[System]
Age: Early 30's
Race: Mortal.
Appearance: At first glance, one could mistake Calieo for some sort of noble in armour. Shimmering gold adorning every inch of metal, what looks to be a crown atop her head, and elegantly decorated weaponry like something out of a storybook. The way she carries herself is also akin to nobility, an air of pride and composure in everything she does. Just under 6 feet in height, her form beneath the armour is toned and powerful to the point that wearing it hardly seems to weigh down or restrict her.

 Wild and short cut golden locks pushed back by the circlet atop her head, Calieo refuses to hide beneath a helm. The angles of her face sharp and defined all across her visage, the look in her sparkling, silver eyes speaking of wisdom and power. Her complexion seems pale but lightly sun kissed, as if all her skin has known was cool, sunny days. A pointed nose, tight lips, and practicaly flawless skin all come together to keep an air of regality in her appearance.
Drawn by rivaan <3

The original

Attire: Constantly prepared for battle, Calieo's gold plated armour shimmers in the sunlight like a gemstone. Silver trim decorates every joint and design, the protective suit more a work of art than meant for battle. Beneath her metal plating Calieo wears a full body suit, the material a dull black in contrast to her armour. Breathable, durable, and very rarely taken off, the under-armour acts as a second skin, hugging every curve and shape to perfection. Finally, atop her head rests a jagged and protective circlet, stylized to look like a crown and partially hidden by her mane.

Bio:
Stories are often told of knights in shining armour, appearing in the darkest times to fight for any who are in need of aid. Such heroes are always selfless warriors, fighting evil simply because it's what they believe in. Stories like these, would make Calieo gag.

 A knight of unknown origin and faction, Calieo seems to have appeared out of thin air, first being seen in the Cherinok Mountains but moving on since then. Word of a gold clad 'monster hunter' spread through the tribes of the Cherinok quickly, Calieo recklessly slaughtering any beast she came across as she slowly moved South. Stopping for nobody, anyone she met would be treated much the same way; first, a speech proclaiming the glorious might that she herself was. Next, an offer to aid her, or move out of her way. Then finally, depending on the individual, she would move on either freshly blooded, or without a scratch. The nature of her rampage largely unknown, when confronted on the subject her response is often along the lines of, "The fate of your world depends on my success."

 After leaving a trail of blood leading out of the mountains, Calieo has managed to find her way to Falke. The first large settlement she's encountered on her journey, she seeks direction for her quest, as well as companions to aid her in it.
Personality and Aspirations: Loud, brash, and extremely proud, Calieo often confronts everything with an entitled, curious inflection. Her goal unclear, she seeks to rally the strong and quest for 'the key' as she often describes it.

Inventory:
* A marvelously crafted weapon decorated with gold and silver from end to end, it's jagged designs demanding just as much attention as the brilliant shimmer it's surface gives off when held up to the sun. A ball and chain flail, the weapon's handle is mostly bound in leather, narrowing into a pointed tip at the end of the hilt. Down the other end, a silver chain hangs away from the haft and connects to the stylized striking end of the weapon. Fully decorated with gold the ball of the weapon has been crafted to look like a depiction of the sun; three rings covered in curved spikes that act as a cage for the flaming ball of light held inside.
* Calieo's shield, compacted and gently convex to help soften any blow it absorbs. Golden trim and designs decorate the surface, with a silver and reflective center to further draw attention. Though the shield's purpose is largely defensive, protruding from and running along the outside edge is a silver sabre. The blade ridged and inflexible, it's shape allows for easy slashing and stabbing when Final Sunset isn't a better option.

Skills:

Warrior: Always eager to shed some blood Calieo craves combat, particularly with those who disagree with her. Similar to her choice of weapon, her fighting style is unrefined and brutish. She'll often run in without a plan of attack, instead surprising most opponents with an unyielding, reckless advance. Though not incredible when it comes to skilled dueling, Calieo thrives in heated battles where an aimless swing of her flail will often make contact with something.

Battle-Mage: The ball of flame held within Last Sunset's striking head isn't meant for decoration. Rather, the weapon can be used to channel magic by swinging the ball on it's chain. The oxygen fuels the fire within the mace, and after charging it can be used to cast a variety of basic fire and light based spells. These range from simple projectile strikes, to bursts of heat and blinding light. Though inaccurate at range due to the weapon's nature, in close combat a charged magical strike can be devastating to whatever is hit.

Languages: Largely fluent in Cherinokin, and Abbalic

Current Location: Falke

[User]
Falke – East Shopping District, Yellow Market.

 Chambala noted the way Rebecca reacted to the commotion that was starting to unfold in the market. It was a reaction of slight concern that clearly meant the woman didn't want to be caught her for some reason. Frankly Chambala was pretty sure it was something connected to the war as the woman was living on the borders, but that was not of the wild woman's concern. She just smiled, nodded and pointed a direction lightly with her spear." Alright, follow me, the supplies shop's this way." She stated with a happy voice." They offer some of the best dried and salted meats around these parts. There's also a stand that sells dried fruits near the butchery too. Makes for incredibly good teas and drinks!" Chambala said as she led the way, nimbly making a path through the people on the market, big enough for her and Rebecca. It wasn't really that hard as most people tried to keep a distance from her, partly for her wild looks and partly for the very sharp looking spear she had. She carried a very ' don't mess with me' air about it.

 "There it is." She said when they finally left the market and nearby was a building that had the distinct smell of meat about it." You can buy meat provisions from here and over there are the dried fruits." Chambala explained with a smile and once more led the way forward thought more slowly this time now that they were outside the market.

 "After here, we will only need to pass by the tavern I was staying at, so I can grab the rest of my things." She added, throwing a curios look at Rebecca." Ahh yeah, fresh fruits and veggies are better to be bought directly from the farms on our way. Prices will be about the same if not cheaper and we will be able to pick the best produce."

[Assistant]
Denise could not help but to laugh at the knight in front of her. She was amusing to no end. No idea of how the world worked. No interest in it either it seemed like. In that regard they were quite similar. She did not care about the world, but about herself, mostly anyway. The grunt of the golem called her back to reality and she patted its head. They had a weird partnership, Denise and her golem, the sister was always the voice of reason and calm. But Denise could not tear herself away from this intriguing woman.

"Well, monetary wasn't the biggest concern that I had, but I'll take it anyway. Resolve however is different. Where we are going there is no room for doubts." Well, if the knight wavered, at least she'd get a good meal. If her father did not take her for his experiments. She smiled before she looked around the crowd and noticed the commotion. The figure really stood out to her. The emotions of fear and rage around him washed over her. But he himself was calm....dead. That gave her pause for a moment.

"Interesting," she said with a wide grin on her face. "Be a good golem and collect him for me. But leave the stuff behind," She patted its head and jumped down in front of the knight just as the golem dropped the backpack and saddle it was carrying with a heavy thud which cracked the stone on which it landed. It roared and took off towards the man with heavy footsteps, causing people to flee it's path.

Denise closed the distance to the knight and started inspecting her. She sniffed the knight, ran a hand along the armour. Delicious...was her first thought. The pious always tasted better... She wanted to gobble her up.. She stared hungrily at the knight's face for a few moments until she caught herself and cleared her throat. "I guess we should get going once my golem returns with that man.." She said and looked around.

[User]
Falke, East Shopping District

Cain continued pushing his way through the crowd of people however they began readily moving out of his way, some even fleeing in the opposite direction, for a moment Cain wondered about this but then the ground shook below him as he received his answer. The giant golem was approaching with unknown intent, Cain very quickly recognized it as being the companion to the strange merchant women, chiefly because he hadn't seen many other golems around recently.

With the crowd now separating Cain was standing unopposed as the golem continued charging towards his position, Cain briefly considered running now and eluding the lumbering creature but some of his clients may be looking on and that sets a rather poor impression. The golem was too close now to fire any sort of arrow at it that'd do some real harm so instead Cain opted to outmaneuver the beast and get into a much more advantageous position.

In a move that seemed to surprise onlookers and see the hooded man as having quite the deathwish today, Cain began sprinting towards the golem, approaching rapidly as the two picked up more and more speed from across the market place. As he drew close Cain unexpectedly dropped underneath the massive golem into a sliding motion, flying by the speed of his forward propulsion under the golem's huge legs. With any luck the golems momentum would continue it forward and cause it to stumble as it got its bearings. Cain hoped anyway, today had not been overly fortuitous and Cain would prefer it not to conclude by being smacked around courtesy of a steel golem.

[Assistant]
[Tirñea]

       When Serena introduced herself Tirñea smiled and nodded in her direction, listening as she began to shed light on the reason these three had been gathered near the gates. The fact that she was a teacher caught the Piñuran girls attention, Serena and Veronica looking to be about the same age which was somewhat suprising. Perhaps Veronica was new to whatever trade they were participating in, which could explain why she was the only one in armour.

       The offer to join these people was tempting, and Tirñea looked down at her map again to better grasp what traveling across the continent would be like. Though she didn't know these people in the slightest they all seemed polite and respectable, and while their destination was a mystery Tirñea knew she had to start her adventure somehow. Then there was the added bonus of being 'rewarded' should she be able to aid them in whatever their mission was, the nature of which also unknown but would more than likely be explained. It all seemed like a good idea, and worst case scenario if they turned out to be dangerous people Tirñea figured they could all be worm food.

       Upon returning her attention to Serena, Tirñea was met with an empty and serious pair of eyes looking her up and down. The woman's earlier personality returned after a moment, and she continued to explain her offer by outlining the possible downsides of declining. Tirñea thought about all that had been said for a moment, then nodded to herself before giving an answer.

       "I think," she began, starting to fold her map into it's compacted little square, "If you would not care that I join you, I will be happy to come along." With that Tirñea brought herself to smile again, and she quicky put her map away so she could slide her pack back on. Lastly she knelt down to retrieve her staff, pulling the cudgel upright and leaning into it a little as she stood up. "I have only just arrived at the city, so I am ready already to leave again," she smiled, letting the weight of her staff gently tilt itself back and forth in her grasp.

