[System]
Gender: Female

Age:10

Birthplace: Lexington Kentucky

Appearance:

She usually wears her uncles green flannel (its her good luck charm) over her tank tops, she always has on jeans and hiking boots

Personality: Smart, Observant, Stubborn, Persistent, Strong, a bit of a hot head

Occupation before the breakout: School and sports (Archery and softball mostly) and during the Apocolypse she was a helper to most people (except for doing laundry)

Skills: Like I said in her "occupation" she is good with a bow and she has a killer swing with a bat, she has very good at using whatever she has around to her own needs or others.

Fears: Silence, Clowns, and big muscled men with suits (long story)

Equipment: Backpack with water, some jerky, a can of corn and a knife her now deceased uncle gave her. Her softball bat and a bow with no arrows and last her soft ball.

Group:San Clemente group

History: Camyllia was born in a barn (literally) and was named after her grandmother. She grew up in her down-home town of Nicholasville until she was 6 and was moved to Capistrano Beach with her uncle after her parents went bankrupt. She lived there happily until the apocalypse broke out she lost her uncle on a run but was able to get to the center of Dana Point. Camyllia was the kid that would help load for supply runs and unload the stuff from supply runs as well she basically became everyone's little helper as best she can anyway. When Dana Point got attack she watched some of her friends get eaten before finally doing something. She had ran to a store she was staying at and grabbed her stuff before booking it out of the death trap.

Blitz:

[User]
Ethan Blackledge

All of the group had started taking action and started killing the small horde of walkers that had appeared through the wood. Ethan had grabbed Lauren by the hand, who was still clearly in shock over her brother. "Come on Lauren! We need to go!" He shouted at her trying to get her attention. She slowly turned around to look at Ethan in the eyes but you could tell the look on her face she wasn't taking anything in. He started to move her down the road pushing her towards where Alex had walked off and she slowly wondered off in that direction not noticing anything around her.

At that moment Ethan realised that all of his gear was still on the bonnet. His rucksack, map, compass and drink were all scattered over it. He began to run over to the car as another walker appeared in front of him. The walkers were always predictable so a one on one situation was always simple enough. The walker had grabbed him by the shoulders but Ethan quickly kicked it in the stomach. The walker went flying back and crashed into the side of a car that had been long abandoned on the road, a second later Ethan's hatchet went flying into the head of it. He put his foot on the dead walkers shoulder and yanked out the hatchet that was lodged into the head.

Ethan continued to move towards the car getting there a few moments later, he started to chuck everything in his ruck sack quickly. Behind him he heard the voice of the girl who'd just been in the stand off with him say, "If you want out, get in my truck."

He turned around to see the girl running off and a dead walker right behind him. "Thanks for the offer." Ethan said to her as she wondered off even further. Another walker came up at the side of him and all he did this time was grab it's head and forced it down smashing the decaying head on the corner of the bonnet. "I can't leave everyone though." He said mainly to himself, not thinking the girl could hear him anymore. Ethan started to move up the Highway, there weren't too many Walkers left that could be seen now but he had no clue how many could be in the woods. With his hatchet in hand he started to slowly jog down the highway looking around. He was about to kill a Walker but has he approached it, a bullet flew through it's head. The Walker fell to the ground in front of him and Ethan found it very strange, he didn't hear anyone shoot. He looked around but couldn't see anybody firing their weapon. Ethan didn't have time to think about it though. He shouted to everyone, "Keep moving down the road, head towards Alex." It wasn't the best idea shouting Ethan knew but he didn't have time going round to everyone individually telling them to move up the street. He looked behind him to see the red head mowing down the remaining Walkers.

[Assistant]
Alex Teixeira

 Alex slowly pulled the door open with his weapon pointed towards the ground. Standing lower than Kat, Alex felt her presence to be rather intimidating, not so much because of her bold tone. It was the cynicism that put him on alert. Cynics were dangerous, especially if they were pushed to their limits. Then again, anyone desperate to save themselves or their children would be desperate, wouldn't they? Alex bobbed his head up and down assuredly, the corners of his mouth tensing into a brittle smile. "Ah, ehm, I would go get my friends, then. I am not the leader of our group, but I'm sure Ethan would be willing to hear you out," he said quietly, struggling not to stutter his words. He turned back briefly, lowering his guard. "They not too far behind."

