[System]
Age- 19

Gender- Male

Sexuality- Straight

Personality-
Kousei's personality is that of a very low level introvert, while he does get lost in his thoughts every now and again he does like to interact with others on a day to day basis. He is kind to pretty much everyone unless he has a reason not to be. While he does like to seem very pessimistic about things he is indeed an optimistic person. Kousei does not like to appear weak to others but when he does it's because he is stuck in a very bad predicament and as such will ask for the help of others in situations like that. Once someone gets to know him he is easy to talk with and a great friend to have as he cares for anyone that forms a bond with him. Whether it is for better or for worse.
Appearance-

Skills-
Proficient with a bow, knows various martial arts but is not a master of any, handy with bladed weaponry, can shoot a gun decently but will always prefer a bow, decent cook, basic medicine.
Biography-
Kousei was only just finishing up his classes for the day and as he was pulling into the garage, he heard the news over the radio seeing as it came on over the station he was listening to. It came to him as a surprise but he listened to it very closely to see what it was about. What he heard came to him as a shock and as such he immediately began to run around his house grabbing what he figured he would need. Obviously those supplies included his compound bow and tanto knife, he would've liked a gun but at the same time he knew the bow was probably the better idea. Once he gathered all the supplies he could he locked up his home and jumped into his car and began driving to wherever he thought would be the safest.

It has now been a month since that day, Kousei was making ends meet and had picked up a ton of survival skills along the way, but at the same time he had a lot to learn and not only that he still had to get used to killing the zombies that roamed the streets of Philadelphia one thing he figured would be the best would be to get out of Philadelphia as soon as possible and hope that there is another city that he can go to that is safe from this virus. He can only hope that there is somewhere safe, as he was not ready to live the rest of his life wondering whether or not he would survive for the next day.

Motive-
His sole motive is to survive through this virus and live on.

[User]
Emma walked down south street it surprisingly had no undead rather as of now it didn't. Everything was dead though shops had been trashed for supplies and anything anyone could use and or need. It was nothing like it used to be there was no joy or entertainment to be brought anymore.
It was actually rather dead and boring.

Swallowing she would check every now and then behind her to make sure nothing would pop out and feed on her. Pulling her mask up a little bit to cover her nose and mouth to make sure the Smell didn't lingerie into her system not only that she wanted to prevent anything that could cause the disease to speed it's pace up in her system.

Deciding that she needed some more supplies she was going to look for the nearest Walmart and or large grocery store to get everything she needed.

[Assistant]
Kousei sat in the middle of one of the many aisles that were in walmart, seeing as the walmart itself was clear, to his knowledge, he took his time in searching for any supplies within each aisle. Every now and again he got lucky and found something small that would help him but so far his search hadn't yielded anything worth the time he spent inside. He adjusted the bow on his shoulder and shifted the quiver of arrows around his waist up. Once he was clear of the aisle he was in, he moved onto the next one over which was the outdoor equipment aisle. He had high hopes for this aisle since there was a high chance he could find something that could later help him. Raising his right arm to his forehead, he wiped the sweat away and continued on his way.

Arriving to the aisle he immediately began searching past all the useless junk, before long he found some basic camping gear, which included a fire starter. He shot up to a standing position and with his hands motioned as if saying yay out loud, obviously without the actual yay part. Right away he knelt down on the ground and opened up his mid sized messenger bag and put in the stuff he thought was the most useful. Once he was all set he got back up to his feet and continued to move down the aisle.

[User]
Elsewhere, a girl climbed through a window she had recently broken, helping herself inside before those things came running. She unwrapped her spare shirt from her hand, worn to prevent any bleeding and risk a whole group from lining up for her blood. Inside, she ransacked all the cupboards in the kitchen, unsurprised to find majority of the food either gone or past its expired date. She luckily found a couple of canned tomatoes and beans, which she eagerly stuffed into her bag before moving onto finding any other supplies.

Lydia held her battered rucksack close to herself, as if it were a shield that could protect her from oncoming dangers. The girl snuck throughout the house quietly, hoping to find any weapons or medicine she could use before escaping. She could hear the dead groans from outside and each time she would stiffen, terror overcoming her shaky body.

Finding nothing, the girl finally gave up searching the house, deciding to look elsewhere instead for her supplies. At this point, her days were all the same: eat, drink, run, and scavenge. Lydia wondered whether there were any survivors, whether her brother was one of them. She longed for some contact, anything with another human being which she didn't need to kill for once.

[Assistant]
The Walmarts front entrance was like a shrine of death, thought Mies looking through the binoculars. Like moths to a flame people would come seeking fortune and oh so few would come out again. Why the dead would not disperse out of the temple of consumerism Mies pondered. The aisle must get them turning around and around. "How fitting" said Mies putting down his binoculars and opening his bag to take stock, a now daily ritual. 1 binocular, 1 mp3 player (full battery, but fill of trashy boy band music), 1 harmonica, a small bag of condiment packs, 1 magnet, a Pencil and Pen, a knife sharpener, multi-tool (leatherman), 1 Long handled Machete, 1 pump action shotgun (8 buckshot shells), a police standard pistol (1 clip with 15 rounds).

Putting every thing in its place Mies stood up, pistol at his side, and claimed down the side of the green trimmed house he had sat upon and walked slowly towards the Walmart thinking: 'Death, fortune, or food. How fitting of me now.'

[User]
Finn opened another can of beans. His last can... He'd have to make another soon. He stuck the can in the microwave, using the the energy he had saved.

As the beans slowly rotated, Finn turned back to his work. He had two test tubes set up. One with a sample of his blood in, the other with some rather old blood from his father. He looked back down his microscope again. Both him and his father had strange bacteria like organisms swimming around in them.

The microwave dinged as it finished. Finn shook his head as he stood up from the table. He was no scientist, and had no idea what he was looking at. He ate his beans quickly, thinking about what he would pick up on his next trip. Once he finished, he grab his rucksack, a kitchen knife, and his filled water bottle, and quietly slipped out of the house.

The journey was a simple one. He only ran into two zombies, who he easily snuck past. He breathed in deeply before stepping inside Wal-Mart.  This is my last trip, my last trip...

[Assistant]
As Kousei quietly went from aisle to aisle ins earch for supplies he began hearing some rustling noises near his area, he hoped on everyhting that it was only a rodent scurrying around in fear, but he did not want to take any chances so he slid his bow off of his shoulder and then reached around to the back of his waist, before grabbing an arrow he knocked the quiver with his hand and took a count of the amount of arrows he had through the noise that was made by the all the arrows being knocked against the quiver.「Ok I only have fifteen arrows...as long as they don't break though I can continue to use them...」He quietly said to himself as he drew one of the arrows from his quiver and placed it on the arrow guide. He half drew the bow back and slowly creeped his way around the area, getting closer and closer to the source of the noise.

As he got closer and closer he drew the arrow back even farther and as soon as he was practically in front of the source of the noise he released the arrow from the bow sending it shooting at the source of the noise. Right away the noise of flesh being pierced by force, was heard by Kousei. Once he confirmed the surrounding area was clear he sneaked his way to where his arrow was to inspect what he had hit. He was not surprised at what he hit, it was an infected human. He closed his eyes for a brief second before removing the arrow from its head and cleaning it of any residue left by the infected human.「I am sorry you didn't get to die as yourself my fellow human...」

Once his arrow was clean he placed it back on the arrow guide and went back to his searching.


