[System]
"Please allow me to strike you down."

 ✠ G R A D O N G I L T W I T H ✠

Height: 170 cm ⛨ Weight: 77 kg ⛨ Age: 19 Years
A G E

19 Years

A P P E A R A N C E

— "Isn't it wonderful the Empire allows customized uniforms!"

Gradon takes pride in his standard outfit, which he feels is the most effective in both combat and leisure. Of course, there are times when the sun beats down and it does get stuffy wearing that coat everywhere. When that happens, he just tries to smile and sweat it out. It's had mixed results so far.

S U M M A R Y

— "What's a….Kirito?"

Gradon's history is nothing too spectacular. Simply put, he wanted to be a hunter who slayed monsters and protect people. Though he tended to lean more towards traditional knight mannerisms and customs, it did not deter his want to help people and thus began this career as a student of Cadenza Imperial Military Academy.

Beforehand, his family told him constantly that one must hone their body at all costs to become a strong warrior of the Empire. Gradon took this literally, eager to train his fighting skills day and night to the point where he could be considered a prodigy in the field of combat. Unfortunately, this has made his social skills suffer tremendously to the point where the simplest of things can stump Gradon if it's not connected to fighting in some way. Like trying to open a door.

Because of his appearance and efficiency in fighting, he's been given the nickname of "Not-Kirito". It's a shame he doesn't really know what that means nor does he fully understand the reference all too well, but he's more than happy to learn. As an eager student, he's always tried to be open-minded of many things and become an overall nice guy. Often however this kindness dips into nativity and just lack of common sense. But such is the life of a student.

V E S S E L

— "This is the Legacy of the Empire."

Gradon's Vessel is named Round Table, taking the shape of a dark purple bracelet located on his right wrist. The bracelet itself is intricately designed to look like a snake consuming its own tail; the universal sign of Ouroboros. When in its active state, Round Table takes the form of a single-edged greatsword.

A B I L I T I E S

— "Thank you for allowing me to attack."

⛨ Rebuttal:  By successfully parrying or blocking an oncoming attack, Round Table can then inflict the same amount of damage or force right back at the enemy almost instantly. However, this ability can only work when defending against physical close-combat attacks, such as sword strikes. If one were to carelessly slash at a defensive Gradon, a cut of similar proportion would immediately present itself on the enemy. Unfortunately, this unique power reverts Gradon's fighting style to retain more defensive capabilities than offensive ones, forcing him to rely solely on counterattacks to fully utilize it.

E Q U I P M E N T

— "Better safe than sorry."

Aside from Round Table, Gradon likes to always carry around his coat. He was warned from an early age about the disasters a proper cold could bring about to the human body and that doctrine has stuck with for all nineteen years of his life. Unless he's forced to wash the thing, it's not likely he'll give the coat up.

✠ T H E M E ✠

[User]
Esther von Degraff

---

When the scream entered Esther's ears, the girl's face turned pale. No, pale would be an understatement, as she had never heard something that horrifying in her entire life.

"W-w-w-what was that?" she said to herself.

Quickly, she finished her bath. Something terrible had happened, she was sure of it. She must quickly regroup with the others.

She ran as fast as she could to the tent, utilizing her vessel to enhance her speed. In no time at all she was there in front of Gradon, panting as she was quite exhausted from the trip.

"W-what was... that scream..." she asked him. If anyone knew, it should be either him or the princess since they two were their leaders.

[Assistant]
Zarin Malthain
Location: Ruin Prison

---

As he watched Egwene and Foley both summon their vessels, Zarin quickly looked down to see his dog tags hanging around his neck. Huh. He must have missed them walking in and out of the cells. Oh well! He had his vessel and really that's all that mattered.

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, Zarin grabbed his dog tags and yanked them off. Instantly they changed into a chain whip perfectly coiled in his hand. "Much better. Now then, how about we go kick some-" Before he could finish, Egwene charged straight passed him screaming about tearing this place down bit by bit. Zarin stood there for a second in slight shock before slowly turning to Foley and saying with a smile "I like this girl! WAIT FOR US!"

Exiting the prison in a full sprint, Zarin didn't hesitate to attack the first soldier he saw. Swinging his whip he wrapped the chain around the target soldier's neck and gave it a good tug. A satisfying snap could be heard as the bone was split and the soldier fell lifeless to the ground.

It was about the only surprise attack he would get before their position was compromised and every remaining soldier descended on their position.Zarin took down two or three more soldiers in the ensuing skirmish before the enemy leader spoke up. Zarin intended to mock the man's threats, but was instead stunned and forced to a knee by the scream that followed. "What the hell was that?" He muttered angrily pushing himself to his feet and looking around for the source.

Once his eyes gazed up at the monster in front of him, he was overcome with a mixture of fear and excitement. He had never faced something of this size before, and the way it effortlessly dispatched its former squadmates was truly something to behold. Nevertheless, Zarin was not about to turn and run like the remaining soldiers, especially now as the beast chased his friend.

"HEY UGLY!" Zarin yelled igniting his whip and spinning it forming a circle of fire. "EAT THIS!" With a solid crack of the weapon he launched a fireball straight at the head of the monster hoping to draw it away from Morgan.

[User]
Crispin Clean

Wet hacking sounds continues to sound out, the snow white suit now stained a deep crimson. Stomping his way on top of the Roc's corpse, Clean jammed his rapier between the avian vertebrae and twisted. A rough tearing and a cathartic crunching snap as the spine of the dead bird was brutally severed.

"I have a new least favourite creature." blade looking more red than normal, Clean whipped the rapier in an arc a thin red crescent as the blood was flung from the blade. Looking up he saw the group was more scattered than normal when after a battle. New objective, new goal. Scanning the area Clean was about to look for someone when the mind rending screech shredded through the air, feeling the reverberations in his chest. Noting the direction Clean ignored stealth in favor of speed, making haste to the location. Bursting onto the scene Clean skidded to a halt covering his mouth in disgust to the point where he didn't even notice he left a bloody hand print over his mouth.

"I didn't expect my least favourite creature to be one upped so soon." Disgusting, black like tar, looking heavy and dense. The sheer nature of the beast ignited a flame of rage within him. This monster was a blight on the world and needed to be eviscerated... annihilated.

Bipedal creature, top heavy with broad shoulders. Seemingly based on a gorilla in basic structure? Rear legs resemble a canine, so more like a lycanthrope than a gorilla. Expect high agility and wide range with the claws. Arm length is significant are sharp. Use a simple strategy until more information about the thing is learnt, hamstring to limit movement and keep out of range of the claws by either staying outside the attack range or so close no significant power can be put behind the blows. Other's aren't fellow cadets. They're a secondary priority to ridding the world of this filth. With the game plan in mind Clean circled around to the left of the beast and lunged for the hamstring, blade leading the way, not even sure if the pitch black mass contorted in a facsimile of life conformed to natural biology, but if he didn't even try then there would be no way for him to know.

[Assistant]
Egwene
Egwene's temper has soothened down after hacking down the guards one after another. Just when she was about to feel satisfied after returning the favour of capturing her without permission, the one guy who seemed to be a leader has summoned a wild beast who attacks Morgan. And judging the people it targets, it doesn't look so obeidient.

"Oh, I almost forgot, you're wounded right?" Egwene turned back to Foley, sheathing her sword. Now more capable of thinking rationally, She let the beast to be occupied with Zarin for the moment, and spoke to Foley gently. "I'm healing you, so close your eyes and don't dodge, or I will kill you~"

"YAY--" Egwene made one menacing draw of her sword, her Healing Blade as if let loose and screaming in excitement, as she sends a diagonal slash across Foley's torso. The way she swings the sword, and the sound effect of it, makes it look like she is more into killing him than healing.

[User]
---

When Leblanc looked so hostile at Regina, she was admittedly confused at first as she spoke very quietly when she did so. However, as more information came Regina realized that with the way she acted was as if an animal with a higher sense of hearing was alerted. After realizing this fact, the only face that the snake-woman would get would be a knowing smile. Regina thought about teasing her more, but did not want to push her luck. After all, she was confident in her abilities and the fact that they were far enough away from the patrols that there was no threat. However, the smile quickly dissipated as Regina became more serious and listened to the rest of what Leblanc said. "I'll take care of the sniper and their team." would be all that Regina would say before she went to do just that. She noted the RV point that Leblanc would have given her and moved toward the sniper's building, hidden from view though one could note if they observed her that she was skilled in the ways of stealth.

And take care of the sniper team she did. Though she had to wait for a few opportunities to take them down silently one at a time, she managed to eliminate the entire team. Four dead bodies lay in the building as Regina proceeded to the bigger building in the middle of the town: the place for the agreed RV point. It was then that she heard that awful scream. A scream that vibrated through her entire body and panicked the patrols that were left. Regina could barely cover her ears, with them now ringing due to the sound, but she knew where the scream came from. Ensuring that her rifle was ready, Regina already felt her feet running toward the building using her shoulder as a way to dampen the sound.

Arriving at the building, she soon realized that the situation was much more dire: a monster spawn was about and there were captive cadets. It was obvious from their uniforms, though Regina was very sure that when the cadets saw her she looked nothing like them with her camouflage Irregular militia uniform and camouflage cloak. One of the cadets was down, and the monster was just about to pounce on him. Regina once again made a snap decision just before Clean attacked to aim for the monster's knees and squeeze the trigger. The magic round hit it's target, but what was most important was that the thing was not aware of Regina. An explosion at the monster's bend of the right knee was proof of the deed. Whatever it was, it now knew she was there.

Of course, Regina was scared but she never let that fear get the best of her. The Roks were a reminder to not allow her fear to control her. Something her father taught her a long time ago. That monster was nothing compared to what the Irregulars faced on a daily basis, she just had to remember that! Still, fighting this thing directly would certainly mean death, especially in any confined areas. Calmly, she shouted to the now-freed cadets "Friendly, Imperial! Get your comrades and regroup with our snake-themed cadet! She will give your new orders!" Regina now prepared to fire again, hoping to cover them. She wondered what Szeren, Natus, and Leblanc were up to....

[Assistant]
Well. This is new.

As Morgan evaded the strike of the shadow-like monster currently trying to kill him, his thought strayed elsewhere. Whatever the creature was, it was capable of injuring him in his Ethereal form, something only vessels were capable of doing prior to this.