[User]
 The merchant's laugh suprised the gilded knight, and she immediately took offense to her response. If it weren't for her perch atop that stone beast Calieo would have gutted her for such disrespect. Her armour left her stomach exposed, an appealing choice from a stylistic point of view, but moronic given how weak mortal flesh could be. Not wanting to allude her violent intentions Calieo kept her expression stern and unamused, waiting for a proper response from the merchant.

 When she did speak again, the fact that she wasn't overly concerned with currency was a bit of a surprise but beneficial considering Calieo had none. Her informal agreement to the knight's offer was of greater interest however, and brought the slightest grin to Calieo's otherwise serious visage. The merchant seemed to lack confidence in Calieo's request though, another insult, but she'd learn respect if the two were to travel together. "Doubt is for those with trivial goals in life. I know what I want and will have it, I need you only to show me where to go," the gilded warrior explained, her temper being tested again when the merchant's attention went elsewhere.

 While the merchant had her eyes elsewhere, Calieo blew off a little steam by raising her shielded arm and dragging the sabre through the air in line with the woman's neck. Necks were vulnerable, something she didn't appreciate about her own armour, but she'd done the best she could crafting it with all the information she could compile. Calieo lowered her arm as the merchant returned her attention to where it was deserved, and briefly thought about gutting her again now that she'd sent her rock creature off to do something. Such ideas were reinforced when the merchant drew closer, and her invasiveness had Calieo about ready to try bludgeoning her to death. The only indication of displeasure she let through was the slightest twitch of her lip, and she inhaled deeply when their faces drew close together. When the merchant didn't move away Calieo took a step back herself, bringing her new guide back to reality and eliciting another response. "The sooner we depart the better," Calieo muttered, her attention being dragged to the commotion only a short ways away.


[System]
Race: Dragon, disguised as a human
Apparent Age: 28
Actual Age: 300's
Appearance: Ramia stands at just below 6 feet and is quite broad shouldered. Her overall physique could easily be called athletic.

Her left arm has a long scar running from the knuckles all the way to her elbow and she has noticeable difficulty moving the index and middle fingers of that hand. Ramia's right hand lacks the very tip of it's middle finger and the palm also has a barely noticeable scar.

Her eye color varies between green and blue depending on how sunlight hits them.

She keeps her black hair is cut short from the front and the slightly longer back part is kept in a ponytail that barely extends to her shoulders.

Ramia wears comfortable clothes that do not hinder her movement - a simple white silk shirt with long sleeves, a pair of gray - admittedly quite form fitting - pants and black leather boots that extend just under her knees. Around her waist she has a belt from which hang a parrying dagger on the right side and a very finely crafted single shot pistol on the left. Also hanging from the belt is a small coin purse, a bag with few paper cardriges and a single left handed leather glove with thin metal plates covering the knuckles and the back of the hand.

Profession: Gunsmith
Possessions: All kinds of tools needed in smithing A well crafted single shot pistol, a parrying dagger, pouch with a few coins, A deed to a small workshop.

Skills/Magic/Talents:

Exceptional Gunsmith, above average skill in swordsplay, quite good at haggling

Nimble feet, sharp eyes and great reflexes - If not caught completely off guard Ramia can dodge, or even catch arrows and other such projectiles. Munitions from firearms however are too quick for her.

Ramia is also very durable and strong for someone of her size - so strong in fact that her human body can not quite handle draconian strength. If she is not concentrating she might end up breaking her own arm while punching someone too hard for instance.

Demeanour: Ramia is a woman of few words and has a very dry sense of humor. She is also rather impolite at times towards people she doesn't know or trust - however she is also a stalwart ally to those she deems as her friends.

History: Ramia doesn't really remember that much of her past anymore - she still knows where she came from and even remembers her parents to a shady degree. However there are already huge gaps in her memories and she has decided to stay in one place since in her opinion staying instead of travelling makes it easier to remember. So one day she just sort of appeared and set up a small workshop - first making just farming implements for selling, but the people around her soon noticed her ability to craft surprisingly accurate firearms and so she turned a hobby to a job.

[User]
Wally looked up as he heard the guards talking about something important. Something about a Prince and outsiders. Usually he would have listened to them but he needed a distraction. He ran across the wall as the rocks fell from where he went. Wally quickly dove in away from the guards line of sight. He stood there looking at the great hall looking building. Most of the guards were looking away from that area, so Wally ran towards the building as he climbed in through one of the windows near the top.

He looked down from one of the beams as he tried to listen in. Before he could do anything, he lost his footing and fell. The only reason that there was not a Wally shaped hole in the ground was that he grabbed one of the tapestries on the wall. It managed to hold his weight as he slid down to the ground. Wally looked up at the collected group before him.

"Well that could have gone better." He said looking over at them. "Uhh... Name's Fletcher." He said sounding unsure. This was not what he had wanted to do. It could have gone better.

[Assistant]
Amon turned to the man who had rather artfully just fallen from the ceiling. He turned to Molly and Carver momentarily before wheeling back around to face the individual who had just joined them in such an unorthodox manner.

The figure introduced himself "Well that could have gone better." He said looking over at them. "Uhh... Name's Fletcher." He said sounding unsure. This was not what he had wanted to do. It could have gone better.

Amon stepped towards the figure and drew his sword from its sheath not sure what to make of this figure. Then he suddenly recognised him, his scrying glass seemed to burn within its case. The man who was out of place! He was certain of it, Amon said nothing, but continued to level his sword at the figure not daring to take his eyes from him. 'I've no idea who you are Fletcher' he began, addressing the figure 'But I am inclined to accost you for trying to enter a lord's home in such a manner, 'tis most unbecoming of a gentlemen to resort to such measures.'

[User]
Carver had his blade in his hand the second he heard the crash behind him. He strode towards the prone man, his face impassive as he listened to the man's introduction.

Whatever reason this 'Fletcher' had for skulking about a castle, it couldn't have been a good one. To say it was 'unbecoming of a gentleman' as Amon had was quite an understatement. The knight pointed the blade at him and spoke with a tone of certainty and command that he had not known he possessed, "Arise then, Master Fletcher. State your purpose for being here tonight, creeping across the ceilings of your lord. Know that though I am a stern judge, I am merciful to those I deem deserving of it."

He glanced over to his new compatriot, who had adopted a similar stance. "I cannot speak for this one, however, so be mindful of your words."

[Assistant]
Molly took a step back when the crash happened and looked at the man known as Fletcher oddly before shaking her head and placing her hands on her hips.

 "You are lucky the Lady Amalthea is already in her quarters," she quipped. Two men at arms came rushing into the great hall from the back stair case that led into the depths of the castles lower floors. Molly held up a hand and they came to a halt.

 "Just a bumbling thief from the looks of it, I believe Amon and Ser Carver have the situation under control," she said before waiving them off. They turned quickly and headed back from where they came.

 "Seems you two gentlemen will be earning you keep this evening, bring him with you and follow me," she said as she motioned with a single finger and began walking.

 The castle seemed to be set up with no direct route to any place in particular; winding stair cases cut short to floors and landings that went this way and that until eventually they ended up in a moderate sized room that seemed to be the kitchen.

 It was nothing grand and seemed more fitting for a small cottage than a castle. In the center was a table that took up much of the room with several stools and benches surrounding it. A small wood stove and buckets of water lined up on a shelf against the wall separated by cracked dishes.

 An odd looking black and white cat with a peg leg and a patch over one eye purred as it lay on the table. Molly scratched the cat behind the ear for a moment before she began to tend to what seemed like a stew bubbling in the cauldron hanging over the back wall hearth.

 "Just sit him down there," she said to those that had bothered to follow her.

[User]
This just kept getting more fun by the minute. Now there were two different swords on him and the guards now knew he was here. He had been doing so well up till then. He focused on the two swords at his head before he smirked a bit. "Two swords? Huh so this is just an average day." He joked as he tried to think up a plan but none were coming up. He had come here to investigate. He decided that he needed to watch his step and try to use these two.

"Why yes I am just your every day common cat-burglar. Except that the King is not my lord." He said happily as they walked through the castle. He made a mental check as he walked through this area. Wally hummed some sort of happy song as they walked. There was still something terribly odd about this place. He could not place what was up with this place.

"He has a name." He said as he sat down on one of the stool and seemed to be rather calm right now. "So this is fun. Two people want me dead and it is not even midnight yet." He said as he watched the rest of them. "Oh and I am not that incompetent. I got here past your guards." He complained to Molly still a bit wounded from what she said earlier. He kept his daggers hidden from his new friends for now.

[Assistant]
Dune

---

---

The Old Tongue (It isn't fully completed so some words here that aren't on there will be Irish)

 People turned the other way upon his arrival. Walked away. Lowered their heads. Found some kind of way to hide themselves. It could've been the way he dressed. His previous profession. His origin. But no, it was the pitiful Human cliché - he was an outsider. So as he walked through those hay-strewn streets, all eyes were averted from him and all people cleared the way for him. Just not in the way he wanted. And just like every day, he strolled into the nearest tavern to order an ale, in the hopes that following Human ways might just mean he was able to drink away his sorrows.

 And he'd have a lot of sorrows to drink away - there was a different man there. Not the usual man that spend a good while trying to figure out where Dune was pointing, no. It was an entirely different one. He was confused by this - couldn't Hindwalkers (humans) keep their Rank as well as Shifters? Everyone in Summit Pack had kept their Rank - even him as the Alpha-to-be. He sighed and sat down (triggering the person next to him to stand up) and waited to be served.

 The man came along, speaking some jibberish Dune couldn't understand - probably English, or any of the other Hindwalker languages. He tried to remember how to say the beverage in English, which ended in him stammering and the man serving him giving him a confused look. With a sigh, he spoke in his own language, maybe others knew the Old Tongue?