[System]
Gender: Male
Character Type: Master of Caster
Languages: The Queen's English, goddammit (also Gaelic for reasons)
Affiliation: Clocktower
Height/Weight: 180cm/75kg
Place of Origin: Wales
Personality: A serious yet kind-hearted young man who does everything in his power to help others. Headstrong and sarcastic yet considerate when he needs to be, he gives off the air of a cynic, or a knight in rusty armor. Once he sets his mind to something he will pursue it with almost suicidal abandon simply because that is his principle, and although it's his policy to not stick his nose in other people's business, he will never ignore someone in trouble, even if he can only help in the tiniest of ways (don't expect him to remain quiet about it though; next to reading, griping seems to be his favorite pastime). He enjoys classical English literature, skeetshooting, boxing, and watching the History channel (or he did before it became all about conspiracy theories and aliens).
Bio: Born an otherwise normal magus, Darryl's primary distinguishing feature isn't his bloodline, magecraft, or some sort of special ability tied into a dark and tragic past. Darryl has just, since the day he was born, wanted to be a hero. There was no real reason for it, no catalyst. To Darryl, the idea of heroes who had the overwhelming strength and personality to change the world for the better and make a serious impact on things was intoxicating. These were people who could make a difference, a real difference, who could be saviors and role models to people everywhere. He admired them. Worshipped them, even. He immersed himself in the adventures of heroes both real, fictional, and mythological, determined to one day meet such a hero. But as Darryl grew older and learned more about the world, it didn't take him long to come to the conclusion that true heroes didn't exist. They were a figment of people's imaginations, easy answers made up by people like him who just wanted a better world that would forever remain a fantasy like all of his favorite heroes. This realization frustrated Darryl, and he decided he'd take it on himself to be a hero to other people if no one else would, even if he didn't want to. But his initial attempts were just about as successful as his attempts to find a real hero in the first place. Real life didn't have easy answers or justice like children's stories and folktales, and his failure to live up to his ideal only fed deeper into itself until Darryl simply helped people because he felt like he had to, turning the innocent child who'd looked up from his story books dreaming of heroes and knights in shining armor into a weathered cynic who wants desperately to be a hero but is too world-weary to believe such a thing even exists. Yet even though he complains and decries heroism and chivalry as stupid and outdated, he still pursues his dream endlessly, working harder every day to become an Enforcer for the Clocktower, the closest thing he can recognize as a hero in his world.
Bloodline: Xavier, a dying family of Gaelic origins that has resided in the United Kingdom for centuries. Having reached the peak of their power long ago, the family's numbers have dwindled to the point that they have one main nuclear family consisting of Darryl, his father, and his mother, and a few branch families of a similar homely size, having at most two or three siblings, usually only one of which is a magus. Long gone is the family manor (although the Xaviers still live comfortably), and the name which was once respected has faded into the worn printed pages of the history books. No one in the family seems to mind this decline however, and Darryl was taught by his father to appreciate the things one does have, so he rarely lets the state of his family and his bloodline worry him like other magi.
Magic Type: Runic
Blood Type: AB

[User]
Outside, the native breeze of Germany gently kisses the rotted wood of the wilted barn that a dejected black van is parked underneath, standing on its loft is a man - Caucasian, black turtleneck, black cargo pants, carrying a heavily customized MP5 with a magical seal inscribed on its reflective surface. He adjusts his baseball cap, slipping it off and wiping his forehead with it, these Magi, however young were also heavy, one hundred pounds is one hundred pounds, no matter what form it comes in, and carrying them up a tedious century old ladder had left him a little winded. All six of them are placed in a neat circle in front of arduously carved summoning circles, each of which are, with out a doubt to the eye of a magus, meant to summon Servants in the event of a holy grail war. The man looming over them keeps the same complexion he had worn through the entire process, annoyed grimace, bored eyebrows, unfurled nose, upright posture, he circles around them slowly, a hunting knife blinking into existence in his right hand "Okay." he says to himself, squeezing its handle "Awaken." he commands, the breeze turning to a mighty gust for a split second.

The moss covered barn shudders and shakes as Prana ceases to exist with a ghastly shriek, sailing through the humid atmosphere, and dispersing with a hiss similar to ember colliding with water. Each of the Magi may have been restrained in different places, but the memory is all the same - a firm hand on the back, in between their shoulder blades; and the cold sensation of their circuits being invaded by a stranger. It was unpleasant, in every sense of the word, and the process of awakening from their slumber even more so, the magical hangover is so intense, in fact, that each Magus finds it hard to notice a wrist being gripped by the same icy hand. The unforgiving edge of a blade licks the surface of each Magus' palm, and draws blood endowed with Prana, which drips on their assigned summoning circles. The immediate reaction from each rune, each narrow line the crimson liquid touches is a fiery flash of energy, which travels through the circle and envelopes it in blue flame, the contract is made, and each circle reaches out to the Throne of Heroes, and calls upon six servants: Archer, Saber, Lancer, Assassin, Berserker, and Caster. The MP5 disappears, and the 'Ashen Mandrake' stands in front of the barn's single window with his arms crossed. Moonlight floods into the loft, and the long shadow of Executioner dances across the moss covered floor boards beneath each Master. "Hello." he greets with a gruff, hollow voice "And welcome to the Sixth Holy Grail War."

[Assistant]
Lycusio slowly awoke with a grimace plastered on his face, his stern eyes slowly swept over the area around him, glancing at the other surrounding magi before finally placing his gaze on the Executioner. Shaking his bleeding hand slightly with a frown, he slowly sits up with a heavy slouch, smacking his lips with a sigh of discomfort. "Okaayy..." Lycusio mutters with a slur, his eyes staring at the Executioner as his situation comes back to him, "So, Holy Grail... what? Sorry, I'm kind of busy on vacation, y'know? No offense but I don't really have time to play pretend." He muttered to himself, his voice heavily accented and somewhat apologetic.

Lycusio eventually stood with a heavy grunt, his stiff muscles protesting at his every movement. As he scanned over the other magi, he slowly tensed, realizing the oddity of the situation. Pressing his lips firmly together, Lycusio straightened his suit with a swipe of his hand and looked the structure over for any escape routes.

[User]
Darryl appeared dazed and confused like everyone else, but in actuality he'd been jolted wide awake by a sudden burst of adrenaline the moment the spell was released and had been trying to adequately piece things together since then.

First I was in the Clocktower. Then I went to the library. This doesn't look like London or even England, and it sure as bloody fucking hell isn't a library. So something must have happened. What next? I checked out a book. Okay, what kind of book? Anything dangerous, forbidden knowledge man was not meant to know. No, it was a book on nordic runes vs. celtic ones, and I fell asleep reading it in the librar. Does that mean this is a dream then? No, too real. I wouldn't have the contingencies I came up with for situations like this if it was a dream. Which means...

Darryl's mind raced with the possibilities. So it's true then...

Doing everything he could to not let on that he was awake and self-aware, Darryl quietly drew runes over the circle in front of him, chanting in Gaelic. If someone was going to use his blood to summon a Servant, it was going to be one that he wanted.


[System]
"The Beast Master"

Vitals:

Age:  30

Sex: Male

Lineage:

Spirit Beast King: The Spirit Beast King is the man who handles all the transacations of spirit animals, in terms of giving them to their humans. He is usually behind the scenes, and with his abilities, can traverse the world using the spirit animals as transports. He is absurdly powerful, and can hop realities or dimensions, revive someone, or influence one's spirit animal. He keeps tabs on all spirit animals, though some, like Ouroboros, are outside of his field of control. He also knows what Falden's Spirit animal is, though doesn't tell him.

Ranking: Z. He is in the upper echleon of beings.

Class/Major: Beast King

Kei'taro's major class is to collect the Bestial Keys.

Class/Minor: Scholar.

He is very interested in learning about all animals, poisonous or not.

Occupation: Beast King.

Alignment:  Lawful Good

Martial Status: Single.

Birthplace: The Planes of the Spirt Beast King.

Blood Type:  O negative

Eye Color: Brown.

Height: Six foot three

Weight: Two Fifty Five

Hair Color/Style: Medium length brown hair.

Handed:

--- Both:Yes. See Skills.

Skin Tone/Condition: Some scars from battle with animals and other people. Also, tattoos.

Markings: See Magic.

Voice:

Kei'taro's voice is very peculiar. Those who hear it, say it takes on a twinge of different animals. Sometimess it's gruff like a apes, or high like a monkies, just a matter of how he feels. Those aren't all its limited to.

Reach:  Two feet, two inches.

Birthmark:

He has a black mark on the back of his leg, the mark of the Spirit Beast King's family.

Personality:

Kei'Taro is a gentle soul, unless he is in a combative setting like a tournament, then he becomes a world class snarker. He is a friend to all animals, and is cordial with humans who aren't trying to kill them. He understands that people eat animals and doesn't hold grudges against them for that, but he does have a special hatred for poachers and the like. He loves a good fight, and spending time with animals, learning from them and emulating them. He believes it can make him a better Beast Master.

One of the biggest sore spots is talking about his Father, the Spirit Beast King, who he hates and hates him.

Spirit Animal:

RyuKyu, is a RyuKyuan pup he befriended in the Volcanic Lands. A RyuKyuan is a Lion/Dog mix, popualrized by the Pokemon Growlithe and Arcanine. RyuKyu is more of a more mature Growlithe. It is very loyal to Kei'Taro, and can appear and disappear at a whim. It likes to eat, especially raw meat. For its size, it has considerable bite force.

Equipment:

-Upper Body: He carries camping gear on his back. It holds no special significance, he just thinks it's comfortable to sleep on.

-Lower Body: See Picture.

Weapons:

Kusanagi - Kusanagi is Kei'taro Straight sword. See 'Shoot to kill, Kusanagi' for it's abilities. He is quite capable of using the sword in sword fighting moments without the ability, combining his strength and speed.

Skills:

Strength: Due to living with Gorillas, he was able to emulate their strength. He is able to lift up to four hundred pounds before beginning to struggle. He is able to injure a man with a punch, and able to break bones if he applied full power. He was able to pull a tree out from the ground, but it took a bit of struggling to do.

Speed: Kei'Taro is able to reach speeds of up to sixty miles an hour, at a sprint, and 50 miles for an extended run. This comes from trying to keep up with various types of animals who were often on the move.

