[System]
Character Sheet
Age:
23

Gender:
Female

Bio:
Charlotte was overseas on a college trip when the bombs fell and wiped out a large portion of the human race, having travelled from her family home in what was once known as the United Kingdom. Fortunate to be away from any real population centre she survived with a small group of her classmates and a professor holed up in the somewhat remote cabin that their trip had rented throughout the martial law period (What little communication they had with the authorities soon stopped). They remained for some several months surviving as best they could on what little supplies they had, trying to get as much information as possible about the outside world and the fate of their native country. Inevitably the small group had to leave their relative safety and return to what was once civilization before they starved to death. It did not go well.

Hardly prepared for the devastation and death that greeted them as they made their way slowly into the city they saw the remains of countless killed by both the bombs and several more killed more recently. Somewhat naively the group went looking for help, but instead stumbled across one of the many savage gangs that had crept up filling the power vacuum left by the now gone authorities. Before they could even introduce themselves Charlotte's professor was greeted with a hail of bullets, killing both him and another student instantly. Fleeing for their lives Charlotte was separated from all but one of her male classmates and friend, the pair of them running until they could run no more, taking refuge in a now thoroughly dilapidated building.

They spent several days hiding and attempting to survive, but it was soon disrupted when in the middle of the night they were stumbled upon by a trio of cruel scavengers. Unable to escape it soon became clear that the interlopers had rather unsavoury desires, having stumbled upon a young and relatively undamaged woman with little to no protection one thing sprang into their minds. Charlotte struggled against them frantically and somewhat hysterically, aided briefly by her friend (until one of the men buried his hunting knife in his gut and kicked him to the ground). Biting, kicking and screaming Charlotte somehow managed to grab onto a loose piece of concreate and swing it with all of her strength into one of the men's heads as he tried to unfasten his pants, giving her the briefest moment to scramble away and run. In her panicked state she fled into what was once a kitchen, sadly with no other exits – the remaining two men now stood between her and her survival. Fortunately for Charlotte the kitchen was still littered with cooking implements and so as they both charged at her she managed to clumsily grab a large knife, as the first man tried to grab her and force her to the ground she fought with everything she had.

A screaming blur of adrenaline and several scuffles later Charlotte found herself curled up on the ground sobbing, covered in the blood of her would be killers. Her body ached from the numerous bruises and small cuts she had sustained and her mind was a mess, but she was otherwise not seriously hurt.

Making her way back she was just in time to watch her last friend bleed to death as she frantically tried to stop the flow. At the very least the now dead men had enough supplies on them to keep her alive and moving.

The next few months surviving presented a huge learning curb to the young woman, she slowly and cautiously began to move from place to place, scavenging and surviving as she went. After the first three men she had killed she took few chances and generally came to avoid all other people she came across, though it was not always possible and as a result she has now killed seven attackers in 'self-defence' (though truth be told she wonders if she couldn't have avoided the last few…)
Now hardened to the outside world, Charlotte is vastly different from the carefree happy girl that once came to this country.

Personality:
What remains of Charlotte's personality is vastly different from what it once was, now severely guarded and cautious when it comes to meeting outsiders, seeing them now as only threats to be avoided or opportunities to be exploited. She has somewhat lost faith that there are any decent people left alive out there and so is becoming as harsh and uncaring as the outside world.

Currently Charlotte is a something of a tipping point in terms of her personality, poised to plunge off the deep end and become the very thing that has caused her so much suffering and pain to begin with. Though retreating into her own shell it may not be too late for her to come back into the light before she turns her back on the world permanently.

Gear:
- Hunting Knife: The same knife that ended the life of her friend, Charlotte took it and has developed a somewhat macabre liking to it.

- Clothing:
Charlotte wears the clothing she came with, though now somewhat ragged and patched up. Her jeans were once a clear light blue colour, but are now smeared with countless stains so they appear a much darker shade, the knees have ripped out and been patched several times. Similarly a light green vest remains hidden under a grubby dark gray hoody that has been fixed several times and has now got several additional pockets and even a bandolier fixed into it. A green afghan hangs around her neck and she often uses to cover her face, which when combined with her hood at least hides her face when appropriate. Her once flawless shoes are now worn through and similar covered in such grime it would be impossible to distinguish what colour they once were.

-Items:
Basic first aid kit (mostly used)
Heavy flashlight (no battery)
Canteen
Box of cereal bars (12), Skittles, Tin of Tuna, Tin of tomato soup, Jerky.
Carton of cigarettes (3)
Lighter & Fluid (1/2 empty)
$14,012 (found on a corpse)
Flare gun & 2 red flares.

Role:
Charlotte hasn't found a role as such, though some very well may start to describe her as a wanderer or even rogue, perhaps some going even as far as bandit - though to be fair at this point that would be an exaggeration.

[User]
Alyssa eyed the cereal bar as it was offered to her. "Thanks." She stated as she grabbed it. She couldn't help feeling somewhat selfish and needy for taking it, but it seemed impossible to deny. Her stomach seemed to jump a mile out of her stomach as she was saw the wrapping paper. She nodded at Charlotte thankfully, and teared open the casing revealing the food. She took a bite out of it and a few more till it was gone, finishing it, she crushed the wrapper in her hand.

 She walked to the door placing it in the trashcan on her way. As she did so she realized something she didn't before. That the house was actually neat and somewhat organized. It was as if it was left untouched after the war. This thought seemed impossible but if it was true it would mean that there were some supplies left. " Did we check the place for supplies already?" She asked stepping away from the door.

She regretted the words after she spoke them, and prayed that Quin wouldn't be the one to answer it. She wanted nothing to do with him, nor did she blame him. Deep down she understood but she would never admit it to herself or anyone. The memories won't ever dissipate, the worst ones she holds. She could never forgive him. She wants to make him pay, but doesn't know how. The best she could do is ignore the fact he was there, but so far that seemed impossible. She knew they didn't have time to deal with this and she would avoid it as long as she could.

[Assistant]
With a sincere nod and a quiet "thank you", Quinn took the cereal bar and proceeded to eat it in small, conscientious bites. There was lull in the moment where the group had grown quiet and Quinn involuntarily retreated inward.

"Do it, Harris," the gruff voice of Colonel Elias Vex whispered harshly into a broken man's ear. Quinn still had both of his eyes, and beneath the dirt and sweat was a face unscarred, but carrying the weight of sallow grief all the same. The loss of his wife and daughters was much fresher in his heart and mind and their face still retained distinguishing features in his memory.
"Slit her throat, Harris."
Quinn felt the weight of a colossal hand slap a knife against his chest with enough force to rock him back a little. He knew though, that was Vex's version of a soft tap. The titan of a man had enough strength in one hand to squish Quinn's head like a grape.
Quinn took the knife in his own hand and knelt down by the crying woman, eyes speaking odysseys of inhuman pain and torment. Twenty men had taken her, broken her and violated her. Quinn had been no exception.
It was a mercy to drag the knife across her throat. Her face went slack, her eyes dulled over and the dead weight of her figure fell with a thump onto the dirty ground.
"Congratulations, Harris. You've earned your fatigues at last."

Quinn was brought back to the present by the vague impression of Alyssa's voice. He had not heard what she had said, so he did not reply. He hadn't had a flashback that vivid for a long while. Alyssa had nearly been another body left in the dust, another throat slit. He wouldn't speak on the things that had been done to her, the things he had done and had let be done.
He realized he had been staring, and self-consciously looked down at the ground, clenching his hand into a fist beneath his poncho and nibbling at the cereal bar.

[User] Jake took a deep breath before looking towards the group. "Alright. Let's get a move on." He said, grabbing his rifle. He turned away from everyone and began walking. He smiled, trying to maintain inner peace. He walked with a slight hint of nervousness, his gait very awkward and unnatural. He was walking a bit slow, too. Jake could feel his heart beating and his head pounding. He was sweating a bit. Something wasn't right.

[Assistant]
Celty leaned against the wall and rejected the cereal bar. Something no one was doing. However she did give a smile and was polite as she did. She didn't want to seem rude or ungrateful, not even overconfident in herself. It was more the concern of if she took the bar she would be possibly taking someone's last meal.
"I'm good. Thank you though." Celty thanked. Hearing Alyssa she turned to look around a bit. "Now that you mention it, it doesnt seem to have been. Far too clean. Almost unsettling."

She walked over to the kitchen and opened one of the cupboards, just to find a neat stack of plates. Another one to cups. 'Hasn't been picked at all...' Celtt thought to herself. "Does anyone know who this house belongs to? It hasn't been touched. Hell, there's not a thing out of place." she shook her head and shrugged slightly. Someone either had to be there recently, one of the group cleaned up, or the house was off radar until now.

She slowly opened another cupboard and found a rather good amount of cans of food. Vegitables and soup. "Well, that's convenient." she said quite pleased but uneasy. Turning back she saw Jake head out. "Um, I don't think he should go out there." Celty said, pulling her rifle off her shoulder. Her gut was screaming it was a bad idea.

[User]
Alyssa looked at Jake as she raised an eyebrow at how ready to leave all ready. It didn't surprise her, but it didn't make her feel so great either. She didn't blame him either nor was she surprised, it was just wierd. Ignoring the fact she turned to Celty. "So I'm not the only one who noticed that, I don't know who owns it, but if someone did, they wouldn't just up and leave. " She stated, realizing the words she was about to say she shook her head.