 "Leann."

 With that the man simply carried on staring. Dune rolled his eyes and cleared his throat.

 "P-Po... Pota... Po-"

 The man then went on rambling again, cutting Dune off and walking away. This action quite confused the Shifter. Did the Hindwalker give up? Did he understand Dune? He decided to sit there and wait a little longer.

 Eventually the Hindwalker returned with a wooden mug full of leann, which the man proceeded to teach Dune was called 'porter'. Dune wrote this down in his journal before drinking the contents and setting the mug on the table. He wrote on a piece of paper "Dune na dra oa reu.", before placing it on the table and walking out.

[User]
Anya strode through the streets, practically skipping, humming happily. She preferred this time of day to any other, the sun, while it didn't harm her in the least, annoyed her to no end. It was always too hot despite how she dressed.

She felt hungry, so she decided to stop and get a...bite..to eat, she thought to herself giggling. A farmer happend to be making his way down the streets passing an alleyway. The perfect target, Anya thought to herself. She sped up her pace, barely making a sound until she was upon him. She lept, tackling him down, covering his mouth, and slitting his throat all in one fell motion. She was extra careful not to spill any blood on herself, she drank from the wound until she was satisfied and drug the corpse further into the alley.

They'd find it come morning, possibly. No trace of Anya though, of course, there was rarely if ever a trace of her unless she wanted it to be. Calmly coming out of the alley she resumed her pace and humming of her happy song.

Multiple people entered and exited the tavern, it was always such a busy place, though she noticed multiple un-familiar faces. The oyster lady, as she called her never really caring to know or ask her name walked out of the tavern. Damn. She missed her. She liked oysters, esepcially after a..drink.

Maybe, just maybe she'd have one or two left. Shortly after she reached the outer area of the tavern another man exited, he seemed creepy, and not in the type of creepy way Anya tended to like. Legitamately straight up creepy like simply being around him would kill you. Anya was intrigued.

She followed the man following the oyster lady, no one was gunna hurt her favorite secondary source of food if she could help it. She followed as silently as possble, which was pretty damn silent, she'd mastered that talent over the years. And her small height of 5'4 only helped her retain silence.

[Assistant]
Sometimes dreams are just dreams, other times they are the very last vestiges of your past - oftentimes facts of your past are mixed with the strangeness of dreams. You can never be quite sure which is which when you are dreaming and when you finally are back in the waking world you may be more confused than anything. Ramia was now rather confused. Her workshop was a mess from her working to the earliest hours of dawn before falling asleep mid tinkering. She brushed her black, now quite messy hair away from her eyes and stared at the ceiling while slowly gathering her thoughts.

Even her dreams were getting hazier now - not that it bothered her at the very moment, since that was just what those had been, dreams. Ramia pushed the thoughts of her strange dreams away and began preparing a meal of bread and watered down wine while lighting up her forge - signaling the rest of the town that she was back in business again.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 57

Affiliation/ Rank: Associate of the Gang, Leader of Russian mob in the city.

Appearance:

Bio: Ivolgin was born in Russia during the time of the Soviet Union. Always a quiet child, Ivolgin knew that in order to be listened to, it had to mean something when you spoke, and he has continued to serve by that mantra. Ivolgin became involved in organized crime at a young age, serving as an enforcer and soldier. Ivolgin quickly became known as someone who got jobs done, and established quite a few connections in the corrupt Soviet regime through bribery, threatening, and extortion. A rich man, Ivolgin came under intense scrutiny by the few who still believed in Marxist politics, but he rarely met those folk more than once, and they met few others after Ivolgin. After the Berlin Wall fell and the new Russian Federation was formed, Ivolgin found himself with few contacts, and a now powerful police force gunning for his arrest, using what remained of his contacts, Ivolgin fled to America, quickly taking over the city's chapter of the mob, establishing himself as a powerful force. Ivolgin has multiple gangs that he gives work to, aids financially, and attempts to absorb into his group, and the Gang is one of these pet projects of his.

Personality: Ivolgin is quiet and brooding, and he is always thinking and observing, a common saying amongst his underlings is that Ivolgin knows more about you than you do yourself. When angered, Ivolgin is still quiet, but as if it was carried on the air, his anger is still noticeable. Ivolgin hates betrayal and values loyalty above all else, which has cost him, as loyal folk are not always the most capable. Imposing and near silent, Ivolgin is still an affectionate friend, and enjoys the company of those he trusts, and has a very dry sense of humor.

Other: Ivolgin is a skilled marksman, speaks Russian fluently and English near-fluently, enjoys Russian folk music, is a skilled dancer, hates spiders above all else, and often tames stray dogs.

[User]
Jayce Smith, or "Nine" if you weren't 66, sat atop the roof of a building opposite of Deuces Wild Diner. Jayce was leaning against one of the metal boxes that had some sort of appliance in it. That didn't matter to Jayce, who was casually spinning his Karambit knife with his finger through the loop at the top of the hilt. God, today was boring! The boss didn't have any hits today, so what the hell was he meant to do? Fuck cleaning tables, that shit ain't for killers unless you're just laying low. Well, it WAS boring, until some Irish bellowing could be heard from below.

Jayce crept up to the edge of the roof, and spied upon the road below. It was the WMP, with Brian Delaney at the head of the assault. He didn't even notice those shit-stains. "Shit!" Jayce muttered to himself. He had to get down there. Pronto! Jayce sprinted to the back of the building, sheathing his Karambit. He grabbed onto the access ladder and hurriedly made his way down. Once Nine had reached the bottom, Jayce pulled out his Berretta, checking it over quickly before turning the corner and down the alleyway. Nine was in a position where he was on the right side of the WMP, facing their backs. Nine raised the gun with one hand, pointing at one of the outliers, holding a brick. The assailant was about to throw the block, until-

BLAK!

He was shot directly in the spine. The young hitman whipped around and ran back down the alleyway, planning to go around the building and end up on the left hand side. Jayce sprinted, having to vault over a trash can on the way. Jayce had to find a way to get to the diner without being caught, which in hindsight, he probably should have done that before blasting his piece at the rival gang. It was fun being on the outside looking in, until you actually fell in yourself. Instead of taking the first corner, Jayce ran down behind the neighbouring building, with a couple of goons heading up the alley he was going to go down. Jayce had to run and gun, firing two shots at the pursuers. However, they both missed as the WMP lackeys dove for cover.

It was fortunate no cars were going to try and drive through the middle of a gang war, as Jayce's only hope was to run as fast as he could across the street and go into the back of the diner. Jayce waited at the entrance of the alley, taking deep breaths before he made a break for it. Jayce sprinted as fast as he could, gathering all his might to make it across before getting flak from the opposition. Jayce rolled into the alley by the Diner, and ran around the back, disappearing from sight for a few moments. Jayce went through the back door and through the kitchen before bursting into the restaurant section. Jayce slid over the counter, knocking over a couple of used plates and a cup of joe. Jayce dove into a neighbouring booth my Big Zeke, and blind fired into the squad of WMP.

[Assistant]
Its usual day as always, bad traffic, coffee, policemen and criminal activites. With nothing intresting going on, he decided to call some of his comrades to cafe. Anton sits in cafe with Vasili and Delino, who are his comrades from the mob, talking about considering to do some street racing again. While hes talking about it, Delino noticed something strange.

"Hey, why are those guys staring us?" Anton and Vasili look at the window, they see five men watching them with hands in their pocket. Anton sighs and answers "No panic needed, they might think that were just suspicous. Im not intrested having another brutual fights with random gangsters ya know. Anyway back to the topic, i enjoyed old days as street racer, but honestly im not sure if its worth doing again, ive gotten enough trouble by just street racing and thats not even including... Bank heists, tough i could still-" *BZZZZP BZZZZP BZZZZP* Suddenly he was interputed by a call, he looked at the phone and he saw that his boss Paul was calling him, he answers to the phone. "Da? What is it? I hope you have a good reason to call me, boss."

[User]
A casual day at the diner place, a red-head sat on a chair with a leg rose on-top of the other as there was a lot of typing sounds coming from her area. She was using her laptop trying to gain some information about a certain person, he was from another gang and of-course, their enemy. Layla wasn't used to hacking people's personal lives but if she could find the right information, it would eventually help them bring that person down. This person as a hacker like Layla, her arch-nemesis, it was somewhat cool to have a nemesis who had the same skills as her but that didn't mean that Layla was gonna offer that hacker a plate full of cookies for them to become the best-friends, lies.

"Yo Wolf bring yo bitch ass crew out! Block 66 ain't shit to the WMP Boyz!"

Layla rose an eyebrow while staring at the laptop screen as she hacked into one of the cameras to slowly move its direction over to the WMP Boyz, she muttered a few curse words before closing down her laptop and exiting the diner. "Guys, the wanna be bad boyz are trying to call us out. We should really get them before they get us." she'd say in their communicator whom by the way, Layla made for all of the gang members to have just in-case something bad like this happens. Layla strutted towards her motorcycle and twisted up the handle as she rode over to the direction where the WMP Boyz were at. Of-course she wasn't going to just ride in on them thinking she's wonder woman, but instead Layla wanted to get a bit closer in order for her to try something out.

[Assistant]
She arrived on scene shortly after bolting from the business district, already the telltale scent of cheap vodka and cheap women indicating where she was as it wafted in the cool breeze.

This was Bratva turf, and you better have good reason to come down here, other than having your throat slit and your balls cut off. Mostly it was the area they controlled in the Russian District, Little Moscow they called it, Anna only frequenting here a few times on business from Ivolgin.

She remembered that sleazy butcher she killed once in his shop around here. The fucking suka was always roughing up Ivolgin's whores. Poor Ulia, Anna couldn't forget the woman's experience with that fat fucker, only her first time on the street, how she came back bruised and beaten up. It pissed the redhead off no less, and per order of Paul, she paid that butcher a special visit.