Intelligence: Kei'taro is not exactly a stupid man, he is just not technologically savvy. Being in the wild for most of his life, his knowledge comes from that and not the fancy leaps and bounds the world has made. He was surprised when he was tasked to hold on to an MP3 player from a guy he once fought. He still seeks to return it.

Transportation: In addition to running, Kei'taro is adept at swinging from vines, and swimming.

Martial Arts: Through studying animals, Kei'Taor has become very skilled at multiple types of animal based combat. He is most adept at the Wu Xing, but is also capable of using fighting styles based off different animals. It makes for an incredibly difficult fisticuffs bout with him.

Reflexes: Kei'taro is a very agile and reflex intensive man, able to catch a striking snake neck by the throat mid-strike and not get bit.

Hands and Feet: Kei'taro is adept at using either hand to wield his sword, or for any other activity. This extends to his feet as well. they aren't as useful as a monkey's, but he can make it work. His toes and fingers have exceptional gripping power.

Abilities:

Animal Tongue: Kei'taro is quite skilled at talking to and understanding any animal he comes into contact with.

Senses: Kei'taro possesses enhanced senses of smell, sight, touch, and hearing. He can see things in greater detail, and feel more textures when he touches something. He has twice as many scent glands as normal humans, but being around animals for most of his life has numbed him to the nastier scents of the world. He can hear things from a greater distance than humans, and at a lower volume. He can pick out specific individuals based off their voices at well.

Well Traveled: Kei'taro can survive in just about any environment that isn't outright death causing, due to his many travels in search of animals. He is not, however, very capable of handling the extremes of temperatures though, and even has his own limit. He was able to survive in the Volanic Lands and the Winter Wonderland without any debiliating effects. Because of this, he can pick out edible foods, and poisonous ones at a glance. He is great at directions.

Hunter-Tracker: Despite his love for animals, the man has to eat, and so he became very adept at hunting things based off prints and excrement. He doesn't kill baby animals nor the females of the group. He takes care to only hunt the weaker males as well.

Magic:

[Indent]Kei'Taro has a particular brand of magic which is evoked via tattoos called Bestial Keys. These Keys are gained from animals that have them, after a test relating to the animal or ability. There are an unknown number of these, and Kei'Taro is constantly searching, though seems to have an innate ability to sort of happen upon them, such is the case for his Spirit Animal, and first Bestial Key, RyuKyu. They glow so long as they hold a charge, and continue to glow while in use.

The tattoo's etch themselves on Kei'Taro, except for Kusanagi and RyuKyu, which take the form of his sword, and spirit animal, respectively. They each have their own personality, as it relates to Kei'Taro, some are extremely loyal - like RyuKyu, and some are willing to jump ship if able, like Eight Legged Spider.

For every charge they have before activating, Kei'Taro can control the tattoo's for that many turns, until he gets to three charges. Once he gets the third charge, then he is granted an extra turn of manipulation.

He can have multiple tattoo's charged, but cannot charge more than one per turn. While this gives him access to a wider array of moves on the fly, it also means they'll be lower in strength than if he focused on one.

[User]
It has been a week since the last challenge. Soon after descending the Mountain after his successful race with Havardr, he entered a tundra. There he had met the Penguin Key Holder, and been challenged to yet another powerless race. His stamina had returned, of course, as had his ability to access his tattoos. The Penguin Key was a mystery, he wasn't actually sure he was able to get it.

Perhaps he should turn around and find the King, to ask what the issue had been. And if another dreadful race was in order.

But something more dreadful, and annoying, awaited him along this Tundra. His Father.

And to get to him, as the old man wasn't exactly forthcoming with the reality shifting teleportation to the Spirit Animal world, or to bring himself here, he had to enter through one of the Gates.

And the closest was guarded by an old hag he hated almost as much as his father. Pikatok, the woman who fancied herself the Beast Queen. How his father put up with having her guard one of the few Gates was beyond him, but he hated every time he had to cross her. Thankfully, it was rare.

The woman, Pikatok, had beaten him so many times when he was younger, she had practically driven him to find other gates. Yet, here he was, Kusanagi at his side, RyuKyu bounding, but fading, by his side. He hated her too. To meet her, and hopefully get into the Gate without the time honored tradition of beating her to do it.

The wind danced around him in its cold, mocking way, and he remembered why he had went to the Volcanic Plains, and worked his way around to the cold. Fate. And he hated the cold.

Off in the distance, he could see the woman and the wind brought along her scent. It was morning, had to be, because she was just sitting herself down at that chair, that was big enough to seat two others. The far end of the chair was the one he often sat on when banished away to the woman.

He approached, letting his hat shield his eyes away from the worst of the storm.

"Pikatok, he wants to see me. Allow me to pass and be out of this damned wintery horse's ass you call a home."

He turned his gaze up towards the woman, and set a pleading smile on his face. Hopefully she had changed over the years.

[Assistant]
Through the snow, a silhouette emerged slowly. A familiar form, a shape that always put a smile on Pikatok's face. It was the holder of the bestial keys, and seeker of the others. Pikatok disagreed with the keys, they shouldn't be used as such idle playthings for its holders. Some of the holders were respectable, however, Pikatok did not find Kei'Taro respectable. Nor did she respect his father, though that was something she would never voice. Not out of fear of the Beast King, she doesn't fear him in the slightest, she just wouldn't say it out loud. A lady doesn't want to be considered rude.

The thought made her laugh, she wasn't very ladylike.

When the figure approached the seat, she hopped down to the ground below. Snow crunching beneath her feet as her weight dropped onto it. The same question that he always asked, a question he knew the answer to but insisted on asking anyway. 'Please let me through.' And the answer was always the same. "You know the rules, Kei'Taro. I can't allow you to pass unless you prove your worth." The words left her mouth with a certain thickness to them, her accent sounding as though her tongue was pressed against the back of her throat at all times.

She paused for a moment as she repositioned herself between him and the gates, making a visible effort to posture herself squarely and sturdily. In case he tried a sucker punch. "The rules never change, Kei'Taro." Her eyes cast directly into Kei'Taro's, staring into him with a furious glare. "But you do."

After a very short pause, she continued her thoughts. "What keys have you taken this time? How many more than the last?" A noticable scowl adorning her cheeks, deepened further by the shadow cast by her hood. "Were they taken by force? Or willfully granted?"

[User]
And just like that, hshe proved that she hadn't changed in all the years that he had known her, and further more all the years that he had gone without seeing her. He really should have went to the Western mountains, another half year of trekking and asked Limand, the Sceptre of the West, for passage. He rarely ever stopped his passage, and often encouraged his escapes into the world. He hadfortunately not chose the other route back to his father, that was said to be sometimes guarded by Pikatok's husband.

Shaking his head, he noted that as often as he asked the same question of her, she asked the same of him. Always the Keys, force or will. In retrospect he understood why his father often sent him to the woman, as intolerable as she was. They shared similar abilities, albeit a different way to harness them.

"You know, as well as I, that I attain the keys through challenges set forth by their respective holders. There is no force, there is no undue altercations. Of note though, I've gained the Mountain Goat key, an elephant key, making that number two. And Kusanagi," he gestured to the weapon at his side, "has shown some interesting developments."

Kei'taro cracked his neck to the side, and stepped forward, the snow crunching beneath his feet. He withdrew Kusanagi, his favored mode of attack, and began to plan his path past Pikatok and into the gate.

Of course, that meant either surviving longer than she anticipated, or beating her. The latter had never actually happened. Today that would change.

Kei'taro glanced at Pikatok, and shrugged his pack off his back.

"Well then, come on let's get this over with." He mused.

As he looked at the woman, he began to put his plan into action. He inched down into a common 'Horse' Stance, but kept his feet loose and limber, he hadn't planned on keeping this stance. Underneath his attire, his Tortoise Shell tattoo began to glow. Phase one.


[System]
SHOWTIME!
Monster Type: Robot/ghost
Gender: "ASKING IS IMPOLITE SWEETHEART"(Prefers to be called male, though he has no true gender)
Occupation: Entertainer
Weapon?: (Normal and EX) Bombs (NEO) Arm cannon.
Armor?: Immune to damage in normal, none in other forms
Magic (up to three) : Bombs, lasers, and arm cannon
Personality: Mettaton loves to entertain, it is his passion, and the only reason he took a physical form, he is self-centered and egotistical, but he loves his fans. When in battle, his demeanor is the same, feminine and flamboyant. Mettaton seems unable to focus on anything, but hidden behind his metal face, is a planner, able to trick even his creator Alphys. While untrustworthy, if you befriend Mettaton, he'll have your back, though only after an intense pose-off.
Bio: Originally a ghost, Happstablook was never content with his life, wishing to be more than what he was, a celebrity, a role model, a brilliant comedian! Though he loved his cousin Napstablook, and the time they spent together, making music, and raising snails, he was never content. During a contemplative walk, Napstablook phased through a scientist, accidentally fogging up her glasses with the residue he left behind. Turning to apologize, he met Alphys for the first time, at that point, ambitious but unsuccessful. After a conversation about how insecure and worthless he felt, Alphys told him of a way she could make him a star.