It's rather fast for its size. The regeneration's odd too, I doubt any natural being could be capable of self-healing at such a rate.

Stepping back, He reverted Arcanus to its standard form and ran for the ruined church.

Well, even if something like this has shown up, it should act as a decent gift for those guys who kidnapped us.

[User]
✠ G R A D O N G I L T W I T H ✠

⛨ Current Location: Village Ruins ⛨

"I like to think they're just lost soldiers trying to find their way in the ruins. Or maybe they're on a mission just like us," Gradon said in response to Tzi. He found a nice tree beside where his tent used to be before leaning against the hardened bark with crossed arms. "Of course, that's probably just wishful thinking. If word got out that the Princess is traveling with us…then she's probably their priority," he offered with a smile. He was confident in their own secrecy to where that wouldn't have been the case.

The cadets would have some lingering time to themselves before something truly horrendous would snap them out of their lulling states. A sound that pierced the winds and seemed to resonate from deep within the ruins. And yet it echoed with such hate and ferocity that it was enough to make Viola near jump out of her skin in terror. Gradon widened his own eyes and stared in the direction of the scout team's trail. Just what the hell was going on there?

"Princess Ires!" Gradon said when their leader seemingly passed out under mysterious circumstances. Was it the strain of that roar or something more? Whatever it was, Viola was thankfully by her side in seconds, lifting the unconscious girl up armor and all while looking to him for answers. "That doesn't sound like a human enemy. We need to move out and help our comrades out as fast as we can," he said, already looking for the rest around their camp.

"Tzi, Esther, rally up!" Gradon said, glaring slightly as he saw Clean dash without order to go and assist. While he had the right idea, blindly charging into the fray was licensed to get them all killed. "Everyone move out. We're heading to the ruins. Viola, stay in the back and keep the Princess out of danger," he said, already leading the way with a sprint.


[System]
Age: 27

Nationality: American of English-Romanian descent.

Profession: Blacksmith's/ Gunsmith's "Assistant"

Apperance/Clothing:
Grace stands at 5'7 with a thin and toned frame. Her skin is lightly tanned with several small scars scattered across her arms where she has accidentally been burned or even cut herself during work. She has light brown eyes.
Usual work outfit consists of a simple mid-length sleeved blouse, a pair of trousers, and a pair of brown leather boots. She dresses this way to avoid incidents when she is working.

Combat Skills: Knife, decent markswoman, explosives, quick on her feet in close combat.

General Skills: Weapon repair, Weapon construction, explosive/gunpowder knowledge (She can make her own TNT and other explosives.) , Horseback riding, Cooking, Negotiations, and swimming.

Languages: English and Romanian.

Weapons: Smith and Wesson model 3, an altered Colt Single Action revolver, and a personally crafted double edge dagger.

Possessions:  Clothing, small tool kit for repairing/constructing weapons including explosives, rounds, gunpowder, Belt with holsters for her weapons, whatever money she made from working, and a black American Quarter Horse.

Personality: Strong willed, loyal to a fault, quick learner, confident, cunning, and fiery in spirit and in temper.

History:  Grace Baur was born to Vivian and Luther Baur, a Romanian immigrant who spoke little English and a smithy born in the United States. They lived a humble life in Brogden , her father owning a blacksmith and gunsmith store in town. She was four when the Civil war broke out and with it her father was recruited into the army, separating the man from his only daughter and wife for four years. Her mother died of TB when she was ten, leaving her father on his own to raise his little girl.

With no womanly influence Grace was practically raised like a boy. Her father taught her his trade, took her hunting with him, taught her how to fight. Sure, it wasn't usual but Mr. Baur wanted his daughter to be able to take over the family trade when he retired and making sure she could fend for herself was one of his top priorities. Her grandmother, who hardly visited, disapproved and when she was around she made sure to teach Grace etiquette and more feminine hobbies. Grace was more fascinated with weapons though, working alongside her father when he finally let her. She goes by assistant to keep her aging grandmother happy but she does the same work her father does.

[User]
Angpetu sighed as she searched around with Cryus in the back room, checking out things. Kneeling down she touched the dried blood and then smelled it carefully. Pulling back she grimaced. "No, he was dead," she said flatly as she rose back up and looked at the foot steps in the dust. "Still is in a way," she added as she slowly followed the trailed out of the room and towards the back door of the Sheriffs office. She knew what she just said would probably be met with disbelief and such but she didn't care. She had been dealing with the Kindred, a term for the undead, for the majority of her life at this point and had seen too many things not to know that people could still walk far after death if the circumstances were right.

 Turning around she looked back over towards Cyrus and sighed as she rubbed her temples. She needed a new team but this was not how she wanted to go about it. Sadly she didn't have much choice in the matter right now. The undead were tricky to kill. "Sorry but need some information. Who are you, who did you kill, how long ago did you kill them, how did you kill them and what was the weapon you killed them with made of?" she asked quickly as she stood there. She waited for an answer as the Sheriff can running in, leaving his ever flawed deputy outside watching over the newest corpse just in case.

 "Ang, what in tarnation is going on?" he asked as he spit his toothpick out of his mouth and onto the ground.

 "You don't want to hear this Conner," she said quickly as she stood there.

 "The hell I don't woman, I got bodies disappearing from my office, people dying on the streets left and right without known cause and a padre who is tired of funerals. Now tell me woman what is going on," the sheriff retorted quickly.

 "The hell you do, now git Conner. I mean it. You aren't ready for this shit. Go back to your business and let me take care of mine," she said as she griped her rifle in her hands.

 "Dagnabbit woman! Tell me!"

 "Fine, he was dead but now he is undead. He is walking around out there somewhere right now looking for someone to feed from to regain his strength and if I don't find him and figure out what the hell kind of undead he is you are going to have a lot more bodies on your hands," she stated quickly in a non-comical voice that was as serious as the day was long. Conner just looked at her dumfounded. He had known Angpetu for years, she was always sensible and had always spoke truth to him so he knew whatever she said she had meant it but he was having a hard time wrapping his head about this one.

 "You're right, I don't want to know," he said before walking back out the door to deal with things that didn't sound like they had just come from the mouth of a lunatic.

 "Told you," she said shaking her head before directing her attention back over towards Cyrus. "Now, as I was asking….The questions, what are your answers?"

[Assistant]
Collab between @Goldeagle1221 & @Noxious

"Yes you'll have to excuse my friend," Twain added matter of factly, leaning back to study the brown drink that so clearly was not his vodka martini, "he's dead tired."

His eyes flickered from his drink and over to the woman and a polite smile stretched across his face, "what's your name?"

"They call me Maeve." She wrapped a finger around a loose curl, twirling it between her fingertips. She was still pissed about her John, but everyone had secrets and everyone, this man, usually wanted to tell their secrets to girl like her so she curled those youthful pink lips into a grin and hoped for the best, " We don't normally let people sleep here," her free hand gesturing to the dead guy.

"Maeve, hm?" Twain ignored the mention of Paul's corpse. His eyes flickered across her chest for a moment, "both of them?"

"Oh, I'm just fancy enough for Maeve, no official title, but I'm guessing you're a bit more official, hmmmm? What is it that they call you sir, those still alive enough to call anyways?"

Twain's smile seemed to curl into one of humor and he shook his head, dismissing his recent hidden joke, "I am Mark Twain."

She scrunched her nose at the name, recognition clicking. "Mark Twain….aren't you an author?"

Twain's smile flipped to a frown, "doctor, the doctor," he corrected.

"Doctor hmmm? We don't get many doctors out this way, especially not as young as you." Doctor always brought to mind the wrinkled old men, barely healthy themselves. She wasn't normally a fan of doctors. She still wasn't sure if she was a fan of his either.

"Evidently not," Mark said plainly as he jutted a square chin towards the dead man, "my own scholarly eyes seem to understand that this patron has a chronic case of rigor mortis; common in these parts?"

She glanced back to Paul, holding on to that sweet smile even as the dead man became the focus. "I don't mean to be frank Mr. Twain, but I'm not sure I would trust you, even if your assertion appears correct. You can gain some favor if you help me remove your friend. Not good for business, makes the place appear dead."

Twain stood up and dusted the lap of his pants, and placed his drink down on a napkin, "the drink was a little stiff anyways," he mumbled to himself as he gestured towards Paul Blake and scooted over to grab his arms. With a huff of breath that spiraled the lingering smoke in the air, Mark shifted the dead man to his cold feet and wrapped a lifeless arm around his own shoulders as he slowly shuffled the heavy man out of the booth and off to the sheriff's office.

She followed behind him, without offering to help; she doubted he expected her to anyways. The sheriff may have questions though and she could possibly use the opportunity to gain some favor; either with the law or the doctor.

[User]
"Now you're sure this is for a man by the name of Westbrook?" The grizzled old marshal scratched his jaw with the question.

The brutish gravedigger in front of him answered without looking away from his work. "Yep. Weren't ten minutes ago, runner from the sheriff tells me a man named Westbrook's been shot by a bounty hunter, get diggin', Tom." The man spit into the shallow pit in front of him. "So, I done come out here, get digging, and I'm barely three shovels in when an old man comes up and starts askin' me the same question over and over."

Bill sighed and rubbed his brow. He mused in some corner of his brain that it was lucky he'd happened upon the gravedigger beginning his work just as he'd arrived in Brogden - otherwise, he might have stormed into town, weapons brandished, looking for a dead man.

The marshal let out a chuckle. "Damn hell. I hunt the bastard all over creation for months, and when I finally done run him down, he gets himself shot not ten minutes before I show up."

The gravedigger spat again and continued shoveling. "Jesus. He owe you money?"

Bill gestured to the badge on his breast, not that the man he was speaking to was looking at him. "Nah. US Marshal. Man was a real mean sonofabitch, from what I've heard." There was more to it then that, of course. Another reason for his dogged pursuit of the criminal. Bill hadn't known the man personally, but he just as easily might have.

A memory flashed into his mind. The flickering light of a campfire, the smell of bad hygiene and smoke, a belly full of food taken from some plantation or another, and a whole crowd of faces, all hollering and laughing. Mean sonsabitches, all.

