[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon: The Ampere, a unique polearm with a wide, flat blade rather than a spearhead along with a gray steel pole. It has both range and lethality, keeping most melee fighters at a range safe for Abel but devastating to them with a tempered steel point, as well as channeling Abel's natural aura far better than he can do by himself (Inside the the Ampere's pole is a thick mesh of silver and copper wire). The Ampere has a single alternate mode that splits the wide blade into four parts and reverses their direction, creating a vaguely mace shape. In this mode, the Ampere can release bolts of lightening that travel impressive distances instantly.

Specialty: Abel fits best into the role of guardian, fittingly enough. His size, range, and defensive characteristics make him good at intercepting danger coming for his teammates, and he can certainly throw his strength around at close range, armed or not. Using his lightening bolts, he is able to paralyze if not flash-fry a single opponent at long range.

Semblance: Surge - This ability allows him to project electricity that can manipulate the Ampere at short range without touching it and summon it back to his hand when disarmed, as well as channel electricity to shock anything the weapon touches. By using Surge to rotate his staff quickly at very close range, he can create a sort of shield. When he focuses his power sufficiently through the Ampere in staff mode, he is able to fire a bolt of lightening that takes several minutes to recharge.

Personality: Abel is proud and gruff, very serious and totally without humor. For someone who appreciates the creativity and technique of both weapons and battle so thoroughly, he ironically is without creativity. Instead, he tend to go about his business by the book, a principled young man of habit and routine with little to no capability to think outside the box. While he is dependable, he is not flexible, and can respond to bullying, injustice, or even plain teasing with sudden anger. While not antisocial, he sticks with only a few friends at any given time, concentrating on strong bonds rather than many bonds. He loathes popular culture and those who overtly subscribe to it. The Grimm mask he carries makes him upset and angry, more at himself than anything else, but as it reminds him of his brother he cannot let it go. Deep down, Abel is a severe defeatist.

Color: Azure

Emblem: An azure lightening bolt, naturally.

Appearance:
When reading, he is forced to put on glasses.

[User]
Lucas Schwarze--Out of sight, Out of mind

Well, yeah... thought the black-haired teen in reply, settling for an internal response and a mildly exasperated frown rather than the spoken word. Cian wasn't the only one keeping her ears on a swivel...

He'd have to find a better phrase than that. Really, "ears on a swivel"? That's like specifically scraping the bottom of the barrel, even if there are plenty of ripe and fresh apples to pick all the way up to the brim. His lyrical and eclectic mind could surely produce better results!

Let's see here...

"Ears open" is good, if a bit overplayed.

Maybe something like "keeping an ear out for trouble?"

No, no, no.

That just runs into the same issue as "ears on a swivel". Think of something good!

He squatted there in silence and massaged his temples, face contorting into a scrunched-up, intensely concentrated grimace. It was a spectacle that would look humorously out of place in such a tense situation, were his compatriot able to look back over her shoulder and not be glued to watching the door and surveying the activity of the guard(s) outside. A necessary evil, and one that was surely better than the alternative.

You can do this, Schwarze! You didn't pass English class with ease once you had to stop doing annotations in your books for nothing!

"Ears on point"!

"Ears in tune"!

"Ears on the ball!"

His head flopped forward, fingers squeezing his scalp in what could only be described as a midway point between the "Hear No Evil" pose and Edvard Munch's famous painting, The Scream.

This is hopeless... Just like back when I learned of the "Courage Series" last year, and how just one word can make anything sound positive.

The image of a college-aged, brown-haired girl flashed through his mind, along with the phrase "The courage to admit defeat!" said in an amused, singsong tone that brought back more memories than you might expect from the voice of someone that he, logically, should barely know at all.

His hands left his head and his fist clenched passionately.

I COURAGEOUSLY ACCEPT MY DEFEAT!

A sharp, yet thankfully quiet gasp escaped from his previously sealed lips, and his eyes went wide as saucers. He fell for it again despite knowing about the trick for nearly a year! Truly a masterful exploitation of simplicity, both in the language he spoke and wiring of his poor brain!

...Wait, where were we?

He snapped himself out of his own contained aside, and glanced around the room, taking stock of the situation once again. They hadn't been found out yet, Cian was still keeping watch at the door, but the footsteps seemed to have died off.

Had the guard already passed? Was he stopped outside?

Inwardly, he shamed himself for losing track of the situation at such a crucial moment. Reaching to his earpiece, he clicked it on, broadcasting to all channels in a low, yet as clear as possible whisper. Better play catch up.

"Jack, any more of a clue what's goin' on than the two of us?"

[Assistant]
As it turns out, Krystanthe's cue was unneeded, as Sepia was genuinely smitten with the adorable little kittens. "They're so cute!" she giggled, petting the kitty on its head. Privately, however, she wondered how this was ethical, or even possible for that matter. Still, she replied in a purr, her voice dropping from innocent to something else quickly. "It'd be a pleasure to know you. My parents always try to set me up with boys of...equal status, but you seem different. Interesting." She smiled at them sweetly, her eyes half-closed.

"So, tea?"

[User]
-=-=Gren, Mauve, Deneb, Shamrock, Myrtle=-=-

Not at all prepared for Shiro's thunderous roar, Mauve collapsed to the ground, screeching, his hands clamped over his ears with all the strength he could muster. An unusual hypersensitivity to sound sent waves of pain reverberating through his skull, ones that stirred not only agony inside his brain but also agonizing memories. Unable to suppress the King's Voice in any way, Mauve wished fervently for death to release him; when his sight, smell, and hearing drastically lessened in response to Shiro's semblance, he assumed death was upon him. "Silence," he squeaked, still conscious but encapsulated in a faint, blurry haze that made the world seem far away, oblivious to Gren's fist closing around his threat. "At...last."

The remaining three faunus didn't offer much of a challenge. Deneb initially surprised Gren by freeing himself from the clutches of his friction semblance but unknown means, but the stick-thin swan's first punch damaged the hunter-in-training no more than a feather might, and an instant later Deneb's windpipe, too, was being strangled. The chameleon attempted to persuade Gren to not suffocate him, saying that he'd comply and even taking the time to introduce himself as Shamrock Cochlain, but the risk of him getting away and escaping could not be taken. The last faunus, the portly porcupine, looked at Gren in mute disgust as he attempted to justify himself. "All you're doing is making sure that my pain will never end," she spat, and offered pitiful resistance.

-=-=Shiro, Coral=-=-

As quick as Shiro was, Coral's physique might as well have been designed for speed. Hard pressed was the swordfighter to keep with with her as she pelted around corners and down halls, but after only a few moments the chase was over with Shiro's attempt to knock her out. While his technique was spot on, slamming his shield into the back of her skull with enough force to render a normal being senseless, Coral had not deactivated her aura as her companion had. The force of the blow impacting her orange-tinged aura knocked her to the ground, where it rose again to prevent her nose from shattering against the floor, and the combined expense of both absorbed collisions depleted Coral's aura almost completely. Still, some energy remained within her, and she rolled away to regain her feet and resume her flight.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans for her. A door just to her right suddenly erupted open, and through it burst a young squirrel faunus in a high state of panic, who saw Coral and froze just in time to avoid crashing directly into her. "Corey! Where's...?" Her eyes flitted behind the deer faunus to Shiro, who had by this time recovered from his big move. "Aw, crap."

From the door by which the squirrel had entered came a large, familiar figure clad in blue. Abel lurched into the hallway, the Ampere floating, suspended by threads of electricity, beside him. The guardian's left hand was clamped around his right forearm, which bled profusely from an unreasonably-large puncture wound. His getup lay in various states of disarray, including his auburn hair and diminutive goatee, and much of it covered in a smelly, green liquid. Though his breathing came hard and ragged, and that wound seeped crimson, no bones could be made about how ready Abel was to continue fighting. With his chance arrival he had unwittingly worked with Shiro to trap the two faunus girls between them. Though neither knew it, the operating room in which Sapphire currently stood resided only fifty feet behind Abel. A noise of breaking glass caused the guardian to momentarily look behind him, but he refocused on Shiro quickly.

"Hey. I think these hallways run in a loop." He glanced down at his wound and grimaced. "Don't ask." Between him and the snow tiger faunus, the two girls both looked close to tears. "Uh...I got Saph's text but I don't think she's got it all right," he said, clearly distracted by how upset the faunus girls were, and substantially less eager to rip the squirrel a new one for locking him in with a giant killer iguana. "What's the deal with these chicks, d'you know?"

-=-=Sapphire, Sienna=-=-

During the minute or so that the antisedative raced through Sienna's inner systems, Sapphire had more than enough time to study the word tattooed onto the girl's face: embodiment. Unbeknownst to the huntress-to-be, the actors in a silent scene rushed about twenty feet above her head. Nullified by the crystalline barrier dividing the operating room and the viewing gallery, words were exchanged in earnest, and a course of action was determined.

At last, Sienna's eyes blinked open, revealing those unnerving orbs. Sapphire's words didn't seem to register at first, as the faunus raised a deliberate hand to her head. When fingers met scruffy coyote ears, a minute tremor ran through Sienna's body. Those eyes, entirely black but for brilliant yellow irises, swept over the unfamiliar figure in front of her, and then the door. Her heart, previously restrained by the anesthesia, began to accelerate.

"The...surgery failed...?" The syringe, laid in haste on a nearby table, caught her gaze with its swirling pattern. In a similar fashion, by the glint of metal beneath the white radiance of the room's lights, did she notice Sapphire's weapons. "Didn't start?" Again Sienna looked at Sapphire, and this time, she moved. One instant she was laying down, and then next, the faunus was across the room, crouched on a countertop beside the sanitation bay. In her wake she left a momentary yellow blur; nothing else accredited the idea that she hadn't teleported. Her eyes, for a split-second a pure, inhuman yellow, reverted to black-with-yellow-irises. "You. You're here 'cause of my call. I..!"