"AND THUS, I WAS BORN, SWEETHEARTS!

Mettaton arrived. Through some showing of his musical talent, Mettaton became a star, given his own show, his own newspaper, even his own day of the week! For the first time, the charade of happiness Happstablook kept was replaced with genuine happiness.

"THEN... THEY ARRIVED! THE ONE THAT WOULD CHANGE MY LIFE FOREVER!...FOR THE BETTER OF COURSE!"

After a friendly human arrived, Alphys made a plan to finally not be a loser, to have a friend! Coming to Mettaton, she gave him a script to follow. Though he made a show, as usual, Mettaton was surprised with the quality of her writing, and agreed.

"SHOWTIME WAS APPROACHING, I WAS GREAT! BUT... ALPHYS SCREWED UP HER LINES AND RUINED IT! TO SALVAGE THE SHOW, AND MY FANS LIVES, I ENTERED, FOR THE FIRST TIME, MY EX FORM!... AND WAS SWIFTLY DEFEATED, BUT MAN! THOSE RATINGS!"

After his defeat by Frisk, Mettaton realized just how much his fans meant to him, and Frisk was... nice! The only people ever genuinely nice to him were Napstablook and Alphys! But... a human? Those were meant to be awful!...Right? Returning to showbiz, after the barrier was destroyed, Mettaton gave his new fans the concert of a lifetime! Nothing could ever ruin the happiness he felt... right?

"WRONG AGAIN! THE HUMAN WAS GONE, AND I TOOK IT UPON MYSELF TO DOCUMENT THE RESCUE EFFORT, THERE WAS NO BETTER PERSON FOR THE JOB OF COURSE! LET'S LET THIS ONE PLAY OUT!

[User] "Well, I think we should check the underground. It seems likely that he'd fall down there, again," I explain to Erion. I then catch a glimpse of someone rushing past the place, with a look of determination on her face... wherever she was heading, she wanted to get there fast. Curious about this, I flew towards her just to keep up. "Um... hi?" I introduce while avoiding an obstacle that would have otherwise probably sent me several feet backwards. "So... what's with the running?" I continue, though, for some reason, I didn't really expect an answer, at least, not yet. She seemed to be running to the forest, or the mountain... one or the other. I suppose if she was heading into the underground, we'd have a common goal at this point. I then add "So... did you hear about Frisk? I, um, have a feeling he might be in the underground again, you know? As in, he fell down there again by accident, or something... of course, my friend got the idea that he still has his cell phone, and we could ask where he is..." I narrowly avoid a tree after that conversation, and pass by a chameleon with a saxophone, and that guy that might have been the king. "Uh, 'scuse me! Sorry!" I shout as I fly between the two, narrowly missing at least one of them. I continued my flight, wondering exactly why this girl was so determined to run... somewhere... though, I was almost sure that she would answer in some way or another... I just hoped that way wouldn't involve violence. I start to ask the running girl another question, however, that distracted me from a tree, which I quickly flew right into, effectively stopping my flight for at least the next five minutes. That was just about the time when I looked back to see if Erion was following me, and, if that was actually him, and not just some weird effect of being hit in the head, he probably heard me say "Owww... stupid... trees..." though, I could have just as easily been talking to myself at that point.

[Assistant]
Seth looked up at the big goat who had approached him. He looked menacing, but seemed to be trying to make friends... Seth took the mouthpiece out and wiped it off, thinking of what to do or say. After a second, he shook the big monster's hand and smiled back.
 "G'day! My name's Seth, and... you're the king, aren't you? That crown gives it away, mate. Nice to meet you!" Seth said, popping his own neck. He soon heard a ringing coming from under the king's cape. "She's apples if you take that call," he said to him, smiling patiently as he leaned against the wall. He looked up into the sky and began to daydream about being famous again, sighing and chuckling as he came out of it, looking around. He flashed pale-green as a human and a bird-monster darted past them, and he then looked at the king and said "Sorry, gotta run. Er... here's my phone number," as he scribbled it out on the corner of some sheet music he brought, tearing it off and handing it to the king before walking down the road again, playing the sax a little quieter this time around as he approached the street corner.
 Seth saw a bunch of adolescent humans walking down the street and waved. No one waved back, but whatever; they didn't know him, and he didn't know them. He ignored them until one of them murmured 'dirty monster' as they passed.
 Seth whipped around and said "If you want to get knocked cold one day, then keep sayin' that type of drivel," and the human, obviously an ego-inflated, naive child turned around and swore at Seth. "Just a fair warning, cobbler." The adolescent swung a punch at Seth, making him turn a nice shade of pale-green as he sprinted down the block, and doubled back, running in a square and down the road before running out of breath and stopping, looking back, seeing the group trying to regain their breath. "Persistent little ankle biters, aren't you?" Seth wheezed as he jogged around the corner again, trying to get away from the posse of angst-y teenagers.

[User]
Erion saw a woman pass by quickly, with David suddenly running to fallow her.
"Woah wait up David!" he says quickly, trying to fallow him, having a bit of trouble actually keeping up, before he then started to speed up more, fallowing a bit closer before moving to the side where a chameleon was playing a saxophone.
"Scuse me!" he says, continuing to run, trying to fallow. Seriously, if someone was determined, did not mean they would know what was going on here. What was David even thinking right now. Sure, he could try to help on whatever that girl had for problem, but what was with the plan on going to see the mountain? Well, it seemed they were heading that way anyway. He kept running as fast as fast as he could. He then heard David from a distance saying something about stupid trees. He frown as he walk to David.
"David, this is why it would have been better to slow down a bit. Geez.* he says breathing deeply a bit, before shaking his head.
"I guess we might want to fallow. We are probably gonna head to the cave afterwards." he says.

---

Meanwhile

---

Celes was working in the flower shop right now, getting some plants ready, making flowers grow faster and taking care of them, cutting thorns off of roses and being careful. Her boss walked in afterwards.
"Almost ready with the next order we got?" she then asked to Celes calmly. Celes nod's.
"Almost, just need to prepare a couple more potted plants." she said calmly, taking care of another flower, this one a golden flower. She made it grow and make sure that it looked nice and good. She then placed the pot with the flower onto a table.
"There, ready to sell for someones garden." she says softly to her owner, who smiled at her.
"Good, business been booming lately. You can go now." the owner then said. Celes smiled before going and getting her things before walking out. It been a couple of months she been working with this lady, taking care of the plants and flowers in the shop. Lately they been having a lot of demand for flowers for ceremonies and then such. Before, the shop had trouble meeting with the demands of all the clients, which caused many clients to leave empty handed without the plants they wanted. But since Celes arrived, things had been going better, although with all the work she been doing lately, Celes had gotten quite some over time to take care of plants for major clients. Because of this, she was just glad to be able to have some time off for now, at least for a couple of days. She got up and then headed outside, before relaxing and starting to hum softly, although careful, on her guard a bit, hoping no humans would go and attempt to hurt her. She was heading towards the forest right now, not wanting to get back to her parents home just yet. It was the usual. A little walk in the forest always helped her calm herself and cheer up, and with all the work that was done, she did need to calm herself.

[Assistant]
"TAKE 39!" No groan erupted around the room this time, most of the actors seemed resigned to their fate. Yet again Mettaton left the room, which less and less resembled a school. Mettaton stood outside the collapsing building, using his phone to manage his many businesses when his ringtone sounded.

It was Alphys, it seemed more and more like she was acting through him, never leaving her lab except for her dates with Undyne. She barely even spoke to him anymore, she was his creator! She needed to pay attention. Mettaton frowned internally before answering the call. 'This'd better be good Alphys.'

"Uh....M-Mettaton?" Mettaton blew a raspberry and leaned on the closest wall, without warning, it collapsed in on itself. When the dust cleared, Mettaton was in the same leaning position, undamaged, as were his actors, thanks to some MTT brand armor products. "HELLO DARLING! YOU HAVE AN UPGRADE FOR ME?" Mettaton spoke in his same flamboyant way, looking at his nails (or lack thereof) as he spoke. "Y-yes, I can... install it through... through..." "MY PHONE?" Mettaton interjected impatiently. "Y-yes, it's a new form, I call it, NEO... W-we think we've found Frisk, I'm sending the co-coordinates n-now." Mettaton was pleased, smiling internally as the phone extended a metal arm, opening his back panel and beginning the upgrade. 'Frisk's been found? I cannot wait! I doubt my fans will be able to as well!' "D-done!" Mettaton admired the new form, all black, with wings! AND AN ARM CANNON? SO COOL! He danced around for a second before entering a pose, his left arm bent in towards himself, he had his body turned sideways, pointing his right arm (And the cannon) towards the closest camera.

