[System]
Nickname:
Warden
Age:
19
* Picture:
i.pinimg.com/736x/5c/f8/84/5cf8843fe1…
Data:
Human (Male)
Born: Sextilis 4
height:
6'0
weight:
145 Pounds (without armor), 185 Pounds (with armor)
eye color:
Blue
hair color:
Brown
skin color:
White

Blurb:
An honorable man, Alphonse is well spoken and mannered. He is composed in battle relying on his sword more than magic, but, he is prone to losing his temper and being reckless when in danger, or when his friends are threatened.

Alphonse, hailing from a tribe known as Ashfield a tribe with medieval roots, started combat training when he was 12, being accepted into the guard of his home, He quickly advanced in rank among the guard, until he was accepted into the elite, known as 'The Wolves'. The Wolves taught him how to effectively use two weapons, The Longsword and The Pike. While though he prefers the pike for its range, and because he dedicated most of his training to the use of that particular weapon, he has taken to the longsword due to it being more easily carried.

Shortly after his final bit of training concluded, it seemed as though the earth cracked, destroying most of his village. The Wolves sent out Alphonse to find the source of what they would call 'The Break', arming him with armor and a longsword, The Rogan Blade.

Before his left, as tradition would have it, he gained the name 'Warden'.

Equipment:
Chest- A thin, Fragile copper with blackened leather underneath, A copper plate on the left side of his chest, with an eagle etched onto it.
Arms/Hands-Thin copper Gauntlets with black leather arms.
Shoulders- Layered Black Leather, with reinforced steel underneath (To give extra swinging power when using his sword.)
Legs: Copper armor down his legs except on his knee, his knee has black leather, to keep him more mobile than the average knight.
Feet: Basic copper boots
Sword:
Basic Longsword and a holster for the sword draped over the back of his armor.

[User]
Warden had been surprised by the size of a city, while though not small his modest hold couldn't hold a candle to the magnificence of the area. Despite the guards heed to look nice, Warden kept his copper helmet on concealing his face, half surprised that nobody ordered it off of him. The house of the immortal was less than spectacular, other than a few fancy looking pieces of tech nothing stood out.

As soon as Warden had been invited into the home of the immortal he kneeled in her presence "My dear lady, my name is Alphonse Loescher, Son of Bruce Loescher, From a land called Ashfield."  He said, standing up shortly after.
Warden Kept mostly silent for the remainder of the conversation.
That was until the one known as Liliana spoke of Necromancy
"Magic of the devil, huh? Be careful what you wish for." He responded bluntly, unwilling to say more to the stranger, as he turned to Lady Winter and asked
"My lady, I would like to learn the opposite, Magic for healing the alive and banishing any undead, do you think such would be possible?"

Warden kept mental notes of where they would be traveling.

When the King entered the fray, Warden extended the same greeting as he did to Lady Winter. When questioned about what supplies he needed Warden piped up after Goro,

"As for weapons and armor..." Warden said as he drew his dulled sword slowly from his back, not wanting to intimidate anyone
"My Hold's armor is sturdy enough, my Sword could use a sharpen though, and perhaps a pike of sorts." He said as he put his sword back in its holster.
"I could use the same survival gear as that Goro fellow, I got plenty of food and water for myself already though, as well as torches." His mind sparked again with an idea of what else he could use.
"Maybe some bits of leather, In case my armor gets damaged, if you would be so kind." He said.

He looked towards Goro and said
"If you need armor, I have an extra set that might be able to fit you. It's sturdy and reasonably light."

[Assistant]
Catarina wasn't too impressed by Winter's little cottage. She had to admit, she was expecting something more... Professional. It looked more like a storage shed than a proper place for a powerful Immortal, or even a workshop. But Catarina supposed that when you're as powerful as Winter Valentine, you can afford to be sloppy. After everyone else made their introduction Catarina spoke her name too. "I am Catarina La'Spada, a Knight of Thorns from the kingdom of Sieglinde. I hope to learn magic to protect my people and become a better warrior." She didn't really pay too much attention to the others, only picking up on small quirks and names. Goro was missing a hand, Liliana wanted to be a necromancer, Nkosi came from a forest, Alphonse came from Ashfield. Catarina was just really eager to get going.

Before they would set out, they would need more equipment. She couldn't disagree with that; Catarina only had her sword, her armored gauntlets, and a horse. She could use supplies and more equipment if it was available. The only reason she doesn't have her own suit of armor was because a full set of plate was both expensive and took a long time to make; unless this king happened to have some her size just collecting dust in the armory, she doubts they'll have much for her. But Catarina would take what she can get.

"Let's see, how about a shortbow and some arrows? Longbows aren't good on horseback after all. As for armor if you happen to have any platemail that fits me, I'll take that. Traveling supplies is a must too. Food, water, medicine, anything and everything we'll need in case of emergencies. Wouldn't want Lady Winter to suffer needlessly on the road after all."

[User]
New Items Acquired:

* One-handed spiked steel club
* Parrying dagger
* Utility knife
* Javelin with sling
* Steel helm
* Steel chestplate
* Steel buckler
* Studded leather boots
* Leather tents
* Waterproof fire starter kit
* Small bag of coal
* 50 feet of silk rope
* 50 feet of hemp rope
* Reinforced steel torches
* Whetstone set
* Steel pike
* Sack of leather scraps
* Shortbow
* Quiver with 20 arrows
* Medicine kit: painkillers, antidotes, healing salves
* Canteens

Servants took down the requests and went shopping. By the time the sun rose to high noon, everyone received their requested items.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Winter said, and offered a respectful curtsy.
The king folded his arms and smirked. "You can thank me when you return from your journey."

As they turned to leave, the king began to cough and clutch at his throat. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and vomited blood onto the floor. "What's...happening to me?" he groaned.
Winter raced to his side and materialized a gauntlet on her hand. She traced it over him, and paled when she learned the truth. "What the living hell?!..."

"He's melting. Inside out."

What were once the king's legs were now bags of skin. His sickening retches and groans filled the palace. Beyond pity and disgust, Winter felt a chill through her very soul. Magic. It must be. She glanced around and spotted a guard leaving through the front gate.

"After him!" she cried.

At that, the guard broke into a sprint and ran straight into the city, where chaos reigned. The magical energies from the chasm finally reached Midhaven, and people from all walks of life explored their new powers. Fire and ice, gale-force winds and cracking earth, clones and golems, magic of all kinds erupted throughout the city. Even the guards left behind their weapons to join the chaos. Tracking the assassin would be difficult.

Winter balled up her fists as she watched the party chase him out the palace gate.

I know who you are.

The time has come to settle old scores.

[Assistant]
Catarina was slightly disappointed all she managed to get was her bow and supplies, but she wasn't going to raise a fuss about armor. There was actually a tradition among the Knights of Thorn about collecting armor from defeated enemies. "Iron Men" they were called, though Catarina doubt any armor she savaged from other warriors would fit her. But it was the thought that counts. As everyone was gathering their gear Catarina went to her horse to load up the gear onto the saddlebags. She rode a large black mare, built for speed. Catarina had to be very mindful of her weight and supplies since while her horse was strong, too much weight will drain her stamina, which could spell disaster in the middle of a fight.

And then everything went to hell. The king vomited out blood and an assassin was on the loose! What seemed like a peaceful and well fortified city easily turned to chaos as magic began to surge. Catarina had heard of hysteria causing people to riot, but for chaos to spread so quickly, it couldn't be anything but magic! However Catarina didn't let the destruction sway her. She immediately mounted on her horse and chased after the assassin. "I don't know how he could kill the king with magic, but if he can do it, so can I!" Magic had just come into their world, how could it be that an assassin could master it so well to kill a king in his own court? A question Catarina would ask the assassin himself!

This man might've been fast but not faster than Catarina's horse, and certainly not faster than her arrows. She drew her shortbow and loosed an arrow aimed at the assassin's lower back; this way even if she should miss the arrow would either strike his legs or hit the ground, and not anyone else that might be in the crossfire. And Catarina was confident in her aim; she could snipe rabbits hidden in a brush, an armored assassin may as well just been target practice.

[User]
Warden had just finished lashing his new pike to his horse and stuffing most of his supplies into a bag, also lashed to the horse, when the assassin struck. The attack left the king little less than a pile of flesh on the floor.

"What the?" Warden said as he saw the attacker escape. Unluckily his horse had not been ready for travel, forcing Warden to chase on-foot. The chaos on the streets had slowed him down, though, and soon he had found himself lost, unable to keep up with the fellow knight or the assassin.

The alleyway he had found himself in was dark and musty, giving off a pungent stink of rotten fruit. The environment and what happened before had put Warden on edge, every foot-step of any passerby had set off a myriad of alarms in his head.

Just as Warden had found himself the exit to what seemed like the worlds larges maze, he heard four sets of footsteps and a gruff voice speak out,

"Ay, that's nice armor you got on ya. Why don't you hand it over before someone gets hurt." The voice said as warden swing around, four masked figures stood, all donning rough leather armor.

"Why don't you just take it from me then?" Warden said smugly, this wasn't his first time dealing with back alley criminals, but the numbers advantage of the thugs put him on edge, Warden analyzed his situation.

Okay, two of them have short swords, one has a long sword, it looks rough though, there's a crack right in the middle, if I can hit it exactly right, I might be able to break the sword. The last one has....Nothing? Odd. He thought as he readied his sword.

A thug with the lowest quality sword and armor attacked first, brandishing his short sword forward as he charged. He managed to hit Warden in the chest, unluckily for the thug his steel plate had blocked the hit, causing it to do no damage, Warden retaliated quickly plunged his sword through the first thug, then pushing the thug off his blade, the body hitting the floor. Limp.

"Damn you." The thug with the long sword screamed as he charged forward.

