[System]
CS:

Race: Satyr

Position: Servant of the Fall Court

Age: 724, He keeps close track

Personality: Lositay appears rather laid back in his endeavors. He has been offered higher ranking positions within the Fall Court, but he noticed many years ago how that can paint a target on ones back. He's much more interested in getting his way through deceit, even of the other Fey. He is very observant and is quick to even notice ones second glance at another. Lust is his favorite weapon and emotions are wonderfully twisted to his desires. Though this may be easy with humans, deceiving the Fey is another game altogether. Lost is always on his hooves making sure to appease the King Tegvan. He does his best to remain in his good graces, lest he punish him with iron, or even worse, take a ranking position in the court.

Appearance: Lositay is a very handsom Fey and has been the object of Lust on several occasions. He is very quick to accept such feelings and just as quick to crush them afterwards. He has straight long black hair and long smooth goatee as well. His pointed ears poke out through horns that curl around them. Only his right ear is pierced, and it was done as a sign of servitude to King Tegvan and to the Fall Court. He never wears a shirt and if necesary will wear a coat or armor. He has tattooes of lights that cover his body and some have noticed they can move as well. He does wear arm bracers and a pendant, but these don't serve much purpose. He just likes the way they look and feel. He never wears pants either, but the goat fur is normally enough to keep him modest. His goat legs are covered with thick white fur, ending with hooves on the end. He has a belt pouch that he keeps on him to carry his flute and various other necessities. He does love playing his flute and is said to be able to cause quite a bit of emotion with it. Some do notice a change in the pendants color as he plays, but no one's sure if it means anything. His tail oddly begins white and slowly tapers off to a black at the end of it. He has full control of it, but rarely ever uses it for anything, so it ends up hanging between his legs most of the time.

Background: Lositay has been working efficiently under the rule of King Tegvan for hundreds of years. He wasn't to privy to actual work. He was very competetive though. He was often in the realm of the Spring and Summer fey toying with their emotions like clay in his fingers. Their whimsical and romantic nature an easy target for him to play. He has won the Kings prizes many times, but he still loves all of them very dearly. Most of his winnings are kept in his home, but a few he carries with him at al times. His first and greatest prize was his flute. Overjoyed he practiced it night and day for weeks until he was a skilled flutist. Still happy with his prize he burst out of his home and continued to play for a few more weeks thorughout the realm. A few of the other prizes help him with his games as well. Lost has ventured over the Winter realm a few times as well. Searching for a harder targets, he certainly found them. Those of the Winter court had a different type of love for their work, that Lost had only just begun to figure out how to use. Tegvan has only used Lositay's name once. Lost had been spending a good amount of time in the other realms and Tegvan wanted to be sure Lost was a loyal servant. Lost told Tegvan a lot about the other realms and he wanted to make sure Lost wasn't telling them of the Fall realm as well. The moment his name was used Lost's heart dropped into his chest. He felt like a child under the hand of a monster. At Tegvan's request he explained that he never told any of the details or secrets of the Fall realm. Lost's heart returned and began to beat happily as the king gave him two piercings and earings to symbolize his servitude to the Fall Court and to the King himself. Lost continued his work for the King and was offered ranking positions within the realm, but he enjoyed what he did and Tegvan allowed him to continue his games and work.

Name: Ardaie Loreious
Race: Half siren, half yokai
Position: Ruler of Spring Court
Age: She'll never tell, but she looks to be around 22. (Approx 5000)

Personality: On the surface she seems to be a flirty and fun person, but this is only a facade. She is a cunning and is very good about getting to know anybody who may be a threat to her kingdom, and dealing with them swiftly, either through execution, or reeducation. Her kingdom is perfect because of this, as she would never settle for anything less. Everybody in her kingdom is safe, has a job that's simply perfect for them, and is perfectly content, and if they aren't they certainly don't voice it. Underneath her mask, she is manipulative, cold, and perhaps one of the most evil creatures you could imagine.

She would describe herself as looking like a fairytale princess, and even for her vanity, she'd be pretty close. She's tall with fair skin, deep purple eyes, and straight golden hair. She often is seen in garish dresses, similar to what'd you expect a small girls doll to wear. Besides that, she's surprising physically fit, enough so that she could defend herself if the need arose.

Background: Ardaie has been around for a very long time, but suffice to say, the Spring Kingdom was very different when she was created. She was born as a slave to the royal family at the time, and she caught the wandering eye of the King. As it would turn out, Ardaie was born with the rare gift of a Silvertongue, or the ability to wrap others around her finger by talking to them. This coupled with her beauty allowed for her to eventually stage a not so hostile takeover of the kingdom in which the King executed his previous wife, and named her Queen. From there, it was very simple to get the king to give her complete and total power over the kingdom, at which point the former king soon found himself no longer useful, and was promptly poisoned. Now the sole ruler of her kingdom, she would enact massive reform, heralding in a new, and obviously much better era. One thing was that she made slavery illegal, which was initially very unpopular, but all the opposers would end up either changing their mind, or losing their head. This sort of thing would continue for all reform she put through, be it getting rid of discrimination based on social class, or setting up a system in which everyone has the job best fitted to them, until all opposition faded away, and everyone was happy, or too scared to speak out.

[User]
Lyra's head snapped towards the door at the sound of a much sought after voice.
"Ba-Ba!" she squealed excitedly and jumped up, poor Nikko rolling off of her lap and shaking his head a bit at the sudden move by his favorite perch.
Racing to the door, the child opened it and jumped right into the arms of the Summer King. "Ba-Ba I was looking for you," she said, her face pulling into a frown and folding her arms crossly. "They said you left," then she suddenly smiled. "But Cook gave me cakes! Nikko had one and I had one, but the lady didn't want one. Now we can play!" Lyra giggled then hugged him tightly.

[Assistant]
Lost approached Falk on his beckoning and took the mirror. It was quite magnificent, and Lost would have liked it himself. His reflection looked good in it, but taking something of Falk's would incur a dire wrath. "I will deliver this to Phyre immediately." He placed the mirror in his satchel and began for the summer realm.

He ventured through Fall and crossed the border very easily. Even traveling through Summer didn't result in much conflict, but as he approached the summer court, he ran into Summer's salamander guards. "Excuse me, I have an important gift for your lord. If you would be so kind as to escort me and ask for his presence, I will not waste his time."

@BlackPanther

[User]
@rechonq
Feoras chuckles and kneels down to get to her level. "And what did you have in mind for today?" His eyes remain orange showing that while he was happy to be around her, he hasn't experienced the same level of happiness as when he is in his forest. He would have to remind the cook later not to give her too many sweets.

the two guards who ran into lost nod, one goes in front of him, the other behind. The one in front speaks, "Please follow me" They then begin walking, not really giving lost much choice on walking or not considering the one behind him starts walking as well. When they reach him both guards dip their heads and bow.

Fears sees this and straightens, standing in front of Lyra as if subconsciously protecting her. "Rise...what is it?" The guard in front moves so lost is presented to their king."He says he has a gift for you my liege" Feoras tilts his head and studies lost. "Does he? Well, go on and show me then"

[Assistant] Lost bowed with guards and rose at Phyre's command. "Your highness, I have a gift from my Lord Falk" Lost removed the mirror and humbly offered it to Phyre. He noticed Phyre was hiding something behind him. I do not wish to take anymore of your time. If you have nothing for me, I will leave you to your business. Thank you. Lost waited for Phyre's approval before dismissing himself, or being dismissed with the guards.

[User]
"I want to-" Lyra started before being cut off by the guards that arrived with a visiting person. Lyra darted behind her Ba-ba, her usual hiding spot when strangers came. Gripping some material of his pant leg, she peeked around his leg to see the stranger.
He had funny horns and a funny tail and funny legs. Lyra wanted to giggle but kept quiet. Ba-Ba had told her about how some people might look funny but they were really mean. She wasn't scared by any means, but she was apprehensive as any small child is in an unfamiliar situation.

Then the funny looking stranger gave Ba-Ba a present. The four year old's curiosity was immediately peaked and she came out from behind his leg a little more to try and see what it was. It was a pretty mirror and she immediately wanted to touch it. But it was Ba-Ba's present, not hers. Although it was not always fun Lyra knew how to behave. Maybe if she was good Ba-Ba would let her play with the pretty mirror later.

She looked back at the stranger and up at his funny horns. She wanted to touch them too. Did they pull off? Were they hard or soft? They looked bumpy. She wanted to climb the stranger and feel the funny horns. Did he play with his tail like Nikko? Did his tail come off like Nikko's and then he grew another one?

Lyra's curiosity was unconciously causing her to inch her way out further from behind Feoras. She cocked her head like a puppy, wondering who this funny stranger was and if he was fun to play with. Her large bright blue eyes stared at him, like she was trying to see into his soul and decide if he was nice or mean.

[Assistant] Fears takes the mirror and nods. "Let falk know of my gratitude for this token" Though he has no idea what it is for. While he is curious and completely confused, he doesnt think too hard on it. He then notices Lyra. "Small one, remember it isn't polite to stare" He has a faint smile on his face while he looks at the girl, knowing full well that she is curious of every being in the kingdom. He just hope she doesnt do something that would cause problems. He looks back at lost. "Thank you for delivering this" He gives a slight head nod, as a show of respect.

[User]
@Belle
Lost was rather amused as the little girl slowly came out from behind Phyre. Both had looks of confusion and hers was riddled with amazement as well. She began to inch closer as she stared at Lost with intense curiosity and analysis. The girl was quite cute, and he wouldn't have minded playing with her, but he wasn't to familiar with the Summer Kings demeanor. He didn't wish to test it now either. If he protected her like Falk protected his human, then any signs of danger, whether misinterpreted or not would not go well for him. Lost merely returned her stares with a gentle smile. "I will deliver your gratitude to my Lord." Lost gave a final bow to the Summer King and backed out of the chamber.