'How did we just notice this now?' She wondered to herself. It seemed like something she should of noticed as the first thing but it wasn't. Her hand shook, she pulled the edge of her sleeves over them before she stated, "Wait, don't move that, everyone out of the house!" She practically shouted out.

[Assistant] Jake quickly turned around hearing Alyssa shout. Out of pure instinct and reflex, he aimed his gun and looked around."What's wrong?" He asked, worry in his voice. Jake had an off feeling too, but the world right now was off too. He slowly walked back toward the group. However, something else bothered him too. Hearing Celty's small epiphany got Jake a bit on edge.

[User]
Charlotte jumped at Alyssa's outburst, she didn't need telling twice as she heard her tone. Wasting no time she snatched up her bag and made her way towards the doorway before hesitating and turning back to see what the others were doing.

"What is going on?" she asked anxiously. She felt tense, ready to bolt at a seconds notice. Her hand went to the hunting knife at her side instinctively.


[System]
Age: 20

Appearance: Cecil is a broad youth, standing at six feet three inches with somewhat developed muscle and a large bone structure. He has tanned skin and thick black hair cut within an inch of his scalp. His eyes are a pale green, sharp in a perpetual frown. His nose is straight and slightly bold, and stubble often coats his jaw. He favours dark clothing, often wearing bluejeans with a black shirt and sports jacket and black runners.

Year of Education: 12

Favourite Subject: Physical Education

Personality: Cecil is first and foremost an isolated individual, unskilled and inexperienced with other people. As he grew into adulthood, his social fear diminished, leaving behind bluntness and stark disinterest. He is often numb to the energy around him, and strongly independent. Another side-effect of his introverted nature is his quick temper and violent anger, and he is prone to physically lashing out when in distress. Usually only inanimate objects are targeted by this habit, but it can stem to other people in the worst of times. In the best of times Cecil is a clear-headed and thoughtful individual, quick-learning and wilful with strong coordination and problem-solving capabilities.

Background: Cecil grew up in a relatively untroubled family, though his livid outbursts quickly made others wary of him. He never had an easy time in school, and at a young age was often the target of aggression from his classmates. In his 10th year, Cecil altogether ejected himself from the school system, finding seclusion in his bedroom deeply more comfortable. He returned to school after accepting it as a hurdle he needed to overcome, joining a local highschool in a special degree that permitted him to attend until turning 21.

Significant Relationships with any other Characters: Casual friends with Vanessa, who he knows as a fellow introvert and someone he can find to pass the time or enjoy unconditional companionship.

[User]
Jack stood in the centre of the bubbling crowd. It had started off as one person from each classroom but others from different corridors and classes had left theirs and wandered until they were attracted to the phones like a moth to a flame. He was worried he had made the wrong choice. He wasn't particularly intelligent, like many of the people here who could sort this problem out by the end of the day and be home by supper. He wasn't stupid, he was smart in a technical, practical way, but this wasn't something you could unscrew and replace the battery. But you can't think like that when you're faced with what you're faced with. He was on good terms with almost everyone, which could make problem solving and mediating easier, he was good with people which would make crowd control simpler, he had some other, outside skills too, which could be handy. Jack repeated these things to himself in his head, over and over and over again until he might've believed it if the recurring question 'What's going on, Jack?' was a question he knew the answer to.

"Alriiiight, one at a time people, one a time. This is tricky, bare with me," Jack said over the anxious chatter of the crowd. "Number one, I do not know what is going on. One of the science nerds said it was an eclipse, and he's currently brainstorming with the others. If anything comes of that, I will let you know," he said, over-pronouncing the last phrase of the sentence. The crowd were not best pleased by his response. Like it or not, that's what you're goddamn getting, he thought. "Number two, I do not know where the teachers have gone. They're just gone. Does anyone know if any teachers are left? At all? Alright, can someone go check all the classrooms for me? Report back once you've checked every room in the building, clear?" Jack ordered into the darkness, and was sent back a high-pitched young boys voice then the rapid patter of footsteps. Some little kid who wanted to help the big kids. "Number three, I do not know why it's so cold. It's looking like everyone got the shiver at exactly the same time. It's a... mass thing, I suppose, something that affected everyone. That's all we can figure out," he replied to the questions cawing out in the dark like crows trying to communicate.

As the crowd quieted, and intelligent conversation started to take place begging the question of what?, Aria ran forth from the black velvet. A young kid who was crazy smart, Jack liked her a lot. When she first came to the school, she was bullied quite badly. He stepped in and said that it wouldn't be a good idea to continue on their current course (thankfully backed up by some jocks, because there was no way Jack could take on that crowd himself). They helped each other out now, like symbiosis, where he ensured she got everything she needed and she did the odd piece of homework for him. She spoke to him about the paper, laughably, and mentioned the computers. "Hey, look, don't worry about the homework right now. That's something to sort out when we figure this out, but the computers thing is interesting, as is the solar flare. So you're saying that the only electronics still working are ones that weren't plugged in?" Jack half-asked, half-pondered. It was interesting. Maybe they could plug something in and see if it stopped working. If not, maybe it was just the breakers and that needed resetting? "Alright, Aria, listen to me carefully. You remember when you first got here and those assholes would bully you, yeah? Fuck 'em. You're a fully fledged badass now. I need you to be the voice of me for a while, and I need you to go to the library and take them to the auditorium. You tell them I sent you. You get them to the auditorium, and then you come find me," Jack said. The authority growing in his voice felt comfortable, like it was a pet cat who had been lying still until you stroked it and it started purring, appreciating the comfort.

When he finished speaking to Aria, a familiar voice broke the black. Robyn was alright. She collided with him and sent him stumbling back, but he held his footing. "I'm glad you're okay too. Listen, I want you to tell me everything you know so far, but first we have to sort these kids out. Tell the leaders here to get their classes to the auditorium, and to wait there. Get them seated, and get them quiet. Wait there for me, and be careful. I heard you smash your damn hip from over here," Jack joked, grinning to himself in the darkness.

Jack turned his flashlight to outside of the circle and saw two pale shades hanging in the air like smudges on the inky black canvas. "You and you, come here," he said as he snuck closer, extremely worried that some kind of angry ghost would leap out from its cover and attack him. But it wasn't. A sullen kid he didn't recognise who looked at Jack distrustfully, and Avi, a musician who Jack had spoke to a few times. "Avi, good to see you. Anything to tell from up your way?" Jack asked but he carried on before he could answer. Formalities, in this situation. "Look, we're getting all the students in the auditorium to keep track of them. Robyn is organising all the leaders the now, but can you go with her? Once you get to the auditorium, just, I don't know, occupy them. You're good with a guitar, think of something, would you please? I'd be eternally grateful, buddy," Jack said. He really wasn't asking, to be fair. This wasn't the time nor circumstance to be asking for a favour. It was a time where order had to be restored quickly so that the situation could be dealt with in a manner that allowed efficiency. And what everyone needed now was some order and efficiency.

Jack turned to the other boy slinking in the shadows. "You, kid, you're being deputised. I'm going to need your help. Do you have a phone? We need to go around the school and clear the classrooms, and then bring them down to the auditorium. We gotta keep them close and quiet and chilled out, understand?" Jack asked, wondering why he looked at Jack like he was Pol Pot.

Jack turned on his heel. The entire school had gotten quiet, not the students but the creaking of the structure and sound of the floors and doors had stopped. Pipes no longer had water running through them. Heating had turned off. The situation had gone flashing red button bad. And when the silence of the world had reached a crushing point where eardrums wanted to implode, a shriek sounded through the air, like a banshee, the omen of death. The cry wasn't one of terror or sadness, but it was angry and hateful and full of anguish, something that could only be made by searching the depths of a soul to find everything wrong with it. The cry whimpered and Jack's heart felt weak, like he had lost something important to him. and all he wanted to do was curl up and weep until his skin dried up and cracked and his bones crunched under footsteps. And at the moment when you thought the cry of evil would quieten to nothing, a thousand more voices joined its symphony and his body just wanted to tear itself apart to stop the heartache killing him first. The chorus softened until it had disappeared and Jack sat for a moment, simply wondering how anyone could live after that and want to keep on surviving when he remembered he had people to save, not that he felt it was worth it at all. Jack stood, knees weak, heart empty, soul vacant. "Let's go," he said feebly to the other boy.

[Assistant]
Robyn didn't know whether to be grateful or horrified that Jack was in charge, but when he asked her to take all of the students to the auditorium, she did not argue, though she did give a small smile to him making fun of her for hurting herself a little ways down the hallway. Grabbing the hair tie from around her wrist, she quickly pulled her hair up into a high ponytail. At that moment, Jack was talking to an unusual lad named Avi, telling him to follow her down to the auditorium and distract everyone from what is going on. She placed her two pinky fingers in her mouth and let out a high pitched whistle, yelling, "Everyone, follow me!" Doing the smart thing this time, she grabbed her phone and flipped it on, flipping to the flashlight app on her phone. She held it up to where people could see her and that's when the cry started.

She looked around, staring into the blackness to see if she could see anything, or at least figure out where the cry was coming from. She couldn't and she saw Jack fall to his knees. She wanted to reach out to him, but she was frozen in her spot. It was as if nails had been shoved through the top of her feet, pinning her down to the ground. The cries sent chills down her spine and she squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away from the darkness as a flood of horrid memories washed over her.