 The truth was, Alex didn't care so much about the house anymore. He could easily find somewhere else for the crew to sleep, but to leave this woman alone with her baby would practically be on the same level as murder in his mind. If it weren't for that child though, Kat might've seen a side of Alex he wasn't particularly comfortable with showing. He turned back to Kat and nodded again, looking at her feet for a moment as a sign of respect.

[User]
Kat nodded. "Good. Fine. Then there shouldn't be any problems. My name is Katherine. Kat for short. And this is Grace."
She had turned her head to look at Grace, trying to comfort her. The baby wasn't crying anymore but she was still uneasy, not liking the tension in the air and a little scared of the stranger. Kat planned on ignoring the man until a certain name came up. She froze at the familiar name.
Ethan...?

No, she shook her head. It wasn't possible. A lot of people had similar names and Ethan was a popular one.
"Go and get them," she told him, bouncing Grace lightly. "I'll be here when you get back."

Going to the kitchen area of the house, she opened the cupboard and pulled out the last can of chicken noodle soup she had. God bless Campbell's soup and their high sodium content that made them last forever. She kept a fire burning on the stove, adding sticks to keep it going. Kat opened the can and dumped the contents into a pot. She winced at the pain in her stomach but ignored it. The entire can had to go to Grace. Hopefully the people squatting in her self-proclaimed house tonight would have extra food with them. And with more people around to lead the walkers away she would be able to actually go out and scavenge more.
She purposefully ignored the fact that sooner or later the supplies in the houses around her would run out and she would be forced to move on.

Once the soup was warm but not too hot, Kat sat the pot on the table and started feeding Grace who gobbled up to soup hungrily. Kat felt a pang of guilt. A good mother would never allow her children to get this hungry...

[Assistant]
COLLABORATION with @Aerandir JASON HUNTER and NIKKI HYATT

Nikki heard the walker coming up behind her but she had her sword in motion another way at the moment and while she swung around to get it but the corpse fell to the ground. She glanced around quickly for more walkers and pulled out her gun just n case. She ushered the last of the others down the road. Ethan was just ahead of her and Walter and the others were ahead of them. Nikki was usually the first in and the last man out of any situation because of all of her training.

Jason waited for a moment to look for more walkers as the group started to move down the road. Nothing too close for now, and he should really conserve his ammo just in case. Lowering his weapon he gripped the branch below him and slowly swung down, his movements slow and calculated as it wouldn't shake the branches and alert any walkers. He looked below him and around incase he missed a walker and let go, landing softly with a forward roll. With one hand on his weapon to keep it from moving he crouched and made his way around the group and from behind, closing up on the girl with dirty blonde or brunette hair. His real reason though was to make it to the kid who had been bitten and was left behind.

Feeling his stomach drop at seeing how young he was he pulled his K-bar knife out and quickly emplanted it into his ear and brain. Making sure the kid would not come back as a walker. He quickly moved away. The redhead was still driving her truck around creating a distraction on her own, and he didn't want to get caught up in that.

So he moved forward quickly and eerily silently to the girl with the sword and gun in her hand. A walker suddenly moved within a car, just as she was moving past it. On reflex he stood and threw his combat knife at the walker, the long black blade made a sickening crunch as the blade passed through the skull and into the brain.

Nikki heard something and she turned around and pointed her gun at him. "Who are you and what do you want?" Nikki glanced at the others and knew she was alone. This guy looked like he was military. She glanced behind him looking for others like him that might endanger them. Seeing none of them she still knew he was probably the only person she had met in two years who could match her skills in fighting and she was sure that he had more skills in shooting a gun than she did.