He was shaken out of his ruminations by the sound of a shovel striking rock, and the gravedigger's hard voice. "Well, marshal, what you gonna do now that you done wasted your time?"

Bill turned and mounted his brown mare Daisy once again, clicking to turn her towards the town. "Well, reckon the first thing I do is find the man what shot him," he said, "And buy him a drink."

And so he rode off towards the town, mumbling a familiar tune under his breath. "Sherman's dashing yankee boys will never reach the coast... so the saucy rebels said and twas a handsome boast..."

When he arrived in the town, he found something not entirely to his expectation. There was a procession headed into the sheriff's office, all seeming in a real serious hurry. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he definitely heard the name 'Westbrook' once or twice.

The marshal quickly tied up Daisy on a nearby post and hurried after them. By the time he entered the sheriff's office, all he was able to catch was the sheriff storming out of the back room with frustration clearly plastered on his face. Bill cleared his throat and addressed the man. "Pardon me, sheriff. Bill Cooper, US Marshal. I have been pursuing Mr. Westbrook for some time now, and I've just been informed he was shot earlier today. Now I hear a whole gaggle of folks talkin' bout him and runnin' up and down the street. Mind clearing things up for me, sheriff? What exactly happened to Westbrook?"

[Assistant]
(Sorry so short, but I want to at least keep things moving.)

Ashtar knew what the people around him were saying, that a dead man had returned to walk. It sent a chill up his spine, and he had to see for himself.

Like a piece of furniture he had gone unnoticed in the backroom of the sheriff's office, so easily could he blend in with the environment and move about without making a sound. By the time Angpetu or Cyrus realized he was there, he was already crouching over a splash of blood on the floor near the open window where Westbrook had escaped.

The shaman reached his hand down over the blood. "Good spirits are carried by the eagle to the sky, but this spirit goes to the wolf instead." He started blathering on some native, superstitious bullshit. Creepily, he touched the blood to his middle fingertip and brought it to his left eye, painting a red line straight down his cheek. He repeated the process with the other eye. "...the wolf is hungry and angry. It isn't finished eating." He got up and suprisingly silently, his soft mocassins gently padding across the wood, went over to the window and looked out cautiously into the now fairly dark outdoors. After a moment of a glassy gaze, he pulled back frowning. "Hmm. The wolf moves swift."

Ashtar looked at the others, who couldn't help but stare at him with either awe or cynicism or both. The possibility of dead people getting up and causing problems apparently wasn't new to him. He folded his arms, realizing the white people might not quite get what was going on. He blinked calmly, sighing, then shrugged. "So. Does... anyone need a drink?" It was impossible to tell if he was serious or making a joke.

[User]
A chill crept over Grace's thin frame, her eyes widening and looking at the sheriff in shock and disbelief. How did a body just up and leave when it was supposedly dead prior? That just did not make sense, but it made her slightly curious, and terrified. As several of those on the street walked into the sheriff's office she followed, but not before casting her father and Johnathan a look and wave that told them to go on without her. Both cast her a strange look, having been far enough away that they had not caught the full brink of the conversation, but knowing she could fend for herself they headed off into the saloon for a drink.

Grace was at the back of the group as she stepped into the back room. She paused just inside the doorway, her gaze shifting over the room as if she expected to be able to find something the others hadn't. All she saw though was an empty room and several drops of blood.

Brown eyes shot over to the Sioux woman as she spoke, her mouth going dry as she explained what she believed was going on.

When the sheriff went to leave Grace stepped out of his way, but did not leave. She glanced at the other inhabitants of the room, stopping on Ashtar for a moment as he started to speak in a cryptic manner, before going back to the woman and the other man. The woman seemed as if this was an everyday occurrence in her life. At her inquiry she looked over to the man she was asking all her questions.

A smirk pulled at Grace's lips. "I think it would be wise if you answered her."


[System]
Age: 17

Talent: Ultimate Gardener

Height/Weight: 5'4

Appearance:

Wardrobe: Usually she wears a dirty flower patterned dress with a pair of dungarees over them, along with a pair of boots and leggings.

Personality: Cynthia usually comes off as a very quiet and shy girl, always trying to avoid talking to people that scare her in the slightest just because shes scared of them picking fun of her. However, once she opens up to people she can get very personal and ends up asking way too personal things, but it is known she can have a very colourful sense of humour, always using puns when she sees fits or snickering at something she finds funny

She also seems to be rather too trusting, seeing as she has hardly any experience in making friends, if she starts to like someone she will cling to them and will be very vulnerable around them. She always wants to help her friends as well, but always adamant that she will accept no such help from them.

Likes: Plants, anime, fruit, silence

Dislikes: Noise, distractions, idiots,

Trivia: Blood type is B

Willingness to become a victim : 5

[User]
Elizabeth Remington-Song of Storms

I heard Cynthia's garden pun and gave alittle giggle cause at least someone was trying to lighten the mood. Xavier suggested we should check the storage room first. It seemed abit of an odd place to search first,but i shrugged it off (alittle was still on). "S-Sure,I dont m-mind..."

[Assistant]
Louie trudged up to the small group, holding a Twinkie. He rammed the Twinkie into his mouth, cream filling smearing over his cheeks. Frowning, he then seized the front of his shirt, and with a growl, tore it away from his chunky body.

"Okay, which y'all jus' called me fat? Huh?"

His titties jiggled menacingly, but such a terror could not compare to the empty unknown of his pitch-black belly button. How deep did it delve? What mysterious things lay inside? Good things? Bad things? It was impossible to know without reaching in. The temptation was both mildly arousing and partially frightening.

[User]
-Joseph Takuma : Serenity and Agitation-

Rubbing his eyes as the shorter boy responded, Joseph kept that same warmth in his smile as he let his arm limply fall down back to the side as the younger man stumbled on his words. The Matchmaker only stood lax, listening as he put the ball of his fist to his face, tilting it somewhat, as if he was attempting to discern a love interest for the teenager, a perfect on to be precise. Glancing over at the entrance to the gymnasium briefly, he soon return his attention to the panic struck boy who finished his first response. With a light nod, he sympathized with the boy, even if the reaction was somewhat over the top.

"I can only wonder how everyone else is handling this whole conundrum of conspicuous consciences continuously clammed to the call of killing," he pondered for a moments notice, recalling the other remaining Ultimate's on the field within. Since they weren't in there, god knows what they were formulating on the time of their import. Regardless, next came the introductions; equivalent exchange to an extent. As the boy bumbled and stumbled for a few seconds, he continued to offer him a smile, despite how deprived he appeared.

"Acute Magnananananen, eh," muttering to himself as he tapped his lip for a second, absorbing the information and associating with the new face... it was sort of like angles! Maybe he had a brother called obtuse? That would suck if he had a brother... spotlight hoggers they are.

Hmm?

Oh, right, math guy is talking to you... maybe he could give some tips in arithmetic, because he could really utilize some numbers, especially with calculating the maximum velocity a spork could go after being hurled by a two ton heavyweight champ!... wait, getting things mixed up again, discipline and focus, heed now!

From what Joseph could discern, Mat H. Matics, or as his real names goes by, Acute Magnanananen... Magnanan... Megaman... lets just stick with Acute for now, less difficulty enunciating his surname... but still, this guy was the Ultimate Linguist? He recalled this omniglot and his menagerie of languages, but there was something else... come on brian... grr... what was it?

...

"My senses nevertheless seem to be piqued, indomitable acuteness; you wouldn't happen to find the opposite gender attractive, no?"

... really.

REALLY?!

Out of everything peculiar he could of spurted out, that piece of randomness came out? His fist was balled up, save for his thumb which remained erect as he pressed it against his lips, squinting at the nervous boys lips. A smirk crossed his face as he bent his back, lowering his height along with leaning somewhat closer to the nervously. If bishi sparkles could be a thing right now, they would probably be appearing right now with a serial weirdo on their hands.

... before he returned to his original height, snickering a little, a faint friendly smile instead of a conceited grin was relocated onto his face. "Heh, is your mind toying with alternate scenarios now," Joseph questioned as he rubbed the back of his neck, one of his eyes closing as the adjacent glanced at the side. "If so, then I did something right, yeah! Got your mind of the situation with Pedokuma, or Monokuma... oh."

As he raised his arms upwards, they faltered at the short lived victory as he came to the conclusion that mentioning your plans to try and make someones fears dissipate was not the best solution... like, at all.

"And now there's the likelihood of misconceptions on hand now... excellent." Frowning somewhat, Joseph put his right hand up to his rhinion and pinched it as his hand began welling up into a fist. Eyes were closed, seething disappointment as he began to mutter out his remark to all of his... ridiculousness.

"Apologies if I caused you some distraught... I think I just made things worse trying to get your mind off of what is currently transpiring." Shifting his arms, he crossed them, looking at the boy with a mild smile once more with gaping traces of lingering irritation (at himself). Shrugging, he tilted his head back at the entrance of the gym, before gazing back at Acute.

"Sooooooo, you wanna get back in there and finish introduct-"

And then interruptions were accidentally in order once again! HUZZAH!

Bursting through the doors came the fashion plate (who looked prominently hot in his eyes) and... one of the sleeping chicks in the gym. Blonde, golden hair, and other features, but none more prominent than the blue gown shrouding most of her body. Wow! She looked like a nun! Maybe... just maybe...

She was...

The Ultimate...

Cosplayer?! Wow!

"... no, assumptions are bad, get to know her first before conceiving whatever notion of Ultimate she is!"

Joseph returned his attention to Acute, but not before jutting his head in a manner of fashion stating "hey, wanna meet up with those two?" Well, in his head it was like that, but a simple nod like that could be other things, especially with that simple smile placidly placed on his personnel.

... still, maybe Acute could be a couple with Rio! Not like the Ultimate Matchmaker would have a chance anyways with like... anyone; pshaw!

Linguist and Fashion Gal...

He'd ship it.

... but first thing was first, the most important thing had to be taken care of!

Finding out her name! You can't ship people without knowing their names, of course! Gotta get those combos in yo!

...

Oh, right, and searching for an escape route out of this supposed murder making mess of a school system. Judging by the way they are composed, they both seemed settled and not at all disgruntled... that just made Joseph the more relaxed, despite the intensity this situation should be having on him. Tranquility would return, one way or another... he could only pray that it was by smiles and friendship versus taking the bears words too literally...

