a bit older than the other three and what he said confirmed that. There was a good chance it'd be harder to trick him.

 Taking all that in mind that left her with two choices of who to join for now. Either the sword or shield hero. She decided to try and figure out where the other two were. The 'super-adventurer' was still standing among the crowd and it seemed some of the other adventurers were giving him the side-eye. Weird. The lady had approached the sword hero. Looking at the two it seemed that she was joining his party. Due to that, Elysia reconsidered potentially choosing the sword hero. The Lady seemed to be fairly observant. It may be harder to do what she wants with her around. That just leaves her with the shield hero. Unfortunately, not many adventurers had made any movement. Especially towards the shield hero. If she made this decision now she could risk being noticed, but if she waited too long in the lingering crowd it may get worse.

 She took a big gulp and decided to just take her chances. She deactivated conceal and began briskly walking through the crowd and then towards the shield hero. She didn't look up keeping her eyes level. She didn't even look at the shield hero. She simply walked straight in his direction and then went around him and stood directly behind him. If he turned around and tried to talk to her she'd just have to turn on the charm. He looked easy. Easier than Super-adventurer. This would be a piece of cake right? She just had to continue playing the role. In order to make her seem at least a little like an adventurer, she subtlety made sure one of her daggers could be seen attached to the side of her belt. Hopefully, no one would see her tail through her cloak. What wasn't good was that the bottom of her tail still slightly poked out of the bottom of her cloak. Despite how calm she was trying to appear she was freaking out. She was breathing shallowly and her body was getting stiff. Elysia was nervous. This was the most dangerous thing she has probably ever done. Please, just let us leave soon.

[Assistant]
"Oh, I do not mind," Myrila replied with a smile. "Unlike some, I am not prejudiced to those without noble blood in the slightest," she exclaimed proudly.

Hearing his declaration of his priorities, she gave him another warm smile. Putting her gloved right hand above her chest, she said, "Do not worry. I understand your reasoning perfectly. And I would be willing to follow it. As long as it remains reasonable, of course," she added, her smile turning into a slight smirk. "I wouldn't let you just choose the easiest path you could find. After all, the path of a hero is always difficult and full of hardship."

Suddenly, she kneeled in front of him on one knee, still putting her right hand above her chest.

Which now conveniently drew attention towards her cleavage, which were easily visible to the hero as he was looking from above.

"But do not fret, for I am there with you all the way. For I, Myrila Astinili, pledge myself to your service."

It was a knightly oath, even though she wasn't a knight herself. She simply felt it would be appropriate for the occasion.

[User]
Well… at least he's all gung-ho about this, is all Garret could think of as the scythe wielding man spoke aloud to them. He felt a bit good at the idea that someone was considering joining him, though he agreed with Marcino that saying aloud his focus on two of them over the others could be construed as rude.

As the young king added to the discussion, Garret could just feel the sweat drop from the last part of the king's statement. "Even the shield hero, huh? Geez. That sure sounded like a backhanded assurance…" he grumbles rather quietly under his breath. It wasn't like he chose the shield himself.

It was during his grumblings that he sees an unexpected sight. One of the adventurers, small and near fully cloaked, had stepped out from the group and headed straight to him. He blinked as said individual said nothing to him, slipping into place behind him. There wasn't much to go on with said person, with what seems to be a dagger sticking out from the front of the cloak. He thinks he sees motion on the back side, though he couldn't see what exactly it was from here. Another weapon, perhaps? In any case, it would seem he would need to start the introductions himself.

Leaning over slightly to get closer to eye level, he gives a little wave to the hood. "Yo. Nice to meet ya stranger. You may have heard my name, but just in case, I'm Garret Lancaster. But you can simply call me Garret. May I have the name of the first to decide to join my party?"

[Assistant]
Griffon grumbled to himself. "My reasons for joining those two hero's are my own. The shield hero bears a shield and no sword. The bow hero has a bow, which isn't suited for close range combat." He sighed and shook his head. "Anyone with a brain would know that a spear and sword are best suited for close range, meaning it would be more convenient for a companion who can cover the areas they are weakest in." He made his way towards the older gentleman, the hero of the bow. "Which means I will pledge myself to join you on your quest bow hero." Griffon folded his hands over his chest.

"I will do that which you can not do. In turn, I hope you do that which I can not do." He held out his hand, an offering of friendship and camaraderie. "I know the ins outs of adventuring... for the most part. I'm handy in places like smiths and weapons shops. I can help keep the enemy away from you when fighting." He was trying to sell himself up a bit... He wanted to be recognized by the hero's, ever since he was a kid... this was his dream. Right here and right now, he would finally get to live it.


[System]
SEX: male
AGE: 44 (middle aged)
HOMELAND: Republic of Carise
BACKGROUND: Criminal

TRAITS:
Brawny - Boran is muscular and possesses considerable physical strength
Cool headed - Boran is not easily fazed even in the face of danger
Open minded - Boran is always willing to consider new ideas and concepts without being prejudiced
Illegal dealings (Criminal) - establishing connections and doing business on the underground market (which can be less expensive and have more exotic stock) is no problem for Boran

FLAWS:
Low stamina - due to his age and general physical condition, Boran tires out easily
Crude - not the politest person

PROFICIENCIES: 16+1

EXPERTISE
History I (1pt)
Folklore I (1pt)

SKILLS
Skulduggery II (3pts)
Appraisal I (1pt)

SOCIAL
Deceit II (3pts)

Weapons
Axes II (3pts)
Hand-to-hand II (3pt)
Shields I (1pt)
Maces I (1pt)

PERSONALITY: While not the most talkative type, Boran does like good company. However, he is not the best one out there himself. On one hand, he can be coarse and blunt with a weird sense of humor most people "just don't get". On the other, he is somewhat aloof, prone to letting his mind wander off at random moments. His peculiarities do not stem from ill intent, but rather from an overarching carefree demeanor he has adopted following his tumultuous past life. Be it in times of peace or peril; if he is alone or with others, Boran is in "fixed gear", which can be seen both as a weakness - in terms of thoughtlessness and recklessness - but also a strength by keeping a level head in any situation. When it comes to matters of his person, Boran is an open type who doesn't fear tearing down his walls. He has done enough self-contemplation to be confident. There is an air of confidence, even slight sophistication in him, hinting at an upbringing not usual for a common man.

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: Boran is a true mixed-blood. Standing at just above 180cm/6ft, with broad shoulders, square jaw and strong nose, he is a rather masculine man. He has medium length, wavy black hair, thick eyebrows and a rough stubble, but strangely pale skin.

EQUIPMENT:
* a combat knife in a sheath and a buckler on his hip, the buckler has an adjustable grip so it can be slid up to his forearm, freeing his hand
* an axe with a blunt butt/poll that can be strapped on his back for longer travels, for quicker access there is a noose on his hip. Boran has enough strength to wield it one-handed for some time, but it is cumbersome to do so and it's meant for two handed use.
* a small backpack that contains some food, a flask for water, another one for some booze, a sharpening kit and usually a random book to read.
* Black/brown gambeson armor, padded greaves and bracers, which are in good condition. A tiny bedroll, just enough to fit him.