Jason quickly ducked behind a truck as she glanced around to look for anyone...sadly no one was there... not that she would find them anyway, Seals were meant to work in the shaddows, he didn't fear her so that is why he allowed her to see him. But with a gun aimed at him it would be foolish to stand there. "What a way to thank the man who saved your life.. twice." He said with his head peaking around the corner of the box truck, "We were only trying to help, you guys are free to go, just trying to provide cover." He fingered his rifle's trigger just in case, not that she saw that as most of his body was behind the truck. "What's a bunch of kids doing on their own? Where did you come from?" He asked, He always said kids though they were probably five years younger than him....but when you've been in the military and situations like he has, kids were what they were to him.

Nikki smirked at him, "once. You saved me once and I heard him I was in full swing when you shot him. Didn't you noticed that was when I pulled my gun out. I hadn't hit him yet. I knew someone else was here. I think you are alone. If there were more of you then there would have been less walkers for me to take out." Nikki looked him up and down. "I'm guessing ..." She tilted her head, "not navy or airforce so you are most likely a marine. We are young but that's because we are young enough and healthy enough to run and fight. Most of the older people opted to stay or didn't make it out fast enough." This part caught in her throat a bit. "If you want shelter and good people you can come with us. I have to catch up." She started to walk and she said, "By the way, I'm Nikki Hyatt."

[User]
Walter Pierce

It was strange what a rush of adrenaline did to the human body, and how it affected someone's mind state. One moment, Walter had been staring down a potential threat to their group, looking between Nikki and Ethan, and the next moment, his dirty hands clasped tightly around his knife stained with crimson.

Leaving the task of keeping the walkers at bay to Nikki, Walter remained alongside Ethan, so as to back him up in the time of need. He trusted the man to make it back safely after running back to grab his gear, watching for any stray walkers if they drew too close to the unarmed members of their group.

While Walter dealt with the few that strayed away from the incident, Ethan returned shortly after, following the loud gunshot from before. "We need to move," he called to Ethan, shoving a walker off of the blade of his knife. "Shot's gonna draw more of 'em here!"

[Assistant]
Camyllia looks at the car and tries to open it," Dang it's locked," She says ducking when she heard growling. Taking a shaky scared breath the girl makes her way to the bike. It had a chain around it but no lock quickly and as quietly as possible she takes it off and holds it in her hand.  I've seen people use chains as weapons before in movie..maybe I can use this? She shrugs before taking off her backpack and sticking it in there and hoping that when or if she finds her group that they will have someone to help her find out how to use it. Until then she's going to either have to wing it.

 Taking the bike by the handle after putting her backpack she rolled the bike out of the guard looking at out for any walkers. A growl from behind her makes her jump back and look. A walker was heading towards Camyllia letting out loud growls.

"Time ta go!" Camyllia says hopping onto the bike and peddling out of the driveway as more walkers started to appear. She flew down the street and onto the highway and towards the opposite direction of the crowding walkers.


[System]
Age: 23

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance:
At roughly 5'10, the young man is of middling height for a warrior, with an athletic build to match his many years spent living by the blade. His hair is coarse and coal black, and just barely reaching down towards his amber and world-weathered gaze. He has a somewhat reserved disposition outside of combat and his face often hosts a thoughtful, but not wholly unapproachable expression.

Personality: Gerard is a man who seems beyond his mere twenty-three years behind the eyes. Despite having a history as a mercenary, and being used to just as many tavern brawls and rowdy atmospheres as one might expect from the profession, he carries a far more calm demeanor in his day-to-day interactions and life. He is not entirely familiar with courtly manner, but he is perfectly polite in personal interaction and humble in his presentation, with a sort of earnest air about him. He holds great steel within, however, having leapt at the chance to join the knightly order and become an outright force for good. There are many cruelties in this world that he, as a man and knight, cannot abide. Enough for him to take up the sword once more to put them to an end, and drag evil into the light.

One way or the other.