They are coming at me one after the other....Armatures. Warden thought as he rushed forward with blinding speed, hitting the thug with a rushing slash, a technique only known to his order. The thug blocked it with his sword, but the block had caused the sword itself to snap, the front end hitting the ground, only leaving the wooden hilt intact.

"Maybe you should fix your equipment every one in awhile, huh?" He said. The thug quickly picked the blade on the floor and charged, due to the odd handling of the broken sword warden was able to parry and deal a devastating slash to the thug.

Warden quickly turned as a flash of light had emanated from a thug behind him. The one who didn't have a weapon seemed to be charging some sort of light, almost like fire. Whatever it was Warden was sure it would hurt if it hut him, perhaps even kill him. Even if he managed to dodge the attack, the other thug was ready to pounce if he had, more than likely landing a free hit in one of Wardens armor's weak spot.

"Shit, Anybody here, Goro, anyone? Kinda need some help here." Warden yelled out, hoping someone was nearby, as he readied himself for the blast, incase nobody did come.


[System]
The white star, Illuminator

Domain:
Knowledge

Appearance:

Typically, Iva'Krorh is depicted as a pure white being with a crown or wreath of horns of some sort extending from their head. Curiously, they are never depicted as either male or female, often appearing with traits of either. One thing across all his depictions however, is the gods lack of facial features.

Realm:
Cy'Lathak, The Library of Eternity

Located far, far, away from civilization at the supposed edge of the world sits Cy'Lathak. A place where all the knowledge of the world supposedly converges and is cataloged, filed away by The White Star. One can reach it without divine guidance, but it is hidden from the world beyond a frigid sea, beyond a primordial forest where vicious, ancient beasts roam, past vicious white storms, all with puzzles and challenges only those with wit and insight could win against. Only those with a true lust for knowledge will ever reach it, and Cy'Lathak will welcome any such person.

In truth, Cy'Lathak itself sits not in the mortal world, but a fracture between it and the void. On the edge of madness and clarity, the precipice upon which all knowledge in the world ends up, eldritch and terrible or otherwise. The entrance is located on a small, frigid island far to the north where the only people Iva has given their temporary patronage live. The entrance is carved into a massive wall of ice that spans the length of the entire island the people call 'The Wall of Hlakth'. Multiple entrances exist within its cavernous, icy walls, but none are so easily accessed. Attempting to scale the icy wall to access the Library will only lead to failure.

The Library itself is a simple, single building for now...but surely, as more knowledge is generated, it shall become grander. History, mortal achievements...scientific discoveries.

(To be updated as it becomes relevant in the RP)

Biography/History:
Iva'Khrorh is about as stable as a nuclear reactor. The god can't help itself, in their constant lust and striving for all knowledge, his sanity seems to have taken a bit of a hit. Perhaps it was never there to begin with. Regardless, they desire one thing, and one thing only. Knowledge above all, no matter what it is or how it is attained. It's view on its siblings, could simply be described as uncaring. If he takes interest in another god, it is surely because he is plotting something.

Iva'Krorh seems to take great pleasure in meddling in the affairs of mortals and other gods, offering them knowledge for a price, or simply seeing what a peasant would do with the power to slay kings. He often simply observes, looking for opportune moments to give people knowledge that would change the status quo. His direct interest however, is difficult to achieve, but if they have deemed something interesting, they will refuse to let it go until they have thoroughly exhausted it.

The only people who currently have the fickle gods interest, is a small settlement upon the frigid Isle that has become known as 'White Dawn'. The people seemed to have been there for quite some time, living in icy huts, running constantly from the beasts that stalked the Lyssian Forest and hunting what meager food and berries they could scrape up. Seeing an opportunity, the god took it.

It gave them knowledge, for a price. It taught them the miracle of fire and basic tools. Needless to say, his interference greatly assisted these people. The price paid? Once every winter, a single person shall attempt making the trek to Cy'Lathak.

None of these people have yet to make it to the mythical Library. The people of White Dawn are near unshakable in their faith, and believe that once one makes the trek, they shall be granted even more knowledge.

Notes:
(Leave this empty. As the rp goes on any details you wish to record go here. Once this CS is submitted Do not edit any other portion of the CS aside from this without the GM's consent.)

Misc:
The village of White Dawn is likely the most advanced of the human cities, with Iva giving them knowledge of fire and basic tools. Whatever they do with that, is entirely up to them.

(More to be updated as the RP progresses)

"Put that on my Tabula"

---

Relationships
* Oao
 "Such a craven little wisp." The Illuminator cackles in a light, ethereal tone. "Pathetic. Fear is the enemy of progress. Perhaps I should invite her over for tea? She has no reason to fear the sun and be so callow. Tee-hee! Perhaps she'll blot out the sun with her darkness."
* Anu'Varr
 "So malicious! So fiendish! So...intriguingly beautiful! Are her cords as devilish as she?" He tilts his head to the side. "Should I pluck them from her chest, strum them as a musical instrument? Or perhaps weave them into socks for my pets? I can't decide."
* Ferron
 "I wonder I wonder, what does he see in the metals oh so precious? Ah, so many things I could make with them!" A pause. "Perhaps I should take it from him? Perhaps not."
* Hayim
 "Plants so green! Not tainted by the devilry of Anu'Varr. Medicinal. Perhaps I should invite him to the forest?" A sigh seemed to escape the gods featureless visage. "Ah, but such a pacifist. Cowardice. Progress & Knowledge hurts. Pacifism dulls the mind, like sharp thorns bleeding into it. Perhaps I should play with him in the Forest? See how he handles conflict? I wish to know, so I will."
* Dirka
 "Ah! This one! This one I enjoy the company of. Madness loves company? Or was it something else...?" The White Star shook their head vigorously. "Matters not. All avenues of thought and knowledge shall be explored! Perhaps a little soft...maybe will attempt to see how she handles something not so nice? Curiously curious. Still matters not. Such pleasant company! And so funny!"
* Iarus
 "Ah, interesting! How interesting! Similar, but so very different. Scheming little flibber. I too, have schemes. Secrets. Plots. Who doesn't!" A feminine giggle. "He is nothing special. Weak. Pathetic. Perhaps I should give him something that would help? The schemer becomes the schemee? Yes, I just made that word. I can do that. 'Tis my purview."
* Sommler
 "Ah! Destroyer of knowledge! Bane of understanding! Should I cower in my skin?" A joyful, half mad giggle. "That's right. Eat up my knowledge! Devour it as a ravenous beast devouring the last human who made it to my library! I shall uncover it again in time. Oh what a wonderful game we shall play!"
* Azhriel
 "Ah, the god of souls. Thinks he has quite a secret!" One of their hands reaches up to his horns, beginning to scratch at the protrusion. "Indeed he does! Ah, I wish to know. I will have him show me what he is hiding. How do I know he is hiding something? Simple. I am knowledge. I do."
* Sveiand
 "Such a cold one!" The god does a pirouette, tilting his head to the side. "A little warmth never hurt anyone! Perhaps he and Ragnagedon should get together and hug! That'll warm him up, and cool down that idiot!"
* Ragnagedon
 "Mad? MAD!?" Iva'Krorh begins laughing uncontrollably, a manic cackle that somehow manages to feel like sharp nails digging into the mind. "MAD! HIM?! That pathetic ball of rage and destruction?" The laughing abruptly stops. The air seems to freeze, pausing the mind as the next ethereal words from the Illuminator took a far darker, more sinister tone. "He is not mad. He is not insane. No. Just a bratty, spoiled child. He is merely a pompous, self-righteous fool. If he wishes to see true madness...perhaps he should crack open my head, peer inside? Ah, I would welcome the chance to alleviate this mind of mine, burdened so!" He paused. "...Ah, no no...t'would only make him worse."
* Naswaru
 "Ah, the master of beasts! Makes many quite a fun beast! I have captured many myself. Dissected. Cut open. Hanged upon a hook." He'd probably be grinning, had he a mouth. "Always fun, learning the most efficient method of rendering his creations useless!"
* Dao Rugadh
 "Ah, memory! Annoying! Thankfully my memory is always perfect, haha! Once I learn something, I shall never forget unless on purpose." A quiet hum, before quickly looking around. "...now where'd I put those bird feathers?"

For more information, clicky here~
The Library of Eternity

---

Miscellaneous

A symbol that Iva created to mark things that are 'theirs', whatever that exactly entails is known only to him. The Kadisht and Lloi of White Dawn have thought many a night and day over its meanings, but a solid conclusion fails them. In effect, it simply functions as a key to a locked door. A guiding light upon the path of understanding. They say the mark represents Iva's visage, while others say its a torch illuminating the darkness around it.

[User]
Ferron
Algorithm-Gammaton
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The quicksilver golem reached its hand-like protrusion towards the scroll, but instead of grabbing it, it was absorbed into the mercurial construct. Bishop began to melt into the ground, carrying the scroll with it as it returned to its master.

After a few moments, Ferron had read the scroll and proceeded towards the administrative hive. He pulled at his dirt cloak, as he not comfortable with the humidity of the jungle. His mercury golem moving slowly behind him. He cautiously approached the doorway to the hive, announcing his presence,"I have arrived, Brother Gammaton."

He then took a single step into the hive, before pausing for a moment. The idea that all he wished for was a conversation was suspicious, however it perhaps was merely because the request was so simple. "What is this matter that you wish to discuss."

[Assistant]
Zee

 Rescorje snickered from the statements. Then when she asked what he was, he outright laughed. When he was done, he wiped green tears from his eyes. "Well, no offense me'lady, but it wasn't a charity. Nor does the mistress think you weak. The gift she had planned so you could invade surrounding territories by gaining some powerful entities, using your sin curse as their essence, so they are beings of devilry. The other ingredients to make them only she knows. Two, you have the misconception words are necessary for all magic..." The crystal golem next to him burst into flames and slowly melted. "...When that's just not the case. My goddess couldn't be here because she was dealing with Gammaton's 'thick-headed-ness' as she put it." Then he snapped his fingers and the golem reformed. It felt itself to see if it was actually there and not dreaming. He then walked closer to the goddess.