When they found him stark naked, hanging from a metal hook by his neck in the freezer, every one of his knives stabbed into his vitals in alphabetical order....they knew never to fuck with the Bratva.

And pretty soon, these mudaks were gonna learn that lesson...the hard way.

Anna got off her bike, about a few feet or so from the Rusalka(hehe), a small cafe their second in command Anton always hung out at with a few of the guys. That's when she saw the black van discreetly pull up, a five man detail piling out, stern, hard looking men.

By their brogue, it was no doubt they were Irish, Delaney's boys, here to start trouble no less.

But Anna, she wasn't gonna attack them outright, even if she had a gut feeling they were about to unleash Hell all over Anton and his comrades.

So she bided her time, waiting for them to slip up, patiently waiting with her thumb switching the safety off her Grach 9mm.

[User]
Paul frowned, his eyes narrowing. "I need no reason to call you, I call, you say hello, do not test me, dolbo yeb." Paul glanced around as the car continued down the road, not noticing anything out of the usual. "The Irish are attacking Donnie's men, I believe we may be next, prepare your men in any case, I'm going to get my daughter." He hung up and threw his phone into his pocket.

"You know where Alexandra is, no?" Stanislav nodded. "She is with friends, Dmitri is there." Paul twisted his neck around, it cracked and immediately felt less sore. "Good, we go there fast." Stanislav still focused on the road, but he became more and more tense. "What about Ivan?" "We drop Ivan off with Alexandra, no point in taking two trips." Stanislav nodded, and returned to driving. After a few moments, he spoke again. "My gun is in the glove compartment, just in case." Paul nodded. "Good to know."


[System]
Picture

dropbox.com/s/327ipckfb16dkq0/Beacon.…
Nicknames/Aliases: Beacon
X-Men Code Name: Beacon
Gender: Male
Age: 22
Physical Description:

70kg
175cm

Clothing: Brown pants, white frilled shirt, Black hoodie, belt, socks, small survivalist backpack, black leather boots, black leather gloves, long black leathercoat and undergarments. He also have a suit and tie in his backpack, including some black shoes. (Nicely stolen from a store)

Mutations: Telepath

While many telepaths bear the power to seize control of other beings surrounding them, Rozenfeldt's mutation takes manifestation in another form.

The most powerful ability being the ability to reach out to other mutants using his far reaching telepathic ability. Calling out his thoughts to all those within a city scale distance, only those with mental protection are unable to hear him.

It does not allow him the ability to read anyones mind, neither control them. But he can use his power to relay his thoughts. This is a oneway communication. As his own mind is unassailable by those whom would try to affect him, it is as a powerful brick wall comes inbetween those trying to sense where he actually is or try mind control, change his memories or possess him.

Besides these things, he has telekinetic abilities which bestow him with flight aswell as attacking with kinetic mind blasts and projecting shields around himself or any ally close enough.

Personality:

Ayel is a calculating, calm yet charismatic individual. Yet not a stranger to fits of anger, if something would demand it. He is protective of other mutants, but despises humans with a passion. He prefers talking with younger mutants out of all, but more so women. He is also prone to doing dramatic and theatrical movements when he speaks and fights.

He is a strongly driven individual whose ambitions would give someone like Proffessor X a nightmare. His own views on mutants is to not refer to them as such, but rather as the 'Chosen ones' or the 'Oppressed ones'. He is willing to make sacrifices where he has to, but prefers to not do so. It all depends on the results, so in that he believes that the end justifies many of the means necessary to bring it about.

Background:

Ayel found out of his mutant powers many years ago, his parents and friends labelled him an abomination and a monster. A freak. All turned their backs on him and he was flung out into the wilderness at the age of sixteen.

Police were dispatched to apprehend him but he had already packed his most important things and left. Search parties were sent after but lost trace after the young man had used telekinetic flight to evade being captured.

Ayel found his sanctuary in the far reaching forests of Alaska, where he came to make himself a home. In the shape of a wind and cold resistant tent and various minor constructions. He seldom left the forests, as they provided him with the seclusion he needed. To come to terms with his existance and to hide from those whom would try to kill him.

Despite being hunted, he sometimes sought himself into the cities to aqquire things which he needed. More often stealing things from shop owners. Such as a radio which he listened to occassionally to get information. Having experienced the price of being a mutant firsthand, and then hearing and seeing so much of the world around him. How others of his kind was being treated filled him with determination. To see things change. Forever.

He begun training in the forests of Alaska, gradually honing his telekinetic powers and his mental sphere would grow wider. He occassionally tested it in the city, reaching out to other mutants to see whom would react to it. Often in the case of them looking around as if they heard something which the regular humans could not. This ability was very taxing on him, and he knew he could only keep it up for so long. Also while he was doing so he left himself vulnerable.

The thing which he had originally deemed a curse had however become a power, and powers were meant to be used. That's when he decided he would use his powers to change everything, the time was well overdue. He had spent a long time in the forests, but now he was ready. Mentally and physically to tackle the world that had turned its back on him and all those like him.

Los Angeles was the place he needed to be at. Where many of his kind was gathering for what was coming to be a glorious future. One which he wanted to be a part of, a big part of. The beacon which could draw them all together under a single banner.

Recap of your mutations awakening: Ayel's awakening happened at the age of sixteen, his parents and friends turned their backs on him and attempted to kill him. The police came to chase him but he fled into hiding in the Alaskan forests and it is there he trained to become stronger in order to one day return back out into the open.

[User]
@Almalthia@Pilatus

 The sensory input was getting a little overwhelming for Lex. The haunting threat of an ever-advancing motor in the distance, the speakers being hijacked, blaring the soundtrack of a stranger. Ayel and Uná's words trading before him. The knowledge that more adversaries were on the way weighed further on his mind. He was losing control of the situation.

 The accusation that he was a clone by this Beacon fellow was enough make Lex reassess how powerful this person really was. As he watched him hover across the room, he picked up on two things. Apprehension and uncertainty. That was comforting, anyway. Beacon didn't have a plan. He had grandeur. As Uná rejected his company, Lex ate up the situation like a warm, fluffy brownie. At the end, he heard her mention a 'Demo', a knight she was expecting to come to her rescue. That introduction should prove interesting as well. Lex's eyes bounced over to the clock on the wall, taking in the time for but a split second before recentering on Beacon.

 "Like I said," Lex reiterated after Uná declared her preference for him over Ayel. "I was a little quick to describe you as an intruder. Perhaps I should more accurately describe you as an unexpected guest?" The motor sound from outside continued, distracting Lex for a moment, but he snapped back. "You talk to me about confused purpose, yet here you are tasked by children to 'save' a woman who doesn't need nor want saving." Lex made sure his eyes were boring directly into Beacon's as he spoke, his face unflinching, looking at the hovering mutant with a sense of caged, ravenous hunger behind a colorless mask of seriousness.

 "You want to be the shepherd, but you have no flock. You want to be a big man in a world that has no idea who you are. That sort of feat takes money, resources, contacts, strategy... Lucky you. Those children with whom your mistakenly kowtowed to just introduced you to the man that can give you access to all of that. I was hoping to discuss it now, but it seems as though we are short of time. We're left with a blind decision, then. A potential leap of faith. The children who commanded you like a dog to come fetch my guest will likely be here soon. Along with whoever else seems to be looking to raise some hell. I've not harmed this young woman and, indeed, I helped keep her safe from whatever that monstrosity was at Avalon. I look at the mirror and I see a savior of benevolent intent. Like you. They look at me and baselessly see me as a malevolent abductor, a evil that needs to be squelched. Over nothing. Even if you did deliver this young woman back to them, how long until they look at you the same as they do me?"

 It was inevitable. The truth used to be something that was solid fact. These days, the truth was subjective. Everyone loved to see heroes fall, rising stars crash, glory crash into misery. The moment Beacon assembled his flock of mutants with anti-human intent, he'd be the next target of wrath. Lex just hoped he was forward thinking enough to realize this truth.

 "So your choices are simple. Remain on the children's leash and fell a good, albeit misunderstood mutant, one of the chosen. Or take the leash off. Be the shepherd and let me help you do it. But I'm of no use to you dead." Lex extended his hand out, offering a shake, a path for both of them to succeed in their endeavors.

[Assistant]
Drake "D" Edwards

---

Interaction/Mentions: @c3p-0h@webboysurf@Damo021@ViolentViolet | Location: Avalon

---

---

 "Do me a solid and don't touch anything. Don't want to crash before we get to Una, eh?" Drake looked to the woman with a raised eyebrow. He witnessed her summon forth a vehicle by pure will. Obviously she was a card carrying member of the mutant squad. What's more, she wanted to help. In the predicament they were in, any help was appreciated. As the doors flung open, seemingly by themselves, Drake carefully sat Aya into the front passenger's seat, his friend still unconscious due to her brave actions from before. He buckled her safety belt with the delicacy one employ in trying not to crack the shell of an egg. Satisfied, he looked at his newfound ally whose name he still didn't know.

 "This is precious cargo. Get her there safely or we're going to have problems," Drake said. It wasn't issued as a threat, more as a matter of fact. He then shut the from passenger door and turned to his classmates. "If you're going, get in now," he announced, his tone authoritative and stern. He wanted to waste as little time as possible. "Especially you, Nik," he added, looking his roommate in the eyes. "My bike's up front. I'll follow you all there, but just make sure Aya safe during the ride." Nik was a good man. He knew there would be no argument from him. With that, Drake took off in a full sprint toward Veronica, his mechanical steed. As he leapt on her, he engaged the ignition and revved her up.

 His skin was still hot. He wasn't on fire, but it took everything in him to keep that in check. His fatigue was going in and out. One moment, he was focused, the next he felt almost light headed. At this, the eleventh hour, he had no choice but to maintain. He had a destination, a goal. Now it was time to make it happen.