Blood. Blood everywhere. On the trees, across the tents, in the flowers on the bushes. She stumbled her way through the camp, grabbing at things that had been knocked over, grabbing her small bunny rabbit plushie that was now drenched with blood. She looked around, wondering what had caused this, hoping that the only thing hurt was her mother's finger or a small animal.

But then she came across the fire pit. Across it lay her mother, still bleeding from a wound in her neck, though she was already dead. Her skull was crushed inward, probably crushing her brain. Her eyes were wide and lifeless. Robyn did not cry. A few feet away, she saw her father, the same way, but with his arm completely missing and his head half torn off his body. Yet she still did not cry. Instead, she sat between her two parents, taking their hands in each of hers, and waited for the police. She only cried when the morgue people took them away from her. Why didn't she cry any other time?

Robyn let out a gasp and blinked, looking around as the cry faded. Pain punctured her heart and she turned around to see a few of the students staring at her. They all looked alone and fearful as well. She clutched her chest, tears starting to well up in her eyes, and murmured, "Let's go."

Not seeing if anyone was following her, she began walked toward the auditorium. She looked around, still wondering where those horrific cries came from, but she could not find the source. She led all of them down the hallway and to the right, straight toward the auditorium. Holding the door open for each of them, she began yelling, "Stay with your classes! Keep calm. Leaders! Make sure everyone is here and no one runs off, got it?!" She heard a few murmurs and looked back toward the direction where Jack was. What the hell is going on?!

[User]
The noise - Cecil couldn't call it a scream, it was completely inhuman - rattled inside his skull, causing him to flinch back, eyes wide. His head flailed, trying to find the source, but he could not see beyond the infinite and unnatural darkness in the halls. Fear gripped his heart like an icy hand, squeezing him dry of anything else.

 When it finally ended, Cecil forced himself to breathe again, drawing up as straight as he could stand. There was nothing else, until Jack spoke again.

 "Let's go," he said, igniting a wildfire of fearful whimpers and whispers from the other students.

 Cecil chuckled passively, a sound almost lost in the din of worry. He had donned his armour of indifference, the only thing he could do to prevent himself from panicking like the rest. "Pretty sure anyone here can find their own way to the auditorium," he said, stepping towards Jack. Cecil stood nearly a hand's length taller, and he declined his head to meet the other student's eyes. "Shouldn't we try to turn the lights on? Or maybe figure out what the fuck that sound was?" There must be something in the basement they could do, until the sun came out of hiding.


[System]
Sir "LightBro"
Sex: Despite being a sir, Jonathan was actually Jennifer Light, a woman who faked being a man and getting into an army from it

Small Appearance Note: Jennifer Light has short auburn hair concealed by her helmet, and her chest is small but not completely flat.

Personality: Jonathan is a noble, typically quiet man, preferring to speak with actions rather than words. He swore himself to his duty as a crusader back in the days of old, and upholds his ideals of being that crusader, despite fighting for a God that he doesn't believe in. He has his own affiliations of religious ideals and is not afraid to call upon them and ask for help. He hates people who think highly of themselves, seeing them as scum, although he understands if someone says they're better than they are if they're in a joking mood. He is slightly racist towards fundamentalist Christians and Scientologists, believing that their ideas of a greater power are very illogical.

Greatest Sin: Pride. Jonathan went face to face against a horde of enemies before he died, and he imagined he could bore through enough of them and get through the insane amount of ruffians so he could flee the battle. Unfortunately, he cleaved through about 10 people before he took a fatal stab into the chest, causing him to bleed out.

Motivation: Jonathan has seen the error of his ways and desires to return to the realm of the living and seek redemption from his God, which he believes shows it's presence through his power. He feels the only way to do this is by making the journey back through Hell and help some people who also wish to make the journey back.

Biography:
 Jonathan was born in 1078 AD, in the city of Constantinople, from Jonathan Light II and his mother, Lelanna Light, two merchants currently selling dyes and clothes to the peasants of Constantinople. He didn't have any sort of formal education, aside from how trading and shopkeeping worked, and was always picked on as a kid for having a bit of a hard time talking, although nobody could really tell if he had difficulty talking or he just didn't like it. Eventually, Jonathan started a small shop near his parents, specializing in art and decorations, and Jonathan made a good living off it, worshipping his own God secretly when he didn't work. He loved his life and what he did, making a good profit off of it and meeting some interesting people.
 However, the First Crusades began, and when the enlistment happened in his area, he went and pledged his allegiance to the cause of the Pope. Jonathan joined due to him wanting a change of pace in his life, and he felt like this was his opportunity for a new chapter in his expansive tale. As a crusader, Jonathan quickly rose the ranks as a very talented warrior, eventually reaching the point where he commanded a small unit of about 6. He lived the tale of a true hero, and enjoyed every minute of it.
 Yet, as many books have taught us, every hero must fall sometime. A large siege happened at around 1101, where Jonathan and his group were stationed, and a very large number of enemy forces were approaching the crusaders. Having no fear and being backed by his powers, Jonathan rushed in with his group and was confident in their abilities to take down the opposition. Even though they had valor and bluster, the group was slain, with Jonathan among them.
 Things took an interesting turn for Jonathan once he woke up in Hell, namely being that he was of course in Hell. He had no idea why he deserved it at the time, but that didn't seem to phase him. He may have been in Hell, but he was not afraid. He still had the passion of his ways backing him, and he still had his mace and shield. He began to work his way into becoming a staple blacksmith in Hell, forging weapons for men, demons, spirits, and even the occasional cambion. He even so much success that he even somehow bought a small pocket dimension, which he can access through an object he carries on him. After a long time, he figured out through a fortune teller that he made it into Hell for committing the sin of Pride, which somewhat surprised him for he committed the sin in his final moments. Either way, the same fortune teller saw him escorting a group of others attempting to leave Hell, and he was alongside them, offering his hand in combat and hopefully reaching his goal of redemption. This brings us to where we are now...

Skills: Jonathan Light III was a very talented warrior and blacksmith, and in combat he specialized with his mace and shield. He is also a seasoned leader, with his military strategies being usually very successful. Although all this is well and good, neither of those skills match his passion and devotion to his God, expressed again through his power.
"The Light" was the power unlocked while Jonathan was a crusader, manifesting via a shining ball of light over his palm when he uses it. Although The Light has no weaponized features or anything of that caliber, it is seen by Jonathan as a God due to it's... otherworldly properties. Jonathan is able to pray to this being and he is then given something enlightening, largely consisting of knowledge, answers, and advice. The result he receives is dependent on his passion towards himself and his powers.

This power came to Jonathan accidentally, during one of his prayer sessions where he began to express his devotion through words, and the power was completely sealed and connected after he wrote the first scripture of The Light, which went as follows.

Even though we live in a world not ready;
There are people in this world who are.
Through this verse we are granted blessing;
Allowing us to find true insight.
Through this verse we are granted salvation;
Allowing us to never truly die.
Through this verse we are granted faith;
Allowing our souls to accept this gift.
If violence is ever to arise;
We must rely not on The Light, but on ourselves.
These are the words of The Light.

This spell is passed by devotion to The Light, and by writing the next part of the scripture attuned to your character's beliefs. However, any attempts at direct physical empowerment is not a belief of this religion. Indirect empowerment is fine. "Knowledge is power" and what have you.

Gear: * Jonathan's Mace, crafted out of fine bronze and scarred by bloodstains from his enemies.
* Jonathan's Shield, adorned with a blazing sun and with the first scripture of the light secured in a compartment.
* An enchanted tent, bought from a demon, containing a pocket dimension.
* The pocket dimension, containing a bed, a chest full of smithing materials, and a very good forge.
* His suit of crusade armor, worn at all times.

Theme Song: youtube.com/watch?v=0J2QdDbelmY (7 Nation Army - The White Stripes)

[User] Altogether Hell had broken loose as the battle outside the asylum and in the entrance had broken through to this first prison block. The prisoners around continued to riot, even attacking some of Villiam's allies in the brawl, but it was of no consequence. The armless demon capable of using Manus had been preoccupied with Jonathan and the others while the prisoners continued to ignore V himself, meaning he was in the optimal situation. Speaking of Jonathan, the knightly crusader had the gall to assume to order Villiam, something the toxic spirit did not appreciate, but went along with anyway. Or at least appeared to. Keeping low to the ground he made his way beyond the fighting deeper into the prison, but he did not head for the door. No, guards or maybe even Nefas himself would be coming through the doorway. V instead went to the farthest wall so he could melt through the obstacle. If there were more prisoners, well then he would just have to set them all free as well. At this point however his trick would not be necessary. The rioting was at a peak. Any further prisoners would be force to take part if they intended to escape, and it was only a matter of time before the warden joined in himself.

[Assistant]
Inside HPIS
Cell Block L-1
Just as it had reached it's peak, the riot in Cell Block L-1 was starting to wind down. Prisoners and guard alike, though less of the latter, littered the ground as corpses, waiting to regenerate. Many of the Hellscapers were also gone or preoccupied, unable to cause chaos. The King and John were the only two actually doing any fighting. Speaking of fighting, John was currently combating Poncho. The ingenious move to ignite his mace had gone as planned, staggering his foe long enough to command his allies. Unfortunately, though they reduced his arm's mass, said arms were also now on fire. With a smarmy grin, the not-so-armless demon launched a right hook at John's head, something that would be hard to block with the shield in his left hand.