Then again, could they truly be taken in a metaphorical manner? Truly ominous, like how he appeared before disappearing...

Wait...

Did any of them bother to check behind the podium?

[Assistant]
Alice Easson-Lavender Town

I must have been sitting in the same position for an hour, cause I felt my legs go numb. I looked over to the trio group and saw a...strange man harassing them, asking who called him fat when NO ONE over there did. Elizabeth looked a bit scared and hid behind the other two. I wanted to help, but my legs may fail me, so I needed to strategize. I decided to make pierce hold the burden for them. "Hey, Little mac, that guy over there called you fat, not one of them!" I yelled to him and pointed to the ultimate illusionist.

Quickly, I grabbed Elizabeth and hid behind the curtains of the stage.Whew, that was a rush...anyways, you ok Eliza?" I asked her before falling to my knees. it was rude for that guy to just bluntly waltz up to them and ask them about his weight without giving them mercy. he skipped introductions, so my guess is that he is the Ultimate Lazy Person cause he had no shirt on. Elizabeth nodded yes to my question."Good, we are gonna hide here for now..is that ok with you?" Elizabeth nodded again and sat in front of me.

Elizabeth Remington-Song of Storms

when all seemed good and all, suddenly a rude man without a shirt suddenly came over to my group and asked who called him fat. it made my nervousness grow into fright. so I hid behind Xavier and Cynthia in hopes that I wouldn't be noticed. then I heard Alice tell him that someone else called him fat. then she quickly ran over, grabbed my hand, and ran behind a part of the curtains. she asked me if I was ok, and that we are going to hide here if its ok with me...I nodded yes to her questions, surprised that she cares, and sat down with her.

"Alice,a-are you ok..?" I asked her, caused she seemed bummed out about something.

[User]
Acute Magnanen- - Reality sets in

After managing to let loose a short-lived flow of words, I finally felt relaxed. That too, was short-lived. This guy poured out a torrent of words and phrases containing various inflections, contradicting messages, and more. Though I do consider his tongue rudimentary, the message is conciliatory and, rather than receiving consternation, I can appreciate it. Whoever this Ultimate is, he certainly seems overtly comfortable in his shoes. Perhaps overly comfortable all things considering. I wonder if this guy even listened to Monokuma's speech with how nonchalant he's acting. First he mispronounces my name, which is no surprise, my name is quite difficult. Next, he asks me my sexual orientation out of left field. Instantly, my pupils dilate and mind goes blank. Totally shocked, I sit speechless.

He rams through though, with a classy smile and pervading, ubiquitous presence. The Ultimate mentions that he was able to get my mind off the killing. I drop my jaw in confusion, before realizing he's completely right. Just for a couple of seconds, I had utterly forgotten about everyone's latent potential for murder, an impressive feat, no doubt. But he doesn't stop there. His next conquest includes mentioning the fashionista and religious girl exiting the door nearby. His facial expression indicates a desire to go talk to them. Slowly, his motives begin to crystallize in my mind, yet I still would not like to jump to any incorrect conclusions.

Nervous like before, though having my mind successfully taken off the pernicious situation, I nod in agreement meekly and get up off my feet. This mystery kid, I don't know his name nor his title. But at the present juncture, such details are unnecessary. Plus, I can't find a good way to ask him right now. I guess I have a propensity for awkwardness. "Uh.. Sure!" I reply not really knowing what I'm agreeing to. This won't end badly, right?

[Assistant]
Cynthia Arabara - Arrividerci

Cynthia was almost overjoyed that the two of them agreed to go with her, as she would be the first to admit she didn't expect them to accet her sheepish attempt at an invitation of adventure, that ebing one of her more...weaker areas. The girl seemed, nice she guessed? She wasn't alll that good at judging people, plus wasn't it like kinda rude to judge people based on their first words and actions, even though many of them had told each other what their talent was and all that huge shebang.

She smiled lightly at Xavier and Elizaeth. Xavier, he seemed like a good guy. She wasn't sure what he collected but man! He got her jokes! Hardly anyone ever got her jokes! A huge grin spread on her face as she stood by Xavier. Her brain raced, yes, she had to come up with jokes to fit him now! It would be perfect! People always loved it when she made puns and jokes that related to them, that was usually what she did when she was back in her garden!

She tilted her head and walked forwards, in hopes the other two would follow her. "C'mon then! To the storage room right? We better be careful in case a huge giant box drops on us!" She smiled wide and patted down her flowery dress that had a few grass stains on the hem.


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 21

Career/Class: Courtesan/Duelist

Physical Description: Camilla is a medium sized woman around 5'5. She possess the slightly bronzed skin, angular features and dark hair common among Tileans. She has the smooth clean lines of a classical statue and the lean musculature of a dancer. Every part of her seems artfully contrived, as though she stepped from the canvas of a master painter. Camilla moves with deliberate grace which is appropriate to her profession.

Mental Description/Personality: Camilla is a fiery impetuous young woman. As a child she was selected from among orphan's for her physical beauty and raised to fill the role of Courtesan in the decadent courts of her native Tilea. Among her studies were poetry, dance, repartee, song, politics, literature, art and sword play.

Camilla is out of place in rough and dangerous situations, and although naturally adventurous and curious about the world she is no heroine. She has a fiery temper and has a tendency to act rather than to wait if given the chance. While technically trained with the sword, Camilla's education is that of the stylized art of the sword rather than the rough and brutal style of real combat, while she is perfectly comfortable fighting a duel to the tough for the entertainment of a crowd, she had little experience with real killing.

Camilla has a passing devotion to Randald and Shyalla, although she tends to focus on the world in front of her rather than the world beyond.

[User]
Amal watched her carefully. Truthfully, he loved watching her speak, his ears picking up every word. He grinned when she stated she wasn't important enough to have enemies. Amal had around a dozen powerful and personal enemies, and he was the most worthless man in Al-Hiekk, at least according to anyone who asked, particularly those that wanted him dead. Street Rat they called him. Not that he minded. It suited him nicely.

"I envy you." He said. "At least a little. If I found my mother again...I'm not sure what I would do, to her or to me. But your parents did try to sell you, as she sold me. I guess neither of us were wanted." The thief placed a hand on her cheek, the callused hand suitably soft for the moment.

At the mention of the Witch Hunters and her wizard mentor, he blinked as if awoken. She would see the excited glint in his eye, betraying his thoughts. This was the stuff of tales he heard of the North! Grim warriors and witches burnt at the stake as charlatans spat out useless doctrine to keep the peasants in line. True, it wasn't exactly cheery. But it did lead to opportunities of fabulous wealth if one played their cards right. Dystopian or corrupt governments always bred such occasions. An Arabyan would certainly know.

"Why not get you accredited then?" He said, his hand leaving her face only to intertwine within her fingers, his large palm overtaking hers easily. "I'm sure we could gain some leverage over your old master to get him to agree. A sniffing Witch Hunter maybe?" He grinned evilly and leaned in to kiss her again before there was a small rolling tumble of a noise. It was good he was such an experienced scoundrel, else he would have caught what was about to fall atop Emmaline.

Her snake familiar had decided to heat up in the cold northern night, seeking a source of heat. Rather than slithering over to the fire, it wished to be closer to its master and managed to sinuously make its way atop the timber-made dresser. In it's slitherings, the candle it wished to curl beside was bumped and fell. Amal caught it just before it bopped Emmaline on the head or set her locks on fire. The serpent perked its head up, and looked rather embarrassed without changing expressions.

Amal's hand was callused, but he still felt the candle wax. He swiftly blew it out and redirected its fall to the side, to land holder up atop the table, as if it was set there gently save for the few hard wobbles. Amal was fond of the familiar, but he couldn't quite hold himself back.

"Hey!" He said, blowing his stinging hand. "You sneaky little trouser snake! I know she's hot as a sun-baked dune but that's a little much." Amal made a gesture of shaking his fist, but found the humor in the situation after a second. He whispered to Emmaline with a clear intent to jest. "I think he's jealous of me. He's seen you charm my snake and can't handle it. Soon he'll be out of work on the street, shaking what Allah gave him."

The thief actually halted and put a finger on his chin. "He would make a good rat catcher, now that I think of it." The serpent had not been idle, taking the time to reach the couch from above, now perched atop the arm handle as its tail slowly followed. It seemed content to rest there, though it watched them curiously.

"I'm kidding, my friend." He said to her familiar, smirking. "But we both know the deal. She's yours in the daytime but mine at night. We shook hands on it, remember?"

[Assistant]
The snake lifted and lowered its head in an approximation of a nod, tongue flickering out of its mouth. Emmaline giggled in a very unwizardlike fashion. The magic behind the familiar was strange to her, as much she suspected, of Apsah as of the winds of magic as she understood them. Asp, as she had ironically named the cobra, certainly seemed to understand her and even obeyed commands when it suited the creature and it had saved her life on more than one occasion.

"Well I'm pleased that you two are getting along so well," Emmaline declared with slightly drunken solemnity. She took another sip of the whiskey from the stone mug, savoring the smoky flavor on her lips.

"As for snake charming," she said, slipping her hand into Amal's trousers to tease him with her fingertips, trailing the tips of her nails over him.

"Both of you have given me some trouble in that regard," she went on with a curve of her full lips. She cast an eye to the door and the guards beyond, though she didn't really care about the men. She had no doubt that between her own erratic sorcery and Amal's knives they could handle a half dozen local thugs. That might cause problems later, but it wasn't as though the pair hadn't run from far worse on many previous occasions. Perhaps she should have asked Greta to ply the men with ale, having his flunkies show up hung over would irk the sheriff. That irritation would be worth a few pieces of sliver at the very least.

[User]
The possibilities of future hijinks or present problems evaporated at Emmaline's giggle to Amal. He raised his hand to the serpent, and slowly Asp's tail lifted up to press to his palm. He shook its tail ardently, his face a mask of stoic sarcasm. After that he relaxed, watching Emmaline, smiling like a fool when he felt her fingers along his length. She might have been the priestess of snakes, but his hips writhed to the side lightly as his eyes went from mirth to craving, dark eyes dilating ever so slowly in the firelight.