[User]
Ayel shook his head slowly after hearing Una's answer to not only reject his aid, but strongly reject it due to her not knowing whom he was. She did however provide him with a name however for the pale skinned man. "Frost". A codename or perhaps just a nickname she'd given to him. Was the young man bestowed with the power over cold or ice?

The blonde man considered his options, whilst it may have been possible to forcefully attack 'Frost' and attempt to drag Una out of the place. What Ayel believed in, which was freedom, freedom of choice and right to decide your own fate. Even if some peoples wishes would come to clash against oneanother, the decision, the choice was to be respected. No matter what side of a struggle you would be in, if you were mutant or human. The girl would had to be taught a lesson, a hard lesson but a lesson nontheless. That actions does bear consequences, even little things.

Would the girl be destined to die in a shoot-out between mutants and humans and become a martyr, something which could be used to gather more under his call. Or were she to live with the knowledge of having indirectly led her friends to injury or death. Either way Ayel would end up winning, despite not feeling overly happy having to leave a chosen kin behind with a traitor.

In order to win the game, you must sometimes sacrifice some pieces in order to advance. If you think too long then you'll run out of time and you will be checked before you know it. Such folly. The girl is picky about who'd liberate her, this knight coming to her rescue... Demo.

Ayel raised both his hands as if he held unto two gouts of fire in them. "Then take your chances Una, in the path you've chosen for yourself, but also for your friends. Let us hope Heidi does not fall ill for it." The blonde said in a matter of fact manner of tone, as he eyed the pale man whom Una had aptly named Frost. Ayel made note of his wandering gaze towards something in the room. He was waiting for something, perhaps buying time for himself or someone? Something was off. He then began to rearrange his previous statements and call him an unexpected guest. Well, in that they could certainly agree.

"That you may do. Albeit you are a terrible host. I'd dismissed your servants by the way, they are now on permanent vacation." The blonde offered a slight scoff to Lex. Then the pale man had gone about to describe him as a shepherd but also as a hound of the young mutants which had first told him about Una. Ayel did deduce that the man was actually trying to recruit him for his nerfarious plans. Just how lost had this kin become? Trying to recruit the one which would do all in his power to save the world from the demons which be choking it.

"Nay. You are wrong. It is you whom be a shepherd and the sheep has already been butchered, and as we speak a pack of wolves are on the way. And if there are not enough sheep to swallow, then you'll be next. You try to offer me things which I do not need or already possess. Do not try putting me on the same level as lowly human trash, you whom walk with demons, a traitor be destined to be betrayed. Your offer is worthless. I cannot be bribed into corruption nor evil. My heart is a bastion. My mind is a fortress."

While Una did indeed seem to not be harmed in any manner from what Ayel could tell. There had to be a change in plans as Una had no intention of leaving with him, so he had to make use of this in the best way that he could.

"It was not because of the children's plea I went here, it was for the good of all. My choices are simple though, you are correct. However you are also dead wrong. You will be of use to me when you are dead. Rest assured. You'll even be of some use to me... alive. Now that things have turned this way. I shall bid my leave, we've shall likely not meet again, Frost." Ayel gave a slight chuckle followed by a grin, before he began to float towards the doorway in a manner to still keep sight of Lex and his destination. The blonde then fully raised his telekinetic barrier and propelled himself out of the room from the same way he came in. Would there be any humans caught in his path they would get to know the mistake of doing so.

So all he had to do now was to get out, possibly fetching Heidi along the way. If not then he'd had to do without her, whatever was going to now happen in the building was going to become bloody. And the girl Una would most surely be guiltridden for it all happening because of her, how would she react once she realizes just how easily it all could have been avoided had she'd left with Ayel. The blonde had made this his plan. No matter how the coming fight in the building would end, he alone would stand as the one to gain the most. Would Una die or be wounded, then the children's hatred for traitors and humankind would drive them away from their teachers and into Ayel's kind embrace. Would Heidi or any of the other which would arrive be harmed, then Una would surely come to see things his way. Whichever scenario. He would come out on top.

The blonde was aware that at any moment however, he could run into humans or have that Frost individual give chase. That or run into other people. For now he wanted to just get out and then he could watch it all play out.


[System]
Date of Birth: August 23, 1916 (aged 37 years old)
Place of Birth: Cheshire, Greater Manchester, England
Occupation: Entrepreneur (owns the Manc & Maiden pub and Mancunian Mint Imports & Experts)
Affiliation(s):  Transport and General Workers Union (TGWU), The Shaftesbury Firm
Modus Operandi: Extortion, narcotics trafficking, racketeering
Background/History:

Thomas Gideon Flowers (henceforth Tom Flowers/Tom) was born to Fraser and Susan Flowers, the former being a bricklayer, and the latter being a homemaker. As a result of the way they lived their lives, the Flowers family didn't have a great deal of wealth, which made for an uncomfortable childhood for Tom. Despite the strenuous circumstances that they lived in, the Flowers boy had a strong connection with his father - something uncharacteristic of the time, and, as a result, aspired to lay bricks like his father. But when Tom was 13, his father succumbed to a bout of pneumonia which forced his mother to remarry. Her choice of husband would prove to be an unwise one, as he turned out to be an abusive figure - both to the boy and his mother.

In an act of passion, Tom would eventually stab his mother's new husband to death in her defense, forcing him to flee when he was 13. His mother sent him to live with his uncle Clyde Daily. Daily was an affluent member of London's post-World War I society and a known gangster. He came from his own humble beginnings as he transformed the scraping-by household of a longshoreman into the wealthy estate of a businessman in under 10 years. Daily kept Tom's presence a secret for as long as he could due to him being wanted by English authorities for the murder of his mother's late husband. He succeeded in doing so for 3 years until Tom had foolishly snuck out of Daily's estate and attempted to hitchhike his way back to Cheshire to visit his mother. When he arrived in Greater Manchester, he was soon apprehended, charged, and sentenced to 10 years hard labour.

His time in prison shaped him as a man; his perception of the world was warped, but perhaps less-so than some others he shared his environment with. The reason he didn't develop a "shoot-first" mentality was because of a mentor he had in prison, with whom he shared a cell, known as Wyatt Moss. Moss was 21 years Tom's senior and was expected to die in prison as he had emphysema. As he watched the Flowers boy grow, he did his best to teach him right from wrong, social etiquette, and entry level business tactics so that he could make a living when he was released from prison. Much of the information stuck, it would seem, as Tom would find himself a rich man later in life.

Once his 10 year sentence was served in full, Tom was meant to be released under Daily's watch, but the man had died a month prior to his release. He was given to then-Constable Jon Howe for watching. It was a simple arrangement - not unlike a modern day probation arrangement in America - Flowers was expected to follower a certain set of rules, report to Howe once a week by a certain time, or a warrant would be made for his arrest. The two developed a personal friendship that would prove to stand the test of time as they remained very close friends for much of their adult lives.

Tom found work in a pub on Shaftesbury Avenue called The Crooked Cock as a bartender. He was a naturally charismatic and well-spoken young man and built many friendships with many patrons, including Mason Frayne - a high-ranking member of the Shaftesbury Firm. When Tom was given trouble by a group of drunks who had become belligerent and stabbed him in the gut, it was Frayne who had Tom identify them, and subsequently murdered them both. Nobody was ever named as the killers, but the multiple murders made the papers and called for action from the police, increasing their presence in Shaftesbury.

When Tom was 30 - 4 years after being released from prison and given a job at the pub - his boss died. Tom was the only employee that the owner kept and had no living family, so he left the establishment in Tom's hands, having known that he had knowledge of operating a business. Frayne asked Tom if he would be OK with having some of his friends drink for free in exchange for protection of the same brand he was given years ago, a la the drunks. Flowers accepted and soon found himself the dear friend of a number of London gangsters.

One of the people he`d networked with was a lounge singer who performed in The Whistling Gull in Picadilly Circus by the name of Eleanor Lipscombe. They hit it off early on in 1946 and would later marry in 1947. Eleanor died giving birth to their son Jonathan in December of 1948. The death of Tom`s wife and birth of his son would mark a turning point for him; develop a more concrete end game. Whereas before the plan was simply to work until he dies, it was now to amass a fortune large enough to promise Jon an entire life of luxury.

Tom committed himself to the Shaftesbury Firm and rose through the ranks quickly, often providing counsel to Frayne on major decisions. Some believe that Tom had a direct influence on the standing truce between the three rivaling West End gangs, and also that he is responsible for their standing streetwise, given that he was a veteran of the prison system and employed certain methods of intimidation and violence that he had witnessed and adopted while serving his murder sentence.

He made a point of saving a large portion of the earnings the pub made and eventually started an imports & exports business called Mancunian Mint Imports & Exports, paying tribute to his home with its name. He had since changed the name of the pub from The Crooked Cock to The Manc and Maiden, once again giving respect to his birthplace.

Today, Tom's name carries weight despite being a reclusive businessman. Although he prefers not to attend large scale, public social gatherings, those active in the business world, and gangland underworld, know him by name, and could pick him out of a crowd. He lives in a modest home in the West End, drives a 1951 Mercury Monterey - a car that was worth less than $3,000USD the year it was released. Breaking the pattern of humility in his character is the fact that he dawns a number of golden rings representing his membership of many prestigious clubs, including a ring signifying his membership of the Manchester United Football Club's Front Office. It's said the he was close personal friends with Stan Pearson. On top of his choice of jewelry, he also smoked expensive imported cigars.