While guards or prisoners would occasionally accost Toby and the King, none would bother with Viliam. Once the wall he was pushing himself against was melted through, it would reveal a whole load of untapped riot potential, unfreed prisoners riled up by the noise coming from the other side of the wall. One wonders if they were even needed though, surely Kritch must have been close?

Front Room
Two of the guards were already K.O.ed, jagged wood sticking out of two many parts of them to attempt movement of any kind. the other 2 guards, while better off, were still almost literally pinned against the wall and thrashing about uselessly. The two would have nothing to worry about. Until, of course, Nefas reared his head. After a brief tirade, his voice seemingly dropped for no reason. A few seconds after, he and his head guard stepped back out into the hallway Grog and Deprave were currently throwing things at people. The head guard, thoroughly shaken, began walking towards the right side cells, while Nefas stared down his opponents.

"Everything going okay down there guys?" Barkeep rang.

Things were about to be not okay.

Vents
Kritch was getting close to Betty, most definitely. He could feel it in his tiny rat brain. It was a special cell near the middle of the prison on the right side, built with a single light and no windows so she couldn't make a portal out, according to the info Barkeep had given the group. There were normally guards on it 24/7 because of her ability to free other prisoners but there would be, at the very least, less around during the fullscale riot happening in Block L-1.

[User]
With the gigantic Mayancatec moving to another room, Grog felt his itch grow. So many prisoners rioting and not a single one of them had buckshot up the ass. Nervously stroking the trigger guards, he was half-tempted to just start spraying at anything remotely hostile. Yet again, however, his thought train came to a halt as he bore witness to Old N, the mushroom crab lying flat on the ground. For something to knock the seafood equivalent of a battering ram, he had to be one tough honkey. Oh, and look at that! A couple of guards were still-

 A chunk of table hit him square in the face. Well, it was just swung back by Kali-Ma dude and thrown, and his makeshift protection gear spared him from any serious harm, but a bloody nose and lip were unavoidable. Springing his head back up and shaking off the momentary daze, he had just managed to gurgle a confused "Hey, watch it you fuck!" Before a couple of very interesting (and very unharmed) characters waltzed into the immediate area. One of them seemed like a typical security guard, while the other... The other looked like the big cheese. The head honcho. The stranger dange- Wait that last one made no sense.

 Whatever the case, the masked marauder quickly sprang back into action and exclaimed, somewhat taken aback: " Uh... 'Prave. We've got company!"

 Not caring whether or not the massive tribesguy was ready to start wrecking shit or not, Grog hung one shotgun from his utility belt, briefly, and began patting his numerous pouches for any leftover tricks. What he found was a triplet of his trusty nailbombs. Ah, a classic, those were. Little golf ball sized instruments of death they were, covered by nails and anything similar, and filled with whatever most explosive Grog had at the time. But, what was that? A tiny little knickknack had eluded him. No bigger than a pinky finger, it was... A Fucksville syringe. The single most potent (and only actually functional) combat drug he'd ever made. He wondered if he should give it to Deprave instead, but seeing bullets had bounced off him, a measly needle wouldn't even penetrate his eyeball. Whatever the case, Grog hastily unzipped his jacket and stuck the syringe through his shirt, and in to his chest.

 In a few heartbeats, the effects began to take place. His pupils widened, he could no longer feel the burning sensation on what remained of his pelvis, and his thoughts raced. Sped up. He was faster, more precise, and the world was slower. Also he felt his mouth begin to foam, but that was just a minor side-effect, right? His eyes darted between the seriously pissed off monster and the fleeing guard. The former caught Grog's attention a tad more. He leaned forward, and leering at the half-demon he rasped.

 "Hey, hey. Hey you. I burned my dick off. And now I'm comin' for yours."

[Assistant]
The crusader raised his shield and deflected the blow easily. The demon thought that he could get the hit in on LightBro, but sadly the demon had a bad case of mixing-his-lefts-and-rights-up-syndrome. The knight gave a slightly-feminine grunt off as he blocked the hit, as it was a strong punch and it was hard to block, but he managed. The crusader climbed off the armless demon and stood with his shield raised in defense, gently patting his mace over the flames to put them out. The arms may have been on fire, but that wouldn't stop LightBro from taking this beast down... well... that was the case until he felt the heavy footsteps of a pissed off cambion. He lowered his shield slightly so he could look at the armless demon.

"I know I hit you with a mace, but I have to tell you we'll have a bigger problem arriving soon my armless opponent. We can finish this later, but for right now can I ask of your help? The warden is on the way, if you didn't know." The knight didn't even know why he was trying to make peace, it clearly wasn't going to happen. Either way, the knight kept his shield up and had it raised to the armless demon in case he was about to attack.


[System]
Race: Dragonborn
Age: 41
Envoy of: Anhur

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Class: Cleric

Description:
Stands at approximately 6'6". Is wide-shouldered and well-muscled. Scars line his body and his face, and one of his horns is chipped off, most likely as a result of battle.

Skills:
Veteran Combatant: Vyandar has skills and physique honed by a lifetime of battle. He is adept with all common martial weapons, and is in peak physical shape. Additionally, he has experience with a variety of battlefield tactics, and very little surprises him in a conventional fight anymore.

Divine Magic: Being a priest of Anhur, Vyandar is blessed with the ability to cast a variety of divine spells. He specializes in enhancing the physical abilities of both himself and his allies, though he can also heal wounds and sap the strength of his foes if needed. Direct damage spells such as holy flames are also in Vyandar's repertoire, though he doesn't favor them, preferring to wade into melee with the effects of enhancement spells upon himself instead.

Orator: As his mercenary company's sole clergyman, Vyandar was often called upon to deliver sermons and rites over the years, and became rather adept at public speaking as a result. After his ascension, Vyandar has taken to preaching in the street where he travels, seeking to exalt the necessity of conflict to all. He can also turn his gift of the gab towards other speaking pursuits such as debate or sophistry, but prefers to preach his patron god's dogma first and foremost.

Flaws:
Brute: Subtlety is not in this dragonborn's nature. At all. While Anhur's tenets state that pitched conflict is not the sole battlefield available to mortals, Vyandar still dislikes measures such as diplomacy and stealth when open battle is a viable option.

Zealot: Having already been a man of faith before his exaltation, Vyandar is fanatically devoted to his patron deity. While he tolerates worshippers of other members of the Pantheon and even respects their priests, he is still liable to take any insults to Anhur or rejection of his dogma extremely poorly. In addition, his constant preaching and prayer can quickly grow tiresome to those who do not follow Anhur in every single aspect of their daily lives.

Wrathful: Quick to lose his cool. Vyandar has a bad tendency to develop tunnel vision on those who anger him, causing him to focus on the object of his wrath above all else, especially in a fight.

Background:
Born in the frozen northern wastes of Malia, Vyandar of Clan Urthac found himself baptized in battle at a young age. At barely five years old, his village was raided by mercenaries paid off by a neighboring town that wanted the local fishing space completely uncontested. His family members were either slaughtered in the chaos or scattered to the winds, but Vyandar was abducted and taken in by the company after he showed an unusually spirited amount of resistance for a child, actually driving a knife into a sellsword's shin.

The company chaplain, a cleric of Anhur, practically adopted Vyandar, seeing him as a worthy successor to the priesthood. Throughout his adolescence, Vyandar was immersed in both priestly and martial training. Though as an acolyte of Anhur, the two were practically the same at times. While at first, he resented his abductors and sought only to make them hurt during training, Vyandar eventually came around to his teacher's line of thinking that what happened to his village and his family was regrettable, but only natural. The coast around his birthplace couldn't support the needs of two towns, and so conflict was inevitable. If anything, it had been his own village's fault for not trying to be rid of their competition first.

Vyandar eventually came of age to be both a full-fledged member of the mercenary company that took him in, as well as a cleric of Anhur, ordained in battle. He served for a decade in combat and as the company's secondary chaplain until his adoptive father and teacher fell in battle, causing Vyandar to take his place in full. The company took contracts both in Malia and in foreign lands where Malian mercenaries were in high demand, and Vyandar even served a tour of duty for the Twin Kingdoms against the Nuniel Empire at one point.

However, it was on a job back in Malia where Vyandar fell, and subsequently ascended. The assignment was eerily similar to the one that had shaped his course in life decades ago: raid a village that was competing with their employers for hunting grounds in the nearby forest, and teach them a lesson. But it didn't pan out like it had thirty-six years ago: the target village had hired their own mercenaries to do the exact same thing, and both companies met in the middle. Having no knowledge of each other, both sides were caught off-guard, and the situation devolved into utter chaos as the two mercenary companies rushed each other in a disorganized, unplanned charge.

The carnage was immense. By the time Vyandar succumbed to his numerous wounds, several arrows piercing his armor, the last thing he noticed was that both companies had wiped each other out nearly to a man. Despite being on the verge of death, he smiled. He would die honoring Anhur. What he didn't know, however, was that through his last hour of life, he had been chosen.

When next he woke, the being that understood its host body's name to be Vyandar Urthac found his wounds miraculously healed, though the damage to his armor remained. Moreover, he had a mission to fulfill. Vyandar rose, callously brushing off the corpses of men he'd trained, fought beside, and feasted with for years, working out how long it would take to reach the nearest port that would sail him to the Twin Kingdoms.