"N-now, we have some new features, flight of course, a-and, you can r-record just by looking at something with your r-right eye." Mettaton's right eye was kept in shade by the hairdo, but upon activation of the camera, it began to glow a yellow tinge. "ALPHYS, I VERY MUCH APPRECIATE THIS UPGRADE, AND NOW, I WILL USE IT... TO FABULOUS EFFECT!" Mettaton took a superman-like pose, and the space between his wings opened into a jetpack. He blasted off near instantly, leaving a cloud of grey smoke.

"NOW THEN, MY DARLINGS! ENJOY MY NEW SHOW! METTATON'S NEOVISION, STARRING ME! METTATON! Mettaton flew in the direction of Mt. Ebott, laughing all the way.

---

Meanwhile, King Asgore finished speaking to the other monster, but was interrupted at any chance he got to speak, finally his phone rang. "Scuse me, I have to take this." Closing off his body to the young monster, he put the phone to his ear, but not before having a paper stuck in his pocket. "What a handful." Asgore quietly said to himself, smirking.

It was Alphys. And-

"FRISK'S BEEN FOUND!? I'LL CALL YOU BACK!"

Asgore yelled loudly, so loudly that the whole town probably heard it. He took off in the direction she described, along with a group of youths heading that same direction.


[System]
Age: 20 (physically), 35 (in years).
Gender: Female.
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Poltergeist.

Physical Description:

Talents:Intangibility – That walking-through-walls thing. Spirits eventually achieve the ability to switch between being tangible and intangible at will. A sub-benefit of this is invisibility to mortals.

Telekinesis – This is what makes throwing furniture so easy. Requires emotional instability (i.e. mood swings, anger, and grief).

Possession – The ability to take control of a mortal body. The mortal usually suffers memory loss from the moment of possession to their release.

Spiritual Energies - Beth can perceive a variety of these and as such is not immune to the affects of other dead.

History:One randy night between a local girl and an Irish immigrant in 1980 led to the birth of Elizabeth Callahan. Her mother wilted under the pressure of raising a newborn and her father, never intending to stay long in the United States, developed an addiction to drugs and alcohol before she reached the age of three. To say Elizabeth grew up independent would be an understatement.

She never bothered attending high school. The "real world" taught her everything she needed to know. By the time she should have been a junior, she was a skilled thief and hung out with low-level thugs in youth gangs. Around this time her mother went missing. It was assumed, due to her mother's lengthy history with depression that the woman had left to commit suicide. With this and the fall of the gang, Elizabeth abandoned her father and moved with the crowd to another city.

Settling in New Camden, she started from the bottom again. She stole from other gangs, working her way up to the most powerful, until she wronged someone too high up for it to go unpunished. She tried to flee the city under the protection of the millennial celebrations. She took shelter in a trinket shop and pocketed the most valuable of the items for sale, hoping to pawn them off for a plane ticket.

The owner confronted her but Elizabeth pushed the woman aside, but not before she heard the woman utter what would later turn out to be a curse. Elizabeth made a final bid for freedom and was cornered by those she'd wronged. She was beaten and shot, but "awoke" later with an incorporeal body and one of the stolen trinkets, a pendant, hanging off her neck.

Learning the ropes of the supernatural world took years. Gradually she developed a new set of skills, along with an understanding of the curse: she was to be kept in the realm of the living as punishment. Her mortal life taught her not to be so reckless in this new world, and she lived—or rather, didn't—in civil servitude to the Court, awaiting her chance to earn favour as "Beth".

Over the course of twenty years, she attained a vague familiarity with Count Caradoc, a place in his court—possessing the right people offered so many opportunities—and a reputation, especially among the dead. She took the pendant to a small town outside New Camden and buried it beneath the coffin of a grave marked "L. P. Withers". Should anyone discover its purpose she knew the curse could be undone in order to vanquish her. Several years later, the aftermath of the Count's death threatened to mirror Beth's mortal life. Betrayed by her undead associates, she sought out those who would rally against Nemsemet.

Psychological Profile:In life, Elizabeth strived to be recognised and, sometimes, feared. It gave her leverage over those who would hurt her, and growing up with the relationships she had, she understood no one could be trusted. Everything she did, she did to protect herself. She fashioned a new identity for herself whenever it was necessary, and it was necessary so often she tended to forget who she started out as. The façade became habit.

Death provided a learning opportunity and a new beginning. The addition of new threats meant she retained her old intentions, but new abilities meant Beth didn't need to work so hard to protect herself any longer. She became calculative instead of reckless and spent more of her time strategizing than outright fighting. Age, even in death, has proven helpful in creating a wizened Beth. After so many years she recognises the need for a system, but one that is fair and just. She is particularly sympathetic towards the poverty-stricken.

She does nothing without reason, even if that reason is simply to enjoy herself. Which she does happen to do. She considers some things to be naïve or fruitless, such as loyalty to anyone other than yourself, and control; anything you try to cage will inevitably escape. Beth's strongest belief is in ambition and perseverance: with this, you can achieve anything.

Possessions:
* The cursed pendant (buried).

Yes, and:
Beth met Rikive, through Parael, when investigating different strains of magic and all but interrogated the deity to tell her everything she knew about otherworldly spells.

[User]
Flint was not one to make idle chit chat, he rolled his eyes at Parael and skimmed over his outfit. He didn't understand the fashion of the modern world, anyone who had seen Flint before would know he always seemed to wear the same suit, the same hat and the same coat. Sometimes it was rumoured he only owned one of each and never changed. When asked he would just say that the outfit "is best for investigation purposes." In the modern world however it just looked like he stepped out of a noir film.

"Im not here for a chat" Flint said, his voice sounding like he gargled gravel.

"Have you reconsidered my offer yet? Your people would be safer at my place"

Flint's large hands searched his coat pocket, slipping out a packet of cigarettes. He carefully placed one into his mouth and clicked his fingers. A small flame burned in his grasp, he quickly wafted it away as he lit the cigarette. Breathing in the smoke then exhaling to the side, being sure to avoid breathing smoke into anyone's face.

Flint took a step inside, spotting Rikive he nodded, then did his usual scour of the room, his eyes that of an eagle looking to make sure nothing was out of the ordinary.

Then he spotted an enemy.

In the blink of an eye Flints hand was at his gun, his hand pulling it from the shoulder holster and pointing it at the figure. The hammer clicked, locking the chamber in place on the large firearm.

"What are you doing here!" Demanded Flint to Antonio, standing at the other side of the room. Many lycans had joined Nemsemet and Flint had dealt with this one before. His finger was on the trigger, waiting for the monster to give him a reason to shoot.

[Assistant]
"What does it look like, asshole?" he snarled. No love lost there, since Flint crawled up his ass in the 1980's trying to prove him guilty of a string of ugly murders that involved cannibalism, "Maybe you should ask the host instead of acting like this is your house and I broke in. Ever think of that or were you too busy whippin' it out to think it through, Whitey?" Just like last time, went the unspoken added comment.

He relished calling the man 'Whitey.' It was so appropriate. One letter changed the whole texture of the conversation.

But what Tony really wanted to do was just rip the man's head off, and it was hard to count more reasons off in his head than he had fingers. His nostrils flared and took in the tobacco smoke, which was offensive and harsh -- of course the guy would smoke something that smelled like a lit fart.

There were reasons, of course, not to start a fight in another being's home -- being a guest and behaving accordingly was a big deal with certain sets of supernatural. But then there were fuckers like Flint who didn't think they had to play along with the niceties, and perhaps that's why, unable to resist, Tony pointed out, "I can see why you'd be wary around werefolk, Whitey, I bet there's more than a few scores they want to settle, especially with the Court's cops. Guess that's karma comin' round real hard, looking for your ass. Shit, you protect anyone? Your place is the first place they're gonna tear up, boy. Right after this place," he added pointedly to Parael -- tick-tock.

At least getting that bit off his chest, smirking rather than snarling now, though suffused with malice that reached his eyes knowingly, seemed to stabilize his response a bit.

[User]
"Oh, Flinty-poo, it's so sweet of you to offer to put up the merry band of hangers-on." Parry stepped aside for Flint, letting the drab enforcer into his home. He'd always admired the old Noir look on the guy. Thankfully, he didn't stink like he would if it was the only set of clothing he owned. "Have you reconsidered my proposal for a wardrobe change. Leather dusters are-" Parry was cut off, waving the smoke cloud of cigarette smoke out of the air after Flint lit up. "Ah, there's no smoking in here. Kids and all that."

And I'm going to smell like tobacco for a couple hours too. Need to get some cologne on, fast!

But there were no kids present any more. Most of the place had been emptied out. It was Parry's not so subtle way of reminding Flint just whose house he was in.