A resounding crash of broken glass sounded from above, and into the room dropped a six-foot-tall black bear faunus in a suit jacket much like his wife's. Around him rained a deluge of shimmering shards, but none with enough force to puncture or cut anything. Shrugging his brawny shoulders as if in apology, he adjusted his glances as he grieved, "Such an...unfortunate delay. Sienna, don't get yourself worked up over this. Run if you need to, but come back in a few hours after this is dealt with. We'll get you treated, I promise."

Though she bore an anxious expression, Sienna nodded, and her eyes changed again. Like a flash she darted from her cabinet, up the wall itself, and through the hole in the ceiling's glass dome into the viewing gallery. After her trail vaporized, only Sapphire and the administrator were left.

"Assault," the administrator said, crossing his arms. "Property damage. Trespassing. Disturbing the peace. And crushing dreams. Not all technical criminal charges, but dire nonetheless. I believe that my patient just now mentioned a call? Terrible judgment on her part. She came around, and nobody coerced her. I really am sorry to get you involved. Since you've attacked my staff, I don't expect you're here to debate ideologies, but still I will be civil. Well, miss, I'm the head administrator here. You can call me Pop if you like, though it's not really a big boss kind of name, eh? And yours?" Pop allotted time for Sapphire to respond, with her name or otherwise. Afterward, he sighed regretfully. "Okay then. My guards have told me that there are more of you runnin' around my facility. In a few minutes, once they're properly equipped, they'll be on their way to stop your friends. If you win our duel, I guess you'll want to go warn them." Four, eh? And with fancy weapons, and in their late teens. "Hunter team, maybe? My folks always wanted me to be a hunter, but I wanted to box, and to be a doctor. Bottom line is, I'm not gonna underestimate you. I was watching the whole time from the gallery, though, so I'm wise to your vanishing act." Pop adopted a pugilist's stance, prepared to activate him semblance. "I'm done talkin' now. Show me what a huntress can do!"


[System]
Primary: Aeromancy
Secondaries of Interest: Illumination and Levitation, because those sound the most straightforward.

 Description: Light brown hair, dark eyes. 16 years old. A slim 5'10" figure that people would call "willowy" if they were being kind and "lerpy" if they weren't. Her features are naturally rather unremarkable, but she makes up for it by using makeup to accent what she has to work with.

Personality: Sarcastic, witty, dry, and not easily fazed. More likely to say, "welp, okay," and just go along with things in a mild state of functional shock than she is to express fear or dismay. She can come across rather unempathetic and will rarely go out of her way to serve anyone in an altruistic manner, but all of that said, if she's pinned to a corner in a moral dilemma, she'll usually choose the noble route, albeit while rolling her eyes.

Skills:
-Making people feel stupider than her.
-Legitimately being smarter than most of those people.
-Playing the violin like a boss.
-Being a quick learner, which is a good thing because...

Weaknesses:
-...she's totally clueless about this entire culture and its emphasis on family pride.
-She has never been in a physical altercation beyond hitting kids smaller than her when she was like 8.
-Her apparent fearlessness ends with a deep, irrational phobia of seeing other peoples' blood.
-Literally no practice with any secondaries, and only instinctive use of her primary.

Brief History:
Tatia grew up with no knowledge of magic or the occult other than what she read in Harry Potter and saw in the episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer that her dork older brother was obsessed with, and the weird shit her grandmother sometimes babbled on about once she started getting a bit senile.

Tatia's maternal grandmother was a weak Aeromancer in a family of sorcerers that had mixed with nonmagical humans for so long that the magical culture had already all but forgotten their names. When good ol' Gran's children (including Tatia's mother) never manifested abilities, she let that part of her heritage disappear, living in a normal suburban Oregon neighborhood.

Tatia's magical blood may have trickled through a generation without manifesting, but lo and behold, Tatia began to grow up and SURPRISE could create windstorms with her brain. By a statistically improbable twist of fate, somewhere deep in the roots of her father's family tree were more Aeromancers: the combination yielded Tatia (who boasts a level of natural power one would expect from a moderately respectable Aeromancy line -- only so-so by general standards, but pretty remarkable considering her lack of breeding).

Gran has tried to catch Tatia up on things a bit over the last few years (but...well...the senile thing is an obstacle), and Tatia has been sparsely contacted by Council representatives, but she's still jumping in a little blind.

Hooray.

[User]
He gave Tatia such a puzzled look that her neck warmed with embarrassment. She'd clearly asked a pretty dumb question, even though it seemed a pretty innocent one under her circumstances. She got more than she bargained for in his answer, leaving her plenty of time to wonder why she hadn't chosen something more cheerful to comment on.

"Yeah. I just wondered because of that. The whole...uh...macabre element of it," she said, coughing because she'd learned that was a trick to get the color back into your face - she may or may not have paled a little somewhere around the smearing vital fluids bit.

He was a weird dude, but at least he was direct. And at least she had a better read on the temperature of the commonality of non-magical upbringings.

"Parents didn't have any powers," Tatia said with a matter-of-fact shrug. "Used to figure I'd been dropped in a vat of radioactive waste as a kid or something. You know. And now I get to go to Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters. And look, I've already met Cyclops. Nice shades, Mr...uh... Avalon, yeah?" she finished with a dry smile at the man at the weapons check as she pushed her taser forward on the table, having no idea of the infamy of the man at whom she was poking fun. Reasonably good-natured fun, yes, but not exactly respectful.

@Magister

[Assistant]
Mariana checked her phone one final time for a reply before tucking it into the pocket of her sweater.

"It's good to know you've both kept busy," she said, quite aware of the lack of specificity either of them had offered in the subject. "Though I'm guessing it would be a stretch to say that 'keeping busy' and 'keeping out of trouble' overlap much." There was a fondness in her voice as she said this; not a sense of victory that her life had been more smooth, but rather some assurance in the sense that she still knew something about them.

Some things were simply how they were.

And Montana, for all of his quizzical posturing, had always been one of those things to her. Easy to read. Easy to predict.

He was likely doing whatever thing one would least guess him to be.

"It's all quite the coincidence, though, isn't it? No matter what we've all gotten up to, we're all here now. Teachers." She looked at both of them with a raised eyebrow for a moment, her train of thought derailed by Montana's final comment.

"Maybe a bit overdue," she said, and was very glad that Ray was there to prevent anything further on the subject. "Almost as overdue as my arrival here, really. I haven't the foggiest idea where anything is."

[User]
"Clearly you don;t know much about mage families huh." Dinah responded to Yoko's remark, rolling her eyes.
There was no telling some people, and she lacked the patience or the interest to attempt to explain it.

She then turned her attentions to Larke. He was, at least, relatively sociable, which made things easier...even if their conversation hadn't even really gotten past the pleasantries when he found he had something else to do.
"It's cool, Sterling. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to." Dinah responded, sinking her hands into her pockets.
"Wouldn't have bothered even showing up if I had a thin skin about it."

Or, possibly in some way she did, as she was taking the fairly sincere attempt on his part as the young Sterling's way of trying to back away from the bloodline dumpster fire that was the Fox daughter without potentially offending her.

"I gotta go drop my bags anyway. If you do actually mean it about looking round, I'll probably be hanging round here in a bit, if not, nice taking to ya, no hard feelings."

She made her way out toward her room, shrugged her backpack off onto the bed, and closed the door.
She did, with any luck, have a little while before whoever her roommate was showed up, so she had a bit of a grace period to hide everything that was contraband before she was found.

Ventilation grille would work pretty well.

[Assistant]
The waxy sheen of cold sweat had spread from Professor Byrne's brow to cover her face and neck by the time she had returned to her own room and slammed the door. She flung her suit jacket down to the floor before slumping her herself, hands shaking as she clawed to unbutton the soaked fabric at her collar.

 "Sonofabitch," she mumbled, leaning her head back against the cool stone of the wall.

The hair tie binding her messy orange locks was the next to be torn away, followed by the remaining buttons of her shirt. Stray strands of hair clung to her face, starkly contrasting against her sickly pallor.

The ribbed fabric of her undershirt had been so thoroughly drenched that the lines of her chest tattoos and the shape of her scars showed though. She fanned the neckline with shaking fingers.

 "Don't bother scolding me," she said, eyes turned up to the ceiling.  "I can handle it, K. It won't happen again."

[User]
I wish I could believe it was coincidence, Mari...I really do.
Ray just smiled, glad to have some friendly, familiar faces here, even if a good fifty percent of the faculty gave him chills.
"Heh, yeah this place can be a bit of a maze. It took me a while to figure it out, but give it time and it will become second nature to you."
It had been a long time since Ray had been able to just fall into easy banter like this, and it did a lot to lift his spirits. Without even realizing it his shoulders slackened, releasing some of that constant tension he carried like a stone. It almost made him forget about what a complete fucking train wreck his life had become.

"I was just heading back to my quarters now, I can help you find yours if you'd like." Ray himself had gotten lost too many times when he first arrived, and eventually learned his way there through trial and error. The one time he had sheepishly asked for directions he made the mistake of asking Maeve. Her stony silence and diamond scowl set the tone for the rest of her and Ray's interaction thus far, and it was something he found hard to forget.

[Assistant]
"I will bother, though I'm not sure why I do at this point."

The slender form of Professor Kovalenko melted out of the shadow of the wardrobe. Her straight hair, neatly buttoned coat, and impassive expression forming an almost complete antithesis of her counterpart.

"We've got an operation to run here Byrne. You need to keep this under control before someone ends up getting hurt."
She reached into the draw on the one side of the room, withdrew a medicine bottle, and dropped it down beside Maeve. The pills in the bottle rattled.

"I don't need to remind you what we've got to worry abou-"

She paused. Oren's gaze flicked over to the door.

Drawn on top of the wood panelling was an intricate symbol of wavy lines, within a circle, punctuated with a line and a smaller circle issuing from it... or rather it would be had a large swipe not been erased, like it had been wiped with a cloth.

Professor K sighed through her teeth and took some brisk steps up to the door. Her coat was unbuttoned, sleeve drawn up, and an obsidian athame drawn from its sheath at her hip, and within moments Oren was painting her blood over the gaps in the ward.