Gear:
Holy Symbol: An iron catalyst crafted in the shape of Anhur's mark. Worn around Vyandar's neck beneath his armor at all times, and serves as his casting focus for divine magic.

Full Plate: A suit of steel platemail, worn and dinged by decades of battle. Engraved across several parts of the armor are Anhur's mark, to represent devotion.

Sword and Shield: A large, dragonborn-sized steel longsword with an accompanying kite shield to match.

????????

Misc.
Voice claim: Steve Blum

[User]
Time passed as all things did and soon the group would have to come to a consensus and a decision. They seemed in agreement on their course of action overall, choosing to split up and cover more ground that way. Then there was that little snippet of conversation near the bar. Rean perked from those gathered words, noting how interesting that probably sounded. Imperial involvement? Surely there had to be something more to it than just that? But that ultimately wasn't her concern and she figured if it was important, someone else could pick up on it. Someone who was, preferably, exploring out of the city and into that matter of disappeared soldiers.

"Alright gang, as fun as it's been for one big happy reunion, we really should get to work. I'm more than happy to stick around the city and look for information, especially around that huge library I spied on the way in. I wouldn't be much use adventuring anyway," Rean told the other Envoys. Lurched from her seat, she gave a healthy stretch before striding towards the tavern door. "Say, think we should use this place as our meetup? Would make sense since we all know where it is, hmm….food for thought~" She departed with a wave.

It was far past evening by the time she exited and with it came the human, aching reminder that she still needed some form of rest. Envoy or not, there was little use continuing if her body turned vessel collapsed. Spotting a place to do just that, she'd rest for the remainder of the night and head for her destination the following day. She had little worry about being separated from her fellow Envoys; even apart, they were together in sense and purpose. At least, she liked to believe that.

Off she went towards her library, said to be one of the largest in all of Coris. A scholar by heart and book handler by profession, it only made sense the Envoy would figure that was to be the best start in finding any clue. And, of course, she couldn't help but compare just how Coris stacked up to her family's own librarians and stores. The thought was giddy in her head even as she passed by the many temples erected in worship of the gods. Rean noticed several in display but, tellingly, none for the less favorable gods. Like herself. "Since when did I become such a bad guy?" she chuckled, finding little to no reference to Reemis in the public worship.

Oh well. Soon, soon, soon enough there was time to spread the name of true Vengeance to the good people of the mortal realm. But for now…ah yes, the library. She'd heard the building was owned by a Lord Dunham, one so very protective of his scrolls and knowledge. Indeed, even as she spotted the library's entrance, she found it guarded from the outside by men in official-looking clothing. "What exactly is the point of having such a big place in daylight if no one can approach it?" she muttered with a sigh, real annoyance flicking over her features for once.

She needed another way around. Or a plan to just break in. Rean spotted a water fountain nearby among the outcrop of buildings, deigning to sit on the edge of it and ponder in thought. She couldn't just brute force her way and cause a scene like Vyandar could she? No no, that was a fool's mistake. Maybe she could swiftalk the guards? Maybe. In hindsight, she realized the real mistake was leaving the group first without checking if anyone wanted to follow. Oh, the irony.

"Ahaah, some teamwork we have…."

---

[Assistant]
As the activities and drink flowed through the tavern, Liora would slowly find herself growing more and more bored. A subtle agitation, a sense of desiring of movement. A desire to get off her ass and do something other than entertain herself with food and drink. No matter how pleasurable and lovely such things were, variety made for the best shows...and this show, was slowly starting to get stale. Even her fellow Envoys could only entertain her for so long.

Thus, when Rean vocalized a desire to leave and split off, Liora was not far behind.

"I think I'll take Rean's cue and leave." Liora would stand, sliding the coat she was holding onto over her shoulders. "As fun as that mission sounds, I think my talents are best suited for looking around the city." She'd pop a piece of hard candy into her mouth as she'd thusly make her way out of the tavern leaving the rest of the group with a playful wave and a grin as she'd step back out into the midday air of the city. She wasn't quite sure where she herself was heading, but eventually her steps would lead her to seemingly follow right along behind Rean who had elected to sit on a fountain not far away from the library.

Quietly, Liora would slide herself right next to Rean, throwing an arm around her shoulder and snuggling up to her.

"Why the long face? Miss me that much already?" She'd take a bite out of a rather juicy looking apple she had...pilfered on the way over here. "Or you thinking about something fun?"

[User]
Damn it all, why had he agreed to be out here again? Vyandar grumbled in displeasure as he trudged along the riverbank, his eyes peeled for any sign of the unusual. The question was rhetorical, but the sheer tedium of the investigation was still getting to him. He'd thought that overhearing the guards the previous night meant that there would be imperial soldiers out and about in the farmlands, but so far, there'd been nothing.

The dragonborn let a small wisp of flame loose from his lips in irritation as mud continued to splash over his greaves. It would have been one thing if he'd had a mount like his fellow Envoys on this case did, but he'd never been much of a rider in the first place. He'd spent too much time in his youth learning both clerical magics and martial combat as it was. Adding riding and cavalry training to the mix wouldn't have been feasible. Plus, not many mounts could hold a large dragonborn with full harness in the first place. In any case, hopefully either Kyra or Aurelian was having better luck in the search.

Vyandar continued to slog along the riverbank upstream, resisting the urge to waste magical power on casting a sending spell just to check in with either of the other two.


[System]
Real Life
Age: 17
Birthday: 29 February

Personality
Prideful to say the least, Makoto is intelligent, calculating, and patient, while simultaneously unwavering in his principles. Because of his steadfast convictions which he never hesitates to espouse when appropriate, he possesses a natural charisma and ability to leader others. However, in spite of his pride, Makoto is shown to be pragmatic and determined, willing to cast aside pride and using whatever means necessary in achieve success. Despite acting with an iron fist, Makoto shows care for those under his dominion despite his seemingly harsh and strict nature.

Biography
Makoto Date descends from a line of leaders heavily involved in government. He can even trace his lineage to the famous warlord, Masamune Date. In the modern day, his parents are politicians in the Diet, having served for several years already. It is expected of Makoto to follow in their footsteps once he comes of age, a legacy he is more than happy to continue.

Despite possessing the maturity and discipline to meet the responsibilities and expectations he accumulated, Makoto understood to take care of his physical and mental health to avoid burning out or snapping from pressure. He overheard several students mentioning a VRMMORPG that just recently went out of beta and was about to be launched. Makoto researched the game that was being released and found it sufficient for his dilemma. When the game was launched, Makoto was one of the first players to join.

As Makoto rose in infamy in the game, he also managed to rise in his own life as well. He reached his third year in high school as student council president, a title he held since his first year in middle school, while maintaining the number one position in the class rankings. There were few people who didn't know Makoto-taichou. There were even fewer that he spent his free time playing a VRMMORPG.

In Game
Avatar Name: Nacht
Avatar Title: Night's Emperor
Appearance: His face is hidden by an aquiline helmet, sharp and foreboding in appearance and colored black by the dark metal used to make it. He stands a head above most, bedecked in armor of dark palette with robes of fine linen over it. His slender frame is hidden by a long, black cape that is often wrapped around his body, giving him the appearance of a bird of prey hovering over its captured meal.

Class: Great Conqueror

Signature Moves:
Presence of the Emperor – When in the same party (for PCs) or presence (for NPCs) of Nacht, players and non-playable characters have increased stats and are unable to fall victim to mental pressures.

Tactician's Perspective – When used, Nacht is able to have an overhead view of the battlefield and is able to mentally send commands to NPCs.

Call-to-Arms – Nacht is able to summon NPCs to fight for him. The amount he could summon is dependent on a non-playable character's strength. This means he has options of whom he could summon. He can summon an army of weaker NPCs or he may summon a single swordsman that is capable of taking on even the strongest of players.

Geas – Nact is able to place a geas, an absolute command, on a NPC. While under his geas, the NPCs that are controlled are buffed considerably until that command is met. When used on other players, they are paralyzed and stunned for three seconds.
Avatar Biography:
Nacht was one of the newcomers to the VRMMORPG when it was first launched. Despite his research into the mechanics of the game, he lacked general experience when it came to video games. It was because of his inexperience that led him to choose "Tactician" as his character class, having thought of it as a role most suited for him when it was offered to him.

Unfortunately, a majority of players considered Nacht's chosen class as useless or boring. The beta players rated it poorly and this opinion was imbedded in the players. Tacticians had no noteworthy personal skills and attributes because the class relied primarily on directing non-playable characters. However, despite the mockery and disdain Nacht endured in the early stages of playing, he grew fond of the unique playstyle his class provided.

In the game, players were able to gain reputation in the various organizations and factions scattered throughout the setting. Because no one cared to party with him, Nacht focused on completing quests for NPCs with his small band of NPC soldiers. His reputation among the militaries of the game's setting grew with time and eventually his class changed into "Strategist" (a more advanced version of his original class) and there were many high-ranking non-playable characters clamoring for him to join their kingdoms with the rank of a noble or general. He and his group would come to be called "The Black Cowls" for copious amount of black clothing and armor they wore.

After months of playing, Nacht took note of the intricate relationships a player character can have with non-playable characters. Though they were all AI, a majority of them all acted like they were real people. It was an astounding technological development and Nacht saw how many reacted similarly to how humans would. Not only that, the various leaders of several organization, factions, and even kingdoms changed with startling fluidity.