And as he was getting ready to excuse himself to get some more pleasant odor applied to himself, like that, with the click of a hammer on the pistol, the temperature of the room dropped about a hundred degrees.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Parry said, resisting the urge to draw his silver Fairy Sword. "Guys, can we not murder each other while there's a fucking Egyption-god-mummy on his way to kill us all? Please? Guns down, claws retracted, and everyone take three deep breaths!"

[Assistant]
Rikive jumped when things quickly turned for the worst once the lawman and the messenger saw one another. Obviously they knew one another and more apparent, there was quite a lot of bad blood between them. She remained still, not wanting to add to the tension by drawing her own weapon but when the messenger snapped back at the man it seemed the situation would only become worse.

Rikive gritted her teeth as Parael spoke and started to take off her jacket, her light hazel eyes flicking between the two of them with a scowl. "Parael is right. Cease thy squabbling! We hast a large enough axe hanging ov'r our heads without fighting amongst ourselves!" She said, gripping her jacket in hand tightly and holing it as though she was about to throw it.

"Or doth thou require time outs. I believe Parael has appropriate furniture for such occasions." She finished, her gaze split between watching the man with the gun and the Berserker. At least she wasn't the only one that wasn't fond of Flint the lawman. She was still sore at him for arresting her after the incident with her duel with that obnoxious human.

The mortal had agreed to it, she still maintained she was well within her rights to have beaten him like she had.

[User]
Going into hiding had not been necessary in so long, Beth didn't consider slipping into the body of a mortal as a means of escape until days later. She scolded herself for the absent-mindedness, but once inside the body of one Jacob Schmidt, she didn't give it a second thought. She supposed Nemsemet's minions sensed the supernatural even within the shell of a mortal, and so moved quickly throughout the city. But whether or not they could sense the spiritual, she certainly could. Albeit a new talent, Beth grasped the ins and outs of it in quick time. For now it served as a spiritual navigation tool, highlighting the most infested areas of New Camden at any given moment and providing her with a safe escape route.

Why hadn't she ever gone into the business of private investigation?

She had to give up the body of Mr. Schmidt at some point, lest she want to drive him mad. On the outskirts of town, where the cityscape morphed into suburban neighbourhoods, she laid the mortal in a bush. The half empty bottle she shoved into his hand resulted in a few seconds of solid snickering: a relief in the endless intensity of Nemsemet's dominion.

Of all the houses, she chose the one with the neglected front lawn. She tried only to possess the bodies of those who might not be as missed as others when they lost their memories. The icy paresthesia that spread over her incorporeal form as she passed through the walls never became less uncomfortable. Beth made her irritation known as soon as she was inside, shuddering until picture frames trembled against the walls.

Left-to-rot pizza boxes covered the floor with such density they may as well have been a second carpet. Discarded clothes and beer cans gave Beth everything she needed to make her decision. She followed the sound of snoring to the master bedroom, where a middle-aged man in a suit slept in an armchair by the window. Beth stood in front of the chair and fell backwards. His heavy body might have been difficult to move when she was a young poltergeist, but now she mastered temporary bodies like an experienced puppeteer.

She headed for the daycare joint Parael had a hold on. He'd be able to explain some things for sure, and Beth figured the few good folks left would have gone there too.

Using her puppet's wallet, she paid for a cab to take her a few blocks from Parry's. Beth approached the building slowly, surveying the area for unfamiliar spiritual signatures. Finding none in the immediate vicinity, she knocked.


[System]
Nicknames: Alex, Sky

Race: Elf

Age 19

Apperance: Alexander stands taller than a standard human at nearly 6 feet. His skin is well tanned and he boasts muscles that, while not bodybuilder, certainly are enough to warrant attention. His eyes are, as typical of elves, a pleasant shade of green. His normal clothing is loose dull clothing filled with pockets, while underneath he is protected by normal leather armor. Nothing extravagant but enough to protect him from a stray slash. His hair is a boring shade of brown, most similar to forest earth. He bears scars on the backs of both hands as well as an earring in his left ear.

Biography
 Alexander grew up in what was a stranded home, though no doubt all children think the same of their homes. Both of his parents were elven and they lived in a small village where other races were a rarity, mostly in the way of travelers. His mother, Agrona, was a hunter and when she was home often spent time with Alexander tutoring him. However most of her time was spent making sure that nothing dangerous made it to the village, along with two other hunters in the village, though they rarely found anything of concern. Though more often than not the role of teaching Alexander was given to his father, Soitos. Soitos never had the same taste for adventure and combat that his mother had, preferring the quill to the sword, though he had a masterful knowledge of Vitae. Of course Alexander was to follow in his mother's footsteps, though it was a dangerous trade it was respected one, a tradition, and more than that necessary for the village's survival.

 From his mother Alexander learned how to be tough, how to take a hit, and how to never stop moving forward. His dad taught him everything else, his basic schooling, how to act, and his knowledge of Vitae and the finer arts of the hunter's trade. Though much to his father's chagrin Alexander never had a head for potions, anything beyond absolute basics such as how to not poison yourself went over his head, it just seemed he could never remember any of it. His father always worried about Agrona and her, in his view, reckless job. The thing that worried him most was that she would become infected. How fatefully ironic that it was instead Alexander's father that suffered that fate.

Agrona was taking Alexander on a small field trip, and of course doing a little training mixed with fun along the way. Soitos had been feeling under the weather for several days and had waved them on ahead insisting that he would stay home and not ruin their fun. Although worried they none the less complied deciding they would spend some quality time with him afterwards. While they were out however they heard a distinct tolling sound of a bell from the village. Agorna's face paled and she grabbed Alexander's hand dragging him forcibly to the village not saying a word. When they arrived they found half the village in flames. Hopelessly worried that the bell had been rung his mom rushed to help while ordering Alexander to stay hidden and wait for someone to come back. The bell was only to be rung when an infected was near or worse, in the village. Nearly a full day passed and Alexander waited, confident that his mother would return. As night fell and it began to get cold, and the flames were dieing down, and the sounds of battle had ceased, Alexander cautiously made his way into the destroyed buildings.

 He arrived at the center of town to find a scene of carnage, at the center of it his mother, her star-metal Naginata stuck through the heart of a of a giant monster, both of their bodies slowly immolating. Nearby he recognized the body of another hunter, and finally he saw Archimond., the 3rd and last hunter of the village sitting on the ground panting, bleeding and scorched. When Archimond saw Alexander he gave a sigh of that was mixed parts relief and regret. "At least one of you lived." he managed to get out. "What do you mean?" Alexander asked in a trembling voice, somehow avoiding looking at the scene in the middle of the square. The man coughed up a bit of blood, "Urk, do me a favor kid, you know that bell at the town hall? The biggest building? Ring it for me." Alexander obediently did just that and came back, to see the townspeople slowly creeping back in.

 The hunter, Archimond, was getting taken care of by the elder. Alexander arrived and stood there silently until the elder noticed him. "Oh my boy, I'm so sorry." he said tearfully. Scared Alexander waited patiently for an explanation of where his father was. Once his father got back he would fix everything. Archimond spoke up clearly in pain, "Don't bother sugar-coating it." before laying his head back down to rest. The elder sighed, "No I suppose we're past that point. Alexander your father... he became infected and his knowledge of Vitae was... destructive. From what Archimond told me your mother died making sure that no more harm was done." Alexander stood in shock fully realizing what had happened. He was orphaned.

 Several days passed, Alexander helped with rebuilding as best he could and was adopted by what remained of the town. Elves not being prone to having as many children as humans due to their longevity, Alexander was at the time, the only child in the village. In what remained of his home it was found a Naginata with a silver blade that appeared to have been handcrafted by his mother, the words, "with love" were etched into the wood. Next to it was found a book that held several spells and how to practice them as well as basic alchemy notes listed. It was titled, "Moving Forward". Alexander of course became reclusive, rarely spending time in town, mostly found poring over the book his father had left him or training to use his Naginata.

 After some time when the town was what passably stable Archimond revealed that Alexander's mother had planned to send him off to the legendary Fae hunter Michael for training. No doubt the gifts they found were going away presents. It was agreed that sending Alexander alone was to dangerous and sending Archimond with him would leave the village too vulnerable, as it was they only had one able hunter. Alexander took the choice into his own hands and left in the middle of the night, with a horse, his Naginata, his book, and a traveling pack. He found Michael on his own, though not without some difficulty, and was a hunter in training for nearly a month before he was ready to acquire a familiar.

Personality: Unusual for an elf Alexander can be Headstrong at times, jumping in without fully thinking things through. He tends to take responsibility for a lot of things even those that aren't his fault. Can get a do or die attitude into his head that can lead to him not giving up on things when he should.