Why she had this effect on him, he didn't know or care. He was still new to love, but wouldn't have it any other way he knew. She would feel him stir, already half awoken from the warmth and their close proximity. Amal's back to the couch's back, his arms slid behind it to hold on to the wooden beams that kept the piece of furniture steady, broadening his shoulders and pectorals. The alcohol tingling in his throat, he smiled his mordant smile at her teasing. She could feel his eyes roving over her, his tongue curling in his mouth.

"Consider me charmed..."

[Assistant]
The snake did a surprisingly human job of rolling its eyes before curling itself around an extinguished candlestick atop the hearth, finding warmth even in this chill northern land. The magic that sustained the familiar was not truly effected by the cold, but the form of a snake carried with it some decidedly snake like imperatives.

There was a perfunctory knock on the door before the wooden panel swung open on its heavy iron hinges. Greta stuck her head through the portal looking nervous and a little skitish. That was to be expected with a half dozen of the Sheriff toughs making a gauntlet for her to walk to reach the room. Fortunately Emmaline was fully clothed and the girl couldn't see what she was doing from her position by the door.

"Ummm... will there be anything else tonight master and mistress?" she asked, clearly hoping there wouldn't be. Emmaline drew a silver piece from her pocket and tossed it to the girl.

"Keep our friends there in ale if you would," she said in an encouraging tone and then took another coin from the pouch and tossed it after the first.

"And for your troubles," she added. Greta caught the coin and knuckled her forehead.

"Thank you Frauline," she said and then vanished behind the door which closed and latched with a click. Emmaline smiled and tightened her grip slightly.

"Well... I can't say you are exactly putty in my hands," she said with a giggle.

[User]
As the sun peaked over the horizon, leaving Mannslieb and Morrslieb to fade away until the next night, Amal and Emmaline stirred on the bed. The two of them stretched languorously, sighing contentedly and feeling their naked bodies pressed, stirring further desires they had to go at it again until there was a knock at the door. It vexed Amal to leave Emmaline's embrace, but the promise of danger and the potential of profit stirred his limbs and he slid out of Emmaline's greedy grasp and placed two feet on the floor. Another knock.

"Mr. Ali Baba sir?" Greta's voice called urgently.

"Be there in a moment." He replied as he put his trousers on.

"The guards are downstairs, and they're sort of eating us out of house and home. They're also boasting on breaking this door down when they're done. You might want to-"

"One moment. We'll be out." He said firmly. Emmaline wiggled like an annoyed serpent, unwilling to get up. Amal laughed at how cute he thought she was and then he leaped onto the bed, bouncing her a foot off the mattress, making her squeal. She reared up and glared at him, but was unable to stay mad when he smiled. They both got dressed within minutes and were downstairs. Emmaline, with her disheveled blonde locks drew some leering gazes from the guards, but the captain seemed more professional than the others at least.

"It's about time you two got up. The Baron awaits you." He said, gesturing for his guards to push them forward. When one attempted, Amal grabbed his hand and shoved him back before he even touched he or Emmaline.

"I think we get the picture." He said, taking Emmaline's hand. "Come honey, let's go and clear our names so these common thugs leave us alone. Your country is so barbaric."

"Ugh, indeed," Emmaline replied, playing along. She had the facade of an innocent, albeit posh mistress. "The service here is terrible. They didn't even offer us coffee."

Amal did his best not to snort, ushering her along outside with the watchmen in tow, muttering. One took one last apple, without leaving payment obviously and stepped outside. True enough, Adolf Vandershute was awaiting them just out the door. He looked even more severe than yesterday, likely from being kept waiting. Amal almost would have felt bad were he not planning on killing the man within the hour.

"I take it you had a fine rest? You might not get another chance for some time." The Baron declared. There was no mocking humor in his placid voice.

"On the contrary, we'll be back here before noon. It is your men that need worry. I suspect they have not faced beastman in years." Amal replied confidently.

Amal had their belongings in a moderately sized pack that looked like simple traveling gear. They weren't supposed to be walking far, but the men chalked it up to being the naivety of a foreigner. Their magic carpet was curled within, ready to pop out at Amal's instant call. More than likely they were going to use it to escape if the two of them couldn't kill the six men that were to set out.

Without further interruption they headed toward the southern edge of Delbertz, drawing the gazes of any passerby and shopkeep. Some might have thought he and Emmaline were being escorted like aristocracy with the Baron showing around his honored guests. Most likely it looked like they were walking into an execution. Either way, within minutes they stepped onto the forest path...

[Assistant]
Emmaline giggled brainlessly. She had been doing so frequently for the past hour or so of travel, conscious that it annoyed both the Sheriff and his hung over guardsmen. They had been walking for perhaps three quarters of an hour and the forest around them was growing taller and wilder. The tidy farmsteads had vanished also, giving way at first to charcoal burners huts, then isolated hunters cottages, before signs of human habitation ceased all together. There was some traffic on the road though, a merchant and a wagon of goods, a trio of trappers bringing furs to market, all of whom nodded personably at the party of soldiers and their strange guests. They were mounted on horses from the city watch stables, Emmaline, having stolen a few in her time managed to keep a saddle, though the effort made her legs ache and her bottom hurt. Riding wasn't a skill you could afford to get too out of practice in she supposed.

"We must be approaching the sight of your... alleged attack yes?" Vandershute asked as the hunter vanished out of view behind a small hill.

"You couldn't have run very far to escape beastmen afterall?" he pressed, his tone as always faultless and yet somehow mocking.

"Not much further I think, perhaps the reputation of you and your men scared them too much to continue the chase," Emmaline replied, unable to avoid needling the sheriff just a little. She didn't know what game he was playing, but whatever it was he was clearly getting ready to make a move. Emmaline didn't much like their chances, nine versus two wasn't great odds, especially if they didn't have surprise on their side, and both Vandershute and his men were clearly watching them carefully.

"There," Emmaline said, pointing to some ripped bark on a large oaktree by the side of the road.

"Claw marks from the beasts," she asserted, it was as likely a regular bear as anything else, but she had been on the look out for anything that might give credence to her made up story and this was the first likely candidate.

"Ah, then let us dismount and see if we can find tracks in the woods," Vandershute declared. Emmaline hoped he might dismount first, giving them a moment to allow their horses to bolt, but the sheriff merely waited for the two strangers to slip from their saddles to the leaf covered roadway.


[System]
Age: 16

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Appearance:

A bright eyed girl from the Steppes of the Northeastern highlands, she carries with her a brightness and optimism that would lead one to believe her a simple runaway girl with dreams of adventure. Her complexion is tanned from her time spent under the open sky, and she seems to be in a perpetual good mood, judging from her omnipresent smile. She is of a lithe build, and has a slightly bowlegged stance from her life spent riding on a horse. Her arms and legs are fairly toned and muscular for her frame, making her a lot stronger than your average girl from a farm.

She is almost perpetually seen with her hair in a ratty mess, the only restraint to it being her hairband that keeps her bangs from blocking her vision entirely. Her outfit usually consists of a traditional tunic of the Steppe, with large sleeves that give her arms free movement, a black long skirt that has been ripped at the sides to allow her legs more freedom, and a pair of leather sandals. When adventuring, she wears a leather breastplate beneath her dress for added protection.

Height: 5'7"
Eye Color: Amber
Hair Color: White

Personality:
A little ball of sunshine and happiness, there doesn't seem to be much in this life that can get the Steppe Archer down. She carries with her an almost infectious energy that brightens up the room, seemingly always in high spirits.

Her optimism is matched by her keen observation skills. In just a few minutes, she can identify the people in a room at a glance, and tell how someone is feeling by their expression. Despite her perceptive nature, she herself is very blunt, and often unable to think before she speaks. It is not uncommon for something she says to come across as harsh due to her lack of common sense compared to most other people.

Likes: Horses, Sweet Meats, and Flowers
Dislikes: Enclosed spaces, Negative thinking, and Insects
Hobbies: Leather working, Cooking, and Stargazing

History:
On the large rolling plains of the Northeastern Highlands, one is born, lives, and dies on the move. There is no pause available to the nomadic people, with each waking moment spent with focus being on procuring food, supplies, and, once those begin to run low, the focus shifts to uprooting the camps and moving elsewhere on the Steppe. Their society is organized by numerous small "tribes" that have banded together to form a Confederacy, overseen by a leader who rules for a period of ten years after a martial tournament is held between the greatest fighters of the tribes.

Before she was born, her father was heralded as the mightiest man on the Steppe, unbested in archery, and a master of wrestling. On the second year after she was born, he was dethroned and retired to his previous life of being a hunter to provide. In the time she spent with her father, she would learn the art of the hunt, and come to grow into a young girl. Life would proceed as it did, the circle of life in an unending loop, marching onwards with the beat of the people who's lives were spent chasing life. It wasn't all bad, not in the slightest. The meat was plentiful, the hunt was thrilling, and the life lead was one far from purposeless.

Eventually however, the decade-held tournament would be held, and with the rise of a new chief came new and bizarre laws. One of which being that a "bride" of each tribe was to be offered to his son, as if they were pieces of meat to be handed out. And quite unfortunately, she was "selected" as the delegated bride. Rather than accept some impish demand for her virtue and hand in marriage to some spineless whelp, she would instead flee the Steppe with her father and mother's blessings, figuring that she could eek out a living as a mercenary or adventurer.

With no military willing to accept such a young girl despite her demonstrated skills, she was left with no avenue but to become an adventurer, arriving in Palisade town on the Frontier due to its closeness to home.

Adventuring Rank: Porcelain

Equipment:
Nomad Bow: A composite recurve bow of Steppe Archer's own making, made out of horn, wood, and sinew. It is well used from the years that Steppe Archer has spent hunting. Due to its smaller overall size compared to a normal bow, it is ideal for shooting on horseback and while moving, while not sacrificing the power of a full bow.

Nomad's Sword: A steel curved sword resembling a slightly less curved scimitar. Ideal for slashing things apart, or gliding past something with a slash. Has a large enough grip to be two-handed.

Torchfire: A beautiful mature auburn colored horse that Steppe Archer rode into town on. Despite the fact that she isn't able to bring it on many adventures due to the danger, she still insists on keeping it stabled up in Palisade Town, just in case she needs it. She is Steppe Archer's pride and joy, and her greatest asset in battle on a more open plain.