A silence ward.
The ward that was meant for the express purpose of preventing their private conversations being audible to anyone outside in the corridor who happened to listen.

"We're really going to have to do something about the ward problem."

[User]
Tatia was on her way to what she was pretty sure was the girl's dorms when she heard speech from behind a closed door.

 "I can handle it, K. It won't happen again."

Tatia slowed down as she passed, catching hint of the buried urgency in the tones and catching a bad case of curiosity as she did so.

"I will bother, though I'm not sure why I do at this point. We've got an operation to run here Byrne. You need to keep this under control before someone ends up getting hurt."

An operation to run? Interesting choice of words for a schoolteacher. Tatia had come to a full halt by now, and had inched toward the door.

In a brief lull, Tatia thought she could hear something rattle like large beads in a maraca. Tatia couldn't think of many other objects that made that noise. And since none of the professors looked like they moonlighted in a mariachi band, Tatia guessed a pill bottle.

"I don't need to remind you what we've got to worry abou-"

When the voice of Professor Kovalenko cut off, followed by quick footsteps toward the door, Tatia nearly fell over in her haste to assume a casual, just-walking-here retreat down the hallway. Damned idiotic of her to try to eavesdrop on literal actual witches. She half expected the door to bang open behind her and one of the professors to shout her down, but nothing happened and she found her room without incident.

Something, evidently, was up with Professor Byrne. Something that could get people hurt.

Huh.

In case things weren't weird enough.


[System]
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___________________________________
P R O F I L E

Age

30

Sex

Female

Height

5'10" (177.8 Cm)

Weight

135 Lbs (61.235 Kg)

Ethnicity

Mixed (Han Chinese and Jewish)

Rank

Corporal

____________________________________ |
____________________________________________________________________________
SHORT BACKSTORY & PERSONALITY

Mira Feng was born in Lambour City to a Chinese father and a Jewish mother, the youngest of three children and the only daughter. Mira's father was a real estate agent and her mother a nurse at a local health clinic. With two high earning parents Mira and her two older brothers had a very easy life growing up and more often than not had the best of everything - or at least close to it. Mira was close with her family, her mother was kind and attentive and her father a patient and dedicated parent if hard-spoken at times. Mira and her brothers were very tightly knit through their youth and well into their teenage years. As wonderful as things were though this ideal family would be shaken by tragedy.

When Mira was fifteen her father was gunned down after being held up in the street, the terrible happening leaving the entire family grief stricken to say the least. Mira's mother particularly went into a spiraling depression and became more distant as she tried to focus on working to hold things together. Thankfully extended family on both sides stepped in to help, but no amount of financial and familial support would heal the scars left on the Feng family after the death of Mira's father.

After graduating high school Mira's brothers both went into respectable career fields, the elder becoming a real estate agent like his father and the younger a chemistry instructor at the University of Maine. Mira meanwhile went into law enforcement which was a blend of surprise but also a deeper understanding to those around her. On the death of her father - murdered in broad daylight - Mira had decided she wanted to go into law enforcement to serve the city, help protect the communities at large, and generally stop others from becoming victims of tragedies like her family was. All of the usual idealisms. After finishing police academy Mira would serve with Lambour City Police Department for four years before moving over to the Williams County Sheriff's Department. In no time she made corporal and was soon after promoted to Investigator. However her growing abrasiveness and bullheaded approach would soon see her demoted back to corporal after stepping on the wrong superiors' toes too many times.

Mira is a blunt, straightforward woman that has no tolerance for any kind of nonsense or beating around the bush. She likes to tackle problems head on though not stupidly, her ideal approach being a quick but tactful handling of any kind of situation. When quick is too dangerous she can settle on tactful alone and when tactful is too slow and the risks are not too severe she is more than willing to go for the quick direct approach. Her sometimes bombastic way of policing have earned her as much criticism as praise and she has been reprimanded before for "playing the hero". Despite her aggressive and relentless demeanor regarding her duties as law enforcement Mira also has an empathetic and caring side, particularly towards her family and close friends. Mira Feng is the best of friends and the worst enemy to have.
 |

[User]
Omar didn't quite know how to react to Mira's action. He wasn't sure whether to be angry that he misinterpreted her instructions or grateful for saving him from a potentially foolish mistake. Omar wondered if his time in New Jersey had made him too soft for the shit that happened in the north-east. It took a second for him to process Mira's instruction as he leaned down to pick up the shotgun. He turned it over to the side and recoiled at just how unmaintained it was. It was an antique 870 but you couldn't tell that from how chewn the wooden stock was or from the rust-coated barrel. Omar set the shotgun down and produced a clear plastic evidence bag from his person, zipping it open to wrap it around the long gun. He signed as he settled into the minutae of logging down evidence detail with a pencil.

" Oh, thank you, officers," The pudgy shopkeeper was dusting himself off as he approached the pair. His skin was pallid and moist with sweat and fringes of tufted hair grew around his bald head. " Is there anything that I might assist you with?"

" Can you tell us what happened here, Mister…..?"

" Alfonso Francocci," The shopkeeper puffed up his chest proudly.

" Mister Francocci," Omar said brusquely, all business. " We need the details of what happened?"

" Of course, officer. I was closing up my store early today." Alfonso then looked at the man in Mira's grasp with an irritated look. " Then, this stronzo burst from the back of my store and pointed that gun at me. He asked me to empty all the cash in my register and when I refused, he gave this to me."

" Was he accompanied by anyone else?"

" Yes, a woman and a man." Omar felt his fist clench, the robber avoiding his gaze of disappointment as the rookie officer looked at him. " She said she felt sick and went with her friend to the cold room.," The shopkeeper pointed over Omar's shoulder and Omar's eyes followed the direction of his finger to a freezer door located near the dairy section.

" I haven't seen them since," The shopkeeper rubbed his hands together out of worry. " Do you think they might have - uh- ran away?"

Then, Omar heard the groan. A bass-like rumble that teetered on being animalistic from behind the freezer door. Omar looked at the shopkeeper to see if he was in the midst of a coffee-induced hallucination and the shopkeeper's frightened face dashed that theory. The rookie officer pinched his nose, looking up as though he was praying to some pagan god for good fortune before reaching down towards his holster.

" Stay here," Omar didn't even bother giving an answer as he took out his Glock again. Just as he was about to make his way to the freezer, he paused and nodded towards Mira. " You wanna get the perp in our vehicle or you feel comfortable letting me handle this one?"

[Assistant]
Mira stood the gunman up keeping a tight hold on his wrists as she looked toward the freezer room door. A wax of worry seemed to be encased upon her visage as she considered the options. They needed to remove the other two perpetrators and arrest them immediately, if both of the deputies went outside to deal with the man at hand the other two could break for it and be gone in minutes. They couldn't just leave the handcuffed gunman crammed into a corner to run the minute they turned their backs. But Mira hated the idea of leaving Omar to face two people alone, even if one was allegedly ill. They could both be armed and likely were and Omar would be in a perilous situation.

But what other option is there? Mira gritted her teeth.

Mira looked to the store owner, Francocci, "Get inside your office and lock the door, one of us come get you when things are all clear."

Francocci nodded nervously and stepped back behind the counter and through the rickety wooden door into his personal office. Mira took a deep breath and then looked to Omar, "Go cover the door, I'll get this one out to the car, wait up for me."

What was that growling?

Mira backed towards the front door while Omar followed her order. She twisted around and went from pulling to pushing as she walked the cuffed man outside and towards the patrol car. The freezing rain had picked up, coming down harder and colder than earlier, Mira feeling bits of ice in it as well. She imagined as the temperature dipped a bit more it would be hail and soon enough snow. It took her no time to get the door open and push the perp inside with some final protests from him. Making sure he was secure Mira then turned and made a rush back towards the front of the store, hand slipping around her holstered pistol as she reached the front door.

[User]
Now by all himself, Omar shuddered again as another groan surfaced from behind the door. Omar walked, more caution in his steps than ever, as he made his way to the freezer door. The surface was coated in a slick sheen of white frost that wormed in tendrils across the foam. He rapped his fist against the door lightly before speaking out loud.

" Police, open up."

The moans continued on. Either the perps were deliberately ignoring him or they were somehow getting their rocks off in a cooler room in the middle of a town-wide pandemic. Omar spoke again, this time more forcefully.

" I said, open up. We've got you surrounded."

Again, the damn moans keep going on as if they didn't even hear him. Omar rapped the door again. No response. Omar's finger absentmindedly thumbed the trigger of the Glock in worry. He could wait for Mira to come back with the perp or go inside to spare her the trouble. Who in their right mind would spend 1 hour being stuck inside an virtual icebox in one of the oldest counties in the north east?

Pushing his body against the freezer door, Omar slowly pulled it open, hiding his body behind the frame. Wafts of icy air billowed out of the door and into the restaurant. Omar twisted his frame in and pointed his pistol out, only to be met by darkness. Grunting in annoyance, Omar reached for the flashlight hooked on his belt and flicked it on. The beam of light cut a swathe through the impermeable void. His flashlight glinted off the gleaming icicles that hung from the damp metallic shelving units. All the while, the moans continued to echo inside the refrigeration unit, piercing the hum of the air conditioning units.

Suddenly, he heard a slick sound of something wet falling to the ground. Omar turned his flashlight around and his blood chilled. It was a woman standing over a still corpse of a man on the ground. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth was ajar, a trickle of blood flowing out.

"Maám, are you -," Omar's mouth gummed up the moment her neck craned around towards him. Her skin was a ghoulish white, varicose veins coursing underneath her neck and skin. Everything below her mouth was covered in dripping red blood, flowing down her shirt and pants. Strings of viscera were stuck between her blue lips and a long piece of pink gut hung out of the corner of her jaw.

She slowly stood up, tilting her neck curiously at him, before trudging forward drunkenly. Omar shifted the barrel of his pistol up at her neck.