 "And as to what I am, you'd have to find my parents and ask them, for I'm pretty sure I'm the first of my kind, and the secret of my birth is the greatest one of all." He then smiled cheerily. "And whether you accept the apology or not is up to you. My mistress cares not, nor do any of her domain. Fear is not in most of our vocabulary, except when we are fearing experiment failure, but none the less. So I leave you with the mother of magic's gift. Is there a message ou'd like like me to bring her? perhaps telling her the pact is off, or are you going to for once in your existence be forgiving to one of your siblings? And before you attempt to smite me, know I will evaporate when I die, as I've learned anything removed from my body seems to turn to air. So, no magical blood for you." He cruelly smiled in a bow, waiting for her response, which he was expecting to be outrage from the amount of insults and truth he told her. Must keep her secret, and my own. Nothing would be worst than if someone found out.

[User]
~~The Illuminator~~
Location:
Cy'Lathak

---

"Hmm? Lose my prophet?" Iva laughed, standing up as he gave Dirka poke on the forehead. "Ignorant child. You think I did this without plan or cause? Dirka, darling you give me too little credit! Breaking her mind is exactly what I wanted! And needed!" He waltzed slowly over to the both of them. "Besides...she is not suffering from Magic backlash, no no. This is the Libraries will. Our will. Little La-Zha's will. She knew what she was getting into." He would attempt to forcibly take Lazhria from Dirka.

"Quickly. I must return to the library remake her body while her mind is still malleable." The various Aho'Nohg that had been summoned alongside their creator had regained their senses and were slowly crowding around Dirka and the unconscious Lazhria. While they didn't seem hostile, Dirka would be able to tell this was not a subject Iva was going to budge on if Dirka refused.


[System]
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________________________________________

Deidamia
 25 Mentally  |  Genderless(but goes by she/her pronouns)  |  Rock Golem(usually is disguised as a human woman)

_______________________________________________

❏ BIRTHPLACE: (Well, technically, she was made, not born, but) The Foreboding Forest

❏ CASTE: Wanderer/Adventurer

❏ AFFILIATIONS: Adam Silver(Prior); The Alchemist Society(Prior)

❏ GOALS: To explore, help people, and prove to herself and the world that she's useful/not an inhuman monster.

_______________________________________________

TALENTS:
◆ Playing the flute and harmonica
◆ Smashing things(which she usually does in her golem form)
◆ Resourceful; can use almost anything as a weapon

EQUIPMENT:
◆ Her harmonica(used to have a flute, too, but accidentally stepped on it in her golem form and broke it)
◆ Bag of Holding
◆ Large, Dark Blue Cloak(it covers her up in either form)
 | Appearance

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Her human form is one of a petite, brown haired woman wearing a dark blue cloak. She has a slim hourglass figure, though also has some hidden muscle underneath the cloak, and also has an athletic figure as well. Her skin is tanned, due to being outside most of the time, and her legs are long and made for running.

Her rock golem form, meanwhile, is tall and fearsome…which makes it even weirder when the same feminine, mousy voice that she has in her human form comes from her rock golem form as well.

Personality

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Deidamia is a very shy and timid, yet kind and compassionate character. She does like helping people, and finds it much easier to do so in her human form so people don't run away screaming from her golem form, but it takes a while for her to open up to people, as she usually keeps to herself. She's very aware of her golem form's size and strength, and this awareness carries over to her human form as well, even though she doesn't need to be so careful while human. She also has an inferiority complex, usually seeing herself as a terrible monster, and she often tries to prove herself wrong by overly helping people.

Arcana

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

Major: The Tower
Given that she was made to destroy and conquer, Deidamia often avoids using her Tower Arcana, and is often self-conscious about her origins. In fact, she's afraid of using it, due to being worried that she'll accidentally go too far and everyone will fear/hate her, and, as such, only uses it as a last resort. It doesn't help that her power of destruction is much stronger when she's a golem than when she's a human.

As for power scaling, in both forms, Deidamia can destroy bigger things, such as doors and tables, but can't destroy anything bigger than that yet, and also can't destroy living things, such as larger plants, animals, and any sapient race.
Minor:
The Cloak of The Moon(When the cloak is worn, it can transform the user into one specific human form.) |

Combat: 5 Culture: 2 Commerce: 2 Magic: 4 Survival: 5 Karma: 4(as a human), 2(as a golem)

[User]
Umara

---

"Farfa plans to drown us," Umara bitterly said, standing unsmiling in the rain. The half-hearted shrug she shot the silver haired patrician as he stood in his increasingly wet fine clothes implied no apology for her interruption. "Why else would he leave us waiting in this weather?"

Fresh anger shook the weariness from Umara's tired limbs as she glared at the damp eyed demon. Frustration drove the faint traces of sleep from her eyes. The journey had been long. The dangers had been many. She could summon no more patience. Sparks of anger flickered to life in her heart. The danger was obvious. The threats freely spoken. Imprisonment. Enslavement. And death, always death. As she stood facing the gates that lead into the City of Demons, Umara thought that a small bag of coin seemed a poor bargain for her services.

The carriage had brought only more strangers, strangers stranger still with each passing moment. Umara's right hand moved reflexively to the pendent that she wore. Her fingers traced the patterns etched into the soft gold. She suspected that they would find that the line between life and death among the demons to be too quick and sharp for their liking. She shook her head to drive out the angry thoughts, glancing warily at the oracle. His appearance, although darkly outlandish, barely concerned her. She did not begrudge others their eccentricities, least of all when it came to their manner of dress. There was madness in his words, but it did not bother her. Madness held little mysterious to the young pyromancer. Derangement was not uncommon in a blight and dying land.

He had woven no spells. He had spoken no curses. And he had carved no runes into the earth with his staff. The stranger did not scare her. Adorned in bone and hiding beneath a stolen shell, he simply struck her as a sad. She did not relish the smell of his rags, but she did not fear his person. Still, he disturbed her. She did not know the veracity of his claim, but the presence of an oracle demanded greater caution. Prescience was a dangerous science. Prophecy was not without risk. She had no desire to be trapped by a soothsayer's visions. She had burned through the threads that had bound her. She had forged her own fate. And she would not be ensnared again.

The diminutive knight had cast new clouds of worry over her thoughts. His introduction threatened to shatter the last mote of restraint that she commanded. In names there was power and the two strangers had offered their names freely to the demon and the monstrous guards. Trust given so freely did not bode well for their shared venture. They would say too much. They would act too rashly. She felt an unwelcome pang of regret deep within her stomach.

Unfortunately, it was well past the time for leaving.

[Assistant]
Galahad Quaid

---

"Just as well, some of us could do with a shower." Galahad chuckled with little mirth as he stood next to the young, blue haired alchemist, "That carriage was not big enough for the lot of us."

Galahad stood by the majority of their small congregation of outcasts and oddities. Strange that he might've considered himself one, but these were strange circumstances regardless. The rain beaded on the exposed metal plates of his armor not covered by the luxurious blue cloak and dripped off the locks that framed his face. Draped casually over a shoulder and held in place with a lazy gauntlet was a large polearm, fully covered, sheathed in a wrapping of linens and leather to protect it from the elements. Galahad was used to rainy seasons, back home the rain never seemed to stop- gray and overcast were the norm. The southlands had been much warmer and sunnier in general, but rains like this reminded him of home.

Their little gathering was a motley one to be sure, all sorts of freaks and oddities abound. Galahad rarely had the pleasure- or ill luck of working in groups, but on the few occasions he had, they were much like this. Especially in the south, mercenaries, adventurers, wanderers and merchants alike were a strange bunch. While most cities were a generally homogenous of their race and background, on the road the people were as varied as their stories, though most were only fit to addle your brain with their constant droning. People always thought they were more interesting than they actually were- there were exceptions of course, himself being one of them. He hadn't yet deigned to find out the stories of the others with him, but he was sure at least one of them wouldn't bore him out of his mind.

Already they had hit a snag. The goblin named Rooster seemed to have an issue with them passing through the gates and into the city itself. Perhaps there was a door tax? Either way, it was surprising that their guide- and 'employers'- were unable to open such doors for them, literally in this case. Some of the others were already on edge. Unfortunately, things could never go as simply as one hoped it seemed.

"Are they not expecting us, Farfa?" Galahad called out, his tone amused, but his face blank and bored. A free hand lightly brushed a wet lock of hair out of his face. He took a few steps forward to the relative front of the group, though not as close up as their diminutive fae knight had gone. His gaze rested lazily on the two armored guards in front of them. "If I had known there were going to be complications, I would have asked the carriage to stay a moment longer."

[User]
Ansel, the Wraith

---

Nestled among the diverse band of strangers in the carriage sat one rather unassuming wood elf. His fine blonde hair, his deep blue eyes, his knife-like ears were all normal, standard features one would imagine when they would think of an elf. A "default" elf that wouldn't so much as receive a second glance under normal conditions. It would be difficult to perceive, and perhaps even more difficult to articulate why, but there was something distinctly unusual with this elf. Though he looked around often he rarely blinked. Though he acknowledged things spoken he rarely spoke himself. His breathing was irregular, his hair and clothes ever so slightly disheveled (an uncharacteristic behavior for a wood elf). There were bags under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days yet he had no struggle keeping his eyes open. Many subtle oddities that most wouldn't event detect but in truth hide a secret.