Brief Backstory: Born to a small family in a small village in Thaln's northwestern fiefs that borders a large stretch of woodland, Gerard (Gellért in the village dialect) grew up like many other rural boys— hunting, fishing, and making merry within the woods whenever not set to work with his father in the fields. With such a proximity to the border with Velt, he was raised quite obviously adherent to the Church's teachings, in his case as a Reonite, and was instilled with a strong sense of justice and wonder for the tales of knightly virtue and valor championing Her Paladins. He grew into a strong, hardworking lad, more than fit for any path he chose in life— And when a mercenary corps espousing the virtues of fighting the good fight for the Goddesses and making a living through your sword, perhaps even proving yourself worthy of knighthood? He was sold.

And just like that, the sixteen year old boy walked into Hell. A country bumpkin with a strong back and a steady hand was, at the end of the day, still a country bumpkin. He fell for the pitch hook, line, and sinker. Spending years fighting pointlessly, seeing lives waste away, and people trod upon as lower than dirt, it wore heavily on Gerard. At times, his faith in justice was tested, at others, it was all that kept him pushing forward. The band of mercenaries was by no means incompetent— their captain lead with a firm, measured hand, the quartermaster had a frank outlook on weaponry and training recruits, and in the end they did indeed follow the tenants of Reon by capturing a particularly well-defended encampment of slavers holed up in one of the ruins dotting Velt. For their efforts, the group was disbanded shortly after— and folded into the Church of Reon's militant arm if they so wished. Fearing disillusionment but chasing a lifelong dream as closely as he could, young Gellért accepted, and soon after was recruited into the Order of the Iron Rose. He continues to pursue his idealized image of a knight with a desperate fervor, and it permeates his every moment.

Equipment: A fairly standard longsword of just over a meter's length from pommel to tip, a well-kept kit of half-plate as he cannot yet afford a full, custom-fitted suit. A sturdy, large knife for general survival purposes (both clearing brush and sliding through gaps in armor, should need arise).

Skills: While not an exemplary swordsman like the order's founder, he is schooled well for a mercenary and trains vigorously to improve his mastery, day in and day out. His style is rooted in simplicity and pragmatism, at times even leaning near brutality compared to the romanticized and beautiful swordplay of the ideal knight he wishes to evoke, a carryover of life as a soldier-for-hire. A trained, keen eye can spot many similarities to properly denoted longsword fencing technique within various Fechtbücher beneath the roughness of it— the kid's fundamentals are there, simply learned secondhand as opposed to the traditional knight's manuals, and applied with a dash of that distinct recklessness of the expendable.

In addition, he is quite comfortable with a wide variety of other tools and weapons, such as spears or handaxes. He had to make do with what was on hand for much of his life— both as a man-at-arms and as a simple boy from the woodlands. He is a natural at speaking to common folk on their level, and holds a host of skills found in a boy whose childhood was spent within Thaln's countryside. Has a mild problem, however, with prioritizing his own safety— it's an act that he is still learning to no longer refrain from.

[User]
Mentions/Interactions: @VitaVitaAR @Crimson Paladin @PaulHaynek

So that was how it worked.

No doubt continuous enough dismembering would eventually wear out his ability to heal, but it would be a long, lengthy, and bloody process. And as satisfying as it might be the Knights would grow exhausted long before they succeeded. Fire would help, but alas none among them possessed that more Reonite magic. But Nicomede missed nothing, and he watched the trails of blood rejoin the vampire's lost limbs. It was his greatest strength, more than the force or speed of his arm. Swiftness could be accomplished by mortal men as well as strength, but a mortal man will die if he bleeds. A mortal man's arm will not return to its place, nor his head to his shoulders. That was the clearest divide between the creature before them and themselves.

So it would be taken away.

But he had not been idle in that moment and as the vampire had leapt back he had pressed on, eager to keep the monster from creating a gap. The bloodied liquid followed the lead of his off weapon this time, seeking to end the ranged threat the same way he had stopped the Nem assassin.