HISTORY: As the only child of a wealthy businessman in Carise, Boran could enjoy luxuries that most people in the known world could not. At the same time, his freedom was also quite a bit more restricted. Taught by a private tutor, together with a small group of other privileged children, he studied a wide range of subjects - from mathematics and economy to etiquette and philosophy. What time was left over from studying was spent on training in the arts of combat. And what tiny amount was left even from that was mostly spent with his father, whether it be mentoring sessions about the business or formal meetings, dinners and gatherings with his associates. Boran didn't mind that he didn't have a normal childhood, because he was good at what he did. Too good. Brighter and more physically capable than his peers, Boran started developing a superiority complex that would bite him back in the future.

By the time he reached teenage years, it was already obvious that his father's business wasn't exactly legal. More precisely, he ran one of a dozen smuggling rings inside an organized crime family's trading company. For Boran, this was an opportunity. In his early 20s, Boran had integrated well into the business, solidifying his position as a good partner and future successor to his father; even gathering a small band of underlings of his own. Yet he remained a subordinate, an inferior. Driven by his ambition, overrated abilities and misplaced moral values, he tried to aggressively take more control inside the company. This did not sit well with his superiors - including his father-, who saw his crude methods and lack of loyalty as a direct act of defiance rather than any show of ability. Humiliated, Boran was allowed to escape Carise.

He vowed to get his vengeance as he sailed towards Abagon. Over the years he led and was part of many different bands of criminals - from the more sophisticated subtle types to even the lowliest thugs - hoping to build an empire of his own to one day get back at the people who had done him wrong. None of it came to fruition. With the war looming over Abagon as well, Boran eventually found himself in Beldemar. Years had passed, his youthful, reckless drive had been smothered by constant failures. Looking for some straightforward coin, Boran, nearing his fortieth birthday, signed up as a mercenary. Free from his futile pursuits and perhaps due to age, he found time to contemplate and find solace in a simpler life devoid of unnecessary stress. After all, a lot of time had passed and the people he once hated are already most likely dead.

[User]
"Oh do I need a good drink right now!" exclaimed Boran as the barman filled up some tankards. Turning around, he saw the party leaving. Flint had offered himself and Boran to start preparing for the job by getting supplies. He got no objections from the other two, who suddenly seemed to be too preoccupied with embracing each other to notice anything else.

"Will you look at that," Boran said with a chuckle, pointing at the leaving pair, "kids these days!" When Flint approached, he raised his hand to take a drink, but continued with a slightly more serious tone: "Gonna turn some heads on the streets."

The mead was... less than adequate. After a big sip of the watery liquid, Boran put the tankard down and pushed it as far away from himself as he could. This confirmed his earlier suspicion about the quality of the booze.

"Well," he started, turning his attention to Flint, "just this once I'm gonna let the "old man" comment slide, but in the future, you'd better watch it." His tone was suddenly cold and serious; his gaze piercing Flint as he continued: "And this was in no way my first drink. But it sure will be my last."

He paused for a moment, dropping the aggressive mask.
"Wow, that sounded kinda ominous, didn't it?"

Visibly offended by Boran's opinion about the quality of the mead, the innkeeper exchanged some threatening glances with Boran.
"Alright, boy, we'd better get a move on before we're gonna get in some biiig trouble." He gave Flint a joyous pat on the shoulder and headed towards the exit into the cold autumn night, stopping briefly at the door before finally stepping out: "We might find some places still open at this hour."

[Assistant]
Flint paused as Boran made a not-quite-subtle note on the drink. Couldn't he have at least waited until they were out of earshot to say that? Nevertheless, he trudged after his chosen companion to the door. Once outside, he took a deep breath of the evening air. The cool air was sharp in his throat, and he wanted nothing more. It would keep him alert on this little escapade.

"You underestimate merchants, Boran. Or at the very least, jewellers. If we can find one of those, we're a lot more likely to find ourselves with some coins to spare. They're always in need of stock, and good stock, at that. My main reason for bringing you is the look of you. I warrant that you've got a shrewd eye, and if anything, I'd appreciate the back-up."

He kept in stride with the taller man until they reached the end of the street. He cast his gaze about to get his bearings - things always looked different in the dark - then nodded down another lane.

"The market's down this way." he said briefly, before beginning to walk at a brisk pace.

[User]
Riley and Lothair were able to stalk the stranger for a while as he left the inn and went out the door, the young lord and the mercenary girl watching him from a safe and careful distance. It was not a difficult task to keep pace with him. He seemed to be moving at a steady pace, unaware of those following him, walking like a man on his way to work, making his way deeper into the poor residential district they were in.

The pair noticed a few more gazes settling on them as they went into the narrow and winding corridors of the slums. While relatively empty (thankfully), it seemed as if those still walking the street were against the two youths. Their faces wore a myriad of expressions, and their stances were reserved or defensive. It was odd. Were they all part of some plot? Was-

"Oi, oi!" called out a drunken man in his forties, snorting a little as the pair passed. "D'you buttercups got room for a third? Three men's better in bed than one, innit?"

Oh. That was why they were getting odd looks. Riley was a boyish girl.

The outburst from the sot was enough to make the pair's quarry turn his head. His eyes went wide, and he immediately went into panic mode, grabbing the nearest things his hands could find: pottery, empty crates, and an unattended lantern. He quickly threw all this these onto the ground behind him in a flash of motion, smashing them upon the rough cobblestone and bolting down into the twisting paths of the slums.

The pair had time to catch up, though the man definitely wasn't going to make it easy. However, that moment was when someone threw the door adjacent to the broken stuff open, and out stepped an alarmed and angry looking man with a spiked club.

"You rat bastards!" he snarled. "You breakin' my shit, are ya?" He hefted his club up menacingly.

Lothair felt pretty sure he could talk the angry peasant down, though it would take a moment. Otherwise, given how angry he seems... It seemed entirely likely that the hunt for his stalker could end with them being chased in turn by this furious commoner.

Riley noticed a glint of steel from beneath the otherwise impoverished looking fellow's old cloak. He was armed, though she couldn't be sure with what.

---

As it was night still, the open market itself had wound down already. However, there were a few shops which would be open still. With any luck, there'd be a jeweler open, or at least a pawnbroker. Someone would be available to gauge the value of their gemstones at the least.

Of course, anyone up at so late an hour was certain to either be wary of their customers or to be untrustworthy themselves.

As luck would have it, there was a shop with a sign of a statuette, some coins, and some gems painted onto it. The building's windows windows were lit by candles. The words "Ghilas' Appraisals" were written in colorful font over the entryway. It was a small building, but it was well-maintained and well decorated.

Boran was familiar with places like these. His father used to run a few less legitimate pawnbrokers and appraisers, selling illegally procured wares through them. By the looks of the place, this particular company leaned more toward the respectable side... which meant that the man running the place, Ghilas, probably had hired help.