Though this elf was a real, living person he was the ideal disguise for a soul without a body. The vessel by which Ansel had infiltrated the group, the dead hiding amongst the living. Coming to Goeta without such a mask would yield no favorable results. At least not when it came to his mission, as the temptation to reveal himself was an ever-present and amusing urge in the back of his mind. By the Gods, these meatbags don't look very promising at all, Ansel had thought to himself as the carriage came to a halt outside the City of Demons. Maybe they will make excellent distractions one day, should the need arise. As the crew departed from their ride and the guide began their spiel the blonde elf remained silent, eyes forward and attention completely on Farfa. He continued to watch the drama unfold without any commentary of his own, though internally he was already growing annoyed with the delays. When the ogres refused entry to the small crowd a frown finally escaped the elf's lips.

This is asinine. I'm ditching this knife-ear the moment we finally meet this asshole, he thought. As the rest of the party began to fidget or introduce themselves, perhaps in a bid to gain access to the city from the ogres guarding the gate, Ansel came up with a way to make this waste of time a little more fun. For himself, that is. Stood next to him was a young human girl, so young perhaps she was not finished growing. She spoke no words but was visibly upset, eyes casting about and body ever-so-slightly fidgeting. Nervous? Perhaps, but even if she wasn't it did not matter. It was her silence that made her an amusing victim. The blonde elf made a shocked expression, perfectly feigning offense at something surely appalling. "Heavens, child," he finally spoke up, his voice lowered as if to speak privately to Umara yet deliberately loud enough that even the ogres at the gate could hear. "You mustn't call them such vulgar names, lest they might hear you."

The seeds of chaos had been already been sown when the goblin confronted the guide, but even if they hadn't Ansel would feel no remorse for his practical joke. Even if nothing came of it and it went ignored, or worse still if it went unheard by the ogres, the discontent that he had created between this human girl and this elf he was controlling would surely provide him a punchline in the near future. The poor elf was going to have a lot of explaining to do once Ansel was through, and that thought alone made it all worthwhile. In the meantime he maintained his act perfectly, putting a finger up to his lips as if to hush Umara and prevent her from defending herself or calling out his lie. He didn't even look around to gauge the reactions of the others, further solidifying his act by not revealing that it was the reactions he was seeking. If I have to sit here and waste a few more minutes then I might as well milk it for what I can.

[Assistant]
Deidamia blinked as the cart came to a halt. She was about to ask why they had stopped when she noticed the ogres standing guard, which raised even more questions for her.

Why were the ogres not letting them in? Was it because Rooster didn't trust them now-

Oh.

That was probably it, wasn't it?

Deidamia sighed daintily as the rain started to hit her skin and the other passengers started talking, the woman tugging her cloak close to her body as she did.

Hopefully, the ogres would let them in soon, and hopefully, she wouldn't have to do anything rash.


[System]
~ Aya ~

---

---
AGE:
24

APPEARANCE:
A skyscraper of a Japanese woman, Aya stands at around 5'9. Her hair is thick and short, and her eyes are quite thin and sharp. There's also a small beauty spot at the bottom of her lip. Despite her personality, Aya chooses her outfits wisely, donning a different hat each day with an outfit to match. She also wears glasses, but only when she's reading unnecessarily small text. Funnily enough, her eyebrows are quite thin, something people usually tease her for (and something she usually beats people up for saying such things).

HEIGHT:
5'9

WEIGHT:
132 lbs

LIKES:
Reading
Racoons
Spicy food
Writing
Poetry with deep meanings
Writing
Scaring away flocks of pigeons (when there's no one around, of course.)
Writing
Taking walks in the park (especially early in the morning)
Chewing things (mostly gum)

DISLIKES:
Beaches
Sweet food
Heavy rain
Aeroplanes (Lord she's terrified of 'em)
The deep end of the swimming pool (or the fucking sea)
Getting lost in the middle of nowhere
Lettuce (there's a story behind that)
Fonts that are too damn small to read

PARTY TRICK:
Aya's surprisingly good at thinking up decent rhymes on the spot. She's also not too bad as a singer, either.

OCCUPATION:
Cashier at the Eye For Fashion boutique.

PERSONALITY:
Aya is usually seen as this calm and quiet person who will really only speak when spoken to. She's always the one to linger in the background, and her often aloof behaviour and sharp featured face definitely gives off a stay-the-hell-away-from-me impression. In reality though, Aya is just a firework that could be set off at any moment. Stubborn and having a no-nonsense and brutally honest attitude, Aya doesn't really attract much positive attention. If you delve a bit more into reality however, you'll find the true, hidden Aya. Going into depth about this confused lady that doesn't know what to do in life would ruin the experience though, so you guys will just have to discover what this girl's really like on your own.

But in conclusion, just don't piss Aya off. Like, ever. Once the spark lights the fire, there's no going back.

Aya also has her fair share of quirks and habits as well. She tends to chews on the ends of her pens (especially when she's stressed or nervous) and is surprisingly an early riser. Her voice is actually a bit deep, but it doesn't take an abnormally high IQ to figure out she's a woman.

BIO:
Ever since not so little Aya was born, her single mother had always been struggling to keep their lives together. From their apartment to their bookstore that was barely standing on its two feet financially, the first few years of Aya's time walking on Earth was a hard time for her mother. However, not wanting her child to be affected by such things, a smile would cover her stress, and laughter would conceal her sadness. Aya was still young then, so she didn't really notice.

Then, in her first year of high school, her mother fell ill after overworking herself. It would take about a month or so for her to fully recover, but that month would be the time where Aya realised what her mother had been going through the second she was born. It was painful to discover such things at a time of bleakness and distress.

Although Aya's passion for writing poetry had been present with her ever since childhood, a conflict within her began to boil up. She'd always wanted to become a poet of some sort, but would it be enough to fill Aya's pockets when she desperately needed it? Going for a much more 'praised' job would have been, well, better, right?

Then, the time finally came for the two to part ways. Aya would have to make her own breakthrough into the real world, leaving her mother behind and leaving herself filled with worry concern. Weekly phone calls would become a thing once Aya had moved in elsewhere, and the only thing the woman hoped for was that her mother would pick up every single time she called.

The Theme of Aya

[User]
Michael Anderson
Day One

---

---

Michael stared at the screen intently, fully concentrated on it as he tapped various buttons of the keyboard. He played a well known MOBA game Guild of Heroes and he was often called the best solo player in the county, however Guild of Heroes is a team game and he didn't work well with other people telling him what to do and so he often lost matches because of the lack of teamwork, today wasn't any different.

Suddenly, his movements became more erratic and he tapped on the keys of the keyboard furiously as his Hero was getting beaten to a pulp by his enemies without being able to do anything in return and soon, a sound a voice said in a almost robotic tone:

"Your Hero has been slain!"

"Damnit, Igo, why didn't you protect me and tanked the damage?!" he shouted on the mic furiously as his team continued to fight the enemy team and losing, moments later, he shouted at hearing the response of his teammate. "I'm the assassin, I'm not suppossed to be a tank, I'm suppossed to deal damage, you idiot!" he shouted in the microphone frustrated, now that he couldn't do anything to win.

Grumbling, he grabbed the hamburger next to his keyboard and took a large bite out of it and chewed it as if he had taken a bite of his enemies and not a piece of hamburger. As he was chewing, he no longer looked at the screen and instead, he had taken his phone out to check his emails. A while back, he had sent the a message along with a demo of his own game -the game that he had worked on since he arrived in Shine City- to the massive gaming company GA, who had it's headquarters here, in hopes of selling them the entire game for a large sum of money if they liked it, but alas, there was only junkmail in it.

However, as he was browsing his inbox, his earphones suddenly rang incredibly loud with the same robotic voice from before

"Victory!"

The deafening sound made him remove his headphones and throw them aside. To this, he couldn't help but smile bitterly. They had won, and he was happy for that, but they hadn't won because of him and that made him feel bitter. Exasperated, he closed the game, then the computer, he had to get some fresh air... but where?

However, it only took him moments before smiled, he knew where he could go, but there wasn't a lot of fresh there. He just shook his head and got up, not bothering to dress in any different attire other than his regular one... he would go to the bar, who knows, maybe he would be able to find someone with the same tastes as him and maybe that person would be a girl.

[Assistant]
---

"Yer sure ya fine lass? I could try and find ya somethin' for ya ankle if ya want?" The large man asked, his voice colored with concern. Calliope was struck by how kind he was being to her and it made her feel awful for lying to him. Without really giving it a second thought she reached up and chucked under her running mate's beard affectionately, like one might do to a puppy when they'd done something particularly sweet.

...wait, did normal people do that? Who even knew at this point, she was winging it.

"Yes, sir, I'm sure that I'm alright," the blue haired woman reassured before putting all of her weight on her leg, as if to demonstrate the sturdiness of her ankle. "See? It's all fine. I won't need your medical expertise this day," Calliope said, giving his chin one last pat before pulling her hand back completely.

She looked back to pigeon chaser and puppy dog eyes to give each one of them a quick nod. "Thank you both for checking on me, it was very kind of you." Calliope glanced quickly at the wise old German Shepherd and flashed him a smile before turning back towards the direction of her house. 'Looks like I'll be cutting this run short today,' she mused. She'd already made enough of a spectacle of herself, now she just wanted to get home and hide under a blanket.

@Jay Kalton@Saarebas

---

Time Skip!

---

Well, she had planned on hiding out in her townhouse anyways, but Simon and Sonya had made serious threats to ensure that their human went out and socialized that night. Someone had even promised to puke up a hairball in her favorite pair of sneakers if she didn't go out and at least try to mingle, so here she was at club LUSH, standing in the world's longest line as she waited to be let in.

She was quickly realizing, however, that she might not have been dressed properly for this scene.

Everyone who was coming out of the club was drenched and most of the people going in were wearing their swimsuits under their outfits. Calliope was feeling a little self conscious about the red polka dotted babydoll dress she had closed for the outing, but refused to turn back now. She had been in this line for almost an hour now, dammit, she was getting inside!