With that he left the Summer court and began back for Fall. The warm winds turned brisk as he made his way to the Fall realm. He was rather warm and pleasant. His human was cute too, she must be a new addition to the fae world. What is it with the Kings and their pets? Summer realm does have a warm disposition to it. Playing with them is fun.

[Assistant]
Aisling sat and strummed the harp. The cold stone beneath her yielded little comfort, but after much sitting and strumming she no longer minded. Mist wove about her like wind blown hair something she quiet enjoyed. Often the mist was dense when the King was absent but when he was about it allowed light to pass and gave a almost mystical feel to the Great Hall. But the Hunt was gathering, now the mist was something threatening and terrifying. A shroud covering a dagger. Aisling wondered what the Fall King wanted with the King of Summer, but knew better than to ask. Asking would get her nothing. Her job was to play her harp and bring him books. Be a general amusement, a pawn for his games of grandeur.

Already she was getting a feeling that his taking her on was not a whim but something far in the planning. That now the wheels were moving and the Fall King had no intentions of letting the die land at a disadvantage to him. The pool from which he saw about his Realm shimmered and gleamed in his power. Ice forming along the edges like in the dying days of Fall before Winter came. Her Lord was not pleased about the Moot. Something had not gone to plan. He sat in his throne, not stretched out but hunched forward. His eyes a ghastly green and shining, his hands steepled before him. She heard him send out the call, beckoning the Fae he sent as messenger- Lost, was it?- to return to him as soon as the package was delivered and with haste. Aisling fought down the need to flee. He wanted something and when Falk wanted something. He got it. The Fall King was never denied.

[User]
Lost returned to Falk quickly. He enjoyed the scenery for what it was worth, but now the honor of helping the King was granted to him. He eagerly entered the Fall Court, noticing the King hunched forward with gleaming eyes. Even though he couldn't find any faults with his actions, seeing Falk like this sent shivers up and down his spine. He looked like he was plotting, possibly against Spring or even Summer, with whatever that token may have meant. Whether the other rulers feared, Lost feared for them.

"Lord Falk, I have delivered your token. The Summer King extends his gratitude for the gift. Is there anything else you ask?" Lost was very curious as to what the King was musing, but asking him seemed risky. If he was going to join The Hunt, he would have liked to do it on a good note.


[System]
Gender:
Female

Birthday:
08/24/102

Age: 70 years (appears 18)

Height & Weight:
174 cm
58 kg

Appearance:
Tanned from her near constant time spent outside, her seemingly thin stature belies a body of virtually entirely muscle, built up from constant battle and her hewing from a godly fabric. She normally has on a wolf-pelt cloak, which she uses to guard her skin from the frosts of the North.

Equipment:
Wulfaz- A weapon far taken from its homeland, to the eyes of a modern scholar this weapon would be recognized as a "ji," a form of Chinese weapon similar to a halberd, composed of a pointed tip, bladed edge, and counter-weight opposite to the blade (usually in the shape of a spike or wedge). It is a weapon hewed of the finest Damascus steel from blade to shaft, an impractically weighted weapon that to most would only be a display piece, covered in innumerable rubies and a sheet of gold, at least where they haven't scraped off (looks something like this i.imgur.com/Sfr53c6.png). Sanngridr knows it as the weapon she stole from the shop of some trader while raiding the city of Muziris, who was left baffled (and dead), as he thought it would be impossible for any one person to lift. This is Sanngridr's favored weapon, a gilded weapon of death, and perhaps among the only like it many have ever seen. She keeps it wrapped up in a purple piece of silk when not in use.
Iron Claymore- Your typical iron claymore. Roughly hewed and dented, this is Sanngridr's preferred weapon for dealing with that she does not feel warrants her best.
Gladius- A looted Roman short sword, Sanngridr uses this as a weapon in close quarters to help even out her close range defenses.
Leather Armor- A few pieces of leather armor used to give her some form of covering and basic protection against strong attacks, not that it would do much. Has a tendency to get destroyed in combat.

Psychoanalysis

Merits:
Warrior's Courage- The ability to overcome fear of death in the face of violence, even when death is truly certain.
Undying Loyalty- As well as her eternal servitude of Odin, Sanngridr will always stand by her friends or allies to their deaths as long as her duties to Odin do not command otherwise.

Flaws:
Blood Rage- Sanngridr's nature as a berserker and as a spirit stemming from violence gives her a deadly temper, and one she is not easily take out of. She can slay whole villages if she is perturbed, and rumors say she has before.
Unto Valhalla- Sanngridr believes that those slain in battle should be sent to Valhalla, whether they're actually dying or not, and people with serious but not life threatening injuries often end up on the end of her weapon if she has her say. This, combined with a general loathing of the undead, can cause serious friction among her allies.

Tragic Flaw:
-

Personality: Sanngridr's life, and mindset, revolves around the fight, the battle for survival inherent in society. She believes in a dominance of the strong, that life should be a contest of champions, a world where the law of the blade trumps all and the souls she gathers can ride onto Valhalla, brilliant and untainted by the excesses of peace. Sanngridr wants war, battle, and a valiant band of soldiers to face it. Everything else is supplementary.
In a interpersonal sense, she's loud, gruff, and incredibly blunt, Quoth serving as her negotiator for polite society. She does not hide her Id behind a persona, and does not expect others to.

Recorded Information

Culture and Country:
Germanic

Languages:
Germanic, Latin, Tamil

Public Record:
Took the souls of many Teutons slain in the first war with the Romans.
Has been implicated in the mysterious and violent ends of several small villages.
Known as a valiant and bloodthirsty raider to many Norse sailors.
Feared and hated by a large swathe of southern India as a monster and demoness.

Private Information:
Does not really have significant others (people are turned off by her personality), nor too many friends outside of her warband

Faction Information

Loyalty:
Arnbjorn's Blue Bears
Discovering the warband whilst returning to her homeland after a long sojourn to distant lands in the midst of a raiding party, Sanngridr had tired of being forced to take her wrath out upon those who could rarely put up a good fight. She, promised a chance at blood and glory against the forces of the mighty Romans and their mystic soldiers, gladly accepted the banner of Arnbjorn, and joined the ranks of her countrymen for the chance to send the souls of innumerable Romans to Valhalla.

Military Rank:
N/A

Magical Girl Rank:
Heroic- Iron

Magic

Soul:
0/10

Magical Familiar:
Quoth the Raven: A generally intelligent and subdued raven with a snarky personality, and a love of luxury (enjoys soft and warm fabrics especially.) Has an obsession with shiny round things in its quest for eyeballs to consume. Actually a good strategist when he cares to help out, and serves as Sanngridr's superego and "universal translator" of sorts.

Magic Trait:
Positive- Battle Immunity (Grazes, minor wounds, and weaker attacks cause no damage), Frenzy (In battle, all attributes are increased, but their fighting style becomes animalistic),

Negative- Lead From the Front(They're at the front of the charge, for good or ill), Frenzy(Not in total control of actions. If stress occurs, there's possibility they will lose control of them self for a period of time. If ego loss occurs ??? happens)

Magic Abilities:
Flying- 1 (Rank 1 from Valkeryie)
Familiar (Raven)- 2 (Rank 1 from Valkeryie)
Battle Frenzy(M)- 1
Animal Taming (Wolves)- 1
Counter Magic- 1
Silence- 1
Animal Form (Bear)- 1
Enhance Attribue (Strength)- 2

Power Manifestation:
Flight of the Valkyrie- Wings are generated from what seems to be an air stretching from Sanngridr's back, allowing her limited ability of flight to be used.
Berserker Battler- A combination of her incredible supernatural strength, weapon skills, and general frenzy allows Sanngridr to be a fearful presence in battle, especially among the uninitiated in magic.
Runebreaker- Using her skills in the art of countering magic as well as aptitude in defense, Sanngridr can, through her own action, becoming a living magical dead zone, preventing the majority of simple spells from being used and countering those that are.
Bear-handed Battle- By turning into a monstrous, and bipedal/quadrupedal bear in battle, she can not only intimidate her foes but destroy them in much the same manner a bear could.
Wolf Pack- Sanngridr has taken control of a pack of normal wolves via force, intimidation, and magical aptitude, and is able to give them basic commands in battle. She uses them as escorts and shock troops, and keeps them well fed on the flesh of the dead to give them the proper taste for it.

Skills and Metastatus
Skills:
Heavy Weapon (Mastery)
Light Weapon (Trained)
Riding (Knowledgeable)
Light Armor (Knowledgeable)
Hunting and Gathering (Trained)

Fate:
(The number of Fate points you have. This will be assigned to you.)

Miracle:
(???)

[User]
The Road to Knowledge

The speeches given by the war maidens had the desired effect, the crew and Cuinte's hired hands quickly surged back into battle with renewed vigor. However, the battle quickly became less than that, it had become pure chaos. Pirates and crewmen alike screamed in horror as lions, boars, and some great reptilian beast began to tear men apart. Such a sight was more than enough to break merchant sailors and simple thugs. One poor soul was pounced upon by a great cat, his throat torn out by its mighty jaws, while another man was rammed into the edge of the ship, gored on the tusk of a boar. The latter of these two was however quick and still strong enough to thrust his dagger deep into the swine's eye, a hateful blow to assure mutual destruction. Indeed, the confusion caused by the savage beasts had stirred their own 'allies' to attack them, fear of life and limb clouding judgement. A great cat fell to many blows to its head by the clubs of the ship's oarsmen as the beast maimed one of the raiders. Soon both oarsmen and pirates were attempting to slay the beasts just as eagerly as they were trying to slay one another, survival driving them to fight in the face of no escape. Throats were slit, bodies maimed, one poor boar was impaled by a spear and pinned to the ship on its side. As it struggled to free itself, the would only grew and grew, the hog's intestines beginning to slip and pour from the gigantic gash. It eventually stopped struggling.