Each of the windows is lit by precisely two candles: one red and one blue, representative of the sun and the benevolent moon. In Westerling folklore, this is a means of warding off evil spirits. Has evil befallen this place recently?

[Assistant]
Flint paused, looking at the candles. That wasn't a common sight. The only thing was, was this before or after some kind of misfortune? His hackles on end, he walked in, briefly taking note of the bell above the door.

"Hello?" he called, glancing around at the room.

[User]
After stepping outside and hearing Flint's words of acknowledgement, Boran gestured for him to lead the way.

The pair walked in silence, and Boran in particular seemed to be lost in thought, though he kept an eye out for anything suspicious. A city this size never truly slept and there were unpredictable wanderers on every corner. As they were nearing the market district, Boran grabbed a piece of paper and a sharp stick of charcoal from his coat pocket and started scribbling words on it. He darted off towards an inconspicuous, plain looking building just at the edge of the market, slipped the note through a slit in the door and was back with Flint in seconds. Before the latter could inquire, Boran explained: "Just made a little order."

The jewelers place seemed decent enough. After all, anything less than decent would have likely been unable to process the kind of exchange the party was in need of. Nevertheless, Boran kept himself in high alert when Flint went in in search of the owner.


[System]
Species: Human
Age: 40

Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.

Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.

Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.

Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It's not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.

Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.

Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren't much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.

It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.

His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.

-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.

Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.

With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.

Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.

As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.

So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.

He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.

Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus.

[User]
The inhuman silhouette that was the old ranger in her darkened, tattered robe with hood pulled over her leonine head, set her soaking self into the breach the strongman wedged open with the same ease one would wring a hen's neck. She had, wisely so, set the halfling down once again before making such an entrance with Diagorides; better to risk one's well being than that of them both by going through at the same time. The small wooden awning that existed over the door shielded the small woman and the pack she sat in from the water, but for the Huntress, she was forced to mind her head as she entered.

It was then she stood to her full height as ominous and monstrous as she ever could seem to be, "Not trouble, that much I can assure you."

Hooking the edge of her cowl with a finger, she revealed her sundered face in the dim firelight of the tavern, blinking calmly. It was now she looked over the aged man in complete, noting the axe he wielded in both hands shaking with adrenaline. The head was backward and none of the other few patrons seemed to move an inch; Diagorides had once again proven his ability to make an entrance.

"We are here for the warmth of the fire." Sakaala said, glancing to the faintly crackling flames.

"As for the door..." She shook her head ever so slightly, "It resisted."

The lioness' demeanor was intimidating to say the least; she towered over men and bore great claws and fangs, not to mention the armor of a soldier of fortune and the weapon of one too. The presence of her companions only further solidified that they were not to be trifled with, for while she had no quarrel with these people, she certainly was not about to befriend them without good reason. This entire town she avoided understandably so and that being was the fact she was not welcome. A "monster" seldom could keep company, let alone townsfolk, for the obvious fact that they were... frightening.

@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@vietmyke@Zero Hex

[Assistant]
Having the allegedly insane sage slumped in his saddle with him was, unnerving, to say the least. Sakaala had approached Emil with with the unconscious sage, her gestures implicating that the lady was to be placed with him. As it was, Emil was in no real place to argue with the lioness. The group finished their business with the remains of the lady's old house, and they made the short trek to the village, where they approached the tavern in order to rest, as Ionathan had suggested.

Excusing himself from the group to take his horse to the stables, a stablehand who recognized the young knight from earlier that night and even offered to help him carry in Lady Genevieve. Turning the stablehand down, Emil was in the process of carrying Lady Genevieve to the front door of the tavern, when Ajax ripped the door off its hinges with little more than a grunt. The response was, as Emil guessed, not very positive, the owner grabbing at an axe and yelling at them to leave. To be fair, Ajax had never claimed subtlety to be a strong suit of his. Following this, Sakaala spoke to the tavern owner, her voice quiet, yet threatening.

With a small sigh, Emil had decided he had had enough of this nonsense. Pausing at the door to carefully carry in Lady Genevieve without slamming her head or legs against the doorframe, Emil approached the tavern owner with a small nod. While unremembering of his name, the owner seemed to recognize the young knight from earlier that afternoon- few men strode into town wearing the blued steel of Edessan.

"Good evening sir," Emil spoke to the man, his voice soft and level, almost soothing in quality. "As my companion states, we do not seek to bring you trouble. We just desire a place to rest and eat, the events of the past few hours have been exhausting to say the least."

"Please disarm yourself sir, and we shall make our presence minimal." Emil said, having no wish to bring even more violence upon the small village.

[User]
While walking to the tavern Ionathan realised how much he missed his wife. It had been years since his last such adventure, not since his family. He was beginning to miss them greatly, he could still recall his wife's smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair and those misty brown eyes. He stared into dirt just ahead of his feet, lost in thoughts.

Until Ajax ripped the door open, apparently unaware of how doors work. Inside, the tension was as thick as expected. Ionathan now started to regret wearing the tabard, its bright colours and rampant lion were turning heads, men whispering to each other while gazing at him like they would look at some pompous noble.

"As for the door...It resisted."

'That's not how to decrease tensions after breaking into the man's establishment' Ionathan thought to himself, making his way towards the front of the group.

Emil made a much better attempt to calm the man much to Ionathan's relief and after seeing the owner hesitate by slightly lowering his weapon, Ionathan now decided to go in and seal the deal.

Going into his belt pouch he brought out a freshly minted coin putting it on the bar in front of his so he could inspect it. He had no doubt that the promise of coin would help de-escalate any tensions.

"I will compensate you for the door. We are only here for a night's sleep, nothing more"

[Assistant] Ajax took a step forward, carefully setting the door down within the establishment. He was still stripped down to his loincloth and both partially covered in mud and still dripping rainwater. The eyes of the locals darted primarily between the beastwoman and the tall man, heavy with muscle that looked as though it had been carved from stone and the skin tough and coarse as battle-worn armor. In a way, the second was more unsettling to look at. Sakaala was at least further removed from what they were, the other was proof that their own kind could become terrifying beings. Ajax took one look at the man with the axe and smirked. "Would you have opened if we'd just asked? I just saved us both some time. I put your door down nicely, you do the same with the axe".


[System]
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Power: Regeneration
Appearance:
 Height: 5'6"
 Complexion: Caucasian/Pale
 Hair Color: Blond
 Eye Color: Brown
Personality: Meek and humble, Parker often talks poorly of himself and highly of others, even those who may not be very deserving of praise. Despite having his own hopes and dreams, he'd rather help another achieve theirs because he doesn't view himself capable of being a "major character."
Biography: A new recruit into the Department of External Affairs, Parker had only recently graduated from college when he was scouted for the experimental procedures. Due to his belief that he had no notable talents or skills, he agreed to the conditions. After the evaluation, it was decided that he would be granted the power of regeneration, in which the pills administer an influx of white blood cells and increase the strength of the naturally occurring ones.