" Put your hands on the ground right now.," Omar commanded but the woman paid him no mind. She continued walking forward towards him, arms lengthened out towards his neck. " I said - "

Omar's words were cut off as the woman leaned forward in a stumbling push, clawing at his neck. The cold of her skin scalded him numb, causing him to shout in pain. The trigger depressed and a loud bang issued from the barrel. The woman's head flicked back and then, turned to look at him with that same dead-eyed look. The only difference now was that there was a gaping hole in her right cheek where he could see a swollen tongue flapping up and down.

" Fuck!,-" Omar cried out. " Mira?! We got a situation here!"

[Assistant]
"What the hell, Omar, I s-!" Mira's voice cutoff as she rounded the aisle, gun in hand. She had the first perp locked in her car and was just coming back through the door when she heard the pow of Omar's Glock. The Corporal looked in shocked awe at the woman before her, her deathly gray-white flesh and bloody appearance like something straight from a horror film. Were the woman staying still Mira would take her for a corpse, but that she was very much not.

"Back up and raise your hands!" Mira snapped out of her trance, pistol raised. The grody-looking woman did not comply, instead continuing to grasp and lunge at Omar. Fuck, she's crazy! Mira dashed towards Omar and the woman, dropping her shoulder as she drew close and slamming into the assailant sending her tumbling across the floor and into the wall with a crash. Mira glanced at Omar to make sure he was okay, she didn't see any blood or scratches or bite marks. That was good. The last thing the Corporal wanted was her new partner getting maimed by some drug-head on her watch. Mira then took a bold stride forward and pointed her gun down at the fallen woman, "Face down, hands behind your head!"

The woman only grunted in response, shoes scraping against the floor as she raised up and twisted to face the two deputies. Mira then saw the wound in her face, the gaping hole and all the blood - it made her stomach churn fiercely. What was more rattling was the female perp seemed not in the least phased by it, standing up to full height and continuing with the short throaty groans Mira and Omar had been hearing as she looked at them with glossy but intent eyes.

"I'll shoot you if don't comply!" Sweat was beading across Mira's forehead, her fingers felt numb from the tight grip she had on her firearm. The woman lunged and Mira with no other choice squeezed the trigger. The gun was loud in the tight quarters, the bullet striking into the center of the woman's' chest sending her falling back against the wall. A cold, fearful wave surged across Mira as the woman stood back up straight and shuffled forward again.

"Fuck!" Mira screamed, her trigger fingering snapping three times firing off three more shots into the suspects' chest, hot bullet casings clinking across the floor at her feet. The woman still did not fall, merely staggering back before lurching forward with savage eyes and a raging growl. Mira stepped back, heart pounding at what she was witnessing. This is fucking impossible! Mira's feet got tangled up and the Corporal overbalanced and fell back in a sprawl across the floor, eyes wide with fear as the woman reached down for her - blood pouring from the four bullet holes in her torso.

"Omar!" Mira yelled.


[System]
Pokemon: Diancie
Gender: Female
Age: 20
Hometown: Verdanturf Town

Level: 37
Ability: Clear Body
Moves: Dazzling Gleam, Ancientpower, Smack Down, Sharpen, Reflect, Stealth Rock

Legendary Powers: Seras can create diamonds by compressing carbon from the air, producing fist-sized gemstones almost instantaneously that can grow layer-by-layer over several seconds until becoming roughly head-sized. While concentrating on her powers, she can create and control roughly a dozen small gemstones or a handful of larger gemstones at once - while distracted or otherwise engaged, she can hold them stationary in the air without allowing them to fall. Seras can also manipulate the shape of her gemstones and fuse them together - although she cannot levitate any creations that are larger than her head, she can fashion bridges, barricades and various sculptures over the course of several minutes.

Held Item: Shell Bell

Appearance: Seras is built daintily, standing roughly 5'6" tall with a thin frame and a soft face perpetually lit by a contented smile. She wears her cherry pink hair down to her waist, occasionally braided for formal situations but usually flowing wild and free. Although she travels with a small range of outfits suitable for weather conditions across Hoenn, she favours loose garments in a range of blues and purples, occasionally matched with jewelry created through her powers.

Personality: Seras is a gentle and nurturing soul, generous with her compassion and easily moved by the happiness of others. She has little patience for monotony or bland routines, preferring to chart new horizons with every footstep and seek the joy of fresh beauty or a stranger's smiling face. Although her confidence has grown immensely since melding with Diancie, her discomfort in face-to-face confrontations has not entirely passed - rather than outright fleeing from stressful situations, she prefers to diffuse situations using firm persuasion or quietly separate herself and those she cherishes from potential sources of conflict. Savoring the feeling of grass under her feet or the warm embrace of a friend, she aspires towards nothing more than savoring the world around her, travelling at her own pace and exploring the pleasure in every moment rather than chasing the future or clinging to the shackles of the past. She tends to communicate with others through meaningful gestures and comforting touch as much as with words - her talent for capturing the world through artwork has led her to create sculptures that capture the raw emotions of their subject as well as any speech.

Backstory: Born as the male-bodied heir to the Bancroft estate, Seras' early years were stained by intolerance and rigid expectations from her family. Between intense coaching on the family's export business, tutoring on proper etiquette and numerous reproachful lectures over her 'insufficient strength of character' from her father, it was made plainly apparent that her family expected her to grow into a cookie-cutter nobleman in order to maintain the family fortunes. Without a means of outwardly expressing her discomfort, Seras turned to the arts - painting, photography and especially sculpture. Although too young to fluently express her discomfort in words, she would purge her stress and anxiety through sculptures of herself as she lived in her dreams - cherub-faced, barefoot and with long, untamed hair billowing in the wind.

After approaching her family when she was 18, Seras was informed in no uncertain terms that gender transition would be impossible - the affront to the family's reputation would be too great for them to indulge the 'baseless whims' of their child, let alone the personal indignity of acknowledging Seras as a daughter after years attempting to iron out any such notions. Arceus begged to differ. As the Power Plague escalated from a 'common' pandemic to a potentially god-slaying disease, Arceus searched for humans capable of partnering with each of the Legendary Pokemon, manipulating both the soul and (to a lesser extent) the physical form of their hosts. And while flowing pink hair and a newly feminine build wouldn't look unusual to most people, Seras' overnight transformation was enough to drive her father into wordless sputtering.

Seras was over the moon.

Despite her family's furious demands that she uphold her duties to their household, Legendary Pokemon or not, Seras swiftly packed her belongings and embarked on a journey across Hoenn, with no destination but the next crossroads and no goal but to escape from her parents and relish her newfound liberation. Her new powers quickly proved invaluable - after several weeks of trading gemstones at village markets, she gradually learned to meld and shape the gemstones she created into glittering figurines, selling awed townsfolk and gleeful children sculptures of their loved ones produced before their very eyes.

As weeks turned to months and months turned to years, her journey grew into a new way of life - travelling to all of the major cities and landmarks of Hoenn, sharing the beauty she witnessed during her travels and earning a reputation across Hoenn as a wandering artist. Although her shameless use of her powers earned occasional glances of scorn or fear, such incidents did little to diminsh the joy she felt from sharing her creations with others - sharing both the beauty in the world which the sculptures reflected and the heart of the woman who sculpted them. Seras had never felt more content and genuine in her life.

Pokemon:

Nickname: Charity
Species: Gardevoir
Gender: Female
Level: 37
Ability: Synchronize
Moves: Psychic, Magical Leaf, Disarming Voice, Calm Mind, Teleport, Wish

[User]
The Hitmonlee had not even made it ten feet to the table when Maya began chittering and whining in distress, now fully aware of what sort of dish her mother had requested. Fully expecting this, Rebeca gave the Shellfish Pokemon's shell a reassuring tap, and Maya promptly turned around, clambered down her legs, and made her way to the point that she determined was farthest from the hellish concoction, had a sufficient number of obstacles between herself and the aforementioned concoction, and was comfortable.

As it so happened, those traits coincided with Kaze's lap. The teen had barely any time to react before Maya had made herself comfortable, the front edge of her shell firmly buried in his stomach. Mommy's food stinks.

As for Rebeca herself, she instantly ceased to care whatsoever about how the remainder of the conversation went when the waitress handed her the waiver. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she cheerfully signed the waiver and handed it back with a smile that had no business being as wide as it was. "I'll let you know if the second one needs any improvement."

She had no idea what language the waitress was speaking in as she scurried away, but she got the gist of it anyways.

The dish itself was rather simple: a sort of rounded pasta that was wrapped around a little ball of meat, whose name Rebeca was not at all inclined to try pronouncing. And in any other circumstance, it would have been quite appropriate for the setting, were it not for the thick red sauce in which it was virtually drowning. Those sitting right next to Rebeca were at ground zero and suffered the worst, though it did not take very long at all for the pain to be shared by everyone. At the first bite, Rebeca's face screwed up, tears began streaming down her face in earnest, and it took about two tries to actually swallow. She sat back and loosed a breath, a small wisp of flame emerging at the end. "Hoooyeah, that's good," she sighed, then began devouring the meal with gusto. She paused only once, when she caught sight of Shade appearing torn between concentrating on the food or the retreating Vuduin.

The brief smoldering glare she gave was more than enough to convince him that he had better places to be.

[Assistant]
The Shellfish Pokémon climbing to his stomach snapped Kaze out of his rage. It served as a reminder to him that there was a reason he had been the voice trying to calm the fighting, rather than be one among the instigators. With only a third drop of rain falling before the end of what might have otherwise become a torrential downpour, the clouds at the restaurant's ceiling began to dissipate, and Kaze's trembling ceased. Beside him, Jingle let a sigh of relief, ceasing its frantic ringing.

His wits now about him again, Kaze suddenly comprehended what it was the little Kabuto had said to him: Mommy's food stinks.

It was then that Kaze, though among the most distant from the platter of steaming death, finally smelled--and felt--the spiciness of the food Rebeca was eating. His eyes burned lightly, even from such a distance. Though he wasn't accustomed to speaking with Pokémon like some of the others seemed to be, he tried his best to project his thoughts to the Kabuto, Yeah, it does. He stroked the little Pokémon's back, hoping it would be reassuring to her. I'll try to keep you safe from it, though.