In the presence of the great lizard, many from both sides deemed it worth the risk to jump ship, jumping either to the mercy of the sea or attackers. Both seem preferable to being ripped apart by the reptile's claws and teeth. Those of greater will and confidence circled the beast, what few spearmen the enemy had keeping the beast at bay.

The second ship had forgone ramming their target, and simply pulled along side the merchant ship to contribute to the boarding action. Though these raiders were met by a fierce wall of roman legionaries, the trained soldiers easily dispatching the pirates that dared to charge their formation. Wiser assailants used their more brash allies as a distraction to sidestep the bodyguards and join in the main melee, while others attempted to strike at them from the rear. One soldier fell in defense of his others, dragged down by three assailants and a knife thrust into this throat. The three attackers were quickly dispatched by a group of oarsmen, heads cracked open and ran through by long knives.

All the while, Cuinte sat below deck, whispering to himself as he read through his book again for the countless time, his bodyguard quickly strapping on his armor and ever vigilant for intruders.

[Assistant]
The Road to Knowledge

Amelia was usually a calm, rational person who enjoyed a good battle, and this was originally supposed to be a very nice way to let loose and get some good old fighting in her daily schedule. However her lightness and excitement vanished quickly as she watched what was supposed to be a simple battle disintegrate into a mess of chaos and fear.

"Hold your bloodlust, oarsmen the beasts are with us! Don't - damn, call the beasts back! Godelva, call them back!" she shouted, taking advantage of her wings to distance herself from the battle temporarily so she could call out that suggestion to her fellow war maiden. "They're doing no good out there!"

She was somewhat upset that her fellow war maidens saw fit to make such grandiose moves, but she did not chastise Godelva for her mistake. She knew that the tamers of beasts could be quite close to their animal companions; for them to have been killed in battle would surely be causing her enough stress, no less than the fear of seeing a close friend fall in combat. As such, she hoped that, for now, this emotional impact would be enough of a lesson for her. Hoping that would suffice, she then flew right back into the battle, towards the encirclement that surrounded Kara, making a point to cut down one of the enemy spearmen.

"That's enough, men! Leave this one to me!" she shouted, hoping that the other Meguca was at least listening and get the hint that she wasn't really contributing to the battle in a good way.

[User]
Silence is Golden
Sanngridr grunted in response to the comments of the priestesses of the flower god and death god.
"I still do not see why we cannot just go straight into the mansion. Leaving a message for those who would oppose our... employers is likely the point of this. If they cannot dare face the condemnation from spilling blood, they should not ask for it," she said, an animalistic edge accentuating her accented Latin, thick with the harsh syllables of the tribes of the north.
Quoth gave a disapproving squeak and quickly replied to her owner's words.
"As much as we'd like it, Sanngridr, a job is a job, no matter how boring, and the requirements must be fufilled. What I suggest is that we state our entirely truthful business as emissaries of, say, Antony, and ask to stay a night in his manse. He's obligated to be a host, and it looks poorly on his character if he doesn't, not that it shall matter for long."


[System]
Lara Alderliesten

Character Quote: To Fight for What is Just, to do What is Right.

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Character Summary
Aliases: Sviti, Helen Falk (False Name)
Age: 21
Birthday: May 7th 1923
Death Date: November 13th, 1944
Ethnicity: Dutch
Birth Place: Was born in Giethoorn, but moved to Amsterdam when she was six and grew up there.
Godly Parent: Tyr, Keeper of Law and Justice. The God of War, Courage and Duells.
How Many Years At Hotel Valhalla: 76
Gender: Female
Languages: Old Norse, English, Dutch, French, German, and a little Yiddish.

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Appearance
Height: 5'5"
Weight: 125
Body Type: Slightly curvy but also a bit muscular underneath
Eye Color: Blue
Hair Color: Blond
Skin Tone: Pale with freckles
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: Plenty of scars on her hands, arms, and lower legs, from her life occupation.
Personal Style: Lara tends to wear the style she was comfortable with when she was alive, which was blouses and skirts and occasionally pants, but this is mostly in her down time. She'll braid her hair or pin it up in a bun or in curls, which again was what she was comfortable with when she was alive. When she is on the field of battle or training she will concede to wearing exercise pants and a tank top, as well as sports bras. (She finds them terribly comfortable compared to bras of her day.)

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Psychology
Friendly * Single Minded * Determined* Easy to Anger * Kind *Burdened

Sexuality: Demisexual but she doesn't understand that concept.
Relationship Status: Single
Personality: Lara like many people can be summed up in one word: complicated. On the surface she is a very kind and sweet young woman, always willing to help out, or stand up for what she believes is right. Once you get to know her, there is the lingering sadness and regrets she has from her life, as well as the overwhelming feeling of loss. She tries to keep up the friendly appearance, but with those she doesn't get along with the most she will muster up is a polite smile.
Fatal Flaw: Overzealous sense of Justice, to the point that she feels that any wrong committed before her is a slight that she has to fix.
Habits: Fidgets with her necklaces, stares off into space when thinking, will mutter in Dutch sometimes when she's cursing, always fixes her shoes when she leaves her room.
Hobbies:
Fears:
* Rifles
* Dark Water
* Watching the World slip back to like one she knew when she was alive

Likes:
* Pulp fiction Books
* Tea
* Pastries
* Tulips
* Setting her hair
* Slow dance songs

Dislikes:
* Literal Nazi's
* White Chocolate
* Cats
* French Fries
* Acne
* The Sea

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Skills
Demigod Abilities:* Oath Binding
* Keen Sense of Law

General Skills: * Medical
* Sewing
* Reading
* How to make a hiding spot
* Code breaking/ puzzle solving
* Baking

Combat Skills:* Spear Fighting
* Shield Use
* Sword fighting
* Archery

Magic Item: * Her Spear Which can shrink to the size of a pendant
* Her Shield Which can shrink to a bracelet.

What Do They Carry On Them:
* Clothing - A Star of David necklace, always tucked under her collar. A simple ring with a small gem in it on the same necklace as the Star of David. She tends to wear simple flats, a nice blouse and a knee length skirt as her daily clothing. Her shield bracelet and her spear pendant.
* Purse/Wallet - A simple black handbag
* Wallet with $200 American money, and around 300 euros.
* Faded picture in her wallet.
* Extra dagger just in case
* Tissues
* Some make up
* Extra socks
* Some Pulp Novel she's reading

Possessions In Hotel Room:
* Extra practice spear
* Extra practice sword
* Work out clothing
* Extra shield
* A small worn book
* Old worn passports
* A hide of a wolf she took on a quest
* Extra books

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History

Biography: Lara was born in the village of Giethoorn, a small canal based village, and she lived there for the first six years of her life. However, she had been left at a hospital, abandoned by her birth mother. She was adopted by a lovely couple, the Alderliestens, who had been unable to have children, and never treated Lara as anything other than their true daughter. Shortly after her sixth birthday, her parents moved them and herself to Amsterdam, as they were looking for better work opportunities in the big city. However at this time, the world was changing and not in a good way. A huge economic depression following on the heels of The Great War was leaving parts of Europe and other parts of the world in desperation.

During the 1930's Lara attended school, trained to be a nurse, and watched as the world changed around her. An angry man rose to power in Germany, while another angry man rose to power in Italy. Thankfully, in Amsterdam she was safe, even as people came to the country to try to leave.

Then in 1939 War broke out. Her home country tried to adopt a policy of Neutrality, but Lara was outraged at how the world was treating some people. Thankfully her parents agreed with her and they decided to turn part of their house into a hiding spot. The Alderliestens quickly turned their house into a place where those that were hiding from the Nazi regeim could seek refuge. At this time, this is when Lara's life would change. A family moved into their attic/ hiding part of their house with a son just a few years older than Lara. His name was Levi, and he was a scholar that had once studied at the nearby university.

The two would talk most days for a little bit, sharing their thoughts on the war, on books they both enjoyed, and snippets of the news that she would bring to his family when she brought them their food. Little by little the two fell in love, until one day in 1943, after a few years of hiding there, Levi proposed to Lara, and promised they would get married after the war was over.

Tragedy struck at the end of 1943, and while Lara and her parents were out attending church, their house was raised and Levi and his family were captured and sent to concentration camps. That is when Lara's life changed, and she took up as part of the resistance, and started to try to find her lost love.

How Did You Get To Hotel Valhalla: Lara had finally gotten a tip that Levi had ended up at Westerbork, which was infamous for being the last stop for many people. Once they left, they were usually gassed or killed. Lara couldn't let that happen, so she as well as a small group of resistance fighters went there on November 13th to liberate as many prisoners as they could.

Armed with a gun and a sword, they managed to get a few prisoners free before they were noticed. Lara held out her gun and knew that she would probably die either way… so better to let others live. She encouraged them to flee while she started taking shots at the guards coming their way. After running out of bullets she turned to her sword and was about to take out another soldier when the fateful bullet entered her chest, ending her life.

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Additional Information

Theme Song: This is War - Thirty Seconds to Mars

Extra Information:
Aesir~~~
Sample Post
I agree to follow the rules for this RP and understand that if I do not follow the rules, the GM or Co-GM may kick me out of this roleplay.

[User]
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Location: World Tree
Skills: Climbing

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"Elizabeth!" Lara couldn't help herself from crying out as she saw the other woman get knocked out of the branches at that point by Ratatoskr. Honestly, the words he was saying were ringing a bit true. She was worthless, wasn't she? She had failed to find Levi... she didn't know if she had rescued him. However, she looked at the group around her and knew that letting herself drown in those deep waters of regrets were not going to help them.