An idea sprouted Nacht, "What if I took advantage of this?"

He took the Black Cowls to the city-state of Caevum, a port city that served as a major trading hub between the frontier and the insular "safe" regions of the game. The region Caevum was settled in was mountainous, difficult to invade by land and sea. Even the ruling monarch's castle was carved into the face of the largest mountain that stood looking over the city and port. Nacht pledged his allegiance to the king of Caevum.

However, Nacht's pledge was only a ruse. In the game's history of Caevum, it was said that no outside force was ever able to conquer it. For Nacht, it was only a simple manner of manipulating his way into the trust of the king. In a move no other players thought was possible, he deposed the king of Caevum and executed him publicly. He then proclaimed to the masses that he was now their ruler. He was not to be their king, but their emperor.

In the castle of Caevum, after crowning himself as emperor, Nacht found a quest item that immediately changed his class to "Great Conqueror." There was a legend in the game that talked of a mighty emperor that once controlled the entire world. His conquest of Caevum triggered the quest and urged Nacht to continue forth with his mission. Spurred by the thought of war, political intrigue, and state administration, Nacht was more than willing to begin his conquest of the world.

Nacht began conquering and taking more and more territory, marking him as one of the hated villains in the game. Nevertheless, there were many that was willing to aid him on his ambition.

[User]
Nacht was unaware of the disagreements the others were having about his words and actions, and even if he did he wouldn't have cared. After he had finished making his piece, the Night's Emperor received an important missive from a player in the Black Cowls.

The rest of the message contained the list of traitors and their associated guilds. Frankly, he wasn't surprised. It wasn't as if many of them would reach the upper echelons of his organization. Nevertheless, it was bad if more and more turned up. Even the smallest of ants could cause a nuisance.

Nacht decided he would come up with a solution later. Just as he exited from the message, Datze had teleported the group into another area. Leave it to that man to do as he wished. It further irked him when he took command, but he acquiesced since he was the one leading the quest. Any other time would have been a different matter entirely.

As the Dragon God explained the plan, Nacht changed his outfit with a flick of his hand. No longer was he wearing his magnificent armor and cape, it was replaced with simple leathers that made him look more like a sellsword. However, his face still remained obscured. Though he was not wearing his iconic helm, he had replaced it with a bandana covering the lower half of his face. To the others that never had seen him in such clothing before would be surprised to learn of his young appearance, sharp gold eyes, and black hair.

"Datze, I'm a little disappointed in you. I can do far more than order NPCs around," he said amusedly. "Bonum, what is your plan? Please don't tell me you're simply going to ask people to aid you out of the goodness of their hearts?"

[Assistant]
"Oooh, that sounds really interesting," Hime clapped excitedly. "Hey Gray, we get to be on same team, fun huh?" she said to him, smiling brightly. She then turned to Datze and joked, "You just can't stay away from me, can you?"

She was glad that she could be useful in the quest. She was all excited to go, but quickly she realized that she didn't know where the guy that apparently had the journal was, and waited for Datze to take the lead. She waved goodbye to the rest of the group, as they separated to complete their tasks.

[User]
Bonum rubbed his head at Datze remark. It was hard to tell when Nacht was being serious or not, being such an avid roleplayer as he was. But he didn't have too long to be embarrassed by it before they were teleported off to Dural. Bonum visited the city often helping out with a few requests, he enjoyed the city even if it was as generic as they came. When told to equip something less conspicuous, he quickly searched his inventory and changed his white paladin outfit for a low-level dark grey one. Then he was told who his partner is and turned to Nacht.

"Well Nacht, there's only so much we can do incognito. But you should know as well as anybody how far a little charisma can go. But in case asking simply doesn't work, you and I have money, and I have a few items that might be useful with haggling with a few knowledgeable people. But if you have a better plan, then I am certainly all ears." He told him with a shrug. "I will suggest we check in the library and the marketplace for info before any other though. That's where knowledge and rumors usually reside."

[Assistant]
Nacht pondered over Bonum's suggestion—the White Knight knew better than to think he can order him after all. His idea had merit and would make for a good start on their task. Nacht glanced at his surroundings, filing away the minute details of this particular starting city. Dural Cairn was not spectacular by any means. He had conquered several cities that were the jewel of their neighbors. This city was nothing. However, it was nothing with a purpose. It served as a starting ground for many beginners.

Generic, Bonum's suggestion was too generic, thought Nacht. It was a good start and, normally, even his best agents would have started with the same kind of idea. However, anyone can think it. Beginners plagued the marketplace and library of any city. The Monster Café was meant to be hidden, away from the prying eyes of adventurers. Putting the information in those two areas only risked having idiotic newbies find the place and charge in the café to cause a ruckus.

Underneath his bandana, Nacht smirked. Turning to Bonum, he announced, "Your idea holds merit, but it's too obvious. We're in a beginner city. Those two places are where beginners go all too often. Why risk an information leak there? We need to head to the underworld. We need to talk to the lowest of the low, the scummiest of the scum, if we want our information."


[System]
Age: 22
Alignment: Chaotic Good-ish
Race: Human
Class: Thief
Appearance/Clothing:

Skills: Bluff, Acrobatics, Charm, Athletics, Sneak, Theft, Streetwise, Knife-Wielding, Knife-Throwing.
Natural Abilities: The power of average-ness.
Magic/Spells: Not a scrap of it.
Additional Information: Tobias isn't the strongest fighter, being far more suited to running, hiding, or bluffing his way out of situations (he's capable by normal person standards, of course - just not really what you'd expect from an adventurer). He's also a massive pathological liar with trust issues a mile wide.
Weapons: He has three knives - one on his belt, one on his back, and one in his boot.
Possessions: Leather armor, basic adventuring supplies (rope, flint and steel, etc.). His hood is enchanted to make it very hard for someone who sees him with it up to remember his face. He also has a magic grappling hook enchanted to not make a sound. Four potions of invisibility, each lasting fifteen minutes.
Personality: Tobias is glib, smart-alecky, cowardly, and tries his absolute best to be self-centered. Though he'd feverishly deny it, he's a fundamentally good person underneath the assumed selfishness. He tries not to let anyone get close to him, and often uses snark and flat out lies as armor in social interaction.
History: Getting the truth out of him about his personal history is extraordinarily difficult, but it's possible to determine that he's an orphan who grew up on the streets and has spent his life so far living in cities and alternating between pickpocket, con-man and cat burglar in order to survive.

Name: Oscar
Age: Interesting question for someone in his situation, but he's been how he is now for about three years.
Alignment: True Neutral
Race: Corpse
Class: Undead Juggernaut
Appearance/Clothing: His body is that of a clean-shaven man, aged 20-25, with short brown hair that doesn't grow anymore. His skin has grown taut and gray, pulled thin over the bones in his face. He never, ever blinks, so as a result dust has scratched his eyes until his iris and pupil are barely visible in the white. Physically, he's not very imposing - his body is actually distinctly weedy, at about 5'10" and looking to be around 130 pounds. He's still wearing the clothes he was when he woke up three years ago - the burial suit of a respected gentleman. However, constant use has worn it down considerably, making it stained and splotched where it isn't torn altogether.
Skills: Hand-to-Hand Combat (none of that fancy martial arts - Oscar does pankration), Intimidation, Brute Force.
Natural Abilities: Inhuman Strength, Inhuman Durability, Inhuman Speed (In a straight line, that is - if he can build up momentum and doesn't have to turn at all, Oscar can actually move pretty fast, more to the tune of 20 to 25 mph. He can't do this for longer than about two minutes, however, as his abysmal motor control will eventually catch up with him and he'll trip, converting his body into an undead missile of disaster)
Magic/Spells: None at all.
Additional Information: Oscar is half blind and deaf, has the motor control you'd expect of a dead body, no reflexes whatsoever and is about as maneuverable as a whale on land. This is counterbalanced by the fact that he barely feels pain, is immune to poison, is extraordinarily difficult to actually harm (without fire), and can punch holes in stone walls/tear people's limbs off. For help imagining his voice, try listening to these.
Weapons: None. He has his hands.
Possessions: The clothes on his back and a locket with a picture of a dark-haired woman inside. It's the only thing that calms him down when he starts berserking.
Personality: Oscar guides himself on one moral principle - bodies must be buried. He's generally very quiet and unperson-able, owing to the fact that he has no social skills. He has the potential to be very caring towards those who befriend him, not that that's really come up in his life yet. If someone managed to strike up a conversation with him, they'd find him... odd, always saying things that almost make sense. When threatened or surrounded by violence, he can plunge into a berserk fury of roars and snarls and dismemberments, acting largely on instinct.
History: Oscar woke up in a shallow grave three years ago with nothing but his clothes, his locket, and a head full of questions and half-faded memories. Since then he has wandered, trying vaguely to discover who he was and how it was he came to die, and what it was that called him to this dim, dismal half-life. He has hurt people who threatened him, and tried to help a few that didn't, but mostly he has kept to himself, going from place to place without really knowing why, seeking a purpose in his unlife.