Kaze decided that he would just have to ignore the flamboyant, self-righteous woman who had interrupted their dinner. Sitting back in his place, Kaze invited Jingle to play with Maya while he began eating his Kalos toast. One berry-saturated piece he tore off and offered to the little shellfish, and another to Jingle. He knew Kabuto's appetite wouldn't be large, but he hoped to give it its fill as well.

[User]
As the gypsy continued hurling insults towards her dinner companions, Seras swivelled towards Charity. "Who does this woman think she is, exactly?" Within the privacy of their mental connection, her voice was livid. "Setting asides the issue of what our powers actually do, none of us are heroes - we're all common people with lives of our own. Should we throw all of that away when someone blows the war horn because of our blessing?"

"She raises a fair point," countered Charity, "as tastelessly as it was delivered. Suppose that the mayor requested your assistance, or that the Hoenn League asked for the avatars' support. Would you be willing to fight if the public demanded it?"

She thought back to her earlier conflicts that day. The first had been fought for her own protection, pushing back after the dive-bombing from Wells. The second had been to protect innocent bystanders, which had been enough to push herself into disrupting an actual battle. And the last had been an act of selfishness, but nonetheless, for the peace and wellbeing of everyone around the table tonight. Would she be willing to got through all that again if someone made her step into the battle?

Possibly.

"Not because they demanded it, that's for certain. I would support anyone who genuinely needs protection, but only to the extent that anyone can make that decision for themselves, not because some conceited idiot branded us 'heroes'. I refuse to be dehumanised because of my powers."

As the gypsy stole wine from Tantalus, setting aside the slightest pretence of civility, Seras reached a conclusion.

Well, with that precedent firmly set…

While the other avatars squabbled in return and rain clouds broke out overhead, Seras fixed her gaze on the scepter. Much like its owner, it was garish, vulgar and entirely unsuited for a conversation among peers. With a gentle whisper of her power, she began experimentally directing energy towards the scepter's jewel. Manipulating a foreign gemstone was a delicate matter - unlike her own diamonds, the scepter's jewel was rather cheap and riddled with internal imperfections. One careless push would shatter the gemstone along a fault line, and while that would certainly have the desired effect, destroying another person's possession seemed uncalled for regardless of the situation.

She took a few moments to practise with her power, experimentally twitching the head of the sceptre in minuscule spirals until content with her control over the foreign gemstone. Right.

"Charity, would you make sure that Vuduin's alright? I'll handle the situation here."

As Charity nodded in assent and teleported away, Seras mentally cracked her knuckles. No peace has the peacekeeper, it seems. By this stage, it seemed too much to hope for them all to have a peaceful festival – there were far too many avatars around with a bone to pick. We'll have to settle for what little peace we can claim for ourselves.

At least Charity wouldn't shout at her until later.

"Forgive me for intruding," she noted dryly, "but this has gone far enough. You have come to a peaceful gathering of avatars – perhaps the first one in existence – and made an utter mockery of yourself for the history books. Offering naught but conceited insults, you claim to have wisdom while demonstrating nothing of the kind. Imagine the tales that will be told when they write about the 'heroes.'"

She gestured at the rain cloud hanging over their heads. The situation really spoke for itself.

"Personally, I'm inclined to disagree with your opinion – none of us are 'heroes' to be press-ganged at your whim, but compassionate beings that will support others in both the time and manner of our choosing. We might hold a unique form of power as avatars, but none of us are more capable than a highly-skilled trainer and no more uniquely responsible for the world than, say, the Elite Four."

Her eyes narrowed.

"But regardless of the wisdom or plain ignorance behind your words – we can discuss that at a later date – I'm afraid that I must impose a measure of decorum. Rather than souring the mood any further by commanding our attention, I suggest that we continue this conversation as equals."

And without further ado, she reached with her power and shoved. The gemstone at the head of the scepter begun glowing cherry-pink, burning brighter and brighter as she poured as much energy as the jewel could support. Moments later, the scepter tore itself violently from the woman's hands, flying gemstone-first towards Seras with the force of a bullet before abruptly halting in front of her within comfortable arm's reach.

I'm afraid that the Fairies mean business.

It wouldn't be long until the gypsy reclaimed it using her powers, but the message was clear regardless. Grasping her prize by the handle, she offered the scepter to her fellow Fairy. Although Tantalus had shown similar hubris to the gypsy, he'd demonstrated enough courtesy and restraint towards everyone not picking a fight to earn her cautious trust – besides, it was a matter of solidarity.

"Will this be a sufficient down payment for your stolen wine?"


[System]
Age: 31

Gender: Male

Species: Human

World of Origin: Earth

Are you a member of TRIDENT? If so, what is your job/specialty?
Yup, a member of the Information hunting and covert reconnaissance division

Appearance: Standing at 5ft 9in Charles is about the average height for someone his age though with slightly better built physique from his morning jogs, but of course there will forever be a bit of a belly filled with custard creams. Eye sparkle a dazzeling green and his hair is an almost shocking red colour.
A big fan of jewellery and accessories you'll be hard pressed to find any time that he isn't wearing at least a wristwatch, a couple of wrist bands from various bands and franchises (Doctor Who being his favourite), a ring on the right hand and even a key pendant too. But of course for more formal occasions he's willing to go to just the wristwatch.
Clothing varies depending on the job but when relaxing oddly enough he prefers loose and baggy clothing.

Abilities and skills: Aside from the general "independent adult" skill (such as cooking, cleaning, filling out tax forms) Charles is also an excellent party host.
Charles has a very weak but surprisingly useful form of magic. With a quick twirl of the hand Charles can teleport nearby items into his palm, but of course these can only be small things like coins, keys and USB sticks.

Strengths and Weaknesses:
+ A charismatic man who could talk until the cows came home
- He would talk even after the cows got fed up and walked away again
+ He's surprisingly good at shifting a person's attention to something else and staying out of sight.
- He's not a big computer person aside from just general use so some computing terms will completely go over his head. Use small words.
+ Multi-lingual
- Poor café workers in Germany being spoken to in first in Japanese and then Dutch

Equipment Requests: The general things like phone and wallet, as well as a few things like the standard issue pistol and a small laptop but the latter are normally stored away in a bag of some sort or at his residence at the time.

History: For the most part Charles had a fairly standard childhood in Central of London. Although as a child his parents were always at a loss as to explain how he was able to grab hold of keys and coins which had been placed out of his reach on the higher shelves.
School was school and he neither did bad nor that good at his subjects, just a little bit better academically than average. But of course he was very popular with his little magic and card tricks, although on many occasions his teachers would confiscate his deck of cards to put an end to the constant noise of them being shuffled and flipped. So it came as no surprise to find him on the streets at weekends performing to the many tourists that would flood the streets of London
About two years after finishing full time education his friends and family were startled and shocked to discover that he had applied to an agent, or Covert Human Intelligence Source, for MI5 and while the organisation won't actually say he was 'Accepted' as such people aren't actually staff nor is there any actually formal application process, it was safe to say he got the job.
And so began Charles's new life of touring the globe, sneaking into very dangerous places ranging from war torn bunkers to that very nice office building in New York. It often during these 'missions' that his magical skill became very useful and often pushed to and beyond its limits (it quickly became apparent to Charles that he could not magically make that USB stick with sensitive information stuck at the back of a computer on the top floor appear in his hands as he exited the building on the bottom floor).
Of course such things never really go unnoticed, especially with today's technology. And even if you were able to scramble the Security footage enough to stop others from noticing someone's bound to be able to. But still it came as a surprise when members of TRIDENT appeared offering him a job.

Personality: Over the top this man couldn't be anymore loud and brash unless he literally exploded into confetti but on the other hand he can be extremely sneaky being able to slip past even the most watchful gazes. Of course he does tend to get side tracked at times, especially if he's bored, with a need to always be doing something and always on the move.
As such it's not uncommon for him to start proclaiming about his many big plans or goals, not that he'll really be able to get around to fulfilling most of them as they tend to conflict with each other. But at times he can be a bit over ambitious and if not caught soon he may try to follow through with those ambitions which has led to numerous failed attempts, mostly at over complicated recipes, but such things rarely keep him down for long.

Name: 53 – AN – 0N "Shanon"

Age: Approx. 5 years

Gender: Female

Species: Monster

World of Origin: An Earth similar to our own but small towns and villages are almost unheard of with the majority of the population living in cities of gigantic proportions and heavily armed against the terrors in the dark nights.

In this world Monsters are very real and they come in all shapes, sizes, colours, textures, and everything else. Oddly enough they are not born but simply appear without any scientific explanation. Old stories though talk about the importance of resolving one's issues and feelings lest those malicious thoughts take form and cause great harm to everyone nearby.

Appearance: A huge beast standing around 7 ft tall on her hind lends however spends most on the time on all six, front four similar to hands with claws like fingers and the back two like an animals hind legs. Maroon fur covers her body except for a soft pink underbelly. While one eye socket is stitched closed, two eyes sit in the left in addition to another two eyes belonging to the snake tongue she possesses. Two large horns spiral from her skull and a green mane extends down to her hips, a tail then extends for about a meter ending with a sickle shaped bone. Her body is dotted in gashes crudely sewed together.

Abilities and skills: Shanons ability to track a scent is unmatched not just by smelling ability but by being able to taste the scent of prey on the air as well. Shanon possess extra-ordinary strength with her limit being around the same weight as a tank. Her venom causes a victim muscles to seize up within half an hour of entering the blood stream.

Strengths and Weaknesses:
+ Doesn't need to eat, though the occasional snack is appreciated even if disposing of it later is a hassle
- Unaffected by most poisons as she has no heart or blood vessels.
+ Doesn't bleed
- Can't heal and any injuries sustained will need to be stitched up
+ She isn't easily intimidated, though Humans will always make her uneasy
- not the brightest of the bunch

Equipment Requests: A pocket sewing kit.