"Ratatoskr, we have been tasked by the Allfather on this quest, to find the lost god. Go back and carry out your mission and leave us to ours!" Pitiful words, at best, from Lara, even as she climbed down the branches. She was trying to focus now on the fact that she had done good. She was not worthless, she was one of the chosen! One of those that got to eat at the feast for the fallen. She had done good in her life. "Follow my voice Elizabeth, and I'll help you get down the tree."

[Assistant]
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Runa Johansson

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Location: Hotel Valhalla - the World Tree
Skills: Stamina, Agility, Norwegian

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 Runa nodded meekly at Klara's words of encouragement. She reminded her a bit of the guidance counselors at school - idealistic and chatty. She was waiting for Klara to start talking to her about transcripts and personal essays and what universities she was interested in applying to and what she was intending to study. Runa never really was interested in higher education - she wanted to just do her own thing off by herself. Maybe she would have opened up a metaphysical shop on Etsy, as she wouldn't need to see anyone ever and she could just spend her time off in the woods. That wasn't really in the cards anymore as she was dead and on a hopeless quest to save some supposedly dead god that she had never met before.

 As she continued to climb, she braced herself as the squirrel barked at her - apparently bark was another English word for insult, she noted. She blinked and then smiled slightly. "Det er det? Det har ikke vært en dag jeg ikke har ønsket å drepe meg selv i årevis. Jeg hater hver centimeter av meg selv. Jeg føler meg som et spøkelse som har et lik. Du kan ikke få meg til å hate meg selv mer enn jeg allerede gjør," she whispered to the squirrel.

[User]
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Location: Hotel Valhalla: The World Tree
Skills: N/A

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 "Ugh, he just needs to learn how to shut up!" Klara snapped with a bit of an eye roll to go along with it. The squirrel really needed to learn how to just shut up and not talk to anyone. But clearly he didn't have better things to do, but who really knew what squirrels did in their free time. It wasn't typically a question that she had ever thought to ask herself until that moment right there. There was no point in trying to respond to the squirrel, they were better off just ignoring him all together, but that was just her opinion.

 Of course, Elizabeth (seeing as she almost fell off) decided to talk to the squirrel and more or less threaten it. Yeah, like that was going to end well. Then again, no one said anything about Elizabeth ever being considered smart. Actually she was pretty sure the girl was almost completely useless because of her attitude alone, Klara at the least didn't want anything to do with her and she wondered if anyone actually would want to work with her. Oh well, at least she was on a different assigned team to go off on this thing, so Klara could happily ignore her entirely, and at least she had no problems staying on the tree and she easily climbed to the next branch.

[Assistant]
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@BlueSky44@Natsu@kittyluna45

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Nadia Petrova & Arnora Skadidottir

Location: Yggdrasil Branches -> Boston
Skills: Enhanced Tracking

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Nadia was a little bit worried about Runa as Ratatoskr had insulted her, and just about everyone else as well to. "No one even loves you child of Baldur. And you have no friends child of Loki!" Ratatoskr yelled as Nadia looked down and noticed a shimmering portal on one of the branches. They needed to get there as soon as possible she wasnt even sure where it would lead, she did hope that it would be able to get them all back to Midgard as quickly as possible.

"I see a portal you guys." Nadia said, as Ratatoskr took another swipe but it was aimed at Nadia, cutting her back rather badly as she stumbled forward wincing in pain. "Trying to reason with Ratatoskr will not do anything which will make it pointless Elizabeth." Arnora called out to her, Ratatoskr was more focused on giving Veðrfölnir the hawk on top of Yggdrasil lies and insults as well as spreading rumors and doing the same to Níðhöggr at the bottom of the world tree.

Nadia stumbled through the portal, as well as Arnora jumped through the portal as well to as they both started to look around seeing that they were in some kind of alleyway. Nadia walked forward seeing a few cars driving by and noticed a newspaper on the ground from the Boston Harold letting out a slight sigh that they were where they needed to be right now as she turned around waiting for the others to get through the portal as well.

[User]
Location: World Tree
Skills: Climbing

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"Through the portal then!" Lara scrambled over the branches and then sighed at that as she looked at the large squirrel once more. Thankfully it was not slinging insults at her, thought honestly the squirrel could easily hit some of her sore spots with his words. She soon reached the portal and lept through it with ease.

She landed in what some might call the super hero landing, on both knees and one hands, before she picked herself up and dusted herself off at that point. She looked around and then looked to Nadia and Arnora and nodded a bit. They were in Midgard, that she knew. Boston, if she remembered correctly, of course she was proven correct when she saw the Boston Harold newspaper on the ground. "Well then... we're in Midgard. Where do we go from here? Also... wait. Oh shoot." She realized her error in jumping through the portal with the others. "We were headed to Helheim..."


[System]
Physical parameters:
Height: 6 feet 3 inches
Weight: 217 lbs
Max Lift: 1000 lbs (from the ground)
Max Sprint: 25 mph (unarmored)
Visual Reaction Time: 120 ms

Abilities & Skills:
Armament: Tekla can summon weapons and armor out of nowhere, quickly equipping herself with whatever tools are most appropriate for the situation. She can customize the details of objects she creates (ex: if she conjured up a sword she could decide the shape and length of the blade, and whether it was made of steel, iron, wood, etc), but her ability can't produce gunpowder or complex mechanisms, preventing her from summoning firearms or tech-based weaponry. Additionally, she cannot create anything weighing more than 100 lbs. A vague, blurry outline of whatever she is summoning will appear for about a third of a second before the object comes fully into existence.
She can have a maximum of two weapons or armor pieces summoned at a time- if she already has two and wants to create something else, then one of those two will disappear. Additionally, after she summons an item she cannot summon another until three seconds have passed.

Training:
As one might expect, her fighting style is built around mastery of arms. A jack-of-all-trades, she can fight at a proficient level with almost any weapon under the sun, or forgo them entirely and hold her own in hand-to-hand. In terms of skill she can't match a specialist in any one style, but she's extremely adaptable and a very fast learner.

Background:
Tekla is the daughter of a powerful Russian mobster, whose criminal empire had allowed him to accumulate vast wealth and prestige. Initially he planned to pass on the 'family business' to a male heir, and largely ignored Tekla during her early years. She was raised by her mother, a surprisingly gentle woman, and lived mostly in happiness.

When her parents failed to produce a son, however, Tekla's father decided that she would have to be his successor, and set about grooming her for the role. He pushed her to get smarter, stronger, more ruthless by the day, and punished her harshly when she failed to meet his expectations, forcing the young girl to quickly adapt into the fierce, controlled, physically powerful machine she is today.

Early on there was little Tekla could do about her situation. No matter how hard she pushed herself, her father always seemed to want her to do more, better, more quickly. As one might expect, she eventually began to rebel. Deliberately failing him wouldn't have done much but earn her more punishment, but inwardly she swore that she would never take up the mantle he intended for her. Rather than being a person who trampled and exploited others, she would be a champion, someone with no need to rely on petty cruelties to maintain her strength.

By her teen years, she was already a capable young woman, and considering her options for the future. She couldn't stay in Russia, so would have to move overseas- the moment came sooner than she'd expected, however. Soon after she turned fifteen, her father fell ill and died.

There was no time to waste. With only a short goodbye to her mother, Tekla immediately fled the country, leaving her father's organization to crumble into a mess of squabbling factions. Although the old man had hardly treated her well, he did leave her with a significant amount of wealth and some useful, if shady, connections. It was these she used to secure herself a place at the pretigious Seirin Private Academy, a school devoted to physical conditioning and martial arts where rumored supernatural occurrences were common. After being plunged into a nightmare realm one night and fighting her way out, Tekla gained the ability to conjure up weapons and armor she visualized in her mind. Over the course of her time at Seirin, she honed this ability to its limit, and built a fighting style around it.

Since graduating, she's earned money as a prizefighter, while also seeking out powerful and dangerous opponents from other realms to further test her skill.

[User]
Pollen

Two seconds into Catskulls introduction, an entire set of alternate dimensions were brought into being. Catskull #3, created from Catskull #1, allowed his Dane sword to tumble to the ground, quickly drawing his rapier in a left underhand grip and the axe in his right. It'd take him only a hot second to shift his grip and right the rapier the way it was meant to be held, bringing it to bear by fully extending his left arm towards Tekla and aiming the point at her face, left foot leading. The shield and axe he kept relatively low. Provided Tekla didn't rush him in an attempt at keeping him from fully arming himself, not an easy feat given how much distance she had to cross, then he'd pick up the offensive and began creeping towards her, unwavering in his confidence.
Catskull #4 paused for two seconds after his creation, stopping to cough, but still keeping his eyes on Tekla before he resumed his approach. All the other Catskulls were apt to see what was going to happen to #2.

Tekla flung the end of the chain, and Catskull #2 was startled by her speed. He couldn't quite tell where the chain was going to fly, and thus in response he bent his right knee to drop lower and hunched over, blade whirling into a low outside hanging guard. The tip buried itself into the ground twenty inches from Catskull's lead foot, so that whether the chain went low or high, it'd catch the sword instead of a limb. If this came to pass, then immediately after he'd rush her, moving low and fast so that she'd not be able to pull the chain back efficiently with the sudden increase in slack. The shield was born horizontally before him, Dane sword cocked narrowly at his flank as if in preparation for a mighty two-handed horizontal slice, ready to defend or attack with equal parts efficiency. The chain would likely just slip off the blade. He'd be able to reach her in only a few seconds, slowing as he neared so he'd have a significant degree of control if she tried pulling something fancy.

Meanwhile, the Tekla that had to deal with Catskull #4 would witness the man neatly perform the same action that #2 had done, albeit much more calmly and with fractionally better timing. All the while, the original was still yammering on about the repute of the Maclungs and how insolent this woman was. His actual thoughts couldn't have been more different.