[User]
"Cunts," said Tom.
Ashley jumped in his seat, startled by Tom suddenly breaking the silence. "What's that, gaffer?"
Tom gestured to The Grosvenor House Hotel with his thin cigar. Vanilla scented, imported, pompous. One of the few extravagant things Tom allowed himself. That, and the Mercury Monterey they sat in.
Ashley looked at the hotel, back to Tom, the hotel, and Tom again. "What, them?"
Tom nodded slowly and suddenly changed to shake his head. He took a drag from the cigar and said, "Fuckin' Adlers, and the kykes, and the Lords and Barons, and the whole fuckin' lot of 'em."
Ashley shrugged his shoulders. He never had any personal prejudices against the Adlers - or any of the Hyde Park gang, really - and especially not the Jews, being that his father was a Jewish butcher in Bethnal Green. That said, Ashley never mixed with most of the people inside. The only reason he here was because he wanted to give his cousin "Pretty Boy" Troy Wilkinson a fine "welcome home" party. Fresh from prison after a bid for arson, not many people knew who Troy was, and even fewer expected much from him. That's where Tom came in. "Sure, Tom, but..." Ashley began to bargain, "the girls, yeah?"
"The birds, Ash?" Tom looked over at his chauffeur with a soft look of disgust. "You reckon that's what's brought me 'ere, 'eh?"
Ashley dolled out apology after apology hoping Tom wouldn't tell him to take him home.
"Relax," said Tom as he looked back over at the hotel. "I'll get you in, ya cunt."

---

A black man in a tuxedo opened the doors to the hotel as Ashley and Tom ascended the stairs. "Sirs," said the doorman. Tom nodded, but Ashley was knackered by his nerves, so he hardly even noticed him.

A curtain of cigarette smoke, barrage of loud music, and the unmistakable stench of turpentine greeted them before any other. Turpentine, what the fuck for? thought Tom, but it soon occurred to him that, were it not for the overpowering smell, it very well could be an aroma of sweat, tobacco, and booze that was there at the door. Better turpentine, then, he thought.

"Tom!" shouted a familiar voice.
Oh, yeah. Blond hair parted to the right, thick, pursed lips, little button nose? "Diana Dors in the flesh. What brings you to the West End?" asked Tom.
"Oh, y'know," she started with a faux coy tone, "stuff!"
Tom nodded and turn to Ashley and said, "Get her a drink."
Ashley nodded and offered Diana his arm. She smiled at Tom as she wrapped her self around the chauffeur. "Bye, love!"
Tom winked at her and nodded.

Fuckin' hell, he thought, what a fuckin' shit show.

[Assistant]
Chasity grinned up at Mr. Levin, accepting the cigarettes graciously and tucking them away in her little purse before her brothers could see. "Very kind of you Mr. Levin." How long had she known the man? She didn't know him as well as one might but still…years. Perhaps longer than she had known her real father, who passed when Chasity was rather small.

She often heard people complaining about the Jews, but for the most part her experience with them had made Chasity believe they were a generous, kind people. Being a protestant there were some differences but the Youngest Adler wasn't one to discuss religion, politics, nor money. As no lady should.

Arching her brows in surprise Chasity took another tug on her jig. "Mr. Levin, I find it very hard to believe you are not much of a dancer, I've seen you about your shop, it's practically a dance." Her eyes flickered to Mr. Levin's companion and back with a knowing smile. "I am sure your friend is more scintillating than you let on Mr. Levin, otherwise he couldn't be your friend."

In surprise Chasity was suddenly with a dance partner. A very large dance partner. "Oh!" She looked around for a place to set her Gimlet, finally depositing it beside Mr. Levin's Primm. No. 1. "Thank you Mr. Berg." A bright smile and a small sly look given to Mr. Levin and she was off.

As it turned out Mr. Levin had not been over exaggerating when he described Mr. Berg as rather dull. He was polite and as far as dance partners went, while a huge man, didn't step on her feet nor let his hands wander. Miss Adler chatted occasionally and when the conversation faded she made do with crowd watching as they made their way across the dance floor.

Following a rather plain looking man with a lively blonde with her gaze Chasity felt a blush creeping over her cheeks as she realized the person the woman was waving to was Mr. Flowers. Another man she had known a long time, Mr. Flowers was not as friendly nor fatherly as Mr. Levin. That didn't make him uninteresting in the least.

Chasity was caught staring by Mr. Flowers for a moment too long before Mr. Berg had turned her and she was no longer within view of the man. Biting her lower lip nervously Chasity hoped Mr. Flowers hadn't really seen her peering over at him…Or didn't recognize her. Which was worse?

These thoughts consumed her as the song ended and Mr. Berg offered his arm, which she took politely. He steered her back to the bar top where Chasity took a sip of her gimlet and a puff of her jig to fortify herself and smiled at Mr. Levin. "Mr. Berg proves himself an adapt dancer." Reaching out to put her gimlet back down Chasity's hand brushed against someone else's .

Looking up to apologize the words almost died on her lips."Mr. Flowers." She breathed before recovered enough to smile up at him. How had he gotten to the bar so quickly? "How lovely to see you here as well… Do you know Mr. Levin?" They probably did, most businessmen in the West End knew each other some way or another.

[User]
Tom placed the cigar in his teeth and held it for a minute, allowing his hands to find a place in his pants' pockets. He looked around the room with the same unimpressed look that had become synonymous with the man. Jon, his son, would have loved it. Loud music, free drinks, and a place to crash after the night came to a close? Paradise for the boy. Sure, he would have loved it, but Tom had already decided it wasn't the place for his son - for anyone's son - and so Jon would stay home with his nanny.

One familiar face after another smiled and nodded at Tom as he slowly made his way to the bar. Celebrities, politicians, and gangsters alike all showed due respect to a man who made a life in a sea of death. Nobody caught his attention in particular as he lazily acknowledged each greeting - nobody except for the youngest Adler. Chasity, he thought, the cheeky girl. He pulled the cigar from his teeth and shifted his attention to the barman as he got closer. After ashing the cigar, he flicked his chin up at the server. "Rye."

Tom felt a hand brush his, and so he slowly turned to see who it was. Chasity Adler, the minx, who else? "Mr. Flowers," she said as she attempted to mask some sort of conflicting emotion, "how lovely to see you here as well. Do you know Mr. Levin?"

Which one is he, again? he thought as he called upon his very short-lived rant in the car, oh, yeah. The kyke. Not just any kyke. The kyke. He nodded once as he attempted to make eye contact with Isidor. "Aye, I know the man." He tried not to address him by name. He was due his respect, it's true, but personal prejudices stopped Tom from addressing him as "Mr. Levin" and lack of familiarity stopped him from addressing him as "Isidor."

By now the bartender had placed a glass with two thumbs of rye on a napkin beside Tom's hand, calling for his attention. He nodded and sipped the rye.


[System]
"I didn't really want to be here, but now that I am, I'll make the most of it."
Appearance: Alphonse sports black hair and brown eyes, accenting a fairly average face. His build is also fairly average, slightly built through the rigors of life but not very bulky. It makes him difficult to pick out from a crowd, unless you know what to look for.
Race: Human
Age: 18

Personality: Alphonse is mostly on the quiet side and dislikes attention. That's not to say he doesn't talk or makes friends, but he's largely keeps to himself. He's not socially inept but it's evident social interactions aren't high on his priority list. He ticks the boxes well enough, but he's a little eccentric and can be frank to an uncomfortable degree at times. Nevertheless, there are those who find his honesty refreshing and he holds them close to his heart. He's often gripped by indecision but for unimportant things he simply takes things as they come. He's here for a good time, not a long time.

Background: While Alhponse's first death was rather untimely, he had to admit he hadn't done much with it. His name, much like his life, was hardly memorable. A normal family, a normal teenage life spent playing games, a normal university life spent playing games. If there was something to be said about the old Alphonse it would be that he was a bit quieter than most. Even so, he had been fine with it. And it had all to soon come to an abrupt end.

When he had been reborn he didn't know what to make of it. He himself hadn't changed much, thankfully,
but everything else was foreign to him. He adapted eventually and even began enjoying his time. He made some new friends and the environment was nice enough. Nevertheless, he has never stopped looking for a way back home.

Class: Magician

* Ball of Quiet
A low tier illusion spell. Creates a sphere of variable size centered around an object. Any sound made within the sphere is muffled, quieting louder sounds significantly but only slightly muffling quieter sounds. Larger spheres cost more mana but more than one sphere can be active at a time. Overall low mana usage. Not the best in terms of practicality but can be useful.
* Static blast
Basic attack spell. Gather mana in the palm, convert it into lighting and let it explode outwards. As a basic spell it isn't very efficient, and the chaotic nature of the burst all but ensures that far away targets take no damage, but it has a relatively high output for a basic spell and has a small chance of stunning a target.
* Magic bullet
Basic attack spell. Condense mana into a small point and shoot it in a target direction. Low damage but high range and precision.
* Shield
Basic defense spell. Condense mana in the hand and project it outwards into a circle, around the size of its namesake, to block attacks. Small in size but tightly packed, so it can block heavier hits when compared to shields with larger surface areas. Takes a small amount to maintain but the strain becomes larger if attacks are blocked.
* Move small object
Basic telekinesis, allows for the use of mana to move small objects. Can be used offensively with some imagination, though the environment would need to accommodate.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Cutie?

[User]
"M-m-miss, L-l-lady..." Yuudai's pupils shook intensely, hell ever her legs were shaking in horror, as a fearful realization was coming to her mind. This had to be nipped in the bud now. Taking in a few quick breaths the Emperor began to calm herself down slightly before pouting and angrily stomping her foot as she looked around the area. Everyone had to be aware of this explanation after all. "Nononono – Emperor! That alone, no miss, or lady, or ma'am, or dame or doll or chick or babe or aaaaaaanything else you can think of! Just Emperor. Maybe, maybe you can add Yuudai, or Oshiro – or whatever combination of the three you want, but Emperor."

Yuudai was not going to go down without a fight. He, at least in some still in spirit, was not about to let anyone get away with trying to emphasize the obviously present femininity. Placing a hand on her hip she glanced towards Toppo and gave a devious smile before wagging a finger at him. "You, I like you. Didn't ask for physical bowing, but I like the initiative to serve!" She then proceeded to glance aside towards the mountain hermit impersonator, who was probably trying to lay claim to being the second best draw in the west, unaware that position was always taken by that dashing scientist hermit Zubat. "Take notes Woody on that – hat wise, eeeeeeeh..."