Strengths
-Tactical mind.
-Balanced mix of strength and speed.
-Can quickly use Viate

Weaknesses
-Tends to either overthink or under-think things
-Can be overwhelmed by chaotic scenes

Weapons:
Switch-weapon(A naginata that can fire the head in a shotgun-like burst of shards, the shards can be retracted via strings),
-Hand crossbow,
-Two boot knives.
-Looted shotgun.

Spells/Runes

Exicus:
Turn Familiar:
-Larion is a horse sized lizard with a serpentine body, six legs, and very large 'plates' on its' back. It is always hungry, very protective, but not all that smart on its own.

Viate:
-Flare: Alex can create a small bright light that is blinding in close quarters, much like a lighting bolt it is a flash rather than a sustained light source.

Primary Skills:
-Efficient use of his weapon in combat and using his hand-crossbow, knives, and flare to gain the advantage.
-Some Viate knowledge

Secondary Skills
-Prestidigitation(Magic tricks)
-Tracking
-Fletching

[User] Well two down, two left. If you counted Joshua who seemed surprised but also to have no intent of helping. One then. A wyvern was hard enough to kill on its own, much less when it was plagued. Still it was trapped for the moment, by whatever the hell was going on with Sapphire, which gave Alexander what was most likely a once in a fight chance. He'd already begun moving towards the creature when it had burst out of the ruined building towards Sapphire. Going for the most direct route of attack Alexander was next to the creature's head in a flash and his weapon was plunged into the creature's eye. Without a moment to recover Larion leapt on the monster's neck, securing himself with all of his legs and gripped in his jaws, shaking it savagely. To compile upon it Alexander activated his weapon and the blade burst into metal shards that blasted into the creature's skull. It was dead. Hopefully. Or else he had a feeling those foul looking claws would find a new sheath in his body.

[Assistant] "Unless you are a hunter"... Apparently Jonathans name had preceded him before his reputation. You seem to be mistaken as to my intent my good man. He took something hanging off the back of his saddle, it looked like a coil of razor wire at first glance, but it had the unmistakable sheen of star-metal. You see, I do not approach you as a passer-by, or some useless noble who watches idly as the land and the people are scoured by the blight. He flicked the coil, and it unwrapped to its full length, a glistening snaking whip soared through the sky, and with another flick of jonathans wrist, it retracted in length, each segment clicking together into a massive shaft. I approach you as a fellow hunter... Jonathan proudly held his lance pointed skyward. So... Do you still wish to simply dismiss me as some incompetent? He asked the question while staring directly at the veteran hunter, as if challenging him to say yes.

[User]
"Ew--aw gross what..."

Willo looked up and froze, eyes going wide at the sight of the infected beast above her. It wasn't the first she'd seen, nor was it by any stretch the most gruesome, but that didn't make its malformed body any less disturbing. For the moment it seemed to be as interested in her as she was it, and very carefully, she affirmed her grip on the crossbow.

"Alright big guy..." she whispered. "Let's play."

It moved first, lunging before Willo could take aim, and so she leapt back defensively. With a slight space created between them, she blindly fired the crossbow at it before discarding the unwieldy weapon in favor of the glaive she'd taken from the rack. Whether the bolt connected or not she hardly paid attention to, she didn't expect one hit to fell this monstrosity, but any advantage she could get, she'd take, because god knew she'd need it.

[Assistant]
Bits of bone and other dark fleshy parts were strewn across the ground opposite of Alex as the wyvern's head came apart. It took a moment for the creature to slump to the ground, limbs still twitching. However, all was not well. While Larion helped with the immobilization of the plagued being by leaping on its back, some of the the bones that used to form the wyverns rib-cage had impaled Alex's familiar. The puncture wounds weren't too deep and did not seem life threatening, but leaving them untreated for too long would no doubt be unwise.

On the brighter side however, the dome that was trapping them was dissipating slowly.
Meanwhile, Joshua was in the process of helping Imgor up. His eyes widened when he looked to the side to where Sapphire had been laying after being knocked out.

A man stood not too far from the creature with an unconscious Sapphire in his arms. His face was obscured by a plain white mask with only two gaps for the eyes.

The man stared at Alexander first then at Joshua and Imgor before bolting off into the woods.

Joshua in turn made sure Imgor could stand on his own and ran off after him.

"Get to Kiruth! Find Lazarus!" He shouted back at the two.

---

The veteran folded his arms to his chest and huffed.

"Then I assume you would have the appropriate documents on you?"

It seemed this one would not let himself be impressed by some flashy weaponry or pose. And Jonathan knew for a fact he could not show him any of the mentioned documents as he was still a hunter in training.

"However, no ordinary citizen is likely to have such a tool in his possession." He then smiled. A slightly mocking smile too.

"Let me guess. You are a mere fledging. Who's your mentor?"

As they conversed two more individuals showed up and were allowed onto the scene of the apparent murder. The two were most likely there to dispose of the bodies once the other two completed their investigation.

---

The bolt struck the back of Willos assailant. Willo couldn't really make out whether the front limbs were arms or legs, since they bent so unnaturally, but regardless the thing used them to redirect the momentum horizontally, continuing its charge towards her, completely unfazed by the bolt stuck in its back.

It approached with ample speed, further connoted by the deep marks it left in the marble floor where it landed. It left Willo with little to time perform a conventional dodge.

[User] Alexander did a brief sweep for more dangers as the wyvern collapsed, wiping the small smattering of gore that had landed on him off his face as best he could. Then he froze when he saw the man holding Sapphire- in an instant his crossbow was in his hand ready to fire, but even faster than him the man had vanished into the woods. Alexander cursed as Joshua left them- again -to chase after the masked man. What was the deal with the darkness that Sapphire had let out and that white masked man? One thing after another wasn't it? Sighing Alexander took out a small metal box and stretched out some gauze, wrapping it around the worst of his familiar's injuries. Alexander quietly whispered his encouragement to the injured lizard and it growled back, oddly pleased with itself. Hopefully the blight hadn't managed to spread, Alexander didn't want to think about what would happen if it had. Alexander gave a hopeful whistle and Imgor's horse as well Alexander's own came trotting back, throwing their heads and neighing nervously. Well that was lucky at least, it wasn't unusual for horses to be trained to respond to whistles. Alexander cut of one of the wyvern's talon's and stuffed it into his bag, it couldn't hurt to take trophy, if nothing else it was proof they'd done the deed. He made sure Imgor could get on his own horse first before jumping onto his own. There was no point in following Joshua, if the masked man could beat or escape from him there was nothing Alexander could do about it, regardless of how much he wanted her back. With a small kick of his feet his horse began travelling down the road towards Kiruth again, Larion following eagerly. Just another day.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 30

Appearance:

Anton stands about 182cm tall, or as the dreaded British would call it, "about 6 feet and an inch", making him an easy person to spot in crowds or fields alike. His frame isn't as bulky as he'd like, making him look a bit thin and lanky. He sprouts a moustache, finenly trimmed while the rest of his face is shaved. His hair, light brown in colour, is kept shortly cut, always slicked back in the approriate fashion.

Personality: Anton is outwardly behaving like a man of honour; outmost and unshakeable honour. Both from his childhood upbringing and the tradiation of the French military, Anton does his outmost to respect the conduct of honourable acts and gestures, towards friend and foe. Even if said honourable acts include taking decisions that'll hurt those he care for, because of unwritten rules and expected norms. It bears on him, this pull between doing what's honourable, right, and best.

It doesn't mean that he's heartless. Oh no, certainly not! What would any proper Frenchmen be without his passion? His love or anger? His joy and sorrow? Oh no, Anton his not free of petty emotions, especially not around those -and sometimes what - he truly loves and cares for. Friends, wine, traitors and the German invaders, name it all! As a soldier he obeys honour and follows orders. As a man, and a friend, he follows his feelings. An odd mix, though he's but a man.

Background history: Anton was born and raised on the farm his family owned on the French countryside, a short walk outside of the city of Saint-Quentin, north-eastern France. His father worked the fields around their home for his whole life, sparing little time for Anton and his siblings except for their time working in the fields and teaching Anton how to repair the family tractor. His mother, working time on and off in the city itself as a maid, was the beacon of love, friendship, patriotism and learning for him. It was she who persuaded Anton's father to allow him to attend the catholic school, thankfully giving him a decent education.

This was of course AFTER the Great War had ended. At the age of 2, the whole G'iscard family fled their home as the German armies of Kaiser Wilhelm lounged through Belgium and towards their home; the whole of Northern France was filled with refugees fleeing the onslaught. They did not return until 1918 when the war was over, but the farm didn't become what it used to be until much longer. The fields were unsuitable for farming; craters, steel fragments of bombs, undetonated mines, and the rotting corpses. It when at that point Anton, now 6 years old, knew he loathed the Germans for their cruely. He would never allow such acts of barbarism to befall his family again, even if he didn't know what he would become. After all, he was simply 6 years old, and not many at that age knew what the world war truly like.