Skinning Knife: A small knife that's sharp enough to cut through flesh. Usually used by Steppe Archer to skin the beasts that she slays, in order to sell the pelts for a sizable sum. Steppe life taught her never to be wasteful.

Steppe Ensemble: Steppe Archer's protective leather breastplate beneath her folk-style dress. Her clothes keep her cool in just about any climate, and the leather armor beneath provides enough protection to shield her from light damage.

Porcelain Adventurer's Tag

Skills:
Horseback Riding: There are few that can match the riders of the Steppe when it comes to equestrian based combat, and as a proud Steppe child, Steppe Archer can ride with the best of them.

Trap Setting/Disarming: Much of the Steppe's hunting is done using traps to catch prey. As such, Steppe Archer is proficient in finding the perfect spots to place traps, whether that be to aid her friends, or harm her foes.

Handy Woman: On the Steppe, work is divided amongst the men and women equally. As such, Steppe Archer is skilled with physical labor, capable of many tasks that many in the realm would consider "men's" work.

[User]
As the group delved further into the den of the goblins, Steppe Archer couldn't help but feel the hairs on the back of her neck tingle. She imagined the others were experiencing a similar sensation...albeit she didn't know if Big Red had any hairs TO get tingled. Regardless, her anxiety was gnawing at her as they walked along. Her sword was clutched tightly in her hand, the spear she had received in the other.

The sight of the fallen adventurer was a gruesome one indeed, given that he looked to have been injured insanely badly. But...it didn't make sense. His injuries should have thrown him to the floor from their force...yet here he was, neatly sitting as if he hadn't been torn apart. It was then that her eyes widened, realizing that it was a trap. Before she could even yell anything towards the Druid Girl, arrows flew, and Big Red flew into action to block those arrows with body as a shield, and the corpse of the adventurer.

The archer would follow the words of her lizardman companion and get down, readying her spear. She would take up position behind her lizard companion once he was close enough for her to shimmy behind, ready to stab from behind him at the goblin archers. Right now, using her bow was too risky, especially since she could hardly see.

[Assistant]
"Hyah?!"

That was all of the noise Druid Girl could make, before burly and scaled arms swooped down, grabbed onto her and pulled the girl into a forceful embrace. It wasn't very pleasant, nor comfortable, but then again, neither was getting perforated by arrows. Speaking of, Big Red would soon learn that arrows already launched from bows moved much faster than even his reptilian reflexes, and een though one of the projecticles missed the mark entirely, the other found their way into the lizardman's massive frame. It seemed that despite their supposed weakness, goblins - or at least their archers - had enough power to pierce the hide and scales of a lizard.

Fortunately for the giant warrior, the arrows truck non-lethal areas of his body, with one imbedding itself in his great, big, broad shoulder and the other in his upper arm. As the giant grabbed the corpse of the deceased adventurering priest before himself and his sheilded maiden-in-distress, another volley of three arrows came whistling. Luckily, these three all struck the rather cold corpse-shield, rather than either of the live adventurers.

Shrieks and garbled noises could be heard from further down the tunnel, and soon the pitter-patter of tiny feet was heard. Within seconds, a group of no less than five goblins, each wielding their own weapon, ranging from a hand axe to what looked like broken-off femur to a dagger dripping with who-knows-what. The goblins using bows however, seemed to have stayed behind, not advancing with their fellow kin to rush in attack their invading enemies. The five attackers ran at somewhat different pace though, meaning they weren't all moving at the same speed, nor were they lined up next to each other in unified order either.

Druid Girl, having witnessed Lizard Fighter's rather macabre use of a fellow fallen adventurer as an impromptu barricade, was about to let loose a barrage of scolding words, but were thankfully interrupted due to the arrival of the new wave of goblins. While she was thankful that the big oaf had saved her supple butt from being turned into a pin cushion, she wasn't exactly thrilled about how he had managed it. Still, now wasn't the time for such matters.

The little fairy that the nature mage had summoned flew off, racing at the goblins and then beginning to however and circle above them, shedding its light over the quintet and making them less obfuscated by the glooomy dark of the cave. Reaching for her hip, Druid Girl unlatched her sickle - the spear she had been given by Big Red wasn't going to do much good right now, nor was she going to have time to start chanting and casting a spell, what with the little monsters almost already upon them.

The young girl scooched a bit away from Big Red, though not far, standing a bit to his left side. As the creepy, long-nosed freaks got close, three of them leapt at the red lizard, yelling and cawing like little madmen, while one raced towards Druid Girl and the other seemed to want to squeeze past the two frontliners to get to their archer-friend in the back.

[User]
Druid Girl let out a strange yelp when he shielded her with his body. Two arrows struck him, in the meatier portions of his arm like his shoulder and the other in his bicep. It hurt but they didn't cause much damage to the musculature beneath his crimson scales. Growling he pushed forward with his meat-shield, which received three arrows from the archers. Technically he could just keep the body up until they ran out of arrows, but they'd probably wise up after the third volley.

More goblin sounds came from ahead, which revealed more goblins. Roughly five more came charging ahead, just how many were there in this cave? Whatever, they'd die and nothing would miss the little green bastards. The mishmash of weapons didn't affect him, they each had their own style of movement and he had a rather large 'shield' that they'd have to work around.

Two of the three, their movements revealed by the little fairy, went for his allies. Sure he could interfere with the goblins attacks, but he'd have to trust the two women to handle themselves as he took on the remaining three. Their move speeds were different than each others, but that didn't matter. If they had clustered up they'd be more difficult to handle, swarm tactics could best the most skilled fighters.

The first goblin to approach was met with the dead body of the priest being dropped on it. A sudden dead weight of over one hundred pounds dropped on a child was a good way to keep it busy and struggle. The second goblin launched itself up, trying to stab his jaw from beneath with its femur dagger. Leaning to the left the crudest of crude knives went past. Whatever sludge was on that thing was pretty damn rank. Still his face turned as the knife went by and with a loud meaty snap his jaws closed on the goblins forearm. The third goblin, that had a rusty hatchet, came up last and swung its small limbing axe at him, only for that buckler to catch the blade. The wood thunked as the blade bounced off, leaving a notch in it.

His leg went forward, kicking the goblin away as its weapon rebounded off his small shield. A clench of his jaw and a bone breaking snap rung out before he grabbed the screaming wounded goblin by its head as he released its arm from his meat-tearing teeth. Without missing a beat the goblin was thrown at the wall.

[Assistant]
There wasn't anything to do, save for kill so that they could not be killed. Her spear in hand, the Steppe Archer wasn't hesitating at the sight of Big Red's onslaught. The Lizard had the three facing him under control, leaving the one coming for the Druid, and the one coming for her up to them. Steeling herself, the Archer would ready her spear and, seeing an opening as the goblin charged. She would step forward and with a twist, run the goblin's chest through with her wooden spear. Letting go, she wasted no time in advancing on the now-dying goblin that was sent reeling from being run through. It wasn't dead, but so long as its hands could move, the archer would fight it. Pulling her sword free of its scabbard to drink of goblin blood, the archer was swift in her movements, cutting the reeling monster's throat before it had a chance to retaliate.

Hurriedly drawing her bow to try and shoot back at the goblin archers faintly illuminated by the fairy's light, Steppe Archer would let one arrow loose to try and thin their numbers before turning to see how the Druid Girl had fared with her goblin, hoping that her arrow in the dim light had met its mark on an archer.


[System]
Age: 31
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Race: Human
Class: Marksman/Gypsy(Bard)
Appearance/Clothing:

Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 125 lbs
Hair color, texture, length, style: Dirty ash blonde with layers from ears to shoulders. Her hair is usually worn with shorter layers crimped and pulled back with a few loose strands around her face, the longer layers are curled under and left loose falling to her shoulders.
Eye look, shape & color: Milk Chocolate with amber specks, round eyes with a slight slant at the outer corners.
Skin Tone: Tanned with olive undertones.
Body Type: Toned body over all with very defined arm muscles.
Voice/Accent: Her voice has a tad deeper intonation than most women and is slightly raspy. Sana has a stunningly beautiful voice when she sings but it is something that she rarely does.
Clothing:
Warm Weather - She wears a very simple halter top made of tanned leather that tied around the back of her neck and is trimmed in a deep brown rawhide. She wears a matching shorts that is slit on each side of her thighs as to not to hinder her movements. Her boots are a soft suede material that come up to just below her knees and lace up the entire way, soft soles, no heels. She wears a sheer mantle that flows to the ground and is trimmed in the same material as her halter top, usually pulled over her arms to hide their definition.

Moderate to Cold Weather – Outfit:

Cloak:

Gypsy Clothing -

Skills: Agility, acrobatics, gymnastics, ambidextrous, riding, fletching; excellent marksman with a bow and skilled dagger thrower. Knows some close combat fighting, using her bow in a staff like manner. When weaponless Sana will use her knowledge of acrobatics and gymnastics, combined with her agility, to attack and defend herself.

Natural Abilities: None - Human

Magic/Spells: Sana knows many bard songs but is unaware of which ones she can actually cast. Below is a list of songs she has been able to cast successfully so far.

Trust Me: Beauty From Pain - An inspire trust spell that is activated when she sings. Spell has a 75% chance of working on one target in the line of sight. Effect lasts 20 minutes - can cast once a day

Courageous Heal: Everything Burns - A triple effect spell activated when she sings. It hits all allys in a fight. It heals up to moderate wounds, gives a +2 to attack hits and +2 to damage. Does not work on Sana and drains her terribly after casting. Plus to damage and to hit lasts 5 rounds. (Side effect is due to the nature of the spell it will make those that it hits feel more courageous during the casting.) - Can cast once every three days.

Beacon: Flashlight - This song brings about a pillar of light that breaks through low light, darkness and obscured vision. (Such as mist, fog, smoke and rain). It has no special effect other than being able to be seen from up to a mile away no matter the level of light or density of obscurity. Cannot be seen through rock or stone but will follow a path until it reaches the sky if possible. The song itself will carry with the light and can be heard as far as the light can be seen. The light will continue as long as the song continues and fade once it stops. The end verse can continue to be repeated to last as long as the singer can sing. It can be cast once a day but if it is an extended version of the song it takes away from the next days ability. Each time it is extended, it takes another day to recharge it.