~What unnatural speed is this? No human woman could swing like that. This one is as swift even as I am, the ensouled Maclung trained by Malimore himself. To think a mere peasant... I should have emptied mine bladder at yonder pub, for now do I risk the dampening of my loins at the next bewilderment this concubine reveals.~

[Assistant]
Doctor

Tekla #2 raised an eyebrow as Catskull's sword came down and stopped her chain short of ensnaring its intended target. Not bad. The man came forwards, and she backed away, pushing off her right foot and transitioning from there into a quick series of retreating steps. The distance between them would close slightly, but not enough to bring her within reach of his sword. As things stood, she had the range advantage, and she wasn't going to let go of it so easily.

The slack meant she couldn't bring her chain rushing back for an immediate follow-up, but she still had her hands, and they worked quickly to draw it in. Once it was free of the sword she'd pull it back, spinning it once to build up momentum before letting its length loose again, this time in a wide overhead arc that would bring it hurtling down towards Catskull's head from above.

Tekla #4, meanwhile, was lagging slightly behind #2, though her eyebrow rose slightly higher as Catskull defended, and she seemed to smile a little. This one's movements are masterful. She retreated in much the same manner as her counterpart #2, before proceeding with the same attack, though there was a slight difference- she moved just a little faster, filled with adrenaline by the thrill of meeting such a skilled opponent.

The other two Teklas were just making their opening strikes. Tekla #1, unimpressed by a man who seemed to be nothing but talk, would stride into range before attacking with a similar movement to #2 and #4's initial attempts to entangle their opponent's leg. This one, however, was aimed higher: roughly at chest level, meant to strike him hard in the ribs with the weight at the end of the chain, bringing his rant to a premature end.

Tekla #3 diverged the most, reacting strongly to Catskull's change of armaments. She made no attempt to rush him, but struck before #1 on account of her opponent's own forward movement. Rather than lunge, she swung her right arm gently forwards, a movement too slow to be an attack in and of itself. Then her grip loosened, and she snapped out with a crisp, powerful kick from her right leg. She was much too far away for this to hit Catskull, but he wasn't the intended target- rather, she kicked the dangling weight on the end of her chain, shooting it straight towards Catskull's head, aiming to smack him with a concussive blow before he could bring his shield up.

[User]
Pollen

Catskull #2 maintained his steady forwards pace, closing in foot by foot. As the chain came down, he weaved to the left with a grimace of effort, almost stumbling and losing a pace. He wasn't used to having to fight opponents on par with his speed, but...

He was a fast learner.
This variation of Tekla seemed more virile, and he figured that it wouldn't be much longer before she totally branched away from what the original was doing. He knew by now that she was at the peak of human ability, but she knew not the same for Catskull. The Maclungs were typically known for dark magic, dark hearts, and foolish deaths. Catskull himself made sure that his original didn't get his hands dirty in public, allowing his alternate selves to cleave opponents apart so that it appeared as if he had some kind of remote sorcery. As most fit men would still be about a half dozen meters per second slower than him, he figured he had a good chance of taking her by surprise. As the chain came swinging down, he abruptly let loose and darted to the left and past it with expert timing, like a running back avoiding a tackle. He broke into a full on sprint, boots pummeling out wild rhythm as he whizzed towards her much faster than she'd have probably liked. She might not even have time to fully recover her chain for another go-round, unless she turned full around and sprinted away from him to maintain that distance. He'd slow once he was within two meters of her arm reach, that he not overshoot the mark or be taken by surprise should she suddenly stop or reverse in an attempt to catch him off-guard.

Catskull #3 progressed quickly, eyes smoldering with purpose. As the weight was booted at his face, he dipped to the right like a boxer slipping a punch. It soared past his head, and as it did so he aligned his rapier perpendicular to the chain, running the blade along it like a dullard's xylophone as he sought to cross half the distance at a dash. He was using the weapon to judge how quickly she was withdrawing her chain. Each Catskull was collecting information, sharing it, filling out their roles.

Filling out their roles so #1 could continue running his mouth. He had just touched upon the unique facets of inbreeding and how the abnormally strong women it cultivated were still peasants nonetheless, when she finally got in range and swung for his body. This was probably the last attack in the order given the lackadaisical pacing, and thus this Catskull was the best prepared. As the chain lashed out, he waited until the last moment and then took a large step back onto his left foot and leaned backwards, letting the weight flicker past his body. It was a bit closer than he'd have liked, damn thing almost hitting his sword. Next time he'd have to pay better attention, he mentally chided himself. She wasn't expecting him to know of her speed, or the precise length of her reach, but even then he had accounted for the monstrous reflexes he supposed she had, such being the reason for how tight he'd timed his seemingly effortless evasion.

"Hmph. Peasant! Lick these boots of mine, and mayhaps thy death shant be the final rectification for thine insolence."

[Assistant]
There! Tekla #2 spied an opening as Catskull dodged to her right. He hadn't been entirely ready for her attack, and while it wasn't enough to make him lose his balance, it was a sign that he was cracking. Her retreat was slightly slower than his advance, putting them at a little less than her maximum range, and that would close more if she wasn't careful. She needed to hit him now, before he could recover his focus.

She guided her weapon even as it swung down where Catskull had been, controlling its descent. When the falling weight bounced violently off the road, she immediately flicked the chain rightwards, so that the rebound swung towards her opponent's legs to entangle him. With the attack coming so soon after her previous one, and from a likely unexpected angle, she'd have a better shot at snagging him this time.

In an adjacent timeline, however, there was no opening.

Any good fighter could try and anticipate their enemy's moves, to some extent, but Catskull seemed to have predictive abilities Tekla #4 could only dream of. Could this be sorcery? Or was he just a prodigy? What little she'd heard about him suggested the former, but right now she didn't have time to ponder- he was closing too fast, her attacks barely slowing him down as he sprinted forwards.

The sight filled her with a mixture of excitement and fear, and she let it show. Her eyes narrowed, worry flickering across her features, and her right hand fumbled and dropped the chain before she could fully draw it in.

He predicted correctly: she did try and take him by surprise as he came within two meters of her arm's reach. Her retreat suddenly stopped, her back leg bent and her right arm hanging low near her side while her left hand swung upwards, throwing the weight she'd held and a few loops of chain at his head. Abandoning her weapon entirely, in a wild act of desperation.

Emphasis on 'act.'

Tekla #3 frowned at Catskull's strange use of the rapier and started retreating - but more slowly than the others had, letting him come closer without quite giving him full control over their distance. Rather than immediately striking again with her chain, she began to loop it loosely around her left arm. For some reason this one had changed tactics, though what her plan might be now remained to be seen.

Tekla #1, however, was feeling less patient. With her first strike missing him just barely, she whipped her chain efficiently back and stepped forwards with her left foot. "Why do you even carry a sword-" She swung it overhead, slamming it down at him from above as she stepped forwards with her right. "-if you only fight with your tongue?"


[System]
Species: Human/Witchling
Age: 52
Description: Having let her hair grow out, her dark auburn locks are typically tied up in a braided bun, several pieces, refusing to be bound, frame her face, complementing an olive skin tone. A grey strand here and there, depicting age. Her eyes are something to behold; light green surrounded by a thin ring of gold. Freckles sprinkle lightly over a smooth face, nearly void of any wrinkles representative of a woman coming into her fifties. She stands at about 5'7" tall, a petite upper body sitting upon wider hips and thick thighs. Not overly muscular though her body is tone. When exposed, displayed on her back are a number of scars, some seeming a bit more prominent. A rather fresh one sits just above her right brow. She may have aged some from the last time any had seen her, but she certainly doesn't look as old as she is.

Personality: She is typically cold and brash, on the outside anyway. Her overconfident ways have often gotten her in a pinch, but not one that she couldn't ever find her way out of. She never takes the easy way out and has a soft spot for those who have been bullied. Having grown used to the luxuries coin can buy, she would prefer a more lavish lifestyle. Shiny things may distract her from time to time, but it is never to say she had an easy life.

Clothing: She typically wears light fabrics, leathers and cloths of darker shades. A large cowl normally covers most of her features. Dark brown leather boots extend up just past her knees, straps and buckles secure padding where would be needed. Plain cloth pants are held up by a thick black belt, lined with a few pouches and oddities.

Weapons: Through her training, she has become a jack of all trades. Though her favorite weapon is the battle axe strapped to her back. She has a dagger hidden within her boots and one saddled to her belt at her right hip. The dagger hanging from her belt is a curved blade, with a ruby embedded within the hilt.

Skills and Abilities: Part of the reason why the witches wanted to do away with her because she did not have the affinity for magic as they did. However her time in the Assassin's Keep allowed her to develop other skills and techniques:
Shadow Prison: Isabeau is able to shadow step to her foe for an attack. During this attack, her foe's movement speed is drastically reduced temporarily
Wild Blow: Isabeau is able to manipulate the shadows around her weapons, increasing the damage done by her attacks. The attack is usually used when attempting to sunder a shield.
Wildfire: Despite not having the understanding of the weave, as the witches did, Isabeau was bestowed with a gift from her mother. The gift of Wildfire. This gift takes an enormous amount of energy to control and wield. When called upon, the shadows immediately surrounding her will ignite and deadly flames will coat her axe, adding fire damage to her attacks. This generally leaves Isabeau quite drained afterwards

In her time away from civilization, she has learned to tap into the shadow realm. The more time she spent in the dark reflection of home, the less stable her footing became in each world. She would shift back and forth, sometimes without even meaning to.

Magic:N/A -see skills above

Backstory:
Rumors of long ago, tell a tale of a witch who fell in love with a prince from a far away land.