[User]
Sebastien sighed in exasperation and shook his head slightly while pulling a bottle from his pants pocket. After unscrewing the lid, he shook a few pills loose and popped them in his mouth, chewing on them. For the last year, aspirin had become his second best friend and must have gone through at least two bottles per week. He knew it was unhealthy, but the pain in his head was unbearable to deal with day in and day out. Though it didn't make it disappear completely, it was relief nonetheless.

He fell into a short silence as he racked his brain for a plan. Despite the pain he knew it would cause, he grabbed his glasses from the pocket on his shirt and put them on. As soon as he did so, the world came into view clearly and exploded around him as his eyes absorbed all the information his surroundings had to offer. It knocked him back a few inches as if he'd been physically hit, but at least he'd learned to stay on his feet when the overstretched rubber band snapped.

"Alright...the ladder residing in that alleyway to our two o'clock leads straight to the roof. It's only three stories up, but if one of us climbs that ladder to the top we will have a clear view of a three block radius. They will see us up there and if we cannot find them, then they will come to us. I will climb to the top and take up an observation post." He smirked slightly and crossed his arms. "It technically was your idea, was it not?"

[Assistant] Almost frantically, Parker said imploringly, "Yes, it was my idea, but only for [i]me[i] to be the one out in the open. You may be smarter than me, but I do still have eyes, you know. If they're near, I'll notice just fine." He unzipped the pocket of his coat, taking out the orange bottle of pills. Unscrewing the cap, he knocked out a couple of the blue capsules. "I'm the one who's designed for the whole "getting shot" sort of thing. If I need you, I'll call you up. Otherwise, stay here and be a good boy, okay?" Swallowing the pills, wishing that he had remembered to bring a bottle of water in his haste, he headed towards the ladder. As he got closer, he safely stashed the bottle back into his coat.

[User]
Sebastien cursed under his breath and glared at Parker's retreating form. "Just because you have the healing abilities doesn't mean you have to be the one in danger." It was a selfish thought that was probably only brought on by his annoyance, but if he knew Parker would have the ability to heal himself, then was there really a point for him to have joined in the first place? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he already knew the answer to that and wanted to kick himself in the ass for even thinking such thoughts. They had been together, stuck life glue since they had met in the second grade and there was no way he could allow Parker to go to war without him doing so as well; that sounded eerily like the Vietnam War to Sebastien, as the rich, smart college students stayed behind while the lesser fortunate had to fight a war that wasn't theirs to fight.

He slowly walked towards the alley to get a better view as Parker begun his ascent to the top. "Don't fall because I'm not carrying your ass back," he yelled at him, only half joking.

[Assistant]
"Don't jinx me!" Parker hissed back down, glaring down at him. He immediately regretted looking down, as the vertigo rushed to his head. One hand, becoming clammy, slipped on the rusted metal of the ladder; barely refraining from letting loose a shriek, both of his arms lashed out in order to wrap around it. As he felt himself become sure of his balance once more, he heaved a sigh. Yes, he would have healed after a few minutes, but that didn't mean he exactly liked the idea of landing on the cement below. And yes, he was barely ten feet in the air, but what if he hit his head? "From now on, just be freaking quiet when I'm trying to do something like this, 'aight?"
 Huffing, he continued his ascent--more successfully--until he planted both feet firmly on the rooftop. From up there, he could see the bustling city below. The streetlights flickered, cars shadowed each other as they sped past, and on the neighboring sidewalk, a few pedestrians could be seen stumbling home. He eyed them carefully, but ultimately decided that the middle-aged woman in a parka and the drunken businessmen were not genuine threats tonight. Moving carefully to the edge, he said to Sebastien, "I don't see anything unusual. You still don't sense anything?"

[User]
"I've got nothing," Sebastien said as he looked around. As his eyes fell upon certain objects, his eyes saw something that could be compared to an invisible matrix of numbers and letters as they calculated in his mind. The ominous shadows that were cast on the other side of the windows as people passed by were observed to make sure their postures didn't pose a threat, empty alleyways were surveyed to make certain there were no possibilities of other hidden in them, observing vantage points that assailants could use to their advantages to attack unnoticed, etc. The world was nothing more than a large mathematical problem to him and it was up to him to solve it. Once his mind was truly put to work, the pains dissipated drastically since he had bigger things to focus on.

After taking one look at the top to make sure Parker made it to the top safely, he walked to the mouth of the alley and leaned against the wall before pulling out a smoke from his worn brown leather jacket. He usually wasn't the type of person to condone the use of drugs and other substance, but the nicotine helped calm his nerves. Once the cigarette was lit, he took one inhale of it before instinct warned him to look down the street.

Just as he looked, a figure wearing a dirty, ragged long coat rounded the corner and was walking straight for him. The figure looked innocent enough, but someone told Sebastien to keep an eye on the figure as it approached, so he did. Though he tried not to, he stood up straight as his own body tensed as he saw noted the tension in the shoulders of the person, knowing that they were a loaded gun about to shoot.

The seemingly homeless individual stopped just in front of Sebastien and looked him directly in the eye; definitely the eyes of deceit. "Could you spare a smoke, friend?"

It took a moment for Sebastien to respond, since he was practically in a comatose state as his mind kept reeling in the information of the current situation presented. His training had taught him what to do and could perform his duty near flawlessly, but upon seeing his first target while on the job it was too surreal. Everything seemed to be happening too fast yet in slow motion at the same time.

"Sure," he finally said as he slowly reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, never taking his eyes off the intruder. "Do you have a light?" Just as his hand grasped the handle of his specially made trench knife, the assailant seemed to notice what he was doing and raised his hand to strike at his chest. Not knowing what type of power he possessed, Sebastien jumped back as far as he could to prevent contact with the hand, slamming his back harshly into the wall as he struggled to get the knife out of his coat pocket.

"Parker!" Just as Sebastien was about to strike, the assailant tried grabbing at his throat and he shoved off the wall to roll to the side of him. As he pushed himself up with the momentum of his feet, he slashed at him, but when he made contact with the blade it came back partially melted. "What the...?"

[Assistant]
Upon hearing his partner's cry, Parker rushed down the ladder. At the end of the alleyway, he could see Sebastien and a homeless-looking man facing each other off. Deliberately, he shouted out, "Sebastien, are you okay?"
 Immediately, the man yanked his head around; his arm then lifted, one finger on the trigger of his revolver. Though shaky, it remained aimed at Parker, who gave pause about five yards from the two. He then looked back at Sebastien, and said, "You must have had some sort of power to know what I am. So what about your friend here, huh? What can he do? I'm assuming he can't dodge a bullet."
 He then smirked, and in one fluid motion, fired.
 The bullet sunk into flesh, and Parker released a hiss of pain as he looked down at his stomach. Blood oozed from the wound, soaking through his coat until it began to dribble onto the ground.
 "That was just a warning shot. Now--what?" The man's eyes widened as he watched Parker take off his coat calmly, reaching through the tear in his shirt in order to dig his fingers into the wound. Though it was true that he could heal, bullets could be rather tricky in the future; his skin healed, but he couldn't just allow the bullet to stay in there and make a new home out of his intestines, now could he?
 "And there we go," said Parker cheerfully as he flicked the bullet onto the ground. He then looked back at the man, smiling. "I've been waiting to meet one of you for so long! And here you are! It's my third biggest dream come true!" He reached for the holster on his hip, taking out the semi-automatic pistol. "But I'm afraid I'm not here to make friends. What's that phrase? 'Shoot first, ask questions later?' Yes, that's what my superiors expect of me."
 He fumbled with the gun, brow furrowed in confusion.
 "What, boy? Don't know how to use a gun?"
 "Sebastien, how do you turn the safety off again?" Parker sighed.