Masquerade: Burn With Me - During the course of the song Sana is able to completely change the look and voice of herself and up to one more party member. The illusion is true even if touched and lasts 24 hours, it can be dispersed by break illusion spells or if the person it is cast on speaks the words "The Masquerade Is Over" - Can be cast once every 12 hours

Winter Storm: Cold But I'm Still Here - This is currently Sanas only true attack spell. During casting the temperature of an area that spans out in a 60 foot radius around her will begin to cool down, the ground will frost over as well as other materials that normally would in such conditions. Using her hand movements she can direct up to five beams of ice from her palms during the song to strike opponents or other applications as she made need.(such as a wall of ice or to freeze a lake to be able to walk on) - she may contain her five beams to the end of the song and let it out as a single attack that will form a wall of ice three feet thick and ten feet high in a circle with a 30 foot diameter. Ice attacks will melt as normal for air temp. Wall will last until she stops singing as long as it isn't destroyed. (She may repeat the song until she cannot sing anymore to keep the wall up but may not do anything else but sing.) - can be cast once a week.

Additional Information:
Significant Other: Hugh Van Halder - Does not know where he is anymore
Sister: Ramara Rawn - presumed dead
Cousin: Ariana Rawn

Sana is scarred now with a line from her right ear to her jaw on her face, small puncture scars on her right shoulder from a hound bite and a burn scar from the right side of her neck at her jaw line, that front side of her chest, down her arm to the elbow and her back to the bottom of her shoulder blade.

Armor: An arm cuff that is enchanted with Barkskin.

Weapons: She carried one small dagger that is used for cutting up meat before cooking for the most part though is works as a throwing dagger if need be. Nothing special about it, the blade is 6 inches of plain steel while the hilt is carved oak. Her other and main weapon is a Recurve Bow that was hand carved for her; she uses cedar arrows that resist warping. She possesses a Silver Dagger found in the chest of a Liches Layer as well as a second quiver of silver arrows provided to her by the Elven Army of Corellan Larethian.

Possessions: Clothing, weapons, pack, dried fruits and meats, water skin, rope, fletching items, rags, needle, threads, horse, grooming items, tent, chain with her parents wedding bands on it that she wears around her neck.

Personality: Sana in the past has been known to be rather quiet and untrusting, hard to get close to. She preferred to be left alone and detests asking for help; a very stubborn woman who preferred to do things alone than in a group. Though since meeting Hugh she has softened some and come to accept things. Now a days she doesn't mind the group setting so much but prefers to be alongside Hugh during most situations. She can be rather outspoken at times but has a good heart and tends to help people in need even without being asked. Handing over items that one may need without a word and just walking away. If she does get mad though she will lash out either verbally or physically and when a new comer approaching she will draw and stand ready to strike them down if provoked.

History: She comes from a wandering band of gypsy that she left long ago for she refused to become what they wanted her to be. Another dancer and entertainer for the group. She was a tom boy growing up who preferred to spend time with a bow and arrow than a person. Though she never sought the way of her people she is very defensive of them and knows their ways. Skilled in song, dance, showmanship. Nothing traumatic happened during her childhood or growing up but being the typical teenager, hated what her parents wanted for her and in the end left those she knew for a world she wanted to know.

After she reached maturity she decided to leave the home and family she knew and set out on her own. Over the years she has worked in various towns trading furs from animals she has killed on her journeys and worked mercenary from time to time as wars broke out, utilizing her skills as a marksman.

During a journey through the desert when she was grouped with adventurers she met an older and kind hearted man by the name of Hugh whom she found herself drawn to. She was captured by a Lich and taken off to be sacrificed, if it had not been for Hugh she would have been slaughtered on the granite sacrificial tomb she was tied to. Though she has never out right stated that she loves him, it is more than evident in the way she acts around him and carries herself now.

 Sana traveled with Hugh for a long time. During an adventure she was snatched by a traveling fog that divided up her, as well as some others in the group she was adventuring with. When this happened, Hugh left the group but before Sana was taken. She is unaware of him walking away and has no idea why because of this. Since she was dropped off by the fog she had worked to get back with the adventuring party to find Hugh once again, thinking he is still with them.

Previous Rp: Sands Of Blood, Cinder Sickness

[User]
"Would a man with two right feet not have learned how to handle his deformity since he's lived with it his whole life? Barring that, I believe he would use a walking stick to give himself the ability to maintain balance." Vaeri stared at Tobias, unable to hide the bemused on her face as he tried to console Big Brut Pally Hugh over his apparent issues with Sana. She had noticed her treating BBPH differently today than she had the day before, but the relationship issues of others was not something she made a habit of concerning herself with.

"So how about you, Sir Tobias? How did you end up traveling with a woman as young and spry as Fiona? Perhaps she is your protege, learning the art of noble thievery and adventuring from you?" Vaeri did the best she could to avoid laughing or smiling too wide as she said this. There was only so far she could take the charade before cracking after all.

[Assistant]
Derrix looked over the extremely convenient lush bedded cave and then back at Sana, "I advise we examine it closer. It looks comfortable to me, and in nature I can only assume I'm not the first to think so."

 The man trotted Charroux slowly up to it before swinging off his tall horse and tying his long lance to the saddle, palming the pommel of his sword instead. The moist air started to dew his metal armor as he slowly approached the cave. A slow rasp sounded as he released his ashen colored blade from it's trapping scabbard.

[User]
Sana nodded in agreement as she swung a leg over and slid down, her feet landing softly in the bed of clovers. Pulling the hood of her mantle back she undoing her bow from her back and nocked an arrow into place; keeping the tip of the arrow aimed low she approached the mouth of the cave. Her eyes darted about as she looked around, it seemed to go deep enough back before the clover bed stopped to be able to keep the group sheltered.

 It kept going back as the green gave way to the grey and brown of pebbles and dirt. No sounds other than the dripping of water from the roots into the small pond seemed to echo through the space. Glancing up, Sana noticed that the roots seemed to be tightly wound together, letting no light break through.

 "Well hopefully when the rain comes it will keep us dry," Sana said as she dropped her arrow back into its quiver. Looking back over to Derrix she pursed her lips some before shrugging. "Guess it is as good a place as any," she remarked before turning and slinging her bow back into place. Taking Eponas reins she led her over to the pond to get a drink.

 "I can start gathering wood for a fire. Mind heading back to the main road and keeping an eye out for the rest? I'll yell if anything shows up," she said as she glanced over to him. "Or I can go wait and you can gather the wood, either works for me."

[Assistant]
Derrix slid his sword back into its scabbard as the serenity of the cave surrendered to his senses. He pulled his helmet off, polluting the fine forest air with his lavender scent and teasing his golden eyes with the sight of the mystical area. Silently he walked past Sana and back to Charroux, thinking.

 He sat the helmet on the horse's saddle as he unhooked the lip of a bow holster strapped to the beasts rump, opposite of the supply bags. His nimble fingers quickly received a small composite recurved bow from the holster as well as a handful of arrows.

 Derrix sucked in the forest air, inflating his lungs with it's long sought after flavor, and hooked the bow around his shoulder before turning to Sana, "I'll stay here and set things up, the group will recognize you before they do me."

 The man turned to his horse and nodded, "are you with me here or do you want to help the lady?"

 The stallion snorted at Derrix and walked over to the small pond before dunking it's large white head in with gluttonous vigor. The helmet balanced on the horse tumbled off onto the wet soil surrounding the water with a clank that caused the man to roll his eyes.

 "Lazy," Derrix said, his lips forming an unamused line.

[User]
"Very well, I will be back with the rest of the group," she said before giving Epona a gentle pat. Turning she left her steed there at the cave with Derrix and began to walk back towards the main road; figuring Epona could use a rest from carrying her most of the day. Glancing up at the sky she sighed slightly, it was going to be a long and dreary evening but hopefully the morning would bring about a brighter day on many levels. Pulling the hood of her mantle up, she tucked loose strands of gold beneath it. Thunder rolled through the country side as she pressed through the forest, down the path that lead back to the main road. The wind whipping through the leaves as the chilled air was brought down from the atmosphere to the ground below; a shiver running through Sanas senses as she pulled her cloak tightly around her form.

 As she reached the road she glanced around, it would be sometime before the main part of the group caught up with them. Looking towards a tree, she placed one foot in front of the other; making a quick sprint before she leapt; fingers reaching up and wrapping around the lower limb of a maple, her body arching to pull her around and up. Releasing her grasp she landed softly on the branch, the movement of leaves unnoticeable due to the winds already cutting through them. Sliding down the trunk of the tree she rested down on the branch, letting a leg dangle freely as she sat there and leaned back to get comfortable. It was as good a place as any to keep watch, allowing her a clear sight of the road without exposing her own presence.

 Resting her head back, she watched the road; the wind kicking up the dust of the trail as the storm rolled in. A deep breath and she could taste the oncoming rain; it would be there before the rest of the group arrived unless they hurried their pace. Sana used this time alone to think about the past day and the events that occurred, attempting to figure out where her life would go from here. She knew no matter how much she thought on the subject it would not change the path set before her yet a blind path made for tense travels. Sighing deeply as her hands rested in her lap, gently fiddling with the lace of her corset she hoped for the best but prepared herself for the worst. There was nothing more she could do right then.


[System]
Elsa Newmaker

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 Basic Summary
Alias: Ella
Age: 20
Gender: Female
Birthday: December 29th 1997
Home in the Mortal Realm: New York, America

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 Personality
Personality:
A quiet person for whom a smile is rare. Elsa is a very serious young woman. She doesn't speak much, even to those whom she has known for a long time. An observer, she prefers to watch and retain rather then give her opinion. People who know her would tell you while her face is passive her eyes are going a mile a minute. You can see the intelligence in her eyes as she watches everything around her. When asked questions she answers in short sentences, only speaking when she has something of import to say. So when she does speak people tend to listen.

Her music is where her passion lies. Sitting at the piano, Elsa becomes a different person. When she is lost in a song you can see her come alive with energy, her fingers flying across the keys and her face showing her true emotions.

If someone offends her she will not hold back from telling them exactly what she thinks, but most of the time she sits back and allows people to make asses of themselves. If asked she will tell you that humans are her least favorite species.