---

[User]
• A Night at Mochavine •

---

---

It seemed that the heavily breathing woman was, well, fine after all. Just a simple roll of the ankle while she was running. And hey, at least Aya had done her deed scaring away the pigeons properly, according to this young woman. It was an odd thing for her to say, but oddly a little reassuring. The nod that the giant of a man gave to her was also quite reassuring. She didn't intend to cause such a scene, she just wanted to… chase pigeons. Without anybody seeing her. And without getting angry at said person seeing her.

At least now, the heartfelt embarrassment from before washed away to Aya's shore of other embarrassing moments. Uttering a swift goodbye to the red haired giant and the silver haired man who was only slightly taller than her, Aya managed to break through into the busy streets in less than two minutes. Thank God for her spindly spider legs.

---

The rest of Aya's day off would hurry along just as she had predicted: spending a bit too much money at the convenience store, spending even more money at an on sale clothing store, hiding in her favourite corner of a nearby bookstore, and eventually reflecting back on said previous events and complaining about how the day went way too quickly. Seriously, it was carefree days like this that passed so fast it was undoubtedly unfair.

Once she had stumbled into her apartment and collapsed into her bed, Aya let out a long, heavy sigh. It wasn't just the huge amount of bag carrying that seemed to tire her, though. Just the thought of what happened in the morning seemed to pull her at her brain in completely different directions.

Aya would then spend the rest of her oh so valuable hours snuggled up in her bed, scrolling through useless websites on her phone and impaling her eardrums with a wonderful array of songs. She wouldn't realise how fast time had passed until she woke up from her nap at around eight in the evening. She hadn't actually realised that she had fallen asleep either. All that embracing heat under her bed covers was enough to put Aya under a God-knows-how-many-hours long sleep. But, now that she had recovered from her mad mess of a morning and her amazingly average afternoon, what else was there to do? She was feeling quite restless and weirdly empty now, and the sun was beginning to set as she mentally spoke.

To relieve herself from her restlessness, Aya decided another stroll in the park would be fulfilling. It was still bright enough for her to walk around without her tripping over her own two feet in the dark, and it wasn't like she was going to get roasted again in today's chosen outfit. Hopefully the temperature would have cooled down a little to the point where Aya didn't feel like she was walking around in a giant sauna.

So, a short stroll in the park (again) it was. And when Aya meant short, she meant short. Her giraffe legs managed to carry her around around the park rapidly, and soon enough she found herself in the same spot where she had scared away the pigeons. The egg sandwich was still there, too. Aya could feel the hairs on her neck prickle up. Funnily enough, the music she had been listening to through her earphones decided to drop some intense battle music, which was literally calling Aya to start some sort of fight with this rotting piece of egg and bread. She didn't, of course. That would be silly, and less logical than chasing a bunch of pigeons into oblivion.

A short stroll in the park wouldn't be enough to satisfy Aya, however. There had to be something else, something else that would make this evening totally worth it. Heck, she was even crazy enough to consider trying out Club Lush downtown, seeing all the hype in its advertisements and visitors. But she wasn't a fan of whipping her head around to music in a vast crowd of people she didn't even know. She preferred whipping her head around to music alone and out of sight. Maybe a night at Mochavine would be a much better decision.

Mochavine was always a place Aya could linger around if she needed some peace and quiet. Sure, it wasn't always quiet, but she cherished the moments that were. Accompanied with a cappuccino in her hand and music smoothing out her clustered mind, it was the perfect place for her to relax and write.

It was late, but Aya didn't care. She sat down at a small table with a cappuccino in her hand and music smoothing out her clustered mind, sighing softly after each sip of her drink. Her whole body felt warm and fuzzy, as if she was wearing one of her large wooly jumpers at the back of her wardrobe. The heartwarming cappuccino just gave her a sense of tranquility and peace, and the feeling that this evening wouldn't be turned upside down by a flock of pigeons and a stinking egg sandwich.


[System]
Age: 400+
Race: Vampire
Faction: Darkworld

Appearance: A wiry whipcord of a man, with gaunt cheeks and high cheekbones. Perhaps most noticeable are the large saucers of blue-grey, like the sea after a storm, that gaze out from underneath thick, black, expressive eyebrows. Incredibly fine wrinkles and creases dance upon his face, by his lips, brow, and eyes. They make any guess at age difficult, but hint of haunting smiles, the ghosts of anger, and the resting place of sorrow. Unlike his dark brows and goatee, the straggled mop upon his head is straw, and reaches down at his shoulders with teasing stalks and locks.

Personality: A selfish, yet easy-going romantic searching for a muse to displace his growing existential and epistemological nihilism.

Background:
Tracing "Dylan" back through history would be a feat deserving of its own epic. Changing names and appearances frequently, you would only chase the shadows of rumours.

Life whilst he was human has been long since forgotten, not least by himself.

After came an indulgent parade of hedonism spanning centuries. Often the centre of attention and the recipient of many a lustful gaze everywhere between the courts of Europe to the dingiest of waterfront inns, there was no social circle he did not permeate, no sin he did not partake, and no vulgarity he spared himself.

Eventually this flaming desire guttered, and the pursuit of the sweet secrets of pleasure became vapid, and all of Europe lost a marvellous centrepiece, though many knew him by different names, and, as is the way with such frivolous folk who exist on the fine edge of fashion, they fast forgot him.

During the following years he was rarely seen by anybody, his religious journey towards enlightenment often requiring the walking of paths of solitude. The soul searching seemed to be in vain though, and he did not feel any closer to what he was searching for than when he started. After almost a century of pilgrimage and learning, he turned to the arts, trying to find meaning in poetry.

That is when an old friend contacted him, a friend he owed a favour. It was requested he fight in a war, and not just a human war, a war between DarkWorlders. The very idea struck a bolt deep inside, and Dylan found that he was eager to oblige this request, wanting to use this sombre and destructive event as inspiration for his creative mind.

Skills/Equipment: Nothing beyond what might be expected of a normal Darkworld fighter.

[User]
Shidya Ustenko

---

---

Shidya only half listened to the goading from opposite the wards. Idle threats, little more. If he could pass to her side, he would have already. Not that she was ready to count on that. Her greatest fear was in her ability to create the rune properly in such terrible conditions. With her light gone, she was completely blind, the blood was thick and sticky and she constantly needed to re-wet her fingers and attempt to find where she left off. Lastly the rune she needed to make was too large, and the space under her cloak too small, but seeing as it was the one of the two thin defenses she had against something that had already killed multiple of her own people, she wasn't about to part with it.

The cat bushed against her leg. Shidya cursed it silently, and kicked it less so. It responded with a hiss which she ignored, weighing her options as she groped the assortment of object in her sack. A vampire she could hold back, maybe. She had no prideful illusions on her own skills; a Darkling would kill her outright. Either would smell her out before long.

"I can't imagine I'd provide much satisfaction after the feast you've already provided yourself with." She stood, careful not to let the cloak fall. Not that it was of much use with the cat continuing to nip and mew at her ankles. She continued moving backwards, searching for the source of blood.

[Assistant]
He looked around him at her words. The corpses were rather bloody. The scent was sweet to his senses. It made him thirstier and he took another sip of Rush. He could get on the other side fairly easily if he wished, he had a key. The wards thrummed with power, ready to incinerate anyone without said key. Those involved in its creation were very talented. Still, he had killed enough people tonight and she wasn't offering him violence. Lilith pouted at this thought. 'Oh shush, babe. I just fucking eviscerated ten people. That should satisfy your bloodlust." She smiled at him in that seductive way of hers, "I'm never satisfied." Jackson laughed, that was true.

"Feel free to do what you fucking wish. Just stay over there and away from me. Or I will eat you." He called out to the feminine voice.

[User]
Dylan Stroud

Another glass of murky red liquid was placed by Dylan, his third of the night. The tickling, bittersweet euphoria of blood and alcohol toying with his mind in tandem was all too familiar to those who shared his affliction. That haze didn't stop both his eyebrows rising.

"Wait, wait, wait," He waved his hands at the air and the dawning realisation, "You mean to say," His accent seeming to shift across all regions of Europe as he spoke, and, was that a slight slur? "that you developed this system yourself?" He paused. "My, that is impressive."

At the topic of the war arose, he nodded grimly, but there seemed to be a noticeable spark in those twinkling eyes. "You think after enough times, losing a friend would become easier. I suppose I am thankful at least that I am still human enough for that not to be true." He reached for his cup, and found it empty – he hadn't remembered drinking it, but tapped it on the bar all the same, hoping to rectify the problem swiftly. "I do find myself fascinated with its affects though; war seems to strip people bare, and expose something primally earnest, but unique in them."

He shook his head, "But yes, too much killing indeed," he stretched, casting an idle gaze about the room, "but perhaps one of the many things we should leave for when we are alone," He winked. "It is the funniest thing, but I heard the walls have ears here." He returned to his fourth (or what it his fifth?) drink. The deep crimson liquid reflected Dylan's deep scowl.

"Why is it just you working on this 'Stasis Magic'?" There was something earnestly intrigued about his tone, the way it lifted at the ends, "If you want my untrained opinion, it seems far more useful than a simple paralysis. I'd throw as many minds as I could at the problem. Is it hard to understand?"

[Assistant]
-Zeiss Calavan-

At the mention of her solo venture, she gave him a wink and a giggle; it was probably the alcohol on that one. She downed her fourth drink, a Screwdriver, making sure to limit herself to one more drink so she can keep her wits about her. Wait...was this the fourth or the sixth? What was the fifth? She shifted in her stool staring at the glass, her arms resting on the table as she listened to the vampire next to her talk on about the war that surrounded them. She felt herself starting to ramble after he stopped talking to take another swig.