At first he wanted to become like his father, taking over the farm and growing the land around their home like his ancestors had done long before. He wasn't the eldest son, however. That honour had befallen his older brother, Filipe, so he ventured into the world he knew he had certain skills in; mechanical engineering. Of course there were difference between a simple tractor's motor and the very intricate engine of a Dewoitine D.500 V12-Engine, though for Anton he miraculously always seemed to get a hold of it.

One of the places where engineers and mechanics were needed, was the French Air Force. The re-militarization of the Rhineland and warmongering rhetoric coming from Berlin convinced Paris that mobilizing the French military was not just the best answer; it was the only way to evade the same fate befallen on the country in 1914. Anton was given a job as an aircraft-mechanic, maintaining and repairing the planes of pilots he came to idolize and envy. He even made friends amongst the pilots, who let him join their flights at occation and even going as far as letting him fly a little himself - of course never alone, a mere mechanic was never expected to handle a plane like that.

It came as a surprise to everyone, even Anton himself, that he soon proved himself a competent pilot. Not truly knowing how himself, he was recommended for pilot-training. He passed with good marks, joining the ranks of those proud men willing and ready to defend France from the skies! And it would soon prove vital, as news quickly reached the whole world that Poland had been invaded.

Two days later, France was at war.

The skirmishes Anton partook in during those first months of the war were tense, but not particularly noteworthy. He managed to score a few kills in his beloved M.S.406 fighter plane, named "Marie", barely escaping death himself by a razor's edge unexplainably. It came even closer to his demise during his last flight in 1940. Flying to intercept an expected German bomber-attack, the squadron was surprised by the sudden appearance of a thunderstorm coming straight towards them. Anton was the last plane to turn away from the incoming storm, but in doing so was hit by a stray lightning.

But he didn't die. The plane kept flying by some miracle, even if the insides of the plane were almost glowing hot and all sorts of alarms going; even Anton himself felt as if he was being torn to pieces by the lightning, but he was still alive. And the plane kept flying. The new orders from their superiors were to change course south and land in French Algerie. When they landed, news came through that France had surrendered; they were to drop their weapons - the little weaponry that pilots carried on them - and be interned for the moment. What was Anton supposed to do? Refuse?

And so Anton was locked up for half a year in an Algerian internment camp, awaiting his fate at the hands of the Vichy-French authorities. When those 6 months had passed, he was offered to rejoin the French Airforce and serve the Vichy-government in protecting the French coloninal empire. He agreed.

It didn't take long, however, for him to "get lost during mission" and land on a British airbase. His pleas for fighting against the Nazis fell on deaf ears, however, as he was seen as a possible spy, and promptly sent to a POW-camp in Canada.

Now it was 1942. The world is still tearing itself apart. The German war-machine is steamrolling the Soviet Union, while the British Empire battles the fascists in Northern Africa and the American giant awakens from its slumber. And Anton is offered his freedom and the possiblities to fight for France's freedom. But he's not offered to fly with the Free French Air Force. Oh no, other parts of the Allied war-effort wants Anton for themselves.

Superpower and how the character got it: Anton has the remarkable powers of controlling energy; more specific one could talk of electricity and static inside and around him. His main usage of these powers are him seemingly shooting bolts of lighting out of his very palms, ranging from small fizzingly tickles to electrocuting those unfortunate to be hit. Though a less violet use of his powers, one that he enjoys much more, is his potential in manipulating machinery and electronics. He is, for example, able to start and controll - to a certain extent - a vehicle without being near it. Sometimes even enhancing the machine's potential in power and speed, though he prefers doing this with aircrafts.

As to where and when he discovered this, long story short; he had always felt a connection to modern machinery, electricty and the like, enjoying the small sparks one gets touching a lamp or a metal bar. Without knowing why, he was indeed the very person one'd ask to see what was wrong with the tractor's engine back home, to which he easily fixed. The full extent of his powers, however, he didn't learn of until being hit by lighning during an interception-mission in 1940. Instead of dying a horrible death in a fried-up airplane several kilometers above ground, Anton felt himself able to regain control of his fighter plane and land safely. As he himself explained, it felt like he was in control of the whole aircraft, even when it was in no condition to continue flying.

[User]
Óscar finished changing, looking at the french male with a raised eyebrow and a slight smirk "Yeah, well, you'd also be complaining if you were forced to stay here gilipollas!" he yelled back at him with a laugh afterward. "What an ass..." he thought "Everyone here is an ass, except that Asian chaval, he seems good". The Spaniard walked out of the barracks, stretching himself and adjusting the uniform to fit his body: He wasn't a bodybuilder, not at all, but it was obvious that he was fit enough to put up a nice fight or even handle a few soldiers by himself. He DID practice H2H combat while on the old League, and his years of "Vigilante" taught him some useful techniques...besides, he asked for some Glíma lessons here on the Georgian base.

He didn't like being "bossed" around, but he understood that the Captain was, well, the Captain for a reason, so he didn't wait to follow his instructions and continued the march to the canteen. He knew some of the other soldiers looking at the group, giving some of them a few nods as the pacing started to slow down, reaching the comedor at last as he grasped a tray and got served the "spaghetti", grinning but also showing disgust on his face "Told you, wet noodles..." he said, chuckling and quickly sitting on one of the tables, starting to play around with the fork/spoon...foon? "Damn, a M1911? Well, I guess he deserved it" Still, the thought of the man getting just a pistol was ticking him off "Why not a rifle? A rifle is better...or a bow, damn, those are really silent..." he took a sip of the glass beside him, watching as the rest of the group grabbed their trays "Yeah, a bow could be useful, maybe I could make ice arrows for him even."

Óscar continued day-dreaming, slowly starting to eat the "spaghetti" as an idea popped into his brain "A band! When I get out of here I'll make a band, a swing band...just like back in France..." the idea appeared appealing to him, but he quickly discarded it as a shady thought ran across his mind "Maybe we don't make it out alive, maybe this is just The League 2.0 and I'll have to desert again." he looked at the siblings as he said that "Oh, look, we're really honorable and we care for the rest of the people, blah blah blah." Óscar chuckled to himself, shaking his head slowly "Yeah, see where that gets you, more than likely in a situation where I'll have to risk my ass to save you, kids, just to not get called a "coward", why do I even care though? If I could, I'd just escape from this hell-hole and kill Hitler myself, I'd just need to see him on the street and make his blood boil, or maybe freeze it and then throw a stone at him so he shatters, yeah." His "happy-go-lucky" attitude seemed to have gone off him, a dark-like-aura now floating around him, as he was imagining ways to kill the needed people so the War would end as fast as possible. He did know that nothing about that would happen, he was just an actor and musician with some special power.

[Assistant]
Marching in line towards the canteen, Johnathan had a bit on his mind... through he did notice that when they passed the more rank and file solders that were training, he was the one in their little group that got the least attention. That made quite a lot of sense, since if he had been put in any other unit of solders he would have blended right in as another recruit; He did notice a few dark looks that were thrown towards his Asian teammate and the women of the unit were looked at with slight disbelief, lust and a slight degree of scorn, through they weren't inclined to say or do anything more about it at the moment. No doubt due to the presence of a ranking officer.

He made sure that he was the last in the line of their group, receiving his meal last but with an intention in mind. Before he walked over to sit down at the table that his squad had claimed for their own, he politely waited until the Colonel had left the Captain alone before walking towards him and offering a brief salute. "Sir, might I discuss something with you in private the next chance we get?"

[User]
Anton G'iscard
"L'étincelle"

---

---

Even if Anton didn't fully like it, he had to it to Kaneda Renner; he deserved the reward given to him. While he still didn't like him, his achivement was worthy of the dutyful soldier that he was showing himself to be. Not that he would congratulate him out loud in everyone's presence, that could wait. The same went for Oscar and his rude attitude towards himself, having the audacity to call him an 'asshole' in Spanish. What, did he think that Frenchmen didn't know such words? Sacrebleu!

Anton didn't get to, nor did he wished to reply the ungratefal siesta donkey, as they all marched towards the canteen for their meal. The thing called 'spaghetti' they got wasn't exactly what Anton had expected when he looked down at his plate. It wasn't so much that there was a underpropotion of sauce compared to the spaghetti, that was fine and all. It was the sauce itself; too much tomato, too little vegatables and spices. Though it went down easily enough. In the end. He was about to start complaining about this poor excuse for food, when looked at Oscar. It was enough for him to think of something else. It would be hypocritical for him to do something he had just spoken about to him. So instead he sucked it up, tied an apron around his neck and lap, and tried to be positive. These were his new teammates after all, no shame in getting to know them.

"So where do you zhink we are going to be deployed first, mes compatriotes? Personally I zhink Norzh Africa would be plausible, seen as z'hat clever devil of an Englishman, Montgomery, is giving ze Germans a good kicking. Ze faster z'hey and ze Italians are our of the desert, ze faster ze liberation of Europe can begin."