"Tagliare." The water shot forth to sever the crossbow's line and Nicomede followed it, staying in close and low while his spada swept again at the vampire's leg. "Sirs FLeuri, Jarde! Sever its limbs!"

There was no time to explain, and no way to do so without giving up the game. But he knew how to put down the creature, and put him down hard. Against someone else it might have a been a certain moral conundrum; Nicomede was not squeamish, but using a man's own vital fluids against him simply seemed wrong. It felt near to a very serious border, a line that should not be crossed. Not even against the wicked. It wasn't even something he was certain he could do against a living being, and certainly not before it had been separated from its owner.

But this was not a truly living thing, not anymore, and he would feel no qualms for what it might require to stop it.

Water is the most abundant resource in all the world, and found in most liquids. A fact the disgraced noble had amply demonstrated when he weaponized a glass of wine earlier in the evening, and one he continued to demonstrate with the bloodied water that presently sought to destroy another crossbow. Without a counteracting magic the work of one part would affect the whole, and dueling magics would come down to the practitioners. The monster might be stronger, but he wasn't smarter.

And blood was more than half water.

At the first drop of blood from his blade or any of his comrades he would utter the word, the growl, that would prevent the monster's blood from rejoining until he had conquered Nicomede's own will, the will of a human being;

"Rottura."

If it had the will for it at all.

[Assistant]
Fleuri Jodeau

The knights' blows struck true, cleaving off the vampire's arm and leg as he leapt back. Any satisfaction at this successful attack, however, quickly disappeared when Fleuri saw how quickly Damon recovered. Blood emerged from his stumps and linked with the severed limbs, pulling them to Damon and snapping them back into place as if he had never been hit. Fleuri knew that vampires could regenerate, but he had never realized how rapidly they could do so. He had hoped that they would be able to disrupt the regeneration, but it happened so rapidly there had been no opportunity to do so.

To make matters worse, Damon seemed completely unfazed by this ordeal, showing neither pain nor irritation at the momentary setback that dismemberment presented to him. To the contrary, he almost seemed like he was enjoying this.

By Reon, he's toying with us, Fleuri concluded as Damon readied his crossbow. Fleuri reflexively raised his sword in front of his face to try and deflect the blow. Damon had probably missed his first shot on purpose, but now that he had his chance to show off his vampiric abilities, this shot would likely struck much more true.

"Tagliare," spoke Nicomede, channeling a stream of water formed from the vampire's blood upon his sword to strike the crossbow, thwarting Damon's attempts to shoot Fleuri. Nicomede pressed the attack, swinging his sword at Damon aggressively.

"Sirs Fleuri, Jarde! Sever its limbs!" shouted Nicomede at his two companions.

He was right, they needed to press the attack. Severing the limbs might not be enough, however. A vampire's control over his own blood was not something that'd be easily nullified, although Nicomede's water magic should be able to at least slow down the regeneration. They would also need to ensure he couldn't just leap to a safe distance long enough to pull himself together without fear of being interrupted. Fortunately, they had someone who had just the equipment and skills to do so.

"Jarde, can you restrain him?" Fleuri asked, remembering the long chain weapons that the young knight carried. "We have to keep him from moving around." Fleuri unfastened his cloak and approached Damon with his sword in one hand and the cloak in the other, drawing close enough to intercede if the vampire counterattacked Nicomede, but keeping just enough distance that Jarde should have a clear shot.

Between the three of them, they might just have the skills needed to put this fiend down.

@PaulHaynek

[User]
~ Cal Family Mausoleum ~

Interacted with: @VitaVitaAR, @Crimson Paladin, @Krayzikk

Jarde watched as Sirs Fleuri and Nicomede both attacked the vampiric Damon Cal. The latter moved to counter but the Iron Rose Knights emerged the victor in the clash when they managed to hack off the vampire's limbs, specifically an arm and a leg. Victory was guaranteed, but Jarde thought it to be too easy.