"I'm a genius, hun; the template I use should be understandable, but I don't know what these peons are doing. Schools aren't any better; I surpassed my seniors in my second year and they still teach the same type of inscription. For what I can tell, they don't use runes like they do a language; it has a structure and presentation that needs to be addressed when making the right ones. You don't say 'happy' when you mean 'arousal'" She got quite close to him on that word, feeling her breath on his and vice versa, "and it's the same thing with runic magic."

She asked for a glass of water and took two gulps before letting her tongue stick out to let the lack of taste set in.

"I'm too hard ahead of the game, that's what it is. It's like trying to teach school children about anthropology. Moreover, it seems as though many other warlocks and witches don't use Norse runes anymore, sticking to Celtic or Sanskrit or some other drivel. That's my job here as of current; making the inscriptions for the less talented suckers so that they can use them in the war and they STILL lose. Not my fault that they have such poor aptitude. But I agree with you; the war will strip you down to your bare bones and make you face yourself. Make you ask if you're making the right decision by being in the center of it. Ask you why do you even bother."

She let out a laugh, first nervous but slipped into silliness as she brushed the sweat on her brow; the warm atmosphere could get fairly heated in this place. She rested her head in her hands and looked at her partner of the night.

"I'm sorry; that became a bit too introspective for how many of these drinks we've had downed. So what about you, man of mystery; what are you like?"

[User]
Sarafine - The Border
@Override

---

Sarafine laughed, low and joyless, not far behind Shidya, as she reached down and plucked the body the woman was backing up towards. "Luv, I'm not sure exactly where you are, little Faerie, but I know you're close. Why don't you scamper away, yeah?" Sarafine said with a wicked smile, throwing the body down the street.

 That was cruel, Sarafine,   Asmodeus chuckled in Sarafine's ear.

"Shush, beautiful Asmodeus. Let me play," Sarafine giggled. "Now, little Faerie, take your chance. The grownups need to have a discussion. Don't disappoint me."

She crossed the Wards, having been given the necessary means incredibly quickly once they'd been erected.

"Jackson, Lilith. The pleasure is yours, do believe," Sarafine called over as she sauntered over towards the younger Darkling. "You've been busy, I see. I wanted to have a little chat, and I do believe you have the time."

 That's my girl. I assume we'll be having fun real soon, my beautiful destroyer?   Asmodeus asked with a glint of teeth.

  Yeah, soon. Very soon.  Sarafine thought in response.

[Assistant]
Jackson Grey

Jackson was leaning against a building, drinking out of his flask. Crimson Rush wasn't as good as blood, but it definitely staved off his thirst. He should have left this area a while a go but his intuition told him to stay. Lo and behold another Darkling showed up. He paused in the act of taking another drink and then put the flask away. Darklings are not common creatures. Jackson knew of pretty much everyone in existence and he could count them on his fingers. Seemed that at least half of them were in this war in some way or another. He looked at Lilith, "She can't see you can she?" Lilith pursed her lips. She was standing not far from him, looking every bit the goddess instead of demon. Finally she shook her head, her gorgeous fiery hair flowing from side to side. "She cannot. Doesn't mean she doesn't know I'm here though, pet." Jackson sputtered at that, "Pet?" She bared her fangs at him in amusement, "It's a term of affection." Jackson groaned inwardly. "Why do I keep you around?" He asked her.

She walked closer to him, tracing his jaw with her ruby tipped finger. Jackson felt shudders run through him, "Oh, lots of reasons," Lilith murmured. Lots of good reasons Jackson thought. He shook his head and playfully nipped her finger, gesturing at the newcomer that had joined his massacred hangout spot. "I really should pay attention to her. If I'm right that is Sarafine. She's very dangerous." Lilith pouted adorably, "Let her watch." Jackson actually blushed and shook his head, "No Lilith." Finally he turned his attention to his fellow Darkling.

"I hope you're not here to fight. It would be a pointless exercise for us both." Jackson said. He held out his hand all the same, the familiar red split in the air appeared and Jackson stuck his hand into the sudden hole, pulling out his silver katana. The blade thrummed with seemingly deadly desire. "I hear you're a psycho though, so I should be prepared."

[User]
For the most part, Dylan sat silently with merely the toying hint of a smile, an attentive listener, save for when she was particularly playful; that earned the smile of a satyr. At the end of her explanation, he found himself nodding shallowly, impressed at her concise and fluent explanation, despite her increasingly rosy cheeks. The news that she was not a fighter was a massive relief; he was careful to hide his face when he could not avoid raiding, but he couldn't avoid defending himself.

In the corner, the jukebox was skipping on a record, until somebody gave it a hearty whack. It let out gentle crooning from the 50s, and Dylan found himself swaying with nostalgia. The gentle pattering of light rain could be heard on the roof. The storm was moving in.

Before answering her question, he tilted his head to the right and met her gaze, his lips barely curling upwards, his eyebrows rising in the middle of his brow. "There is nothing wrong with introspection, my dear, under any state of consciousness."

Then he laughed drily. "What am I like?" He thought for a moment, "Nice enough, I suppose. Nowadays I collect and chronicle, I seek out seeds of humanity and caution in the hopes of salvaging something paradoxically beautiful from such dire days."

A silence settled like fine snow, and sat there, until it was chased off by ponderous tones of silk and satin, "I suppose what I've been looking for is meaning. I thought I found it, when I partook in every vice and sin available to me, but earthly pleasures are fleeting, and left me feeling hollow." He finished what he determined would be his last drink here and looked at her. "No matter how sensual it is in that most carnal of moments."

"I also do things for the war here, of course, but…" a deep sigh, "I fear I have drunk too much to make sense, and I am a dreary topic of conversation anyway." He stood, unfurling enough money to settle the tab, and then some.

Turning to the woman, he beamed, a held out an arm, oddly stable for his apparent state, "Would you accompany me on this fine night, O muse of mine? Witching hour is fast approaching, and I could really use a walk to clear my head."


[System]
Imortale Prelitor Savantus

 Arms:
 1x MNR REGALIA SMG
 Special EQ:
 Powerfist
 + melee weapon
 + requires 10 strenght but no skill since it's just punching things.
 + strong impact on direct hit, capeable of breaking trough armour
 + shatters bones completly, absolutly lethal to unarmoured targets
 + cumbersome and slow, might be discarded and retrieved later to have better manuveability
 + lowers atletic and acrobatic skill by 1 to a minimum of 0

 psy-power:
 Molten Beam
 Flaming Form
 Healing Factor/Regeneration

 Stats:
 Str: 10
 End: 5
 Agil: 5
 Psy: 10
 Char: 5
 Percep: 0
 Int: 0
 Skills:
 Melee: (10+50+25+25) =110
 Ranged: (20) = 20
 Heavy: (0+50) = 50
 Leadership: (0+25) = 25
 Acrobatics: (20+25) = 45
 Survival: (20+25) = 45
 Technology: (0) = 0
 Arcane Knowledge:(30+50)= 80
 Stealth: (0+25) = 25

 Personality:
Impulsive, anarchistic, has some problems with authority. Prefers small groups of comrades over serving in large armies and activly tries to avoid going with the masses, instead Lillian often chooses to side with outcasts.
She is neither greedy nor selfless, she seems to choose to do things especially then, when it's the less favored side. However, she does accept that she can be wrong and generally tries not to hurt or kill anyone unless neccessary. On the Contrary, when provoked seems to go into an almost sadistic killing spree among those that she deems 'enemies'.
Doesn't seem to have a strict Moral code when it comes to breaking laws. She tends to become loyal to people that she likes instead of people of power or authority. This doesn't mean that she cannot follow orders, but she will question them loudly and often laughs at superiors. She prefers to follow example instead of word.

[User]
Enoch returns the brisk nod toward the passing Rose; the electrical servos nestled within his armour plate grind and squeal as he elevates himself back to a standing position. His imposing 9ft frame is yet more dramatic with the application of the incredibly thick and heavy Power Armour he has adopted for this meeting.

The sheer bulk of it rises him to at least another foot off the ground, and nearly twice as wide as any other Prelitor in the room.

"Auxilia Optima: you remember correctly."

Enoch makes no effort to even glance at anyone else. They are not deserving of neither his words nor his look, until the Prelitor can deem them worthy of his respect.

[Assistant]
Zepheus keeps his eye on the solemn woman with the covering over her eyes. A Savantus of great power and greater potential... But would she have what it takes to be a part of this team? That had yet to be seen. In all his long years of service, eight centuries of life, he had seen countless warriors and sages like the ones around him. They had been young, strong, and full of youth just as these men and women are. And they were all dead. Broken by conflicts past, the mighty armies of religious zealots, the nawing hunger of the Great Swarm, the mindless violence of the Walking War. He was one of the oldest Imortale Prelitor left alive, many the elders had been slain, so to many of the younger warriors, barely baptized in their first war.

He would now lead a new generation of warriors, sages, maniacs, and kind souls to war, and all of its horrors. He turned to the Furia that had introduced herself, and was now speaking to the Savantus. He had seen recordings of her training, and was impressed. She would make a fine warrior if she survived long enough. He looked now at the Auxillia Optima before him. A heavy weapons expert and defensive/offensive fighter that could suit many a situation. He stood, waiting for the others to reveal themselves.

[User] Without anyone else who appears to require him, Enoch chooses to stand parallel to Zepheus, on his right flank, and glares behind harsh yellow lenses at the other Prelitors who litter the room. Various mumblings sound from within his helmet; the tips of the fingers across his left hand tap rhythmically against his chestplate, dancing beneath his folded arms.

[Assistant]
Senera approaches and bows in front of Zepheus, the leader of this operation.
Then he walks away to a silent corner and sits down, and used his shield which is now strapped on his back as support as he reclines on the wall behind him.
A few take notice and make a few snarky comments, but Senera's reclining comfortably, while they're still standing.