The prince had journeyed far in search of a magical herb that was said to cure a sickness plaguing his kingdom. He came upon a young woman living deep within the woods. Beautiful in every way imaginable, the Prince became enthralled with the young woman and insisted that she leave the woods and return with him to his castle. As tempting as the offer was, she could not leave her home. For she was a witch, just as her mother before her, and so on down the line. Their family and gifts had been banished from the kingdom long ago, and since, they had taken refuge in the forest, tending to the wilds and those who dwell within its sanctuary.

Disturbed by the story, the prince vowed that he would speak with his father to lift their exile if she would return with him as his bride. Gleefully, the young woman accepted. And with the prince as her guest, she spent her last few days in the woods saying her goodbyes and making arrangements for after she left.

Those last few nights blanketed by the stars, we're magical for her and the prince. Though as the story goes, it was the last shred of happiness for the young couple. Grandmother Amari, the high witch of their clan, had high expectations for the young witch. Plans, that did not include the Prince, that would've been especially ruined if the prince took her away to become a princess in the castle. Though a silver lining appeared that would help Amari's plans along. And so the high witch gathered her kin, and her plot for war went into action.

On the eve before the two lovers were to leave for the castle, Amari had one of the youngest within their clan travel to the cottage where the two were staying. She silently crept in, cloaked within the shadows and darkness of the night. With one clean swipe of her blade, she sliced his throat open, and without anyone noticing, made her way back out. He bled out onto the bed next to his beloved, who never stirred, and never realized his death until the next morning.

It wasn't until many months later did they all realize the young witch was with child and when the news had traveled to the High Witch, it was ordered to discard the baby once it was born. The young witch with fire red hair and green eyes encircled with a gold ring would never know her daughter.

Isabeau continued to meet only betrayal and despair as she grew older unfortunately. Bred into a world of death and darkness, she was raised within the Keep of the Assassin's Guild and was honed into the land's deadliest weapon. She was taught to cast all emotions aside, especially that of love. They told her that love made people weak, love would hold her back, get her killed. And just as they had warned her, love had been her undoing and led her to flee.

~~*~~
Since her departure of Waeldeshore, much has happened . Her reasons for returning are her own, but she has vowed to make things right.

[User]
Tapping a thick finger upon the grip of the sword that laid across her lap, the old mercenary stirred none more, content to listen to all the activity that began with the others rousing; they weren't subtle, she noted that much. Her ears, as relaxed as they were in spite of the conversation, picked up each and every word shared - be them the two women at the table or the two men at the bar and of course the distinctive clatter of the knights. Albeit there was... something new, something that smelled not only different but sounded the part as well. She was privy to the scent the night before yet then it was mingled with the rest of the inn's - the smells of smoke, liquor, men and fire - but now? Now she had a figure to attach to it.

And one yelling, at that.

"I've still got some glue from my last job, I'll patch up the door after breakfast, for a friend."

Sakaala opened an eye at last and the blood icing glare she gave was a stark reminder she was as much a beast in the flesh as she certainly appeared to be; the good eye lingered on the man of brown and orange, whose garb was bound about him barring the thinnest portion that revealed his eyes. It moved as he did, tracking, watching as he crossed not more than a few feet away from what were the enormity of her feet, his hands busied with a wooden plate topped with eggs. It was then she chose to rise, having waited until he set about inspecting the door.

"That is one way to awaken someone." The fallen regal remarked, her great palm sheathing the sword across her back where it hung without a sheath.

Limp arm resting at her side, she looked him over for a long moment before turning her scarred, mottled face away to examine the dwarven innkeeper then the rest of her company as they were preparing for the morning. More patrons, those of the other rooms arriving now in part, she returned a glance to Tarden with the deadness of her blind eye. As polite as she was keeping to herself, she made it clear that shouting at break of dawn was not her ideal...

@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@The Fated Fallen@vietmyke@Zero Hex

[Assistant]
Ajax strolled through the establishment and sat at the bar, eyeing the foreigner draped head to toe in colorful cloth. Nothing against him, really, it just bothered Ajax a little bit when things he broke were put back together in his presence. Even when he specifically hadn't tried to render them completely unusable. It felt wrong, if for no other reason that he had become accustomed to his touch, so speak, being rather final. His life had quite literally depended on it for many, many years. As he waited for his meal he focused his attention on the little spat between the tiny psyker and the so-called assassin turned ally.

Acting as though Regina wasn't right there, he adressed Isabeau. Primarily because the issues he saw were on her end rather than the halfling's. "You know, children aren't my thing but you should try to enjoy yourself before heading off to die. Food, drink, good company, whatever else you want to do. Following a duty is fine but it should not be all there is to life".

[User]
Tarden looked up from his delicious eggs and rashers and saw the few eyes he had drawn from the mountain of muscle and some sort of spirit of nature. Apparently shouting in the morning wasn't the best idea, had they been drinking last night and now have a hangover? That would explain why someone would just break open a door.

Tarden subtly contemplated this strange nature spirit. Being so large, wouldn't she have trouble getting through doorways? She could only be described as hideous, though he had seen stranger people in his travels. He shook his head and finished his meal. Standing up, he headed up to his room and back down again with various mixtures and materials to fully mend the door, grabbing a flagon of mead on the way

[Assistant]
There was deep truth in what Tarden witnessed as the leonine figure was what could only be described as disfigured and hideous; obvious tales of battle that hadn't set well. It was remarkable to imagine just what could do such a thing to a monstrous being as her, but any veteran of strife would not need even dwell on the telltale scarification. They were distinctly the old wounds of blades past, men's blades at that, as they had not the keening of an elven sword or the crudeness of orc steel. Fitting was it however, seeing that monsters were often a thing to be vanquished. Whatever case the beastly mercenary's was, she wore it on her sleeve.

And wear it she did as she kept her eyes upon the bound man as he departed for a few moments, turning her attention now to the barkeep, her looming figure neared the wooden counter and tapped a deathly claw upon its surface. She knew she had his awareness before, but the mithral armored woman wished to inform him she had need of something. For now, she feigned disinterest in the exchange between the three at the table of their former enemy, instead looking in the time she waited to the knight who conducted himself with all the dignity he had before. In his own way, Hepburnberg impressed her as he sat, buttering another side of his bread while remaining quiet and to himself - just as he had been earlier on this day.

She watched this for but a moment, before acknowledging the dwarven man as he was undoubtedly aware of her presence now.

"Do you have boiling water, tavernkeep?" Sakaala said, her mighty tone far softer and less forceful than the night before.

The powerful upper half of her relaxed as she exhaled, muzzle flaring ever so subtly when she finished her words. She strove, in part now because the environment was less tense, to avoid making herself any more a menace than she already was. She did not need to emphasize the point she was as seasoned and as serious as she looked - their imagination would do the rest, surely after the brief and silent exchange she had with the cloth-bound man who returned from the upstairs. His hand wrapped about the worn metal of a flagon of mead, but he never ceased moving, proving to pass her by on the way to the door.

@Belwicket@IcePezz@Jon Y@The Fated Fallen@vietmyke@Zero Hex

[User]
Regina frowned as she looked at Ajax. "Are you calling me a child?" she asked angrily. Standing, she glared at him, ready to pull out her daggers. She wanted to, but knew that she couldn't beat the man. "I am no child, brute. I am a Halfling. Get it right." Reaching in her pack, she pulled out another strip of jerky, chewing at it angrily as she waited for the barkeep's answer about a dartboard.

She glanced at Sakaala as she approached the bar, calming herself as she imagined what she looked like under her- Goddammit! I have got to stop that! It's way past time for me to be more mature and not focus on getting all the pretty girls naked with me! She sighed and shook her head, looking up at Sakaala's eye. She was curious about the tale of how she lost the one eye but figured Sakaala would share that if she were comfortable. She didn't know if she should ask as how everyone - well, everyone except Ionathan - seemed to be in a bad mood.

She took another glance at Isabeau with a sad sigh and a frown. Her thoughts wandered to her bardic lover from the east and she almost missed the barkeep's response to her question. Looking at him as he spoke, she gave a nod and hopped off the stool.

[Assistant]
The barkeep emerged with several heaping plates of food. For a hole in the wall place, and the sub par supper they had the evening before, breakfast was the kings meal. Fresh eggs, bacon, potatoes, everything looked and smelled amazing. And it would perhaps be the most delicious meal they would have before their venture.

Jarkson placed a plate infront of Ajax, and one in front of Isabeau, then sat a few others at the side of the bar. "Come and get it", he yelled over to any others who might have been interested. He nodded to Regina, acknowledging her question "There be a target linin' the back wall dearie."

The large man then turned his attention to Sakaala and the query she posed. "Aye missy, ye looking fer tea?"

Isabeau glanced at Regina as she retorted against the massive man's remark. Not wanting to stir the pot any further, she simply said "It might be smart to keep your nose out of this one. Making accusations isn't really the way to someone's good side." The wry smile to which accompanied her comment melted as her eyes fixed upon the plate of food sat out for her. "I have as much fun as the next person, and I can certainly tell you that I will enjoy this plate of food very much." a slight nod to Jarkson in appreciation before she dug into her meal.


[System]
Nickname: The Young Wolf or simply Wolf

Age: 16

School Year: First

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Hunter has a lean build, with multiple scars and hardened muscle. He has oak colored skin and black braided hair. He is at average height for his age. His face is that shows wisdom beyond his years, with a broad and sharp nose and light brown eyes. The picture above shows his field attire, each piece of clothing made from an animal he has killed. It also represents his tribe and bloodline.

Nationality: United States of America, True Shoshone Tribe.