[User]
"How did you graduate from training again?" Sebastien said, shaking his head. The guy raised his gun to shoot Parker again, but wasn't going to allow it; just because he could heal didn't mean he wanted to see his friend in pain. He threw his knife to the ground and reached into the back of his jacket to pull his own gun from his holster, taking aim. Now that he had the advantage over him and the guy lined up in his sights, he didn't know if he could take the shot. Utilizing your abilities was one thing, but he honestly didn't know if he was capable of murder; wasn't that part of his job description now, though?

"Drop your weapon or I will blow a hole through the back of your skull!" he said in a demanding tone, gripping the gun with both hands to steady the aim; hopefully he didn't notice the shaking in his hands. "Drop the gun...drop the gun... There had never been a prisoner taken into custody before, but had the DEA even attempted to capture one alive?

[Assistant]
The man only grinned, the expression almost feral. He then said, "Drop my weapon? Boy, it's just as your friend said. 'Shoot first, ask questions later.'" He lined up Sebastien in his sights once more, finger itching to pull the trigger again. "Your incompetent partner doesn't know how to properly wield a gun and you are too cowardly to pull the trigger on yours, so I suppose it's my responsibility to take matters into my own hands. I wish you the best of luck in your next life."
 Just as he was about to fire, there was a flash of pain and then darkness.
 The corpse collapsed first onto his knees, and then fell to the side. Half of his head was just gone, the brain matter splattered on the ground and on the nearby walls. The other half was contorted into an agonized expression, eyes wide and jaw hanging open, as if the man was still in shock even after having lost awareness.
 "Are you okay, Sebastien?" Parker asked, rushing to his partner's side. Hastily, he checked for injuries, but thankfully, he found none. He then sighed and, before Sebastien had the chance to answer the first question, he inquired, "What happened? Why didn't you shoot him? He was going to shoot you, and you've never been the type to freeze up before. He would've killed you, Sebastien!"

[User]
Time seemed to freeze when the gun was trained on Sebastien, but he could find it in himself to pull the trigger to save his life...quite literally. The only thing he could do was stare into the eyes of the man knowing that he had every intention of killing him because the look in his eyes and the taut finger on the trigger had told him so. The loud pop of a gun going off made my heart freeze in my chest and even as he noted the half-missing face of the man, he thought that he'd been shot himself.

As Parker rushed to his side, he didn't hear a word that came out of his mouth but read his lips, getting the general concept. Could he really admit that he had been too much of a coward to pull the trigger? Didn't that make him a liability and a danger to everyone on his team? If that gun had been aimed at Parker's head, would he have found the courage within himself to pull the trigger to save his best friend's life?

"You were that close to death, Sebastien...your life ending at the end of that barrel...and you froze."

The ringing in his ears of the blood rushing through them was beginning to fade as he took his time putting the gun back in its holster. Finally, he looked Parker in the eye and gave a grim smile. "I had faith that you would pull through in the end. It would have been selfish of me to not let you have the first kill since you wanted it so bad." Even Sebastien could hear the lie in his voice despite his mind screaming at him to believe the words. He quickly adverted his gaze, not able to stand the look Parker was giving. Still shell-shocked from the experience, Sebastien turned away from him in a daze.

[Assistant] Parker considered Sebastien's words for a moment. He knew that Sebastien was lying; that dazed look in his eyes told him everything, considering that he still had his glasses on. Finally, though, he sighed and said, "Should we just head back to base now? Tell them it's done?" Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to push Sebastien about it--he already thought more than necessary, after all. It didn't mean that Parker didn't plan on eventually asking him about it, though; he trusted Sebastien more than anyone else, but he wouldn't be going on another mission with him until he was certain that he wouldn't just throw his life away on a whim like that.


[System]
Age: 30

Sex: Male

Appearance: 6'2" with black hair and blue eyes. White skinned. Noticeable facial hair at the chin and finely trimmed. Sporting a more Westerly appearance with a short and thin leather duster coat, white button-up shirt with a popped-out collar and a loose scarf-like tie, dark faded blue jeans, and boots.

"Shh, I'm focusing...And trying to look intimidating."

Like many of the Societas Academia, Travis has a very good understanding how magic functions and how certain spells are performed. Being an Untalent however, much of what he has learned is unfortunately outside of his realm of implementation and only gets by with the bare basics of each aspect. But to him, this is perfectly fine; the spells Travis can produce by himself are considered useful survival tools in order to help him get by.

His real prowess is through the deciphered tomes and runes recovered throughout his journeys, capable of extending his abilities beyond his current potential. Though if anything, they too are yet another means of allowing him dissect and better understand their magical functionalities and eventually reproduce their effects in more manageable and efficient methods.

Funnily enough, given his recent and occasionally perilous encounters, Travis has been seen to be a rather surprisingly athletic runner.

"Magic is simply another form of science that is growing and evolving as we continue to discover and learn more about it."

Being an Untalent amongst a rather social community of more capable Talents can definitely be rough. Condemned to a lesser status because of one's natural inability to coordinate with magic fluidly was the fate many Untalents within the Societas Academia faced almost daily. Travis however didn't seem to be bothered by this too much. In fact, he was perhaps too busy studying and discussing theories to really care at all.

While as an Untalent and indeed had higher expectations set against him by his self-deserving peers, he enthusiastically conceptualized these endeavors as welcomed challenges in order solve rather petty societal crises to stress about. Though Travis was no ace mage and was more likely a magician as far as skills go, his main strength was his constructed knowledge base with a fierce understanding of the architecture of mana and magic implementation.

After years of hard study and grueling practice, Travis eventually achieved the rank of Aspect trainee and began the next phase of his training. Without any particular proficiency found in any particular set of spells, he would then opt-in into the Aspect of Scholar. As one would expect from his intuitive personality, Travis had felt right at home with his new position and became eager to set out for new discoveries.

What he didn't know was how cruel and horrifying the world could be outside the Societas Academia. The concept of death was something many students were well versed in, some more than others, but to experience and its many forms was something rather undesirable. Thus for Travis, now a Scholar, would soon come to know and witness this concept on more than one occasion as he pursues his quest for knowledge.

"So I spoke to an ebony dressed lady from the Cult of the Enlightened. We actually had a pleasant conversation until I asked about the concept of soul weaving. She laughed. Her fur coat cried. Suffice to say, I left in a hurry."