She reached over to prod Silvaka in their torso with a rough jab of her elbow, "Whatcha think Paperboy? You got a hat it's only fair for you to judge, I shall give you permission to do so." With that done her attention was drawn to the reptilian, albeit one of a much different appearance and description to ones Yuudai was familiar with, before shrugging.

"Hell if I know." This was followed by a deliberate pause before Yuudai began to truly observe Agata and began slow clapping, "Stuck the landing, poor showmanship, but it is was an acceptable performance before the Emperor, toots." Blinking she shook her head vigorously before staring all around.

"OH and that one is also verboten! Emperor only people!" And that is when an elf, one that was what Yuudai was supposed to be, elegant alongside masculine, utilizing magic to open a portal to some manner of hub.

Yuudai looked around, with her nose upwards she spoke, "An Emperor leads while subjects follow." It was one of the sacred duties of nobility, in exchange for total loyalty, obedience and continued services from their subjects the Emperor was to secure their safety. It was a simple exchange which bred further important traits in the subjects. However Yuudai stared with her mouth agape as she began stomping and pointing forward as Rihi snuck on through the warp.

"P-POINT IS ONLY TO BE TAKEN BY ME, SERVANTS IN THE BACK UNLESS I ORDER OTHERWISE!" With a quick twirl of her body, Yuudai practically leaped through the gate to make sure the demonstration was kept alive and to assure the subjects that the Emperor was willing to properly make sure the peasants got their part of the deal.

[Assistant]
"My apologies-jika. This body is just too large-ojika." The bull-like individual chuckled in response to Bill's scolding; seemed like a thick-skinned sort, that was always good. "I do not-jika."

 "No worries son, just try to be a bit more mindful in future, yeah? No tellin' when we might need to hunt us up a meal." the dark-haired rancher offered.

"Why are you thinking of food and hunting? It's hardly the time for such things, mind our situation." a short, dark-skinned woman challenged his complaint about the local wildlife.

He raised an eyebrow, "Well now Miss, that's on account of I hadn't had lunch yet when I got rammed through the chest by the bull what kilt me." he explained casually, "Can't fault him none for it, just doin' what comes natural. Bound to happen eventually if ya work around big angry critters fer long 'nuff."

The elven man who had presumably summoned them finally spoke up as the unsuspecting heroes finished gathering "I am, Aloe. Healer of the Stixx, and zealot of the Goddess of Howling Winds or Alaela. I am your guide, children of earth. I will be helping you in your adventurers of glory and fame! " he declared before begining some type of incantation which Bill promptly ignored.

"Nononono – Emperor! That alone, no miss, or lady, or ma'am, or dame or doll or chick or babe or aaaaaaanything else you can think of! Just Emperor. Maybe, maybe you can add Yuudai, or Oshiro – or whatever combination of the three you want, but Emperor." The flamboyant girl complained rather loudly about Bill's dismissal of her claims, "Take notes Woody on that – hat wise, eeeeeeeh..."

"Now, Lil' Miss, I can put up with yer' fun an' games, but don't y'all DARE disrespect mah' Daddy's hat." the larger man declared firmly, "Sorry. Don't disrespect the hat, Your Highness" he corrected indignantly, sweeping the hat from his head to bow abruptly; sending the mud caked onto it flying off towards the would-be princess as she bolted through the strange gateway.

"An emperor leads while subjects follow." she declared as she passed through.

 "So." the rancher grimaced, "Is lettin' the one who has a gun go through the mystery hole made by a suspicious stranger first not common sense elsewhere, or is that just a Texas thing?" Big Bill asked the others, replacing his hat and scratching his head.

"She didn't seem terribly prepared for a fight no matter how I think 'bout it." he sighed, drawing his revolver and taking a few steps towards the portal, "Love to stay and chat with y'all but somebody should probably make sure the poor confused gal don't get herself killed off too quick. Sounds like we need every hand we can get, even the crazy ones." the large human explained, stepping through after the once and never queen.
@Avemelle@CelesteEste@o3o

[User]
Arriving at the elf on a shelf—er, on a log—Erin wasn't the first to arrive. A handful of people had already arrived. A really short woman (had she been more stout, Erin would have considered her a dwarf!), a teenager who managed to keep the bright look in his eyes, a wildfire looking fellow whose hair managed to be practically standing straight up (even without product), a boomer with a Clint Eastwood inspo, a—as the Japanese would say—nekomimi, a small womanly lookin' dude that reminded Erin of a RPG/lifesim she played, one horny girl, a very sad elf screeching about things such as bowing and emperors, and a bear.

The people who had already arrived were talking about things. Erin didn't really interject herself into the conversation, as introducing yourself to a group before everyone was there was a pretty r00d move. You'd have to introduce yourself again later, and that was dumb as heck. Plus, she wasn't really able to read the room—er, clearing—over all of the screeching. As more people arrived after Erin, she decided that she would converse with people... a bit after? Whenever the womanly man elf was finished talking.

With his quick introduction out of the way and a portal opening up to a new place, it was obvious that this wasn't Earth. Well, it had been obvious since the entire 'reincarnated as a squirrel girl' thing, but this was confirmation that it was a fantasy world. As opposed to a futuristic world in which Erin was transported into a terrarium for the enjoyment of the future overlord that went by Alaela. Well, a wormhole was hardly a fantasy marker. Maybe it was some future tech. Erin kept the thought in her mind. Even if she didn't tell anyone her crackpot one in a trillion theory, she would know deep down that she was right. If she was wrong? Well she'd forget the theory in 5 minutes so it didn't matter.

The short green-haired woman and a few others remained in a strange conversation as the sad elf girl had her bizarre spiel about being emperor and doing things first. Something about touching the bear moose's fur. Erin snubbed the idea. Her tail was at least 50 times better. It was like having Mike Tyson in his prime fight an elementary school child; her tail was Mike Tyson, of course. The sad elf girl bravely leapt first into the portal, resulting in Clint Boomwood to disapprove of her actions. He immediately implied he should have went first because he had a gun. Ignoring the fact that Aloe Vera went in first and if it was a trap, he probably wouldn't have bothered to open the portal in the first place.

He must have been from the USA, Erin thought as she ignored the entire 'is that just a Texas thing' comment. Normal people didn't enter wormholes with the plan to shoot whatever threats popped up. Normal people also didn't really enter wormholes, so there was really no standard for behaviour.

"I'm, uh, going to make sure this boomer," she worryingly assured the others with a dab to enunciate 'boomer', "doesn't shoot friendly elves." Actually kind of worried that the man would actually shoot the first thing he saw as a threat, Erin ran into the portal. The time to talk was later; she had elf children to protect.

[Assistant]
Alhponse took a look around, a bemused smile hovering on his face. He had arrived to the clearing discreetly a little while back and it was evident that the group had some colourful characters. He of course stood in the back and did not contribute, for he had nothing to say to the ensuing clamour. Still, he felt that if it was this group, he wouldn't be bored.

His eyes narrowed when the elf (Man? Woman? He couldn't tell.) opened a portal to somewhere. It would be lying to say the boy was surprised, he'd expected something like that from a follower of the gods.
Could I do that? He thought to himself.
His ultimate aim was to go home, and the magic the elf just used seemed like it would be one step. But the goddess had said it was impossible, and he was inclined to believe she had been telling the truth - if she really wanted his cooperation she would've said they could send him back. Although, she hadn't explicitly said it was impossible, only that even the gods couldn't do it.
"It wouldn't hurt to start looking for ways now..." He muttered to himself.
The elf's spell was a good start but it was likely not strong enough. He'd have to look out for other people with similar abilities.

Alphonse waited for a moment, letting a few others in the group go through the portal before he moved himself. The elf had introduced themselves as an emissary of the goddess but he wanted to make sure the portal was safe before going through. In a world where he knew nothing it was only appropriate to be cautious and glean as much as he could before he made a decision. Nevertheless, the boy did not hesitate when passing the threshold of the rip in space. He was committed to this, and he would get everything he could from it.


[System]
Age: 17

Personality: The pure embodiment of arrogance, entitlement, and narcissism. Guys want to be him and girls want to be with him. Very few are deemed worthy enough to be blessed by his presence though. Those that are must constantly bend over backwards to maintain his approval of them. Despite his horrid personality, many people can't help but like him. He is deft at using his superficial charm to cover up the darker aspects of his personality.

 His ability to use and manipulate people is widely known. He posses a strategic mind that could very well rival that of Alexander the Great, that's what his many private tutors say anyway. One of his favourite pastimes is setting people up for falls. Charles could very well be a great leader someday, if only he used his talents for good. That will never happen though, for he believes in maintaining the social and economic status quo, at all costs.

He is generally a dick to his friends, groupies, and hangers on. When Charles shows you an unexpected amount of kindness and friendliness, you best beware. The only people he would ever consider a friend and true equal are those who are as rich and as good looking as himself. Very, very few people in the world fit that criteria.

Biography: An only child born to a lawyer mother and an oil baron father, Charles Lancaster III has always led a privileged life. Spoiled rotten from a young age, he could never accept no for an answer.

From the age of three he has had a multitude of nannies and tutors, all completely devoted to him. Little Charles was a nightmare to deal with. The nannies could never get him to finish his vegetables nor stay in bed. The tutors could never get him to sit still for extended periods, let alone get him to pay attention to their lessons. Upon hearing that his money was going to waste, Devon Lancaster became furious yet determined. The very attitude that allowed him to maintain and grow his inherited fortune. Devon was going to make his son Charles a worthy Lancaster, at all costs.

And so Devon instilled within Charles a sense of pride. A sense of pride so great, that it would prove too much for little Charles to understand. At first it was great. Little Charles acted the part of the affluent and sophisticated boy. He did everything his nannies told him to do, even going so far as to learn the finer points of etiquette. Charles also started to really pay attention to his many tutors, studying and doing his homework as instructed. Everything was going as intended. Sadly though, as Charles grew older, his immense pride turned to arrogance and bitterness.