[User]
Well, Vaeri knew the names of 8 of her companions now. Well sort of. Tobias, Zack, Fiona, Sana, Drizzak, somebody named Big Brut Pally Hugh, and Mortosh & Zam. Vaeri wasn't very good with human names, they tended to mix together in her head, so she assigned a word to each name that would help keep them together. Tobias' word would be worried. He did not appear to be a relaxed man. In fact, he was worried enough about payment to inquire about it almost immediately. Payment hadn't even crossed the elf's mind. Zack's word would be tall. Fiona would be scarlet. Vaeri always liked that word more than "red." Red was such a dull word, and Fiona did not look to be dull so far. Thus she would be scarlet, even if it did describe her hair better than the former. Sana's word would be mouthy. She sure did talk a lot in the 4 minutes she had been in the shop. Drizzak, Mortosh and Zam stood out enough that Vaeri was confident that she would remember them without needing to resort to having a keyword associated with them. Big Brut Pally Hugh was certainly distinctive enough to stick in her head, and she hadn't actually seen this person so even if there were need to add on a keyword, the cleric would have none to add.

Aside from the names, Vaeri took note of the robed man who walked in, took a bunch of items and then left without a word to anyone, the fact that they were being supplied with free vials and corks from Wyslen and apparently everyone was invited to the inn. After the rude scholar left, she stepped up to the crate and picked out enough vials to feel confident she would have enough to carry back to the Apothecary.

"Thank you for your gift, good sir." Vaeri said and performed a small bow of thanks to Wyslen. Vaeri stepped away from the counter and opened the bag at her hip, placed the empty vials and corks in before shutting it again. The cleric opened the door, but waved goodbye to her future travelling companions before leaving. Sana had suggested that everyone eat before leaving, but Vaeri had already eaten dinner before arriving in the village, she was in no rush to eat. Now where was this supposed in?

[Assistant]
True enough, the activity picked up as a few more souls entered the shop, looking to invest in this quest. By the words the Sister provided, so few others had attempted to take up this job before they had all arrived today - a curious coincidence, Hanzo supposed. Nevertheless, the staff passed out to each willing patron a list of just the rare ingredients they would need to find, with the assurance they were provided with everything else.

...'Tear of Eyewing'? 'Blood of Mist Dragon'? These were indeed exceptionally rare ingredients to find at all, and at first Hanzo found himself unable to quite fathom what sort of concoction would require these things. But, then again, the monk did know that Cinder Sickness was not exactly a 'natural' sort of plague, so perhaps that called for an unnatural sort of cure.

One of the more mysterious ladies that had arrived and made herself known within the group asserted that this job wasn't impossible. The roguish man was far less certain of that, him too being notably perplexed over these special extractions to be obtained. And then the situation simply grew more diverse, with a blood-spattered sorcerer that simply arrived to take a list and some containers, followed by an impish... imp? No, a goblin, rather; whatever the case, Sana was certain they had met before, apparently having been fellow adventurers in some past crusade.

Of course, all the strangeness did not stop the rapidly-forming party from eschewing courteous manners. Taking a quick cue from the mystical Sana's introduction, the fair crimson-haired girl introduced herself as Fiona, sparking a chain of names given out by each member:

Tobias was the cynical-sounding man accompanying Fiona, based on a few off-hand comments. The boisterous goblin was Drizzak, according to a surprised and then reassured Sana. The elfin maiden in holy garb was Vaeri, as she personally announced. Having arrived late, it took Hanzo a bit to piece together that the blaze-skinned tall man was called Zack. The strange undead with the yet stranger companion was Zam, and his companion Mortosh- no, wait, it was the other way around. Was it? Who was what, there? He had lost track in all the commotion. The monk furrowed his visage while racking his memory for the proper arrangement.

As Hanzo tried to relieve the pressure by claiming a few of the vials for his possession in the group, Sana moved to the exit, offering the group the idea of staying at the local inn for breakfast. The monk rolled over the prospect in his head, and decided it would be proper to accept and join in.

He came fully back to reality about when Sana mentioned that "Big Brut Pally Hugh" would be there; unfamiliar with her slang and having missed the context, Hanzo shot a brief look of puzzlement at the entrance where the gypsy had been standing, only to spot her already out the door. He breathed a quiet sigh through his nose and shook his head, somewhat exasperated over the turn of events that were playing out. "Quite a group we have assembled here," the lone traveler audibly mumbled.

One final thing still nagged at his mind, though- "Before I forget myself, you may call me Hanzo. I am just a traveling monk who happened upon this plight, looking to give whatever aid I can."

[User]
Tobias's eye spasmed as he surveyed the new arrivals. A goblin with a nasty-looking shortsword and a zombie with some kind of pixie-flower... thing. What was worse, nobody else seemed too concerned by this - the other human woman (Sana?) was even pleased to see the goblin; apparently, the two went back a ways. Well, a reason to distrust her had just landed in his lap, as though in answer to his prayers.

And what was even better, the nuns wouldn't let slip what the payment was! And once again, nobody seemed bothered by that! Everyone assembled was apparently prepared to march off to do battle with Mist Dragons and Eyewings on the vague say-so of a nun who only promised 'something valuable'. Bloody adventurers.

Well, he'd promised Fiona he'd take a look, and take a look he had. And guess what? He didn't like what he'd seen. Too much danger, not enough security, too many weirdos. Hell, he'd even mollified his conscience - there were enough people here to handle the job, enough actual adventurers. The orphans would be just fine, and Fiona... she knew what she was getting into.

As the others began to filter out to meet up in the inn, he was just opening his mouth to tell Fiona about his decision when her words from earlier appeared in his mind. "But look at this group. What if someone we meet needs to be persuaded of something? Most of them don't look like the sociable type to me. You could be really valuable to us."

She was right, even if she knew not how. These people, the wizards and warriors, the goblin, the elf, the demon, whoever 'Big Brut Pally Hugh' was, they all had something in common. They were bloody adventurers. Insane, the lot of them, all of them willing to blindly trust and run around fighting other people's battles for some misguided sense of heroism. They were going to get killed the first time someone offered them a trinket to slay a lich or fed them poisoned meat or in any way attempted to play them. If they were going to get anywhere... maybe they'd need a healthy dose of fear, cowardice, paranoia. Maybe they needed someone who wasn't an adventurer.

Dammit.

He turned to his companion and gave his best winning smile. "Well, this has all been informative. Suppose we'd better go meet the others at the inn, get to know each other? ... Don't turn your back on any of them." With a wink to the nun, the thief grabbed a few vials from the stockpile and, without looking to see if Fiona was behind him, made his way over to the tavern.

"Behold," he announced as he entered the... aromatic establishment. "The warrior and the tramp!"


[System]
Title(s): Magister Templi, Third Order of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn
Gender: Male
Age: 63
Alignment: Lawful Neutral

Objective for the Grail: To bring the Holy Grail to the Golden Dawn, if only to throw it in their faces.

Personality: On the surface Thomas is a polite and charming individual, the very picture of an English gentleman. Having spent the better part of his life as part of what is essentially a secret society Thomas has developed a way of dealing with people that can best be described as aggressively diplomatic; he is friendly, approachable, and amiable and yet rarely if ever gives any sort of hint towards his true feelings or motivations.

A determined individual who is not easily swayed by others and someone with the fortitude to forge his own path and follow his own goals even if others seek to place obstacles in his path, yet savvy enough to toe the line and not make enemies unnecessarily. Such social acumen was needed to survive in the Golden Dawn, especially when he is seen as such a… controversial figure by many.

History: Thomas comes from a long line of Magus; not the most impressive line, nor the oldest, and their name hasn't always been Gardner, but a long line nonetheless. Thomas' family have been practitioners of Witchcraft in Europe and Britain since the middle ages, engaging in both sides of the art as both black witches focused on curses and hexes and white witches focused on protection from the former.

Even with this age the Gardner Magic Crest is not as well developed as it could be. Being a witch in Britain has always been a hazardous occupation and the family has been forced into hiding a number of times over the years as the craze of witch-hunting rose and fell in popularity. In particular the writing of the Witchcraft Act of 1604 was nearly the death of the Gardner line and their Magic Crest was all but lost during this period.

Thankfully they managed to outlast the witch hunters and the family survived, though diminished in size and power. Over time they began to recover and the complexity of their crest grew in leaps and bounds, however it wasn't until Thomas's grandfather and great grandfather that the family truly began to flourish. They are the ones mostly responsible for making the family what it is, at least in terms of wealth and influence. That being said, it was also his grandfather than nearly ruined them.

Thomas' grandfather joined the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn after being invited to be a member by another magus via their joint association with the Clocktower. Being a talented Magus in his own right his grandfather quickly rose through the ranks but was at the same time a controversial figure who upset a lot of people by publishing books on occultism. The books were complete nonsense which he saw as both a way to make money while also having some fun but others in both the Golden Dawn and the Clocktower saw it as potentially threatening to reduce the amount of mystery in the world by revealing secrets about Magecraft. In the end he was acquitted and no punishment was given, but the Gardner name was forever tarnished by the accusations.

This controversy has directly affected Thomas as well and means that a number of people within the order have taken a disliking to him on principle. It doesn't help that his style of Magecraft is seen by some as out-dated, archaic or even barbaric in nature; it seems even Magi are not immune to developing certain stigmas around witchcraft. There have been numerous occasions where people have tried to question whether or not his family should even be allowed to keep their association with the order, citing his grandfather's past discretions as reasons, and whether or not Thomas and his obsolete style of magecraft can possibly contribute anything of worth to the order.