Despite his humble demeanor, surprisingly as an Untalent, Travis is certainly not afraid to speak his mind and express his views when necessary, sometimes comical or sarcastic if it benefits the mood. Being an easily fascinated and curious sort, he takes his role as a Scholar by heart (if not seriously) and seeks knowledge whenever he can find it; until it gets him into trouble. Nonetheless, he does show great pride and devotion to his line of work, atypical as it may be.

Travis can sometimes be described as a pacifist or "pass-the-fist" as he himself describes it. He sees no need for violence and certainly rejects the notion of killing but acknowledges the need for self-defense if he cannot negotiate his way out of a troubling confrontation. Of course said confrontations are usually created by something he may have said or done without any harmful or insulting intent.

"When the going gets tough...See to it you're not where the tough goes."

[User]
"You're very welcome," Travis kindly smiled as Zuri accepted his congratulatory response. With that, Felix had then announced their mission was now starting over the mansion's PA system as the three of them left the laboratory. As he left the basement, he turned to the both of them, "allow me to prepare a few things. I shouldn't be long."

Without waiting for an answer, the Untalent separated from the group and hastily made his way be to his quarters. He certainly was not properly equipped to participate in the mission and he rather avoided a fight in his perfectly good morning robe. Of course, he mostly wanted to avoid any fighting if it could be helped. Upon accessing his room, he immediately cast away his robes and dressed into his trademark trench coat and checked all of its compartments to verify his current inventory. Once he looked the part, Travis then wrapped a couple of cargo belts around his waist and around his chest and back before taking an array of small items and placing them within each pouch.

Once the small things were done, he then walked to his mythical chest of untold deepness, opened it and reached into is infinite confines. He retrieved several tomes and a few larger items before taking out along horizontal long box whose physical dimensions betrayed that of the chest it was recovered from. Opening the box revealed a row of greyish capsule-shaped items all lined in their slots up in a perfect row. A small tab inside the lockbox produced a low green hue, illustrating the sub-text below it that the contents were charged.

"Perfect," Travis said to himself as he pulled several of the capsules and housed them each within the inner pockets of his coat. Each of the objects he retrieves had the texture of a smooth but foam-like make-up as if it was intended to act a sort of an encasement.

He soon stored the closed box within the chest before sealing it and began making his way to the door. Just before he could get past his desk, he then realized that he still had with him the runic plans that blinded their Paragon earlier. Travis quickly took out the parchment but eyed for a moment as he was nearly ready to place it on his desk. He then began to ponder about its other applications as Felix announced before, speculating on what it also capable of doing. With a small groan, he opened up the plans and grabbed a crystalline case from his desk before imprinting the rune's design into the hexagonal prism. Chanting a quick incantation over the case, he then stowed it too within his trench coat, before leaving the plans on his desk and hurried out of his room to join the rest of his team.

[Assistant]
Nemo sat at the table by himself now. He flipped his balisong knife closed and placed it back into his pocket and then started to de-spawn all the weapons he brought out, finishing it out with the two tumbler glasses. He picked up the bottle of umeshu, the medium sized bottle only had about one fourth of the liquid it started with left. Nemo checked to see if the coast was clear before unceremoniously chugging the rest of it.

Eventually he appeared in the living room and sat down on the same sofa Raiya did. Nemo leaned over onto the armrest and looked to his manadial to glance at the time. No other members had reached the room yet, so Nemo figured he had time for at least one more question while they were still on their way. "Have you ever done something that you really regret?" Nemo asked, quieter than usual. He only looked over to her once he had finished speaking.

[User]
Zoey simply melted through the shadows in the corner of the room, flopping in an arm chair like she'd been there for hours. She felt a bit like she had, and she was glad to finally be getting out of this cabin. For some reason, it vaguely reminded her of a large fire. But maybe that was just another nightmare.

She noticed instantly that the room smelled a bit like alcohol. Fantastic. Stealth mission, lets drink. Solid. If she gave a damn, she'd probably be able to tell which drink. But she really didn't give a damn. At this point, she would consider just getting on the boat without something going horribly wrong a successful mission. She eyed Travis and wondered if he was coming. She assumed he was, but she didn't really see him as a stealth operative. In fact, he reminded her a bit of the guy Cyril from that TV show... which was it? Archer, that's right. Capable of maybe doing something good, but more likely to be a punch line. She was so positively astonished by this line up that she started thinking of drinking herself. She had a small vial of moonshine. After all, she might need it for when his all goes horribly wrong. At worst, the damn thing would make her drunk enough to find the humor. At best, soaking in the moonlight of a few nights might help give her a boost. Either way, she was already coming to grips with the fact that this mission might already be majorly boned.

[Assistant] Raiya tilted her head to the side, "Something I regret? Do you mean besides making a drunken bet with you that essentially chained me to a team of misfits and vagabonds...?" Raiya pursed her lips and put her index finger up to them. "I regret putting my faith into an organization that would betray me and toss me aside. I regret ever thinking of Felix as a brother. I regret not being strong enough to take down Thadeus myself when I had the chance. Other than that, no I can't say I have any major regrets." Raiya replied.

[User] Travis had only spent a few minutes preparing and arming himself upstairs before returning to the main lobby and into the living room where most of his team had gathered, "I hope I didn't keep everyone waiting. Is there anything we need to go over before departing?"

[Assistant]
Something seemed to be on Nemo's mind, but he jumped on the opportunity to change the subject once it presented itself. "What history do you have with Thadeus?" Nemo asked. "It seems he'll be a recurring cockroach in our journey, so I wouldn't fret too much about not defeating him. I'm sure you'll get another chance."

"You're just in time Travis, we're almost all here now." Nemo responded. "There isn't anything I can think of to discuss now, but I'm sure that will change once this show gets on the road." He added.

[User] Zuri follows Felix over to the living room. She looks around at the others as more people started to show up. Listening to the things Travis and Nemo said, she has no idea what was going on, but all she knew was to try to help her team in any possible way in order to recover a dangerously powerful relic.

[Assistant]
Raiya's ahoge began to vibrate with energy as her anger surged. Thinking about Thadeus irritated her above all else.

"Cockroach indeed... He is the lowest of the low, and the one responsible for me being excommunicated. He experimented on villages, razed them to the ground with agnes spheres for no logical reason. The worst part is that he wasn't all that powerful for an arch-mage. It was nepotism that got him the position he holds. Because of his family ties, he was given access to a high seat and all the political power that it comes with. The funny thing is, he could not stand Felix, because Felix was the genuine article, a real powerful mage worthy of the title of arch-mage. You should have seen his face when he first saw Felix's manaegis. A mixture of jealousy and rage. The thought still make me smille." She finished with a grin

---

Felix entered the living room where everyone was gathered.

"Well, if there is not anything else to keep you... allow me to open the portal." Felix drew the cross glyph in the air in the middle of the room, opening a rift to what looked like an alleyway between warehouses near a harbor of some sort. "Off you go." Felix finished.