History: As with every monster Shanon wasn't born, but simply began one fog drenched night down an alley way where horrible things had happened. A number of hours were spent roaming through the streets figuring out how her body worked; how her joints moved, how her spine could twist, how her senses picked out her prey walking alone at night. As a Monster she was made of the malicious and cruel thoughts of Humans, however that didn't mean that she herself was entirely cruel.

Then They appeared: The Containment and Examination of Monsters company (C.E.M). Shanon was no match for the Agents who possessed equipment specifically designed to deal with Monsters and she was quickly captured. Her world then became one of a small white room and of scalpels and needles as the Agents sought to figure out how she worked.

One day something went wrong; another monster was able to escape its cell and the C.E.M facility fell into chaos. Shanon, along with many other Monsters fled from the facility, making sure to remove a number of Agents from the world on the way out. She, like many others, fled very far from the facility and didn't dare to stop running until a day had passed by which point she had stumbled, almost collapsed with exhaustion, into a forest rarely seen by humans.

Here Shanon met another Monster who had taken the name Darcy, and had prompted Shanon to take a name herself. Here the pair lived together in relative peace only occasionally disturbed by wondering Humans or the rare Agent seeking them out.

Personality: Very protective of those she calls 'friend' Shanon will selflessly place herself in harm's way without a second thought. Shanon tries to be kind and wants to learn and experience as much of the world that she can before she ends, as such given half the chance Shanon will relentlessly hound a person with questions about anything and everything. Of course such a strong sense of curiosity has landed her in a number of situations and a few close calls, but it has yet to discourage her from exploring.

However, Shanon holds a very 'black and white' view of the world and those around her; if she considers someone to be a threat to her or another's well-being she will express, and possibly follow through with, her desire to end them. Normally in such cases she will try to quickly end her opponent by sneaking up on them when their guard is down, but if the option is unavailable she has nothing against ripping them apart even if it means sacrificing herself.

[User]
"We just had an... incident over here. A smell skeletal thing assembled itself and got... killed." a deep and gravely voice said over the radio.
Vaughtar, Wolfe thought, he didn't expect an off worlder to have any sort of radio etiquette, but was impressed he could manipulate and work a radio.
Wolfe didn't bother responding, he maintained his eyes on the castle. The feeling wasn't as strong as before, but, it was still there. Something definitely wasn't right. Even Hirsch seemed tense.
The wind picked up, and the temp seemed to drop a bit, though the crevice that Wolfe and Hirsch sat in was covered from the wind.
A few more moments and the radio crackled to life once again, this time it was Zesiro, he didn't seem panicky, but his voice tense. His radio etiquette had improved somewhat as well, most likely due to a small bit of an andrenaline rush.

"Hey guys. Possible mage presence, necromancer, consider any dead bodies you see as loaded guns."

"Necromancer?" Hirsch asked. "Like those guys who fuck dead people?"
"What? No that's a necropheliac." Wolfe corrected.
"A Necromancer is a type of sorcerer or magician that can bring dead bodies back to life." Wolfe explained to Hirsch.
"Like....like Jesus?" he asked confused his eyes wide.
Wolfe dropped his head and shook it.
"Holy shit, how, how did you survive childhood?"
"I drank my milk and ate my veggies," he said with a shrug.
Wolfe spent a moment gritting his teeth and glaring at Hirsch, then went on.
"A Necromancer is someone who uses magic to make zombies," he explained in the simplest of ways.
"Oh? No shit... thats bad, we need to stay alert," Hirsch said shouldering his SAW and tracking through his scope.
Wolfe sighed and went back to his monocular.

[Assistant]
Vata followed the group silently. He might've said something if it wasn't for the fact that he was struggling to keep up with the rest of the group. His legs were better suited for the occasional stroll around the city to the market, not ascending a mountain. But if it meant a shot at learning more about what dragged them all here, it would be worth suffering a bit for. After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the place where the castle was. Or, at least, what was left of it.

Trying not to focus on the fact that his legs were on fire, Vata followed the people who were investigating the symbols by the altar, paying close attention to the things that they were looking at. If he wanted this to work, he'd need to pay close attention to this sort of stuff. Normally he wouldn't need to do this, but with the tenuous link he had to the Spiritstream, and by extension, the Spirit of Inspiration, he needed to make sure he got a good feel for what they were looking at, since if he didn't, the other people here would probably end up getting a sudden burst of inspiration for something like what they should eat tomorrow, or other unrelated things. He had it happen once to one of his students, who, during a lesson regarding writing style, suddenly got an idea regarding a new outfit, and then rushed off to the market, and then returned an hour later looking considerably more stylish. Unfortunately, the student's writing style was not helped much by this, and Inspiration seemed amused by the turn of events.

After several minutes of watching the investigation, he called upon the Spirit of Inspiration, who promptly, and somewhat feebly responded. He had no idea how much of an effect it would have, but hopefully it would help them some sort of insight for the symbols they came here to investigate. He decided to finally speak up then.

"Any progress? I know we're not working off much here, but I figured I'd ask to see how it's coming along."

[User]
Charles mental chastised himself for overlooking such important details.

"Noted," Nodding towards Rozalind. "Though that will limit any team with Vaughtar on to night time missions, might actually prove quite useful."

Regardless of Vaughtars comment Charles unfolded and set down the chair when his attention was drawn to the commotion of the skeleton dog. "Just, go and sit in the shade or something Vaughtar and rest." He gestured to a spot near to all the gear he had brought.

"We could separate the bones into different containers, hopefully it won't adversely affect its condition," Charles drew up to Herbert and the pile of bones. "Or make it think worse of us or something." He mumbled.

Kneeling down beside the pile Charles began prodding at the bones with a pen, then carefully separating them from one another with his hands so that they each lay beside another in a line.

"Let's see we have a few femurs, ribs, skull, and I think these are vertebrae of some kind," Charles pointed to Ariel. "Don't damage that bone, got it?"

Returning his gaze back to the arranged bones Charles resumed examining them and struggled to put a name to all of them, let alone guess their purpose or placement in a skeleton. He 'hmmm'-ed.

"Anybody here know much about bones? Oh! And could someone else bring me a camera please?"

Using the end of his pen to hold aloft a golden thread between two bones Charles raised an eyebrow towards Herbert.

"Magic I assume?"


[System]
Appearance/Image:
Age: 22

Gender: Male

Height/Weight: 6'4 / 210 lbs

Personality: Hal is fiercely loyal to his students. They are the future generation and he has every intention of providing them with the skills and knowledge they need to succeed in life. It isn't just his students who he wants to have a good life of course. Anyone he meets is a perfectly viable target for him to help improve themselves, whether they want to improve or not.

Character Alignment: Lawful Good

Class Affinity: Archer

Background:
Hal grew up in Saint Martha's Foster Home for Orphaned Children, usually helping the nuns take care of the smaller children rather than try and spend time with the children his own age. This would give Hal a very nurturing and parental personality, his interest always in helping those who can't help themselves. That is why, after becoming old enough to be considered an adult by US law, Hal would begin his teaching career.

It wasn't easy gathering the funds to do so, but with the help of diligent working, a little crowdfunding, and some much needed good luck he was able to enter into an acceptable university. He was still early on in his teaching internship, when out on the open football field, past the school's closing hours, that a small card seemed to appear before him a blinding light. With the newly acquired knowledge of the world's impending doom, Mr. Sutherland has vowed to protect his newly acquired students at any cost.

Occupation: Student Teacher

Known Magic: None

Special Talents/Hobbies: His desire to receive his teaching degree and become a high school PE Teacher has inspired him to stay in great shape to act as an excellent example for his future students. While he hasn't trained in any fighting style, he's definitely got a lot of power and speed behind any punches or kicks he may throw.

Ambition: To make a better world for his students.

Odysseus; Neutral Good Archer
STR: C+(B+), AGI: C(B), END: C(B), MAN: E(D), LUK: E(E), NP: C(B)

Noble Phantasm:
- Dokimí Taftótitas: Odysseus can summon up to 12 axes in positions of his choosing around the battlefield, each one with sockets only just large enough for an arrow to pass through. With each socket that his arrow may pass through, it shall increase in speed to the point that the twelfth ax passed through will cause it to become fast enough to be unable to avoid or blocked by normal means, even by servants.

This is an Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm that Targets: 1 person.

- Doúreios íppos: Any "gift" that an opponent may receive from Odysseus shall cause their luck stat to decrease exponentially until they remove the object from their person. Any object, no matter how obscure, could be considered a gift from Odysseus, ranging from a simple pencil to help someone write to one of his arrows that have struck their target. With each day that passes, the parameter will drop one whole grade. This Noble Phantasm is a manifestation of his willingness to abuse an opponent's hospitality to ensure he succeeds. Only applicable when the card is currently installed.

This is an Anti-Unit Noble Phantasm that Targets: 1 person per "gift."

Include: The Bow of Apollo - The bow that Odysseus used to kill all of his wife's suitors.

Install: Grants his Noble Phantasms, Skills, Parameters, and the weapons of Odysseus.

Install Skills:
- Espionage C(A): Having successfully infiltrated the city of Troy, avoided the sight of the cyclopes, and made himself unrecognizable to even his family when he meant to hide among his wife's suitors, Odysseus has mastered the ability to blend in and let his opponent lower their guard. At full strength, only the most knowledgeable or the most enraged of servants could tell just how much a threat he poses.

- Advice of the Strategist C(B): Odysseus gained much military experience leading his men to battle in Troy, right alongside other brilliant Greek commanders like Achilles and Diomedes. Even creating the famed Trojan Horse that brought an end to the conflict. This grants him a great analytical mind that can narrow down what the best action is to a handful of options.

- Hawk Eye B(B+): Odysseus was extremely skilled with a bow, being able to shoot a single arrow through twelve small axes once he had returned to his home of Ithaca, a feat very few could claim to be able to pull off as well.

- Magic Resistance E(C): During his journey, Odysseus had several encounters with magic and magic users, some benevolent and others malicious. During his stay with Circe in particular, the enchantress taught him a thing or two about protecting himself from the average mage.