Personality: Hunter is a proud individual, being raised in the most honorable family of the true Shoshone tribe. He will never back down from a confrontation, especially if it involves his family or friends. He has a respectful attitude towards killing and death in general, wishing a blessing upon all departed souls, Human or Animal, Good or Evil. He is protective but rash, his mentality being "Shoot first, ask questions later." He is loving but merciless towards his targets or those who have angered him. He loves nature and the outdoors, there isn't much he doesn't know about everything outside. Though he tries to be respectful of all humans, he does have a prejudice against the white race, constantly remembering his grandfather's stories of the abundance and pride of the Shoshone before the white expansion.

Hunter was chosen to serve as the guardian of the tribe, protecting it from dangers and hunting down those who would harm it. As being so he is disciplined in his fighting style, having been trained by the current guardian as his mentor. When he strikes, he strikes true. If he is ordered to kill someone by a respected authority, he will carry out the order without worry, without question, without hesitation. It is debatable whether that is a good trait or a bad one.

Bio: Hunter was born as the only son into the White-Fang family of The Shoshone Tribe, the chosen guardian family until the selected guardian dies or retires. From the moment he was born he was trained with a sense of duty, loyalty, and discipline. He learned how to meld into the forest and be no different than a pebble on the ground or an ancient oak. He was taught his tribe's history and values. He was taught how to use the bow and the war club in direct combat and as a phantom. He was being molded into a human weapon.

Relationships were never Hunter's strong point. His parents were only allowed to see him occasionally and he wasn't allowed to see any of his peers. His best friend was his mentor, the current guardian, who was only known to his as 'Al'. Al taught him everything he knew and was proud to call Hunter his successor. They did virtually everything together, so Al was the father figure Hunter never had. The last length of his training with the Shoshone was to be accepted into a mysterious academy of assassins to begin his new training. It was a challenge but Hunter had succeeded. The last time he would see Al was to convince him to retire or to fight him to the death.

Weapon: Shoshone War Club

 About 3 1/2 feet long with a sphere the size of a baseball, wielded in expert hands, this is a deadly and effective weapon.

 A bow and arrow set crafted by Hunter himself from the bones and horns of a bighorn sheep and decorated in classic Shoshone colors, this weapon is extremely effective at medium to long range combat, direct or otherwise.

Equipment:

Incredibly useful and versatile tool, rope can do anything from tie things together to serving as a zip line to another location. Usually kept in a coil on belt.

A small knife made from various animal parts, this blade is mostly used for practical reasons, though it can be used for self-defense in a pinch.

[Might add more to Equipment]

Skills: Master Tracker- Years of living in the wilderness has turned Hunter into an extremely skilled tracker.
 Outdoorsman- No one feel more at home outside than Hunter does. He knows everything there is to know about the countryside.
 Skilled Hunter- Most of Hunter's prey doesn't know he's there until it's tool late.
 One with nature- Hunter knows every advantage of cover in the wilderness, if he disappears into the wild, good luck finding him.
Abilities: N/A
Other: N/A

[User]
In the halls something lurked, someone was there as the vents began to rumble about, someone waited at the dorms ready to stop anyone and everyone if needed, it was a girl she was considerably tall and junoesque in appearance, when she heard a commotion down the hall it was Mairead.

She was down the hall and around the corner, she heard the commotion that he made and broke off into a sprint, as she ran down the hall heading towards the assassin, she ran by a fire extinguisher and instantly grabbed it from it's case.

The second she rounded the corner and got a glimpse of Mairead and Hunter, she held the extinguisher in one hand and threw it down the hall like it was a football and the metal tool soared like one, Izumi aimed for her back not trying to kill the assassin on her first day of school, and not trying to disobey Saya's orders to her.

She never went to the opening ceremony and just waited in the halls ready for everything to happen and setting a trap for the first years knowing that they would try to escape through the vents or by breaking down the doors, she was midly surprised that someone went into the vents first besides breaking the doors down.

-------

Sayaka glanced at the ocd girl and the brooding girl as they approached her to ask of something, Rei the brooding one, asked if her lighter was strong enough to burn through metal because of it's blue flame." It's more than strong enough to burn through the door, but it's not something I would use on the door, I don't want to waste it's fuel." When Rei threatened to kill her Sayaka glared at her.

" You won't get far threatening others." Sayaka told them sounding a little mad that she outright threatened her for no reason." But I'll still help you." Sayaka spoke told Rei. The bandaged girl put sliver lighter in between her bandages then rolled up her sleeves revealing her flame throwers mounted to her wrist she walked over to the doors slowly hoping the count down would go off before she could reach the door.

She put one of her wrist up to the door knobs and blasted it with fire the metal quickly melted before the time could count down, and around her bandaged feet was melted pieces of metal that would melt the soles to anyone's shoes, when she was finished she pushed the door open, but didn't leave, she was really focused on what the count down would lead to.

[Assistant]
Out of the frying pan and into the fire it seemed. Up above the whirring sound accompanied by the panicked shouts of students was enough tot tell that something was going wrong. At the very least he was out of it, but he still said a silent prayer for the safety of the others. If the director really was willing to off some of them, then that only made the ones alive even more valuable.

Speaking of, the chiming voice of another echoed down the hall. Mashuka turned around to see the kendo-wielding girl approach, wearing a grin that left him feeling like he wasn't supposed to share her glee. Sure enough she made it quite clear that she was not looking for the dorms, nor a roommate. Perhaps this was more in-line with what he expected at the academy, but he had certainly not expected it on day one, in the hallway leading to the dorms.

"Well, guess this is better a bomb," he said, offering a nervous smile. "After you then."

He left the knife back in its sheath, there'd be no reason to draw blood. Attempting to kill fellow students and staff didn't strike him as a very good way to introduce himself to the school, so if the encounter gained him a few bruises he'd at least be happy all parties had lived. Instead he stepped into a ready stance as he'd been taught to do, open palms held before him.

The girl looked strong, and he figured she knew how to handle the wooden blade well. If he was lucky he could disarm her, but something told him he'd spend most of the encounter on the defensive. He could practically feel the ache in his arms already, it was going to be a long afternoon.

[User]
Katie watched with quite a bit of confusion. So many students were continuing to panic for some strange reason. She was unsure what was so important about getting down-stairs to pick a dorm. Weren't those usually done by not running in a manic spree? She shook her head as she kept a good grip on her pom poms. It seemed odd. And Katie was wracking through her mind to come up with another answer.

However another girl yelled out to her. She spoke of a bomb? Katie tilted her head as she stared at the screen which held the supposed timer to the rumored bomb. Now why would a school openly have a bomb and make the students panic like this? This made no sense, until she had an epiphany. "OH!" She eagerly declared, basking in the newfound revelation. "It's a bomb-drill, like the earthquake drills in school!"

She once again tilted her head, and raised an eyebrow in a quizzical expression. Katie mumbled to herself."But isn't the standard procedure for bombs to wait until the bomb-squad arrives? ...Oh jeez, the others must not be doing so well in this drill then!" Katie peered forwards as she frantically waved her pom poms towards Rei, "Wait up!" And so, Katie proceeded to merrily follow the way that Rei was going.

[Assistant]
Mairead raised her eyebrow at the hooded boy and crossed her arms with a smirk when she saw his arrow. She looked him over and quickly did a few calculations with his height and weight to make sure she could beat him if it came to that. She chuckled once at his demand and put a palm up.

"Friend or foe? There's a hard question ta answer in this school. Most of the time, we jus' start with names. Her eyes grew hard, like petrified wood, and her voice got a little colder "They call me the Rose's Thorn. Ye must be a firs' year, am I right?"

Mairead's ears pricked up at a whooshing sound behind her and in an instant she pivoted out of the way and pulled out her concealed daggers, the fire extinguisher barely scraping her left arm. She laughed when she saw Izumi and got into a offensive stance.

"Looks like the ol' Head Director's got another one on me. Hey, Izumi, ya remember last year?" A devious smile crossed Mairead's face and she rushed at Izumi with her Celtic daggers raised and an almost imperceptible glow coming from her right hand.

[User] They called her The Rose's Thorn apparently, no doubt due to her ability with plants. He was about to respond when a fire extinguisher came out of nowhere, flying past Thorn girl and straight at Hunter. He leapt to the side, the extinguisher barreling past him. Now he was behind a column, watching two girls fight it out in the hall. A Dance of death. He thought she said something about The Head Director sending an assassin after her specifically, which must mean she was particularly skilled. He pondered whether he should slink away or jump into the fight. No, he decided he would observe the outcome, no use getting bloody until absolutely necessary. He was secretly rooting for the redhead anyway.


[System]
Type: Imperial Fleet
Faction/Unit: Galactic Empire
Synopsis of Role: 12th Fleet, also known as the Imperial Uslam Fleet. Originally just the ISD Warspite, Venator Absolution coupled with two light cruisers, it also gained the addition of the Victory Star Destroyers Punisherand Vengeance, two more Imperial Star Destroyers Vronskr and Valiant as well as four more light cruisers after the revolt on Uslam entered full swing, and the interference of the Rebel Alliance was predicted.

[User]
Corte I
Grolsk Reserve

---

Corte ejected the A280's power cell and inserted another, back pressed up against the sandbags. At least, against what little of them remained.

Her position had been eviscerated in the initial exchange, crimson bolts tearing through the meagre fortifications she and her squad had prepared. The roof they'd put up for their makeshift shelter was gone, and the occasional flake of snow fell on the open foxhole. Bodies littered the floor of the shelter. Only she and Vash were still on their feet. A third soldier, a young human male whose name Corte couldn't recall, laid on the floor, tying his leg with a tourniquet.

The Falleen peered through one of the portholes they'd dug out, face strained and dark hair matted with blood. "No visual," Vash said, lowering his carbine. Corte nodded.

"Sergeant Glaato, do you copy?" she asked, raising her wristcomm to her mouth. No response. The silence was tense. "Sergeant, come in."

"Lieutenant Adala," a rough voice responded over the sound of blasterfire, "this is Glaato."

"Report, now," she ordered.