This did not prevent him from climbing the ranks to become a member of the highest order of the Golden Dawn, as progress through the ranks is determined by skill and learning rather than politics, but he had to fight his way through opposition every step of the way.

When Thomas first received word of the Holy Grail war in the east he tried to keep it a secret, wanting to enter the war himself without the Order learning of it, but it was not long before others found out and the expected arguing and politics began. The Golden Dawn wished to send a member to participate, but all wanted the glory for themselves and none could agree on who to send, other than that it should definitely not be Thomas. Rather than argue in his own defence or try to convince the order to sanction his participation in the Holy Grail war, Thomas opted to simply make the decision for all of them and leave; he acquired a suitable catalyst from the Golden Dawn by what some would consider theft and headed for Japan, lacking the resources of the order to which he may or may not still be a member but backed by the considerable wealth of his family. However his theft of the catalyst would turn out to be pointless, due to the peculiar nature of this war.

---

Magecraft:
General Magecraft – The Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn is more than capable of teaching novices the basic magecrafts to the same level of competency as the Clocktower.

Elementalism – Those in the First Order of the Golden Dawn must study the concepts of elementalism and prove their understanding before moving on to the next level. Every member of the Golden Dawn who has advanced past this stage not only knows how to use magecraft that matches their affinity, they also have knowledge of all the other affinities they cannot use. Thomas himself has a dual affinity for fire and earth.

Bounded Fields – While knowledge of and even proficiency in the use of bounded fields is expected in the higher members of the Golden Dawn, Thomas has taken this understanding even further. He is capable of casting Advance Bounded Fields and Bounded Fields that are supremely hard to detect; over the course of many years he has honed his ability to combine Bounded Fields with his other specialties, particularly Sympathetic Magic, to create some interesting effects.

European Witchcraft – An old form of magecraft not much favoured within the Clocktower due to its close association with curses, European Witchcraft is as much to do with the protection and prevention of curses and afflictions as it is with creating them. Thomas is well versed in the common practices of European Witchcraft including scrying, divination (particularly that will allows for objects/people to be found), healing and protection from harmful magecraft. His particular focus in this area is in the creation and use of Poppets and other items.

Sympathetic Magecraft – A style of magecraft dictated by the laws of Sympathy and Contagion based on the idea that one can influence something, even people, based on its relationship or resemblance to another object. Thomas gained a basic understanding of this craft through his studies of European Witchcraft which makes use of Sympathetic Magecraft in places, particularly in the creation and use of Poppets. Finding himself particularly interested in the subject Thomas continued his studies in this area over the course of decades in order to become a true master of the art, even beyond what is often associated with European Witchcraft.

Weapons:
Grand Poppet – The ultimate expression of Thomas' art, the Grand Poppet is an item created by Thomas over the course of decades using the principles of European Witchcraft and Sympathetic Magecraft. It is a humanoid figure; a doll woven out of Thomas' own hair and stained with his blood, creating a Poppet so steeped in Contagion as to be considered unwise or even obscene by other practitioners of his craft, were they to learn of it.

The aim of Sympathetic Magecraft if often to create an object that in some way resembles the object or person that the Magus is attempting to manipulate, but in many ways the Grand Poppet is more 'Thomas' than Thomas is and as such it attracts much of the harm that is intended for him whether that be magical in nature or physical.

Ring of Vampirism – A Mystic Code in the form of a ring which allows for the extraction of blood from a person over short distances, which is then stored inside a small internal reservoir. This object has an extremely short range, between five and ten feet at the most, and works best when in direct contact with the target with greater distances slowing the process of extraction. The target feels no pain and the quantities of blood being extracted are so small as to cause no negative effects to the target. However, due to the innate protection against invasive magecraft that all Magus have, against them this ring is only useful for drawing blood from an open wound.

Image Capturing Glasses – A simple pair of glasses capable of capturing and storing an image of whatever the wearer is observing at any given time and recalling that image when requested.

Amplifier Staff – A simple amplification style Mystic Code resembling an ornate cane or walking stick. Intended to be used to strengthen Thomas' elemental magecraft in particular should he ever need to get his hands dirty.

[User]
Oda Nobunaga

"It can't be helped," the Archer said with a grin, folding her arms. It was good for her Master to get on board with everything so quickly; it simply wouldn't do to waste time persuading her to get on board when there was reconnaissance to be done and enemies to assess. Who knew if any of the other famous warlords had shown up? It wouldn't do to let them get an advantage in building an army if the war headed in that direction. "The only way out for you is if someone kills you and I find another Master, so we have to stick together until this all ends."

Still, looking more serious, the Archer couldn't avoid letting out a disappointed huff, "It's a shame that it has to be happening out here. I would have liked to see how much all of Japan has changed since the Sengoku Jidai, not in a town that has barely changed since the province was renamed."

"The first thing we have to do, Master, is look around. There can be no strategy without knowledge of the land."

[Assistant]
Costante and Karizma
The twin Masters both listened attentively to Archer's advice, Costante standing still and calmly taking notes while Karizma shifted her weight impatiently from one foot to the other. When their Servant had finished talking, they instantly looked towards one another, unspoken thoughts passing between them in a flash as their eyes met.

He makes good points.

And he does know what he's doing!

Then I can trust him to take care of you.

And I can trust you to watch our backs.

They both smiled, and then without any sign or signal nodded to Archer in perfect synchrony.

"Clear as crystal!"

"Clear as day!"

It wasn't any magecraft or telepathy that allowed them to communicate so quickly, but simply years of experience, a fraternal bond tested and strengthened by time and external forces. When it came to their feelings, each could read the other at a glance, and reach an agreement without so much as a whisper spoken aloud.

Specifics, however, still needed to conveyed the old-fashioned way. "In the interest of caution, I'll keep my surveillance focused around the two of you for the most part," Costante said, already heading for the stairs. "Archer, make sure to relay the position of anything you see back to me; I'll do likewise if I spot anything with my telescopes." His talent hadn't been hailed by the Clock Tower for nothing; there was plenty he could do to support them from here.

"Right then!" Karizma skipped her way over to Archer's side, bowing to him with a girlish giggle. "I'll be in your care, Senpai. Isn't that how they say it here?" She winked as she stood up, ignoring the bright red flush on her brother's cheeks across the room. "Let's go poke around and see what we can find… Maybe Nobunaga'll show up! Or Miyamoto Moosashi!" It'd be tempting to try and kill them if they did, but she reminded herself that this was only the first night of a potentially weeks-long event. This would be like the teaser, getting a taste of their opposition so that they'd be ready to go all-out when the time really came.

Assuming Archer had no further comments to share, Costante would quietly disappear off to the upper floors while Karizma threw on a coat and led the way out the door, chattering happily about all the Japanese figures she'd heard about in popular culture. "You think you can beat a ninja? Because I just bet there'll be ninjas…"

[User]
Sekiguchi Akane - Higanbana Shoujo

"I am quite happy to hear that," Akane began, "I place my faith in you, Caster."

Akane smiled. Ah, this was really the perfect acquisition for her, the perfect Servant to summon. She was certain her time during this Holy Grail War would not be dull at all.

As she proceeded out of her mansion, the doors slide open under their own power the moment she approached. Softly, silently, she walked down a path through the field of higanbana.

All that could be heard was the faint sound of the wind, and of cicadas chirping. Crows calling. It was just how Akane desired it, in all honestly. Anyone who wandered into this place would think they had passed into some kind of boundary between the mortal world and the underworld.

In a way, perhaps that was not an entirely inaccurate way of considering it.

As Akane reached the edge of her territory, the air seemed to ripple. She exited her bounded field, from the outside seeming to simply fade into existence.

Here, it appeared to be nothing more then a clearing in the forest. Though... it was notable that there were still several clumps of higanbana, sprouting here and there...

"If it is a shrine you want, I know just the place," Akane continued as she proceeded out of the clearing, "Fufu, I wonder if there will be anyone nearby? Perhaps, if there is, a little light entertainment could be in order..."

It wouldn't be the first time she'd used the shrine's surroundings to play a little game with some of the locals, or tourists. Tourists tended not to believe in her, which made catching a glimpse all the more entertaining.

[Assistant]
So far this war had not lived up to Thomas' expectations, but he was having a thoroughly enjoyable time nonetheless. The battleground was decidedly more… rural than he had anticipated for one, but at least he wouldn't have to worry too much about collateral damage when there was so little collateral to damage in the first place. Before departing he had ensured that he still had access to ample funding so that he might secure whatever resources he needed, even after cutting ties with his old compatriots, but it seemed that such measures were unnecessary; he could probably buy this entire town if he wanted to by the looks of it. Instead he had opted for purchasing a small dwelling on the outskirts of town, a little run down but suitable enough for his needs, before spending the better part of a day securing it with a complex array of bounded fields and other apotropaic methods.

His Servant too, was a surprise. The catalyst he had 'borrowed' from the Order had proven to be less effective than he had hoped; instead of summoning a fabled hero from Britain's distant past he had summoned, well, her. How effective she would be in this war would remain to be seen, but his first impression was not a hopefully one; she was not a warrior or a witch or anything of the sort, just a young woman who fell to madness after her love was rejected. Being allied to such a character in a war like this seemed more likely to cause him harm than his enemies.

"Berserker." Still, he intended to see this through one way or another. At the very least he could see who his foes were before deciding what course of action to take. "What do you say we take a walk around town? See what we can find,hmm?"

Bunnies