- Independent Action C(B): While Odysseus was a commander of an army and captain of his own ship, leading groups of men sometimes numbering in the hundreds, this hero was no stranger to working alone. During the Trojan War, he and Diomedes were the only ones to volunteer for a stealth mission behind enemy lines and when his ship was eaten by Charybdis he was able to return to Ithaca alone. His experience working solo allows the one installing him to give up control to the Greek hero so that he might fight much more effectively.

Install Appearance: Installing Odysseus does not change much to the user appearance-wise. Other than his bow and the twelves axes that are used for his noble phantasm, the only clothing that will be added is the leather chest guard and bracer on his left arm and left pectoral to keep the bow string from catching.

Servant Biography:
Odysseus was most likely the most essential commander of the Greek's forces during the Trojan War, creating the strategy that would cause them to receive their long-awaited victory with the Trojan Horse. What would finally put this hero into the tomes of history though would be his infamous journey home after the war.

No epic is as well known as the Odyssey. This tale spans an entire decade and includes encounters with monsters, witches, and even gods. But no matter who stood in the way of this hero, he would trick, beat, and negotiate his way out of each danger, all to return to his loving wife and once young son. Nothing could ever hope to overpower his determination, just like his master's determination to protect his pupils.

Servant Personality:
Odysseus is described as being very kind and brave, but his most well known trait is his wisdom. Without his intelligence, the Greeks may have never brought an end to the Trojan War and he never would have gotten home to his family in Ithaca. He is well known for his terrible luck however, having taken a whole 10 years for his return trip. When misfortune befalls, Odysseus may become depressed or saddened, but never does he lose hope, picking himself back up and persevering.

Other:
Theme:

[User]
, @Guess Who, @Enkryption, @Suku
 "You've far more spirit than brain." Xerxes said, glowering down at Maggie as his prized elephant's foot was cleaved and its jaw grabbed, Pērōz Pīru rearing back in an attempt to get away from her, only to have its jaw seized, the berserk girl beneath attempting to completely rip it off. The war elephant's pained toot echoed through the gymnasium, a hollow, angered sound before its black beady eyes seemed to glow an unnatural red. "Crush her, Pērōz Pīru." Xerxes demanded, before the elephant jerked its head to the side forcefully, flinging Maggie off, but not without giving her a massive chunk of its lower jaw muscles and a few teeth.

Just as he finally took note that the sword wielding girl was suddenly moved somewhere else, Xerxes heard the faintest whizz of arrows flying, only to be harmlessly knocked aside by the air around him. Crossing his arms, the Rider looked unimpressed, looking up at the source. "Skulk all you like, I can smell your inferiority." he said, before with one single graceful motion he kicked up off of his elephant and landed on a rafter opposite of Hal, smugly smiling at him. "Too bad. If you'd been up against anyone else, your haphazard assassination may have succeeded. Feel honored that your head will be taken by Persia's greatest King, Lasher of the Hellespont, and Breaker of Leonidas." As he spoke, his gilded axe shimmered in his hands, before he began charging at Hal, seemingly thinking that as an archer he had no way out.

With his master not present to control his reigns, the Elephant charged ferociously at Maggie, attempting to gore her with one of its twin tusks, covered in glittering bands of jewels and obsidian, the pure white ivory prepping to become stained in her blood. In its mind, it had recieved a single order from Xerxes, repeating over, and over, and over..."KILL! CRUSH! SUBJUGATE!" Like an alarm, it blared over and over, the traditionally peaceful species' being overwritten with Xerxes' mania, madness, and thirst to destroy those before it. This wasn't an elephant anymore...it had become a physical incarnation of a crazed king's power hunger.

---

 Now, having recovered enough to stand, Makoto dropped the used up bottle, the few remaining droplets of green liquid dribbling from the discarded container. Still clutching where his arm had impacted on the bleachers, he realized that he had a chance to escape, and, turned his back in order to take it.

"Hmm...this is no good Makoto. I don't know if I could teach a man that would leave a girl all alone to face a dangerous beast..." Zosimos mused in his mind, feigning as if he wasn't basically telling Makoto to go fight.

"B-But..." Makoto started, before his card's spirit interjected. "No, no, it is quite alright...after all, you are weak enough to be beaten before the fight even begins. Hoping that someone else would solve the problem before you would have to deal with it. Running is, after all, the safest option..."

Makoto bit his lip beneath the headdress, clenching his fists. "...Fine. If it gets you to let it go, I'll do the stupid thing." Makoto said, before an almost elated clap echoed in his mind. "Very well my brave pupil! Now, turn to page 13, on the essence of rock based transmutation..."

"SHUT UP!" Makoto suddenly shouted, making it seem to the unaware observer that he was yelling at Xerxes up on the rafters. However, instead of targetting who one would suspect, he instead ran over to the piles of rubble converted into pumice, immediately tossing a piece of it up into the air. His right eye shimmered for a brief moment, a brilliant, burning, orange iris taking over his ordinary hazel as his hand made contact with the rock. In an instant, the material underwent an intense physical change, the air pockets that were placed into the pumice expanding, and seemingly turning inside out as the surrounding rock was pushed into, and then out of the hole, resulting in long, thin spears made of a rock definitely stronger and heavier than the component he'd used. A dozen javelins of rock hurtled towards the elephant at high speeds, several simply bouncing off of its hide, but one managing to strike true into its trunk, splitting straight through it. However, he had failed to stop its charge.

"Move!" Makoto yelled, trying to run as fast as he could over to Maggie, unable to match the charging beast's speed and momentum.

[Assistant]
Is this it? Is this how I am going to go out? Death by elephant? Rebecca thought as she saw the elephant's foot about to slam into her. She heard the voice of the saint calling out to her, but she couldn't make up the words that were said as she tunnel-visioned on the impending doom the foot meant. At that moment, however, was when Rebecca felt a pair of hands scoop her from the doom that awaited her and the impending shower of blood that followed from a crazed Maggie spouting nonsense about being a flower.

Rebecca looked at Hal for a few moments in awe as she witnessed him retreating to the rafters. That was when she both heard and understood the voice's words once again. Rebecca, are you ok?! Rebecca looked at herself. Strangely, aside from a crack in her glasses and an ache in her back from where she was slammed she felt and saw no immediately concerning injuries.

 Y-yeah.

Get up. The battle is not over. Forget about Xerxes for now, your friend seems to have him handled. For now, that elephant must be dealt with before it causes more havoc.

Right..

Rebecca used the sword of St. Catherine she still held in her hands to get up, regaining her balance on her feet as she witnessed rock hitting the elephant. However, she spotted a bigger danger: the elephant heading straight to Maggie. Despite her instincts screaming that what she was about to do was foolish and would probably get her killed, Rebecca charged once again. This time with both hands she raised her sword in a yell at a different target: the elephant's tusks. If she couldn't block the attack itself she could at least try to divert the deadly monstrosity from the enraged and very scary Maggie.

[User]
"Hmmph. Sit down, boy. I fought side-by-side with some of the original Spartan warriors. Those brutes aren't anything impressive," Hal replied in a voice that was very distinctly not his own. This was Odysseus talking, not the overly protective teacher. Swinging the bow securely onto his back, the Archer pulled two of his twelve axes from his belt, going into an offensive stance. "I've slaughtered armies of Trojans and Thracians. Outsmarted cyclopes and sirens. Escaped witches and sea monsters. Ten years of my life were wasted at war and another ten just to return home. I persevered though, overcoming every obstacle the gods put between me and my family. So tell me Persian, what hope does a mere king stand against me?"

A little overconfident there aren't you?

I refuse to let this brat return to the Throne of Heroes without first teaching him who it was that brought him down.

That's great and all, but he's definitely not a push over. Are you sure you can take him?

Hal, or more accurately Odysseus, merely smirked before lunging toward Xerxes. "My name is Odysseus and I shall be the one who takes your head!" the man shouted before swinging both axes at the king's ribcage.


[System]
Age: 33
Gender: Male
History: Varrock was a simple farmer when one day his family's farm was attacked by a deserting army. Desperate for supplies, they raided his little field of grain and animals, leaving nothing behind. His family didn't survive the attack; his father and brothers died defending it, and his mother and sisters were taken away. By the time Varrock recovered and tried to get them, they had already been disposed of. Just like that, his entire peaceful life was turned upside down. He had nothing left to go return to, and nothing left to hold him back. With no family support he had to resort to begging on the streets for much of his early adult life, until he finally managed to get enough money to buy himself a wood cutting axe. but instead of becoming a lumberjack, he used that axe to become a brigand; murdering travelers in their sleep to pilfer their money and supplies. He did that for years, eventually joining a gang to get better weapons and armor. Tackling bigger, tougher, more valuable targets.

Eventually Varrock even gained some infamy. "Varrock The Executioner" they called him. Known for both his battleaxe and his perchant for executing prisoners, fighters, and many many others. Of course with this infamy came a bounty. Though he never became a proper bandit chief, tales of his horrors had grown enough that people could identify him simply by his gear, and so he had to flee to avoid capture or worse. His running eventually brought him to the town of Brighthaven. Here he rubbed elbows with criminals and madmen worse than him, throwing his pursuers off for a short while. But running away from the law left him very little time to amass his fortunes. With nothing but the armor on his back and the axe in his hands, Varrock needed money. And there was only one way to get a lot of money here in Brighthaven: the ruins of Norn.
Equipment:
Armor - Varrock's rather elaborate full plate armor. Made mostly of bits and pieces he collected over the years killing knights, the only uniquely made peice of armor is his helmet, which appears to have a simple smiling face on it. It's unsettling to most people when they see it, the innocent smile brandishing a bloodied axe. Good at protecting him from most weapons, however as most of the parts were looted and never properly cared of, it is falling apart.
Battleaxe - Varrock's signature battleaxe, and how most Bounty Hunter's identify him. He took this weapon off a northern warrior who said that it was enchanted so it could cut through any sort of armor. Thus, Varrock and his mates shot the warrior with arrows. Varrock isn't sure if this axe is actually magical, but it is very well made, and cuts through armor just as well as it cuts through bare necks.