[User]
"If all of his titles were handed to him it's just another reason he shouldn't be much trouble for us in the long run." Nemo replied. "Am I to presume that his brother is the Papal Magi now?" He asked afterwards.

Nemo got up, walking over to the portal. "Here goes nothing," he commented as he passed through. After reaching the other side Nemo examined his surroundings. The smell of saltwater flooded his nostrils; they were definitely close to the docks. Luckily, being placed in the alley meant nobody was around to notice them.

Nemo brought up his manadial, getting a better map view of the area. Two small markers dotted out Nemo's position and where they needed to be. Judging by the distance, they were only about eight minutes away from the endpoint. He waited for a couple moments to let the group cross over and then began to head off towards the objective.

[Assistant] Zoey crossed over after him, also looking around. They appeared to be in some sort of alley. It wasn't too dark yet, but it was close enough to smell like the ocean brine. She followed Nemo and the rest of the group, watching their surroundings carefully. She also double-checked that her illusion was up; didn't need to freak anyone out yet.

[User] The rift looked mesmerizing as Zuri stares through it for a few seconds before she walks through it. 'A quick method of transporting multiple people to a completely different location.' she thought as she wandered a few steps around to examine her surroundings and reminded herself to keep quiet so she doesn't cause any unnecessary attention. She stood close to Nemo and waited for the others to step through the rift.

[Assistant]
One by one, every member took their opportunity and crossed through the portal and out to wherever it lead to. Travis the took his turn and stepped through and soon arrived in their new industrialized environment. Shifting between the more cozier and quite place and into the now lauder and sea-pungent locale was certainly a very unusual sensation to experience. Travis could almost conceptualize the notion of simply stepping out of the mansion to busy urban dock.

Like everyone else, Travis took the moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings and determined they has exited into a confined area between buildings, away from anyone's notice or care. It was a good place to start for now before they get going into the more dangerous territory. As he looked back at the portal to see if anyone else was coming through, Travis spoke his mind but took care to keep his voice down, "now that we're here, what's next?"


[System]
23 years old
Knights; Spies for the Rebellion

Daryn and Daelyn share a past that they do not like to repeat. The two of them grew up on a tiny fishing boat which only came to shore to sell its wares. The fishing boat was a relatively wealthy business, and most of their youth was pleasant. The rebellion kept its distance from the four of them, although they understood enough of what was going on. At some point, their mother was asked to come help with the rebellion, because she was from one of the families that founded the rebellion. She did, leaving her children on the boat. At the age of twelve, Daryn and Daelyn watched their mother's execution, hidden behind their father in a crowd of people.

Something in the children sparked as they watched their mother being carried to a pile of bodies. When they turned 18, they both left their father's now failing fishing boat to join the rebellion, with a promise that they would return with enough money to fix his boat, if not buy him a new one. That was five years ago.

When they joined the rebellion, they were thrown into training as blank slates. Daelyn wasn't a fighter; that was easy to see. He had the strength and the size, but he couldn't stand to kill, to see the light fade from their eyes. He was too gentle, too nurturing. Dae became a shy boy, rarely ever talking, cradling animals and babies. Eventually, he was moved to help care for the animals around the base. Daryn, on the other hand, flourished. What she lacked in muscle, she made up for in agility and wit. She was smart, and she could beat any man in a sword fight. Yet, Daryn was rough, crass at times. She didn't know how to hold her tongue or her temper, and often, she found herself in trouble. Daryn cared for Dae like she was his mother though. Protecting him endlessly put a joy in her heart that she couldn't explain. They would often be seen, standing, shoulders touching, just whispering or breathing.

One can tell that Daryn and Daelyn are identical twins. Both of them have brown, ringlets of hair. Daryn keeps it at rest on her shoulders; Daelyn at the ear length. To lesson the confusion, Dae shows a full brown beard. Both adults have bright, sea blue eyes that reflect the very waves of the ocean they grew up on. They are beautiful people, in two very different ways. Since they live as peasants, both of them wear gray tunics that reach about mid-thigh, black pants, and gray ankle height boots. Daelyn wears a necklace that once belonged to his mother; Daryn wears a bracelet made from fishing twine all braided together, a gift from her father.

[User]
Enn dug through his satchel, pulling out two new uniforms for them and some apples. He threw the apples to each of them, setting the clothes on the bed.

"I got those for you from the kitchen. Do not expect food to be given to you on a regular basis. Some of us can go all day without eating. Enjoy that." Daryn had already eaten most of it when he finished talking, and she kicked herself. She may have been hungry, but she would have saved the apple if she had known it might be her only food for the day. Daelyn held his in his hand, laughing at the internal battle that crossed her face. He watched her decide to finish it, tossing the core to one of the dusty corners. Daelyn stuck his own apple on the bed, planning on sticking it in his new tunic. Enn continued, "Get changed, and then meet me outside. You'll be staying in the prince's personal guard quarters, so you are pretty lucky."

With that, he walked out the door, shutting it as best he could. The door slipped a little further off the hinges, leaving a huge gap in the frame. Daryn was already pouring over the new outfits, hoping hers wouldn't be so small this time. She held them up one at a time, fingers running over the soft fabric. She threw the taller one to Daelyn, laying hers back on the bed. The fabric was soft, new. The outfits had never been worn, unlike the one she wore now. It was a deep red, a color that reminded her of blood. The sleeves would come down to her elbows, but there was a stretch to the fabric. It would be easy to move in. She put the outfit on, seeing that it did fit her better, but there was still no hiding her femininity. She turned to face Daelyn, grimacing.

"Why are all these outfits so masculine?" she asked, holding her arms out. Daelyn laughed at her, looking down at himself. His old gray boots didn't really fit in with the unworn outfit.

"Because you're the first female knight. Therefore, you are the first female guard to the prince." Daryn made a face, stepping forward and running around the room to make sure she could move. It was easy, and she didn't work up a sweat.

"These are nice," she said, as they walked out the door. Enn was waiting there, digging his toe into the ground. He smiled up at them, nodding his head. Daelyn looked around the area, seeing the same men that were standing around the well the night before. Now, they saw Daryn, with her long curls, her body shape, her sunburnt cheeks. It was as if no one had ever seen a woman. Daryn was too busy picking at her tunic to notice. Daelyn did, though, as men elbowed their friends, pointing towards his sister, incredulous. His fists tightened at his side, anger building up in his stomach. Some man whistled, catching Daryn's attention at last. She found the source of the whistle, shooting the man an obscene gesture. The man and his friends laughed, bending at the middle. Enn chuckled at her, ignoring the men.