And his fears would come true, Damon landed as if he had lost nothing. Jarde was momentarily confused but a chill ran down his spine when the blood the vampire lost from his missing limbs condensed and solidified. They then acted as threads that connected the arm and leg to their stumps, moving to return the limbs to their proper place. In a moment, Damon Cal was restored fully. The efforts of Sirs Fleuri and Nicomede seemingly for naught.

The vampire aimed and fired his crossbow at Sir Fleuri but the bolt was intercepted with a shot of water conjured by Sir Nicomede.

Hold on. Did that not work? Perhaps Sir Nicomede had a plan. Jarde trusted his fellow knight and prepared to move.

Restrain? How-- Jarde quickly realized he was talking about the chains attached to his sickle weapons. "That's not their true use but alright."

Jarde released the locks that connected the sickles to the chains. He elongated his chains by letting them fall off his arm and rushed forward. His plan was simple, throw his chains around Damon and hold him there for Fleuri and Nicomede to tear him apart. He wished he could do something more extravagant but they needed to restrain him and that's exactly what Jarde would do.

As soon as he was close enough, Jarde would throw one of his chains at the vampire in an attempt to wrap and bind. Damon was more than capable of deflecting the oncoming chain attack so Jarde would delay throwing his second chain just in case the first one was blocked. Obviously, he would need to be there to hold the chains together but he doubted he had the strength to resist Damon's. Jarde was a speedster, not a brute!

[Assistant]
The only reply the armored man received came in the form of yet another crash of steel, as the knight's sword beat itself against his hurried defense. He had done well enough, given the lame arm, to intercept each strike without faltering entirely. That much, Gerard could in hindsight give credit for— but it made for a protracted exchange, which did not favor him. He was panicked, forced to react rather than press, and growing weaker by the second beneath that heavy suit of plate.

That said, he was still managing just enough to elude capture, to escape disarmament, to avoid being toppled. Taking him alive was proving a troublesome prospect. While he seemed a cut above the riffraff the majority of the Roses had been carving through, and thusly liable to be one of the correct targets for interrogation... It came down to a matter of economics. Resources such as energy, and time, precious time, were the currency in knowing how cost-effective pursuing this idea of his would be. And in all honesty, beneath the clamor of steel and sparks between them as he fought, beneath even the crimson haze that his mind had allowed to cloak itself, Gerard had not missed mention of an incoming magus.

The calculus was quite simple. Even a backwoods hick given a sword and a task could do it.

They did not have time to waste, with arcane might soon to be leveled against them.

Enough of this. He had tried. The girl was more important.

Maybe if he were stronger, he could have beaten him down sooner and taken him.

But he wasn't, so it needed to end here.

Another oberhau fell upon the mercenary's guard, a comet crashing to Earth, and for the briefest moment the man's shoulder buckled as it absorbed the force. Tiring. Overheating. Succumbing.

A new, lethal light entered Sagramore's amber glare. Before, he promised pain unto his foe, but not necessarily death— There was no ambiguity now. His strength seemed to redouble, a growl escaping his throat as he ceased concerning himself with this man's life. He pressed down for a moment, forcing great strength into the bound blades as he left the man no choice but to contest it—

Then all at once whipped it around once— then again on the opposite side, a great, long fang of steel biting into the earline of the exposed head of his foe. Insurance. Even if he managed to redirect his weapon from up, as forced by surviving the bind, to side, the first zwerchau quite readily set up the second. His instincts had been beaten into him well, in this regard—

Keep pressure.

Strike again and again.

He's losing strength.

Don't let him back into this.

He will die.

—they handled the technical minutiae for him in times like these. It was a luxury that he did not always like relying upon, but beggars could not be choosers.

It did not matter how he achieved it, all that mattered was that he did everything he could to save those threatened by this heathenish lot.