[User]
The vardo wagon was painted crimson with engraving and window shutters limned in yellow. Unlike a farmer's wagon it was built for moving across country. Iron creaked, springs compressed, and the wheel of the wagon clambered up over the upraised root at the base of a massive tree. The wagon see sawed left and right, springs bounding against one another until it leveled out once more.

"By the nine hells," the driver blurted out as she held on for dear life.

The driver flicked one side of the reins, drawing the old horse away from the tree roots and continued onward, then relaxed once more. As much as one could relax given she was traveling the forest of Morkador. Blonde tresses shone beneath the light of the swinging lamp hanging from the pole overhead. Assallya was a vision to behold. Her skin was pale as new fallen snow, blushed with a touch of rose. Her eyes were azure, the colour of mountain pools reflecting the winter sky. She was wearing her black silks, similar in many respects to that which she wore in her time as a slave. After nearly a century wearing them it was what she felt most comfortable in. The dresses of these northern cities was so constrictive.

She sat back with her right ankle underneath her left thigh, leaning into the cushions on the high bench with one hand holding the reins, the other rested gently on her knee and only a short distance from the light crossbow she kept at the ready. Eyes sweeping the darkness just beyond the pool of light cast by her overhead lamp she watched for any sign of danger. Soon, soon it would be too dark to travel even by the light of her torch and she would have to heave to.

[Assistant]
It's been a long and lonely road to Norn. Every night Yomiko is reminded of her family's illness. They had the best doctors they could afford, but that only keeps them alive, not cures them. How cruel and twisted that for all their efforts they were living on borrowed time, their fate in the hands of the only member of the family who didn't take their responsibilities as seriously. Or perhaps this was just fate. The gods twisted way of making Yomiko return to her family. No matter; she knew what must be done. She was going to find riches in these ruins and make sure her family has the medicine they need.

Yomiko had to cut through various threats on the way here. Mainly horned wolves; she recognizes the creatures from old stories and bestiaries. And she knew how to slay them. She also has read somewhere that the old ruins of Norn was still thriving, but it's inhabitants weren't among the living; while it could be said that the ruins are filled with the dead, nothing said that the dead were not active. Sure brigands and desperation may live on the ruins surface, but somewhere deeper within was a city of undead. Yomiko hoped that if she could find them, they could help her. Or at least won't try to kill her. A girl could hope.

But first thing first; she needed to find some landmark as her destination. This ruin was too vast for her to wander aimlessly and hope that she could stumble upon something. She could see a church in the distance that might make for a good vantage point. If nothing else, it might be a safe place to set up camp for the night. So adjusting the swords on her waist and making sure her papers are sealed Yomiko walked towards the church, hoping to find something of use within.

[User]
"Your darkness beckons." So snarled Yenqinor as he conjured a globe of darkness to blanket the vision of the two goblins readying themselves to charge at him, and then burned them to a crisp with a sheet of flame surging into the pitch blackness. With a flick of his wrists he extinguished the flames around his hands as well as the darkness, and moved forth to quickly pat down the charred corpses of the goblins for anything of value. A small, silver amulet was found around the neck of one, a mere trinket. Yenqinor clasped it in his hand and smirked; that may fetch a pretty penny from the next passing merchant caravan. With a flourish of his cape, Yenqinor pocketed his lucky find and would carry on down the road. "Oh, how the weak fall." So he mused as he stepped over those blackened corpses.

He had been travelling on foot for some time now, never having taken the time to learn how to ride a horse safely and effectively. Nor did he want to splash out on a steed when there were scrolls to be bought and bribes to be made. The long, winding road leading towards the ancient ruins of Norn once he exited the mountain pass between him and his home town, was fraught with peril, yet to him it was nothing more than ample opportunity for him to hone his skills in the arcane arts, each challenge another step closer to his ultimate goal. Achieving power comparable to that of a demigod, or beyond!

Late evening swiftly approached, but Yenqinor thrived equally as well in both day and night, owing to his keen senses and ability to see perfectly well in the dark, thanks to his angelic heritage. Still, even Aasimars needed rest and even someone as power-hungry as himself craved sleep. Perhaps he would find something of use in the first major landmark he had come across since he had left the mountain pass; a large church. Seemingly deserted? But a fitting locale to search for ancient scrolls and texts that could become of use to him while performing his nightly rituals. Excellent. He drew his cape around his person, keeping a low profile, and started down towards the church.

[Assistant]
"Finally. One step closer to my dream."

The ruins of Norn were terrifying. It reminded Ashe of her country after it was razed. She could see the former glories this place had and wondered what had to have happened for all of it to be lost. If perhaps there was a lost king or even princess hoping to restore it to its former glory. "No. don't distract yourself now. Focus on your mission." Ashe continued down her path, bow and arrows in hand, venturing deeper into the ruins.

She needed to figure out where to go. Some locations seemed pretty obvious. There was a large church still standing that could be a useful landmark. But no doubt others have seen it and thought the same; Ashe couldn't afford to run into violent types right now. No she needed to look elsewhere. A ruined keep it mayor home perhaps. Somewhere that would have the information she sought. If she couldnt find it there, then she will risk looking around the church.

Ashe knew her cities well and knew how to best find a keep, they would ya e the most open roads so their armies could sally it quickly. And even among the fallen ruins and rubles Ashe can clearly see the path before Norn's fall. Making sure she wasn't followed she would sneak along this road to the city's Fortress.

[User] Steel reflected the sun's rays as a heavy blade was brought down onto a goblin's head, splitting the creature in twain. It's bone helmet was no match for the tempered steel of Joseph's sword. Four more rushed him but their meager weapons failed to puncture through his armor, worn as it was, as he retaliated with a wide swing of his sword. It cleaved through two and cut one, leaving the final goblin who had barely managed to avoid getting slashed down. Seeing that it was alone it turned tail to run, only to get stabbed through the back by Joseph's zweihandler. It slipped off his blade, took a few steps forward, and died. Cleaning his sword of the gore using some cloth from the goblins the stoic knight continued onward. Onward into the ruins of Norn.

[Assistant]
As the adventurers gathered, the ruins began to stir. The smell of prey was in the air, and they will find not peace, but endless torment.

---

As Roy was setting up his camp, a pack had followed him. They smelled the scent of their kin on his blade, found it's corpse, and sought the one who had slew their sibling. Roy had killed a whelp, no one particularly important to the pack, but these horned wolves were eager to dine on man flesh once again. Unlike the whelp these horn wolves were older and stronger; their horns wrapped around their head and neck like a protective helmet, and their hide, though scarred from many battles, could withstand steel much better than flesh ought to. Five of these wolves converged around Roy's camp. One was the eldest, larger than the other wolves, and had a golden necklace wrapped around one of his horns. And without warning, they would charge.

---

The sorcerer would have no chance to rest suddenly from the darkness a large stone would fly towards the horse. It came without warning and would likely kill the beast instantly, if not cripple it to the point that it would become dead weight. By now it had become truly dark, and there was nary a moon nor star in the sky to illuminate the darkness. Worse still, it was at this time that the creatures of the night were most active: Goblins. Though individual weak and diminutive, rarely are they ever found alone. Gathering around Assallya was seventeen goblins, crudely armed with stone weapons and slings, but among their numbers was a hulking hobgoblin. Over eight feet tall and more than five hundred pounds, this ogre of a gob carried a small tree as a club as he approached Assallya with his entourage of minions. Riding on his shoulder was another goblin, slightly larger than most but smaller than the hobgoblin, who had a shining buckler attached to his arm. Tonight, the goblins will have their fun...

---

As night came the worshiper of Asmodeus would become privy to some of the dark inhabitants of Norn. Specifically he would hear whispers, cries, and pleads from all around. Desperate men and women begging for their lives, for someone to save them, to rescue them from their doom. And from these whispers came the men and women who's wishes had gone unanswered. Undead dressed in tattered, broken, and destroyed garments, yet still clinging onto some faint memory of who they were. And as far as these undead adventurers knew, they were still fighting for their lives and saw Yenqinor as an enemy to destroy. Six undead warriors ran towards him brandishing rusted and broken swords, but one of them carried a mace that still gleamed even in this darkness.

---

Not all that lives in the ruins of Norn are among the living or the dead. Many are simply part of nature, animated and without purpose. These creatures have many names and for Yomiko she would soon learn of one of them: Treant. Seemingly just an overgrown but dead tree, it roared to life as it made wild flailing motions towards the kitsune. It knew not what it was doing, acting out only on basic instincts from it's creation. And those instincts? To destroy. Among the branches that made up the treant's head was a worn but solid satchel, jingling with a mysterious prize. But before it could be salvaged the treant rose from it's resting spot to attack the lone swordswoman.

---

Despite being a ruin life can still thrive here, especially upon the dead that litter the place. As Ashe walked among the ancient corpses that littered the place, she may have become wary of the insects that fed off their bodies. Larvae, maggots, and flies that fed even on the bones. And notably, far larger than any of these insects have any right to be. Soon she would hear a foul singing, as if it was a woman screaming. This screaming roused the insects and caused them to flee... Or rather, gather. And as if driven by deranged hunger or perhaps a spell, swarms of these insects would converge onto Ashe, intending to turn her into one of the many corpses they were feeding off of. And not too far, sitting along a fresh corpse still dressed in the gear he had purchased to venture into this hell, a fairy with a mischievous smile on her face.

---

"Halt there. Ain't no one gunna get closer without paying the toll."

Bandits. Even in these haunted ruins, none can escape human greed and depravity. These bandits were dressed in piece mail armor, some had metal plates, most had rusted chain mail, but each were equipped well enough to survive on the outskirts of this wretched ruin. Seven bandits lead by a man who wielded two swords stood before the fallen paladin, his hand extended. A dark yet immaculate ring was around the bandit chief's finger. "Yer money and that fancy sword of yours. Give em up, and we'll let you walk. Don't, and we'll be stripping your corpse and putting your bones in a stew. It's a good deal, eh?"