"Giving you a weapon might not be a good idea," he said, still laughing, "But that is what we need to do first." He lead them both away, towards another building outside the castle. It was a smaller stone building, another one room all to itself. This door stayed on its hinges, though, Daelyn noticed. They stepped inside to see the walls lined with swords, shields, armor, bows, and quivers full of arrows. "You may choose a sword to carry. It will be your sword from here on out." The twins found belts with sheaths for their swords and then began to look at swords. Daelyn lifted every sword he came to, tossing it from hand to hand. Most of the swords didn't balance right or they felt too heavy. Eventually, he found a sword in the back, dusty from not being used. It fit in his hand, didn't tilt one way or the other. It wasn't heavy, but it wasn't too light. He took it, watching Daryn inspect the weapons. She simply touched the hilt, probably getting a years worth of history from feeling the grooves made by hands over the years. He watched her pick one up, running her hand the length of the blade. It was a newer sword by the looks of it, but it had an imprint in the hilt. Daryn stared at it, thinking. Her brows furrowed, and then she turned back to the two of them.

"Why that one?" Enn asked, making a face at her.

"It is a newer blade, forged within the past five years. Yet, the person who carried it used it often. It's experienced, and it's young." She fell silent, putting it away. Daelyn could have finished her thought. Just like them. Young and experienced. Enn shrugged his shoulders and led them out, walking towards the castle finally. They walked in, following him through the corridors and halls, watching the many maids bustle on past them. Daryn got more than one strange look, but several of the maids gazed at Daelyn as they walked past. Enn turned the corner into a room filled with white. They must be in the infirmary. Enn led them towards the back, where the shadows of three people were cast against the ground. When they came around the corner, it was the prince and two of his mages. Daryn recognized the female.

"Your majesty," Enn said, bowing at the waist to the royal figure. Daryn and Daelyn did the same, standing on each side of Enn. "Your knights, just as you requested. With that, he left, leaving Daryn and Daelyn standing there, hands behind their back. A feeling of awkwardness passed over Daryn, looking at the two mages, who had been laughing at something when they walked up. It was odd, seeing them in this position.

[Assistant]
"Ah! Welcome." Triver said as he stood up from his chair. "I am Triver and these are my friends." The prince gestured to the two mages on either side of him.

Inaris gave a short laugh, "More like we're his babysitters." Ser'deni threw her pillow at him. Inaris threw it back, only for it to accidentally miss and hit the prince. Triver's cheeks flushed pink as he picked the pillow up off of the ground. He launched the pillow at Inaris with an irritated growl.

"Watch where you're throwing things!" Triver said before rubbing the red spot on his cheek. The unholy pillows of the infirmary felt more like pieces of wood that feather pillows.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Ser'deni asked as she turned her attention towards the direction of the knights. "I see that you've healed nicely." She said to Daryn, "And how's your brother's injuries? Rean healed him but everyone knows she doesn't like to put her full effort into it."

Triver tried not to laugh. The prince was a goofy boy when he was with friends. This was the true Triver - he enjoyed a good laugh or two and would gladly be the butt of the joke. Not many people got to see this side of him. He cleared his throat before speaking up. "Where are my manners? This is Ser'deni," The woman bowed her head, "And he is Inaris." the blond man gave a slight wave before lying back in his bed.

"Why don't we give you a tour of the castle and then we can go about doing a few things for the day?" Triver suggested. He smoothed out his clothes before looking at the two mages. "We will come back to visit you--"

Inaris held up his hand to silence the prince. "We're fine. Just still a bit tired and the nurses aren't watching. This place is too stuffy." He got out of the bed and slipped on one of the robes that were off to the side of each bed. The patients usually were in their underclothes and the robes were for modesty's sake, although Inaris really didn't care about being modest. He just didn't want to sunburn or blind anybody.

Ser'deni also ignored the pleas of the prince to stay and rest. They only needed to rest after yesterday's events. It wasn't like they had their legs cut off or something. She tightly wrapped the robe around her body before walking around her bed and towards Inaris. Together they walked towards the doors of the infirmary.

"I think I stood up too fast."

"Shh...We're going to get some food. I'm tired of gruel."

"Do you think little Triver would mind?"

"He's going to take the knights for breakfast. I'm not going to miss out on that."

Triver sighed before turning towards the twins. "I am sorry for the way they are acting. Usually they are quite...creepy. But they will be joining us for a while today so please...just don't take anything they say to heart." If he knew the mages, they would try to make the new knights as uncomfortable as possible. Well Inaris would, Ser'deni would just sit there and nod her head when appropriate.

The prince led the way as he pointed out some of the important areas of the castle and finally when they reached a small dining room closer to his wing of the castle, Triver motioned for them to take a seat. "I've never taken knights before but I will treat you both well. This is where you will come to eat if you wish; it is a private room for my servants to dine in, and there will be no men who will hit on you in here." He said to Daryn. Triver helped the servants bring out the food and set it on the table before taking his seat again.

"I will ask of one thing of you both. So long as you serve under me, please do not think of me as just a prince."

"He gets touchy about that." Ser'deni spoke up as she stole a piece of ham. Next to her, Inaris was busy stuffing his mouth with a few rolls spread with honey and nuts. "Just think of him as a kid that needs protecting."

"I am not a child anymore."

"You will always be our little prince, we will always protect you."

Triver felt his cheeks warm up in embarrassment.

[User]
The entire tour around the castle was nothing short of creepy for Daryn. She was uncomfortable around the mages, even more so when they acted like normal human beings. Seeing them joke around, it made a shiver run up Daryn's spine. She kept a quiet distance, taking in the magnificent sights of the palace. Daelyn, always being the opposite of his sister, found the mages to be intriguing. To see them acting normal was wonderful. It allowed Daelyn to understand who they were, outside of being the King's pawns. He felt almost refreshed, seeing them joke around. He did sense Daryn's discomfort, keeping an eye on her through the walk.

The private dining room was elaborate, a table set in the middle, empty for the moment. The twins were led into seats, and then they watched as Triver helped the servants. Daryn could have fainted, disbelief clouding her mind. The prince shouldn't have to help the servants, but there he was. She was touched by his kindness, wondering for a moment if he was putting on a show for his new knights. He made the comment about no one hitting on Daryn while they ate, and she choked on her food. Daelyn clapped her on the back, and she caught her breath, sitting the bread down she had been eating. Had he noticed too? Everyone seemed to look at her funny, and it was starting to have an effect on her.

Daryn was still panting when the prince made his request to them to think of him as more than a prince. Daelyn thought on that. What else was he? He chuckled at Ser'deni's comment about him being a kid that needed protecting. Surely, that's not what the prince meant. Daryn was breathing normally, trying to find words in her mind. Daelyn watched the gears turn.

"Thank you for your kindness, your majesty," Daryn said, smiling at the boy. Daelyn touched her shoulder for support. "But we are only knights to you, a prince. We will treat you as no less." Daelyn knew that wasn't what the prince wanted to hear.

"But, your majesty, if you were looking for two friends in the Lyker twins, we will do all we can."

Daryn shot him a look of confusion, her eyes falling down to the table. It wasn't that she didn't want to be friends with Triver. She liked the boy's personality. Befriending the prince, though, would only cause a moral dilemma when the time came to betray the royal family. Daelyn would never think that way; he was too kind to tell someone like Triver no. Daryn saw a world of similarities in the two of them. She felt his hand still on her shoulder, and she smiled up at him.

In honesty, it had been a long time since the two of them found friendship in anyone but the other.