[System]
Margrave
Alias: Margrave
Age: 17
Alignment: Wannabe Antihero, formerly Wannabe Villain
Loyalty: Unofficial Ward
Appearance: A white male of lanky proportions, 6'1", most often clothed in dark colors. His features, from his nose to his jaw to his cheekbones, are angular, and his nose itself is rather prominent. By nature his brown hair is poofy, and he keeps it styled upward. His earlobes are attached, his eyes are a murky brown, and he has slightly yellowed teeth. His favorite attire includes a dark green high-collared trench coat that belonged to his grandfather and a black baseball cap.
History: Elliot came into the world in a rough period for his family. Poor, without a house, and constantly on the move, his parents did their best to love him and raise him while teaching him important lessons about life. Elliot learned quickly, becoming a very serious and reserved child. As the years went by, his family persisted in a state of continuous change. For a few months he and his parents might be living in an apartment or condo, and immediately after be back on the road in a station wagon. When Elliot was four, the trio finally settled, and Elliot went to school. Though not very social at all, he excelled in his classes, displaying streaks of perfectionism. Knowing that he needed something else to work on, his parents enrolled him in a kickboxing class, and he took to it like a fish to water. Eventually he found himself on the receiving end of some bullies, but rather than silently put up with their abuse he displayed a newfound confidence. One bully provoked him into punching, but even though Elliot missed, his enemies decided to find easier prey. All throughout middle school, nothing really changed.

Only in high school did he start to open up, his defensive shell cracking to allow dry humor and the occasional hilarious remark to seep through. Meanwhile, he continued to study, balancing a life of school, video games, and hanging out with friends. He saw no problem in trying beer or a cigarette when pressured to but, finding neither remotely to his liking, he never tried them again. Elliot instead dedicated himself to a new goal: scholarship. Though his family's condition had improved immensely from his early youth, there was not a single sliver of a chance he'd be able to attend college. In scholarship, though, he found a solution: a full-ride to a local university, if only he continue to excel. In his sophomore and junior years he did exactly that, but a dark and brooding foe lay on the horizon. Confronted with Calculus II, a college-level course, in senior year, he was stumped for the first time. Having become accustomed to overcoming every obstacle easily, Elliot grew uncharacteristically distraught disturbingly quickly. He grew more and more crazed in his desperation, knowing that his future lay on the line. Yet his pride would not allow him to cheat. Though he enlisted the teacher for help, he continued to struggle, and at the end of the second semester opened a yellow envelope with shaking hands to discover that he'd fallen afoul of the cutoff for the full-ride scholarship by only a small margin.

Elliot stared at the paper, mouth agape and eyes wide. In his quest to get a passing grade, he'd practically severed ties with all of his friends. He'd staked everything on this—and now he'd failed. With a shattered confidence, knowing that he'd doomed himself to a rotten life and disappointed everyone who knew him, he went berserk. Before, he'd made certain to keep excelling by punishing himself when he failed, so what came next seemed obvious. Seizing a metal pan, he smashed it against his own forehead. The impact dazed him and the held-back tears poured forth, but he did it again. Two more times he cracked the pan against his head, not really caring if he lived or not. The fourth time, however, the pan broke off. Elliot didn't discover why until he awoke an hour later to the sound of his mother coming into the apartment. Deaf to her shriek of fear, he touched the broken, plastic pot that lay before him before passing out again.

After recovering, Elliot was advised to go to therapy, but he shrugged it off. With school over with, he took to spending a lot of time outside, exploring the city. He'd discovered something new about himself, and in doing so he changed. A new attitude had taken him over, forming a sort of persona. He acted strangely and extravagantly without any restraint. He continued to work as a junior instructor for his kickboxing studio, albeit with a shocking new persona that the kids thought was pretty awesome, and he earned enough money to live off of. Out of the studio he sought something different. After a painstaking search, he attempted to get in with the local supervillain gang, only to be conspired against and brutally kicked out for his lame attitude and power. With no other options, he sought the local Wards. Perhaps its leader took pity on Elliot, but nevertheless he finally found somewhere he felt as if he belonged, though he'd never show it.