"We're under fire. Two wounded," the Nikto replied. "Do we have orders?"

"We're following standing orders, Sergeant, hold your position," Corte answered. "I'm bringing my squad to you. Adala out."

"We're moving?" Vash asked.

"Can't stay here," Corte answered, gesturing to the squad's devastated defenses. "If we take another engagement like that we're all dead." She moved to the fallen soldier and offered her hand. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet. "What's your name, Private?"

"Josko," he answered. "Jasko Bravic."

"Private Josko Bravic, can you walk?" Corte asked.

"I think so."

"You don't really have a choice," she said grimly. "Lean on me, we need to move now."

They made their way out of the shelter and into the open, forested field of the Grolsk Reserve. With Private Josko unable to walk easily unassisted, they moved slowly. Vash took point as they moved from tree to tree, keeping as low as they could and moving as quickly as they could while in the open. Glaato's position was a kilometer or so from theirs, and they could hear the blasterfire in the distance. And then, very suddenly, it was much closer.

Violent red-orange light was joined by the crisp smell of ozone as blaster bolts flew. Josko screamed as a bolt caught him in the side. The three rebels went to ground behind a wide tree as they took fire. Corte laid Josko against the tree as Vash returned fire. The private was unresponsive. She checked his pulse, and found it perilously weak.

Cursing, she joined Vash in defending the position. The Falleen did not shoot wildly. With a blaster in hand, Vash was a predator. Each squeeze of the trigger was well-chosen, precisely timed, lethal. Corte, stock to shoulder, peered around the other side of the tree. A squad of snowtroopers, now less a few soldiers, were scrambling for cover, replying with wildly inaccurate fire in their haste.

She lined up her sights, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.

[Assistant]
First Shot - Phase Line Alpha, Grolsk Wilderness Reserve - 4:37 AM

---

As the sound of shots lingered in his ears among the newfound silence, Stojan made his move. He was in his trench, dug into the snow and connected to the First Section's, his headquarters's sections, shelter. Dug shallow but large enough for a crouching partisan to take cover in, it was inconspicuous, and seemingly that aspect had shown. The first phase line had gone off with relative success, an encroaching squad of stormtroopers eliminated by part of the 7th Uslam Liberators, the far off moans of the wounded all to remind of what losses they had taken.

The shots had come from their right, one of the other companies of the 7th. He'd known that it'd only be a matter of time before the Imperials shelled the whole grid square. And he didn't dare wait when the word was passed down the line that Phase Line Alpha was being abandoned. He snuck along his section's trench, clutching a DL-44 in his right hand, and a fusion lantern turned to the lowest output in his left. He came behind his second in command, a good friend, Lieutenant Milosevic, who sat staring idly at a manual clock by moonlight. Stojan spoke quickly but clearly, in a whisper-yell tone. "We're abandoning the phase line. Have the RTO inform the Colonel. And get a runner, I want all sections out of these trenches and to Phase Line Bravo in no more than ten minutes."

And suddenly, fire erupted far off, much further right than the last. Another engagement. Stojan took his leave from the Lieutenant, ducking into the section's shelter and stepping over bedrolls and cots strewn on the permafrost dirt, coming to his own paired with his rucksack. He expertly packed them all, slinging the rucksack with attached bedroll across his shoulder as other personnel around him did the same. As they all exited their shelter and dragged their bulky, snowsuit-clad bodies out of the trench, one of the Privates trailed behind, laying a detonator fuse into a wireless detonator. The mines that laid just under their trenches and on the roof of their shelter were armed.

They moved in columns by section through the pitch dark forest, ever wary of the far-off blaster fire as they trudged along, making idle corrections of direction with their compasses as they moved. The columns were dark, and silent, each section dragging their repulsorlift snow sleds behind them, with only the section leaders having their lanterns deployed, and not for light, only just to guide their sections.

First a pop as they trudged, thought as just a large branch cracking under the weight of trudging feet, but the ensuing flurry of red bolts proved otherwise, sailing over their heads. Repulsorlift sleds were deactivated and used as cover, the trees being cut and lit aflame for moments as falling snow snuffed the blazes. Fire from A280s and DH-17s answered, garbled encrypted speech from advancing stormtroopers putting pressure on the partisans.

Something needed to be done, and Stojan was mulling the thoughts as he was face down in the snow. He turned over, proclaiming in the native Uslam tongue. "Make a tactical withdrawal! I want the Second Section to lead, Fourth follows! First and Third, put out cover fire!" And he himself sprang to his knees, extending his DL-44 with one hand and aligning the sights.

[User]
Aboard the Warspite, approaching Uslam.

Moff Araunda Wyte stood aboard the bridge of her star destroyer, behind her stood Admiral Quint as she looked over a report. Scowling. She had been gone a standard month, and in that time Jasper had seen to execute the Prime Minister under Tarkins authorisation, the planet had since erupted into chaos as terrorists and rebels spread their disorder and plague across the face of her planet. Disgusting.

There would be some, choice words for him when she returned. First she had to deal with this meager fleet the Rebel Alliance had sent to take out the defenses she had in orbit. She had petitioned that only a personal Star Destroyer wasn't enough to protect her planet, at least now she had the resources she should have had months ago. As the Warspite dropped out of hyperspace she took a second to look at the sensor readings, in orbit was the Warspite being accompanied by the Absolution, a Gladiator Impervius and two light cruisers, coming from a different approach angle was the Imperial Star Destroyer Valiant and her escort in the way of a Victory Star Destroyer Vengeance an apt name, again with two light cruisers.

While the second approach being held by the ISD Vronksr and the VSD Punisher again supported by two light cruisers. The rebel force that they'd face was meager, so she didn't bother opening communication with them. They'd surrender, flee or die. Those were the only three options available to them. Her cruisers were even more powerful than those being used by the rebels.

She turned to an officer in one of the trenches. "Pass me through to Colonel Theat. Immediately." Araunda waited for the voice of the colonel to come through over her communicator. She could have moved to the holocommunicator easily, to see his face and let her see his. This wasn't part of the plan however, she had work to do as did he. They didn't need to see each other right now.

Jasper immediately responded "Ah, Moff Wyte. Welcome back, I apologize for the current situation we have found ourselves in. I assume based on the scanners you received my report?" Jasper crossed his arms as he awaited the reply of the Moff.

"Theat, I was at a function discussing the future of the Imperial Navy with some very influential figures from High Command and various shipyards and manufacturers when I heard the news that some outer rim mining world erupted in chaos. You can imagine my surprise that this world in question was my own, which I had left in the hands of my very capable second in command. Perhaps I should have requested someone of higher skill to command the garrisons of my homeworld?" The tone of her voice was calm, calculated. Very few choice words held emphasis to show that she meant business.

Jaspers eyes narrowed at her comment on his inept abilities, yet let a sly smile grow knowing she could do nothing, as he was merely following out the orders of their superior Grand Moff Tarkin. She even thought her discussions with imperial high command was important even though few if any of them knew what Tarkin had planned in the coming months. "Again, I apologize for the inconvenience. Yet as I stated in my report, after I had gotten word on your Prime Minister, I carried out the correct measures as stated by the Grand Moff himself. Clearly, the insurgents had been working with him and planning this uprising for awhile. Especially given the circumstances that there is a insurgent fleet overhead. Though, from my reports your fleet should be able to handle them." Jasper took a moment as he read over a few reports he just received. "It appears, the insurgents are slowly pulling back to more secure areas. But being spread so thin, I will have to await your reinforcements and orders to act upon these reports." Jasper finished, responding in a calm and collected way. Yet not to be perceived as arrogant or annoyed with the conversation as afterall in his mind, the fault laid with her for installing such ministers.

"The accusation is noted, however I should point out that Prime Ministers are one of the inadequacies laid down by the antiquated systems left behind as remnants of the Old Republic, and by the Imperial Senate. Rest assured, I have it on good authority that the Emperor may be considering bringing an end to the Imperial Senate. Until that day however, sadly we must conform to the bureaucracy that tore the galaxy apart." She sighed. "From my scans this fleet is the same band of miscreants who have been plaguing the sector for months on end, I expect him attack and run before a major engagement occurs." Araunda turned to the Admiral.

"Prepare all ground forces for deployment, launch fighters. Get the ground forces to their ships, have the freighters approach the planet and deploy walkers." In hyperspace, far away from the rebel fleet a group of five Imperial Freighters dropped out of hyperspace, one carried AT-ATs two AT-DPs and the other two AT-STs. Not a tremendous amount of firepower between them, but enough to reinforce the Imperial Garrison.

She picked up her communicator. "I'm sending forces down to you now Theat, secure the area around the garrison and hold the line. Don't advance further than you already have, mark targets. Send all updated mining charts to my ship immediately."

Jasper nodded "It will be done, Moff Wyte. Sending you our information on all the mining channels now and the area is already secured.As for targets, it seems most pockets of resistance lay in the urban centers such as the capital of Lorya. I'd suggest orbital bombardment but we can't lay waste to our own center of command. Should I also organize an arrival for you?"

"We shall retake Lorya by any means necessary. If it comes to making an example of the Rebels so be it, however the richest mines are below Lorya. Bombarding it is not the ideal situation. I will however make an example of these rebels however, most importantly I need information of where the resistance currently is. Trudging through forest terrain is not terribly ideal, we're going to make the terrain more… favourable to our forces. Prepare for my arrival, I shall be down shortly." With that the line was cut without so much as another word.

She looked out at the space before her, her world. She'd take it back, for the glory of the Empire. She moved back to the holocommunicator. "Display me to the enemy commandship." She stood before the projector, whether or not her foe would transmit their own likeness back was up to them. She however was open to display herself before her adversary. "This is Moff Wyte. I advise you stand down and surrender now, fighting only prolongs the inevitable, this is your first and final warning."