Too much noise. He thinks to himself. He would love to get some shut eye but, he has no idea what's going to happen next so he just stays there, daydreaming about some situations that he read in his novels.

[User]
Lillian looks at Zepheus, as if measuring him herself, for a short moment - about the time it takes to blink two times,
then she bows forward with a straight back, lowering her gaze to the floor.
Some seconds later, she looks up without a single word and into face behind the helmet, awaiting his words.

[Assistant]
Zepheus looks back at the Savantus, the glare of his eyeless helm lending to an aura of unnatural uneasiness.

"Savantus, state your name."

he commanded in a cool, but firm tone

[User]
Vienna winced upon hearing the words, shoulders pushing up tensely. Her head darted back and forth as her mind scrambled to refocus, the shape of the figure registering in the darkness. She really was too absorbed within her own worries she didn't even notice this new arrival. She turned to face the approaching woman with a half-smile, embarrassed by her own skittishness.

 "Ah... my, don't worry about me... I am just thinking..." she paused.

 'Wait. What kind of answer was that, Vienna? Hurry, you still have time to explain yourself! Choose words. She's going to think you've a mental disorder, or worse...!'

 But try as she might, all that came of her mouth were befuddled 'umms' and 'ahhs'.

 Her grin quickly faltered as she started panicking at the inability to find any real words. It was like the thoughts in her mind were just flushed down a drain, leaving her with complete blanks. Seconds felt like minutes as she struggled internally, mouth pinched as she squirmed in her boots. Vienna wanted to just back away into a dark corner and just die of embarrassment. But she couldn't just let the kind gesture go to waste, especially when they first initiated the interaction. This was the first time someone approached her on their own. Usually it was the opposite. No one wanted to even step anywhere near the ticking psionic bomb. She probably didn't even know about her dangerous reputation, so that's why. But still, to her, it was the thought was what mattered the most. Despite being strangers, they went out of her way to offer help to her, without even being asked. It might seem trivial to anyone who was even marginally socially adequate, but to Vienna, this woman appeared truly noble.

 Wait. A stranger! That's right, before every conversation was an exchange of names.

 She immediately bowed her head, hoping she could hide the darkness settling in her cheeks, "A-ah... where are my manners? I-I am Vienna Marx Sorielus... it is a pleasure to have you acquaintance, dear sister-in-arms..."

 Vienna remained this way, both awaiting a response while trying her best to keep her heart still. Blood was rushing into her face, the added heat making it feel like she was being cooked alive. She could faint from this unbearable stress at any moment. Her hands were shaking, she could feel them. What would her instructors think if they saw her now? She didn't want to disappoint them after all they did for her, not after the promise she made to herself and all the others. She had finally been given a chance to prove herself. She cursed herself. How would she even handle such an important duty as being an Imortale Prelitor if she couldn't handle something as simple as this? She didn't dare allow her mind to imagine the response this person would have to her odd mannerisms.

...

[Assistant] The barely audible 'clunk' within the circumference of an armoured ring wrapped tight into his neck, interwoven with the chestplate he wears, is the only hint one would see of Enoch's head tilting at all. One of the latest arrivals - the dreary eyed Primus - sits on the receiving end of Enoch's bone chilling glare. Yet, this is merely temporary; Rose and Vienna linger in his vision for a fleeting moment, till a more obvious downward casting of his head aligns his view with Lillian.

[User]
Nakinia stroke through the hall not even glancing at the myriad of people around him. He has finally taken his rightful place as an Immortal and no longer would he have to pretend to smile and make nice with the people around him. He could finally revel in what he truly loved. Blood and violence. For years he had trained to master his powers and, although not born a women, his physic powers had become incredibly powerful. Nakinia struck his staff into the ground every step, small sparks flying from the impact point. His sword swayed gently at his hip as he walked. He finally reached the gathering of his 'comrades,' he sneered inwardly as he looked around at them. None of them were his equal save perhaps the leader himself. Towards him Nakinia's expression changed into one of indifference and a slight hint of respect for the ancient warrior.

"Nakinia Orbalan reporting in sir." He places special emphasis on his last name to try and show those around him that he was greater than most of them. 'Still' her thought to himself 'I wonder if any of these other immortals will be worthy of one such as me.'

[Assistant]
What a dickhead, Lillian thinks as Nakinia steps next to her.
Not minding it and instead keeping her gaze forward she answeres Zepheus:
"My Name is Lillian Ketzerin."
Trying to make it seem, as if she wasn't intimidated by Zepheus presence, she stands up straight and clenches her hands into fists in a manner so he shouldn't notice.
The feeling of the others watching her makes her even more uneasy - although those two women are chatting, which really does make her a bit more calm - not knowing the nature of the mans glare that she feels in her back makes her feel vulnerable. And the posture and gaze of that renatian next to her just makes her want to punch something.

[User] Enoch trains his eyes away from Lillian, having discreetly used his Telepathy to catch a glimpse of her thoughts - primarily those pertaining to the attitude owned by the latest of the Prelitor. Nakina receives the same dull, empty glare while Enoch's eyes glaze over him.

[Assistant]
Zepheus grins beneath his helm

"Prepare, Savantus... For the Emperor Approachs..."

he turned to Nakinia

"Welcome, brother. May you bring honor to your House."

[User]
Suddenly six armored men appeared from behind the throne, each holding high power plasma carbines. Their armor seemed more ceremonial than for front line use a symbol of the all seeing eye upon their chests. These were the Imortale Praetorius, the personal guard of the Emperor, never far from his side. Then the air grew denser... As if an unseen tension held the air tight. The space about the throne shuttered and warped with unimaginable forces at work. Then, with a bolt of lightning he appeared...

The Immortal Emperor. He sat lightly down upon the Throne, his head readying to one side as his legs laid sprawled before him. His very presence demanded respect, his power, undeniable, radiated from him like a cool wave of air. Persons with the ability to see Psyonic auras would find it impossible to gaze directly at him, as he would be a shining sun of energy, unlike any other. At his side stood a tall, dark man. His armor was ashen black in color with bright golden trimmings. A large curved blade at his side, an aura if mystery surrounds him.

"Welcome, my warriors... Your presence pleases me."

his voice was quiet, but stretched to all corners of the room, and was heard clearly by all.

 Zepheus moves from his spot near the door, kneeling before the throne

"Zepheus if the House Synia, my life for you, now and forever."

[End of turn one, turn two begin]

[Assistant]
The large, ashen warrior looked about the large temple, optic sensors scanning for potential threats about, the grip on his blade visibly tight, as if he dared for one to step out of line, the blackened silks ever so slightly blowing from the entrance of his lord. he otherwise stood stock still, gold trimmings gleaming in the light, a slightly shadowy aura visible about him, his sensors finally rested upon the one with the silver mask, seeing her own aura about her. He registered the other imortale in his HUD, but paid them no mind, his focus was on the one with this silver mask. There was something about her that intrigued him...although that didn't say much. As of late, many things intrigued him, and why for, he didn't know. Until recently he only knew the emperor's will, doing as he was ordered to do, unaware of the world around him, until recently...everything had come to life, and now he found all these thoughts and emotions in his mind. He didn't know what to do with them, and now...they were making him focus on this one girl, above all else.

He finally got a grip on himself, and loosened his grip on his blade, crossing both arms over his chest and his gaze finally breaking from hers, returning his focus to analyzing for threats.

[User] Rose kneels in place, her own head bowed. Unspeaking, she gives thanks she need not look directly at him, as surely, she would be blinded. She glances at Vienna, sad she was unable to respond before the Great Emperor arrived. She attempts to use telepathy to read Vienna, to determine what she should say next, besides introduce herself.

[Assistant]
Looks at the immortale Emperor with awe, then looks at everyone else in the room to see what they are doing.
Should I kneel? She asks herself... she decides to do it and kneels down to one leg and bows her head low, again, going to await further words.


[System]
General Information
Alias: N/A
Nickname/Callsign: Mortimer
Date of birth: 1-4-1987
Place of Birth: Sevilla, Spain
Citizenship: Spanish
Languages: Spanish, Portuguese, English
♦Physical Information
Height: 5'6
Weight: 132 lbs
Eye color: Green
Hair color/cut: See image
Body type: Slender, toned
♦Military Information and Service Records
Country: Spain
Unit/s: Guardia Civil (Civil Guard)
Previous MOS-Occupation/s: Unidad Especial de Intervención (Special Intervention Unit)
Rank (last one achieved): Capitán (Captain)
Duration of service: Thirteen years
Tour/s of duty: N/A
♦Gear

Uniform: See image
Armor: Kevlar helmet and vest
Weapons: M4 rifle with ACOG scope attachment, Glock 19 with Viridian C5L-R, generic folding knife
Backpack: Two chicken, spaghetti, and beef MREs, small flashlight, a pack of AA and AAA batteries, water canteen, miscellaneous toiletries, APX 8000 P25 portable radio, ATN PS15-4 Night Vision Goggles, SwissTool X, 4 M67 grenades, tripwire, first aid kit
Ammunition/Others:Five fully-loaded magazines for the M4, 100 rounds for the Glock 19
Tracker:180 5.56×45mm NATO rounds, 115 9mm rounds, 4 M67 grenades
♦Personal Information
Hobbies: Drawing, reading, swimming, cooking, collecting pocket watches
Injuries(old and new): Scar on her left thigh.
Mental Health Issues(such as PTSD): None
Preferred Hand to Hand Style(Krav Maga or others): Boxing
Bio/CV: Being an only child, Isabela had a rather comfortable upbringing. She was born and raised in a middle-class home and was never particularly deprived of any essential childhood experiences. When she was younger, she picked up a passion for drawing after taking an art class. She continued on that path well into her late teens. Isabela's parents were expecting for her to make a career out of art, but she surprised them when she confessed to them what her intentions were. Even though they were not the least bit pleased with her decision, they nonetheless respected and supported her choice.