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Single
Fears:
- Darkness
- Spiders
- Water

Likes:
+ the color blue
+ classical music
+ old movies (think Casablanca, Singing in the Rain and Charade)
+ cherries
+ the sound of rain / walking in rain

Dislikes:
- heat
- the taste of alcohol
- mushrooms
- aggressive dogs
- rap and heavy metal

Other: is secretly an Alfred Hitchcock fan

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 Appearance
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130 lb
Eye Color: Hazel
Hair Color & Style: Brunette/Honey colored / long and wavy
Build: 'Coke bottle' shape = wide at the chest, narrow at the waist and wide at the hips
Skin Tone: Peachy pink
Style:
Elsa leans towards a vintage style but with an element of comfort and traces of bohemian. Her favorite outfit is a lacy peasant blouse with faded jeans she's had for years, comfortable worn out boots and leather/wooden bracelets. Doesn't wear makeup unless she has to, but dabs on a shimmery lip balm regularly.

Other: She has a heart-shaped birthmark on her right hip

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 Skills
Skilled: Elsa is a pianist so she is very musically inclined. She only needs to hear a song once or twice and she remembers it forever. She notices sounds more than other people do, picking up little things in people's voices, making her good at knowing when someone is lying. Unless the person is a VERY good liar.

General: She doesn't let things get to her that much so if you need someone to get rid of a gecko in your house, she won't be happy about it but she'll do it. She's not much of a cook but enjoys food when she remembers to eat.

Unable: Anything to do with absolute darkness or water. Elsa has a mild phobia of bottomless empty space. Which is why she and the ocean don't really get along. If you are hurt and bleeding she will tear her shirt to make a bandage but that is really the extent of her medical knowledge.

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 History
Who were you:
Elsa was the product of a one night stand between a stripper and a drug dealer. Her mother gave her up the moment she was born. The Mason's took her in as a foster child but never adopted her.

From a young age Elsa loved music. She would listen to tapes for hours, humming and singing softly to the work of both classical and modern composers, including Paganini and Yiruma. She practiced at school and joined any music classes she could. Music made her forget about her mother not wanting her, her foster father looking at her inappropriately and her foster mother being jealous.

Her voice and her musical abilities excelled and she was able to earn an audition for Julliard, which she passed. She stays with friends in the city in between semesters, not wanting to stay with her foster parents.

Family:
Tara and John Mason - Foster parents

How did you fall into Fae hands: One night she stayed late after a concert in a park and started playing her favorite piece by Yiruma on the piano. She got lost in the music, wishing she could stay wrapped in it forever.
The next thing she knew everything around her changed and she was suddenly very far from home...

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 Current
Court/Faction: (Leave blank)
What do you plan to do about your situation: Survive any way she can

Possessions:
The clothes on her back, her shimmer lip balm, her favorite emerald ring, her wallet with her money and student ID and apartment keys, her cellphone

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 Relationships

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Tara Mason
Relationship Details: Foster Mother, bad relationship, is jealous of Elsa

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John Mason
Relationship Details: Foster Father, bad relationship, stares at/leers at Elsa, makes inappropriate comments about her looks/body

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TJ Dougan
Relationship Details: Gay best friend who watches out for her

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Colleen Farris
Relationship Details: Best female friend, tries to push her to be more active

[User]
Noah Griffin

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As Noah's mind cleared, his skin shivered. His water soaked shirt plastered to his surface and hindered his movement, weighing them down. It messed with his already delicate balance while he managed to find the pool's edge. That didn't last very long. With his back turned to Yin, Noah didn't see the mischievous fox approach him until it was too late.

His spine stiffen abruptly when the clawed finger tapped his shoulder.

 "I'm fin-" Before Noah could finish his sentence, he was brought about-face to his concerned… demon.

Dread polluted his calm and steady mind, assisted by the dizziness that washed over him when Yin twisted him about. A queasiness swelled into his middle then rushed up. He swallowed the harsh liquid splashing at his throat, his hands pulled behind him to steady himself. A sharp sting flooded his attention when the finger wiped across the wound. Noah's knuckles tightened, becoming white at how close Yin had gotten.

 'Don't look down… Don't look down…' Noah kept repeating in his head as he fixed his eyes at Yin, his expression frozen in an indifferent one.

[Assistant]
Erin Céleste

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Erin listened as Thymond explained his actions- how the Lamia had been a menace, apparently, and that he'd been after her for a while. As she listened, she noticed that he spoke so she could understand him. He may not have been doing it on purpose, but he was using words that were simple and direct enough that she felt confident hearing them in English and knowing for sure what he meant. As he opened the door to the corridor outside and asked her to wait for him, she complied simply because of that.

Stepping through the door she heard him say something about wandering off, and suddenly she was alone in the corridor, surrounded by a group of curious creatures. None of them approached her, they all seemed more interested in trying to see into the room where the Lamia's body still lay so close to the doorway. When Thymond closed the door however, many of them turned and walked away at the sight of the man. Erin got the feeling that he was a more notorious figure than he let on- if he wasn't a cop, then he had to be a hitman or something similar. People didn't act like this for any of the other dead Fae she'd encountered. Of course, they hadn't been killed just then, so maybe there was a crowd simply because the scene was still fresh?

Standing by the door made her feel uncomfortable, with all the people staring. So, she walked down the hall about 5 feet, leaning with her back against the cavern wall to wait for Thymond, as he said to do.

[User]
Bodil Bera

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Bodil flinched when Falk snapped the book he was reading closed. She blinked and looked back at him as he fixed storm-colored eyes on her. He looked irritated, but then again his weirdly handsome face always sort of looked like that. Well, so as long as he wasn't reading. Though a stoic face could always been seen as angry. Especially on this guy.

"Ancient enemy..." She murmured softly, but then just shook her head a bit, "Yeah, not touching that one." But she did get the bit about their leaders going bye bye. No wonder all these childish Fae were running around like violent, destructive children. It was sort of like this Fowl King was the eldest kid trying to keep all the younger kids in line.

"Beneficial thing, huh?" She crossed her arms and tilted her head, "So all the kids got bored with being good and behaving and decided to do whatever they want. Yeah, I can see that." The human rubbed the back of her neck and murmured a sound of wondering. He really was like the elder kid whom no one would listen to. She glanced at him with a hint of pity.

T King had made a noise. An odd muffled huff of air that whispered through the library like the rustle of dead leaves in trees. He shook his head at her and it was her turn to get irritated. "You could still give the cattle some carts, no matter the path," she frowned and glanced at the passing images in his palm. Bodil's frown turned to a frustrated scowl. "Who cares about that old monster?" She grumbled, "A cart ride on that long trip doesn't mean a run in with her."

"But I get it, it is too much trouble," she grumbled, "Can't keep tabs on all of the monsters in a place that has no police... Or compassion for that matter." Bodil looked up at the king, hands on her hips. Ticking up her chin, she met his eyes. "There is always a better way."

The human female looked at the Fae King as if they were equals. She looked around the library once it returned. He gestured for her to come with him and surprisingly enough, she followed without so much as a question. The map on the coffee table shimmered with dark shadows and she rubbed her eyes. Another illusion. Fae Magic sure did mess with the eyes.

Peering with cautious curiosity, she tipped her head to the side. It was like a little world had grown on the coffee table. Freaky. But...sort of...cool. The human female's sharp eyes measured the map and tried to absorb as much information as possible. Looking up at the king when he mentioned an odd but somehow familiar word, she peered at him curiously then too. The ever stoic and stormy dark King almost seemed sad and lonely.

"Hm..." She leaned down to get a closer look to the sparkling land of fertility. "Your...partner, right?" Bodil looked over the strange land. "You guys must get lonely since you can't get together often." She let her face soften some. "Loneliness and despair seem pretty common no matter if it's here or in the human world."

[Assistant]
~| Location: Unknown|~

Vae never really saw the fox behind them but then again her main concern was No. Her hand reached outwards as if to help stop the male from going any farther. A rather idiotic choice on the girl's part considering there was not actual way to keep the injured person upward properly. A cruel fact considering a woman, who is built to withhold children in womb for 9 months, wasn't able built to help keep a full grown male supported. The native American stayed quiet as she attempted to carefully word her next phrase towards this animal.

"Apologies for disturbing your bath wâkoshęha. I wasn't trying to harm Neniwa. I didn't want to be alone in this place by myself. Mostly because I was considering suicide before coming here. I was concern about the thoughts coming back and having no help around me. I doubt your leader would like to see one of his servants doing stupid things. This is mainly the way I've been understanding this world so far. Can you also please place the Neniwa somewhere more stable. His wounds need tended to. I'm also respectfully asking you for bandages. If there is none I can wash and use my old clothes."

wâkoshęha= fox
Neniwa= Male

[User]
Elsa watched him while still playing. The piano was second nature to her, her fingers moving of their own accord so that she did not have to concentrate overmuch.
"From what I have always read the Fae are playful but cruel," she replied. "But humans can be far crueler to each other," she added, the frost coming back to her voice for a moment. Her fingers stilled, the music trailing off. Her eyes held a far away look.

"You're a bad little girl Ellie. God says you have to obey to your parents. Obey Daddy or you will be punished."
"You're not my daddy! Let go!"
"Such a bad little girl. Bad little girls are punished by God."

"Do you think this is punishment?" Elsa asked in a small, scared voice. "Do you think God has forsaken us? Left us to be tortured and devoured by these creatures? Is this what Hell is?"

Had she been such a terrible person? Was God really this vengeful? This heartless? Was there even a God at all? Or was that another lie from arcane times made to scare people into doing as they were told?

For the first time in a very long time, tears pricked at the corners of Elsa's eyes. They pooled, shimmering in the light before falling down her cheeks like liquid diamonds. The ice around her heart cracked, making her clutch at her chest at the pain of it.
The unknown was the most terrifying thing of all. She knew what to expect from the monsters she had grown up with. These monsters were strange and unknown.

Could one request death from the Fae? If she asked, would the King grant her relief?

Elsa cradled her head in her hands. She had battled dark thoughts her whole life but never to this degree. Logic forced its way up through the mire, struggling to reach the surface. Was something going on here? Someone, or something, digging up the darkness and amplifying it?