The anger and bitterness of Charles eventually led him to become a Royal, but that was a tale for another time.

ROYAL

[User]
"....and if we take that into account. We can interpret Raskolnikovs experiences as a metaphor for the struggles of the working class. For you see..." droned Mrs. Flaherty.

Chets attention span waxed and waned throughout the literature teachers less than passionate presentation of classical Russian literature. He had no idea who this Fyodor Dostoyevski guy was nor what his book was really about, but Chet was damn sure that Mr. Dostoyevski deserved better than to be droned about by some ancient wrinkly manatee. Though he did appreciate Raskolnikovs struggle as a brilliant man forced into a life of mediocrity by lame circumstances. A struggle that Chet himself identified with.

Just like Rolo, Chet also possessed an embarrassing secret. He actually liked reading these seemingly boring and depressing books written by miserable old men who whiled away the remaining years of their lives being high on absinthe. The crushingly brutal honesty of such works really resonated with Chet, for he didn't exactly live through the most pleasant of childhoods. As a leader of the baddest gang around, he had to have something to look up to. Someone to learn from. Especially those who weren't afraid to speak the truth. Those who understood what it meant to bear the burden of leadership at all times.

Needless to say, Chet didn't take literature class seriously. Though surprisingly, his literature assignments had decent grades. A fact that infuriated Mrs. Flaherty to no end. Especially after all those times she had to reprimand and discipline Chet and his three friends. Always talked during class they did. Passing notes and throwing scrunched up pieces of paper around. This year though, she had those four split up. To the opposite ends of the classroom. But this only served to intensify their bad behaviour, much to her dismay.

Some kid next to Chet handed him a note. "Thanks chief." said Chet.

Chet had to be careful when opening notes, for he was stationed at the front of the class. He opened up the note with expertly trained stealth and deviousness. He was intrigued by its contents. Divo never had a problem before. He was always the straight laced one of his closest friends. Apparently, it had something to do with that girl that Rolo was obsessed with. Juicy gossip was Chets forte. It was his business to know all the goings on in his gang after all.

Another note was passed to Chet from the back of the class. "Thanks darlin." said he. Sealing his gratitude with a wink was always a hit with the ladies. The girl swooned visibly yet inaudibly. A daily occurrence for Chet in the classroom.

The handwriting was unmistakeable. He wanted to swing by the local chicken joint after school, again. Classic Rolo.

Snickering could be heard near the back of the class.

"Quiet down you scoundrels!" yelled Mrs. Flaherty.

"Sorry miss." said Rolo.

"Yeah, sorry." said Switch.

"Hmmph. As I was saying. The relationship between the protagonist and...." she droned on.

All of a sudden, the door of the classroom burst open. There standing in the doorway, was a short and rather cute looking girl. She had poofy hair and what looked like wild eyes.

"You're late." said Mrs. Flaherty.

[Assistant]
Corrine panted softly. She fixed her hair and had calmed down a bit. The can feel the stares of the other classmates give her a chill down her spine. She had never been late to class before. But it wasn't her fault. It was her first day of school, albeit in the middle of the week, and she had no idea where to go! One of the staff members was kind enough to give her a map of the school, but it was covered in the notes and scribbles Corrine had put on it.

Corrine gulps and bows deeply.

"I-I'm very sorry for interrupting class! I promise it won't happen again Miss... Miss... Corrine takes out the sheet of paper, her reading glasses, and looks for the teacher's name. "Mrs. Flaherty! I apologize. I'm new here and I had gotten lost on the way. Please forgive my tardiness!" Her face burns red as she can hear some of the students chuckle at her outburst. The look on Mrs. Flaherty's is that of a displeased mother.

"I'll be taking my seat now..." Corrine's voice is much softer than her usual bubbly self. She quickly takes an empty seat in the back of the classroom. Luckily, it was one of her favorite spots. It was somewhat near the window, had an ok view of the chalk board, and she got to see what was going on between the students from the back.

Her heart pounded hard and fast, ready to burst out of her chest. How could she have done something so embarrassing? She was never late for anything, especially class! Her face grew more and more red. Thinking about it wasn't helping. She buried her face in her thick, curly hair, hoping to suffocate herself to keep her from the shame. What were her classmates thinking of her? She wasn't a bad kid, honest! She didn't even bother to ask anyone for the page number, she felt too embarrassed.

[User]
A sweet dream manifested itself in the real world. Like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dull grey classroom. For Rolo, 'twas like a sign from above. That fate had ordained that the two shall be thrown together again and again. For the universe could only ever reach balance and alignment if they were to join as one. A union to be heralded throughout the ages. Ballads would be made about their story, and sung by the greatest of bards. On the courts of kings emperors alike. A love that blooms in the darkest of times, and brightens the darkest of lives.

Rolo stared at Corinne as she walked into the classroom. She walked past his desk. Passing him like he wasn't there. It wasn't very difficult to notice Rolo, even in a crowd. But it seemed like he was completely invisible to her.

As the class progressed, Rolo couldn't help but steal the occasional glance at her. For someone so sweet to love someone such as he. How lucky could he be?

Giggling could be heard yet again from near the front of the class. It was barely stifled yet it kept getting louder.

"Do you find the suffering of the lower classes amusing young man!?" asked Mrs. Laherty. She was clearly pissed off.

"Uhh no miss." answered Divo.

"Give me that note!" demanded the teacher.

"Hey!" exclaimed Divo as the old manatee snatched the note from his hand.

"Check out the little cookie who came late to class. I wouldn't mind coating her with my frosting." read the literature teacher.

The class erupted into a sea of raucous laughter. Rolo noticed that Corinne was starting to look very uncomfortable. The amount of guilt and anger he felt started to boil over into a foam of violent rage. Rolos face was so tense that he looked like he was about to break his desk in two.

"Shut the hell up you squares! Or I swear I'll shove my fist up all your asses!" thundered Rolo.

The laughter switched off like a light. Nobody messed with Rolo.

"My word!" exclaimed Mrs. Flaherty.

She considered sending Rolo to the principles office but she decided against it. She was secretly impressed with the authority the large student exercised over the others.

[Assistant]
Shocked. That's the only word to describe how Corrine felt. Shocked. She looked up from her ringlets to hear a familiar voice. The curly haired girl knew that voice from a mile away. It was Rolo again! She had been meeting with him quite often. This had to be a coincidence, right? Except he didn't seem as sweet as he was before. In fact, he seemed pretty terrifying. His loud, booming voice was enough to make her heart skip a beat. She could feel her body shudder. But it certainly didn't help the swelling embarrassment she had inside her.

She could feel hot tears form at the corner of her eyes and sting as they slowly slid down her face. She quickly covered her face with her hair once more; This time, covering her whole face. If she didn't make a sound, maybe no one would look at her. Oh, how she wished the class would end so she could wallow in a hole. Or maybe she could jump out the window quickly and save her from the shame.

To distract her, she quickly took out a book. It was nothing that they were learning in class, but one of her personal books. Something to help her clam down while the class was too busy paying attention to something, rather someone, else. The scanned through the pages, but it was no use.

Why couldn't this day just end and save her the suffering? Why was fate such a cruel and fickle mistress? Her stomach turned in knots as she thought of what might happen next. Would people make fun of her? Would they spread rumors and ruin her social life? Such lewd statements could destroy her reputation if taken the wrong way.

[User]
"Get the hell back up!" roared Rolo.

It was during lunchtime when Rolo made his displeasure known. He never felt this way before. He never knew he could be so livid with his best friends, but things were different then. Everything had changed. And it was all because of her. Why did she have to waltz into his life like that? Why did she have to make things awkward between himself and his closest friends? Everything was so much simpler before. But no longer. It was plain to see that there was no going back from those punches. It was done. Things would never be the same again. For better or worse.

Switch and Divo were sprawled on the ground in the middle of the football field. A large crowd had gathered around to watch the internal drama of the Salt Bay Turbos unfold before their very eyes. Such a thing was not a very common occurrence. Rolo loomed over them looking both grim and menacing.

They picked themselves up from the ground and faced Rolo directly. They looked up into his face. A fierce stare met their gaze.

"Look big guy. You can hit us all day if you want. But we won't fight back. We're friends. No! To hell with that! We're brothers!" yelled Divo.

"But we won't apologise for nothin. We're outlaws. We do what we want, we say what we want. Ain't no little broad ever gonna get in the way of that!" yelled Swtich.

"Shut the hell up! She's special to me!" Rolo roared.

"You're letting this little chick change you! You're gonna end up putting her before us!" yelled Divo.

"Yeah! Whatever happened to brothers for life!?" yelled Switch.

"I uh, shut up!" Rolo yelled again.

Rolo brought his fist up again to strike, but then he saw it. The steely determination in the eyes of his friends. He knew that they wouldn't dodge his punch, no matter how hard he would hit. They were his best friends in the world. Brothers for life.

He suddenly felt ashamed of his actions. Rolo never regretted punching people before. But this time, it was different.

"Fellas I, I..." Rolo started to say before he was cut off.

"Alright boys break it up! I will not have any roughhousing in my school!" declared principal Stern.

"But sir, they were just..." Chet was starting to say before he too was cut off.

"I don't want to hear it!" yelled principal Stern.

"You three! Principals office! Now!" demanded the principal.

Rolo, Chet, and Divo wordlessly followed the principal to his office. Not caring in the slightest how much their reputation had been compromised.

Chet shook his head to himself. What was happening to his crew? Who was this girl that Rolo was obsessed with? It was that girl from literature class, the one that came late. The one whom Switchs note was referring to. Chet decided to go check her out later on. To see what was up for himself.

A little further away, Charles watched everything unfold. He grinned smugly to himself. His plan was going to be a heck of a lot easier than he thought it would be. Perhaps, Charles thought, he owed this mysterious girl his thanks. She was doing him a great service. When the time is right, he decided.