Upon finishing secondary school, Isabela didn't waste any time starting her university career. She went into the language program to get her degree in English and after a semester, also pursued a joint education in police studies. She finished in three and a half years given that she refrained from working throughout that time and was able to take advantage of the free time she had. After she graduated, she joined the Civil Guard. The training phase was somewhat of a wake-up call, but prior to her arrival she had been training for months. Going out on jogs, taking boxing classes, strength training, etc. She was then taken into phase two where she'd receive the rest of her training to become an officer. The training was tougher, but she welcomed the challenge and in the end, graduated second in class.

Given that she had successfully completed all formal training, Isabela had to pick a field. She knew what she wanted from the beginning and she chose to join the Special Intervention Unit where she'd lead a small team of men and women. At first, it seemed like she was unstoppable, but she soon found out the hard way that life isn't without struggles. During a live fire exercise training, her thigh was grazed by a bullet after one of her subordinates failed to safely handle his weapon during a misfire. The individual responsible was heavily reprimanded, and Isabela was given a desk job for a couple of months both for medical reasons and as punishment for failing to properly execute a training exercise. She returned to full duty after some time, where not only did she become a better leader, but a better person as well. Initially, she was judged as being more strict by those she'd work with for years, but the payoff was clearly evident as she slowly gained rank and one day, pulled into her superior's office to be offered a new position. If she agreed, she'd be getting deployed to be alongside intelligence officers working in their nation's best interest. She'd never gone overseas, but she saw it as an opportunity to get further ahead in her career. Isabela understood how dangerous her job would be given that she'd be in hostile territory and out on the field much more than before, but she believed she was ready for this new chapter of her life.

[User]
Tokarev was leaning against the wall, casually talking with some of his teammates. They would be his comrades for the time being, so the least he could do was to break the ice with some of them.

*Clap* *Clap* "Alright, listen up!"

The room went silent, not that it was loud to begin with. Melnikov had come to brief them. Vadim, his focus on Melnikov, carefully listened to the briefing.
After Melnikov finished, Vadim immediately walked over to his locker, right next to David's.

"This sounds too easy..."

Having put on his plate carrier and backpack, he picked up his helmet and ran his fingers over it, feeling a small trail of scratches and dents. Syria, 2016 - mine, 8 meters away. Easy or not, you have to be prepared for anything, thats part of the job description.

*SLAM*

Vadim put his helmet down and turned to Melnikov when he began answering David's & Serena's questions. When he left the room, Vadim put on his headset, turned to David and said:

"Somebody is stuck up."

Having said that, he put on his shades, grabbed his rifle with his right hand, barrel pointing up, and helmet with his left, with the half mask attached to it dangling below, and headed for the parking lot.

[Assistant]
"And so it beings..." she whispered, briefly shooting Serena a sympathetic look. Isabela then got up and turned around to get the rest of the gear from her locker. She put some magazines in the appropriate pouches that were attached to her vest, and the rest remained in her bag. Hopefully there wouldn't be a need to go through them, but that was merely wishful thinking on her behalf. She expected to be shot at and hit, but dying from those injuries would be different. She couldn't even accept the thought.

Once she had the gear she needed, Isabela pulled up the balaclava which hung around her neck. She adjusted the comms device they were assigned and strapped on her helmet. She was about to grab her rifle when she realized she still wasn't done. Reaching into her locker, Isabela pulled out a pair of knee pads and adjusted them around each knee.

Ahora estoy lista, she thought to herself, grabbing her weapon and slinging the bag on her shoulder. "See you guys out there."

Outside, Isabela put her stuff next to Melnikov's and made her way around the side of the vehicle. Once she took the driver's seat, she turned to Melnikov.

"Mind if I drive?"

[User]
Boris puckered his lips, of course she couldn´t see it, then he shook his head. The radio has been playing while Bo waited for the others, now he reached for it, turned down the volume, "No, not at all." was the only thing he said to Isabela. Then he took out his phone, dialed a number which he had on speed dial. Moments passed in silence, he could hear and Isabelas breath, finally the other side picked up.
"Good morning sunshine, don´t be late for school"
"Oh...am I too early? Sorry, must´ve mistaken the time.."
"No no, go back to bed. Just make sure your alarm is set."
"Yes.. uncle Dima will pick you up for school...like always.."
"Well, Natasha, you are a pretty girl. Many guys would dare to kidnap you while I am away." he chuckled slightly.
"Alright sweetheart, I´ll talk to you as soon as I can. But you know....this meetings can take forever."
"I love you too, now hush under the blanket before you get cold."
When the talk was over Bo´s phone disappeared in one of his pockets and he turned the radio louder again. His voice during the talk, had been completely different than the one in the locker room.

The vehicle was old, so it had no board computer or navigation system. Boris took out his Garmin GPS fed it the coordinates of their destination, checking back by using a map like they were sold in any tourist bureau or book store. From time to time he tried to scratch his chin, while scribbling all over the map with a pencil. A good while passed before he looked over to Isabella, "Do you have experience with driving under fire?" he asked, seemingly on the side.
"If not, today will probably be your first time." a sigh escaped his mouth, Boris looked outside. Not much of the city was visible from where they were, but the tracer rounds lighting the midnight sky were still impressive.

"Are you thinking the same as the others? That this will go bad?"

[Assistant]
Serena kept her arms folded as Boris answered, her expression blank as she gave a light, but clear nod. She met the gaze of Isabela, returning the look with a faint smile. And as the group began gathering the last of their things, Serena walked towards her locker, finding the rest of her own items. Once again, she checked her bag, for the third time. She did not forget things, ever, but it was a simple habit, almost a ritual by now. It had become a strange sense of familiarity in each new environment she found herself in. Surely it seemed strange, but it was time she spent to make sure her mind was in the right place – and it was. Throughout her time in The Ninth she had developed a few rituals alongside her comrades; triple checking their bags was one of them. 'Una terza volta per buona fortuna.' they'd say. 'A third time for good luck'.

Everything was in order, as it should be. The woman tightened the short braid she had made for her hair, to keep it in check during the operation. With a silent thud, Serena closed her locker, grabbed her bag and rifle and headed towards the door. She found two cars outside, one empty and one containing Boris and Isabela. The Italian took a moment outside in the dark, watching the destructive firework in the distance. The sound of muffled gunfire and explosions was a strange one; calming in a sense. It was the instrumental opera; indicating your last minutes to contemplate with yourself before the actual fighting would break out, if it was going to, at least. Her eyes went flew back towards the car; Boris was talking to someone on the phone, most likely an officer of sorts. Nevertheless; Serena approached the car.

The woman sat herself behind Boris, placing her trust 416 between her legs, and pulled up her balaclava, taking in a silent deep breath. Boris had just put the phone down, asking Isabela something as soon as Serena had entered; nothing Serena herself paid a lot of attention to at first. She remained silent, her eyes locked on the horizon, filled with muffled guns and tracer rounds still. It was going to be a long night.

[User]
Walking down the gloomy neon lit hallway, Vadim lowered his rifle. Even from here he could hear the distant shots and explosions coming from within the city. Under normal circumstances it should have been the city that echoed from the shouts of fans - friends, families and lovers that would be here to support the teams and players playing the football matches. But now, to the citizens of this city such a memory would not be so distant, and yet, it would feel so foreign. Atleast, thats what Vadim thought.

He stopped for a second, letting Isabella and Serena pass him. Having put on his helmet, the half mask still dangling. Vadim took a guarana shot, after all he would need all the energy he could have right now.

"Парковка A..." He muttered to himself as he walked into the parking lot. Logically, Melnikov was the first one to leave the locker room, so he was the first one to arrive. He was riding shotgun in the lead car, Isabella was the driver and Serena sat in the rear. Vadim decided to drive the second car. Popping the boot, Vadim put his bag into the trunk. Leaving the hatch open, he sat into the drivers seat and said: "Last one into the car closes the trunk!" Taking off his shades, he slid its temples into the closed sun visor. Relaxing in the seat and properly attaching his mask to the helmet, Vadim waited for everyone to get into the cars.

[Assistant]
Daniel shook his head as he followed Tokarev, striding in quick rhythm towards the exit, clothing falling under the pristine lights and casting shadows on a dirt-specked floor.
"He's just doing his job," he responded simply to the Russian #2's comment on Russian #1.

Though he held his identity close as the last part of family in foreign lands, the mechanic did have a level of respect for Russians, especially those who served their country without bombing a shitstain village for political change. The land there was harsh, and the ruthless military even more so. They were a complete reflection of their background, which was enough evidence of their strength.

As his companion found way to the parking, Daniel threw his bag in after Vadim's and joining in the passenger seat.
"Lazy motherfucker," he muttered with a smirk, throwing the door open and entering.

[Assistant]
It was a simple question, yet it resonated with Isabela. "I'm afraid so, yes," she nodded, finally placing her rifle down between the two front seats after making sure the safety was on. "I have plenty of experience, but strictly speaking I've never been in an actual war zone. But now that I think about it," she stopped, looking forward for a moment before turning to Melnikov once more, "I've never been deployed anywhere overseas." Isabela shrugged her shoulders. "I've traveled for leisure, but that's about it. Guess I'll soon find out what it's actually like, huh?"

She gave Melnikov a slight smile to keep the conversation light, but the fear of the unknown was evident in her eyes. Isabela then looked back at Serena who had remained quiet.

"Welcome aboard! Happy you could join us!"

Noticing that one of their teammates had gotten into the other vehicle, Isabela turned the car on but left it in park. She then noticed the last man also get in the other car.

"Say the word and we're good to go, boss."