Personality
Motivations: Elliot wants, more than anything, to be recognized. The road starts with getting attention and ends with getting famous—preferably infamous. He wants people to know his name, and to respect him.
Sexuality: Straight
Likes: * Looking cool
* Beating others at petty competitions
* Taking advantage of others
* Company
* Potato crisps
* Exercise
* Flaring up with no real reason
* Playing 'lone wolf' DPS characters in games
* Action movies, especially martial arts movies

Dislikes: * Being alone
* Being ignored
* Being wrong
* His lame power
* People who are full of themselves
* Goody-goodies
* Artificial sweeteners
* Support players who whine a lot in games

Derangement: To Elliot, the only way to become renowned and respected is to be respected through fear. To that end, he goes to frequently absurd lengths to speak and act mysteriously and threateningly, though more often than not this comes across as acting confusingly and obnoxiously. He cannot conceive of a different way to get famous and is completely ignorant of his own shortcomings.

Parahumanism
Skills: Elliot is a fast runner, with somewhat higher than usual stamina. He's pretty smart, and can produce a sense of humor from time to time, but what he's really good at is pissing other people off. When it comes to ideas, schemes, plots, plans, and so forth that might bamboozle, infuriate, or enrage others, Elliot's the guy. He's also got a hint of a British accent that tends to intrigue people who aren't familiar with it. From kickboxing lessons he's taken since he was eleven, he's got notable fist-fighting ability, as well as the strength to go with it, though his pain tolerance is surprisingly low.
Classification: Striker
Details: Upon touching an inanimate object, Elliot can turn it into a toy version of itself. This may include substance change (for instance, to plastic) size change, and so forth. The rate of toyification is tied to his mental state; when he's calm, the transformations go at an unremarkable speed, but if he's excited or scared, the process can be sped up by several times depending on intensity. Objects will tend to turn into toy versions of themselves that replicate or at least resemble existing toys. Someone's mech suit might, then, turn into a Transformer. A few traits are shared among all of the toys created by Elliot's power: they are simple, they are destructible, and they are harmless. An anvil, turned into a plastic toy, could be easily crushed. Elliot has some control over the change; IE he could choose whether to turn a gun into a Nerf gun, a Super Soaker, or a tiny action-figure accessory.
Limitations: This toy-transformation power can only emanate from Elliot's hands. He wouldn't be able to defend himself from anything threatening to harm his body if he couldn't physically touch it with his hands. Additionally, if one of his toys is moved out of close proximity to him, it will quickly begin to revert to its original form. This also applies to toy versions of things he might want to use himself, like vehicles or hidden weapons. Of course, this power is also of very little use in direct combat with other parahumans.
Equipment: At all times, Elliot has in some pocket or another handfuls of foam knives and action figure weapons. He's also got a little canteen and a bag of beef jerky, which he enjoys. His heavy clothing might also provide a little defense, but it's no substitute for anything resembling actual armor. However, he does wear cloth shin-guards and forearm guards beneath his clothes when out and about, which are valuable when fighting unarmed. As a Ward, he's also got a Protectorate Communication Earpiece and a holographic computer interfacing tool, courtesy of Decoy.

[User]
---

Silvia's attempt to get his attention had failed, the mad man was still going after people and causing damage. She needed to stop him from getting to anyone else but from the sounds he was about to get another victim, the thud of a body hitting concrete was a clear indicator of that. She trembled as she had no idea how to deal with this situation the cables and water everywhere didn't help her calm down either, she knew how dangerous live wires were and was in no hurry to see if she was able to survive making contact with them, she was tough but she didn't think she was that tough.

She needed to think quickly, find a way to get his attention and then make sure to catch him in a tornado. But he was far to busy going for bystanders, Silvia remember how he wanted people to look at him so that they would panic, maybe if she called him out as if he were a coward trying to hide from her. That might work. She did have a general idea of which direction he was in because of the thud against the concrete so she would go that way. She needed to... Lower her arm and look straight ahead if her bluff was to be believed by the villain, if he saw Silvia standing there covering her vision while shouting that he was a coward he might just ignore her, she couldn't afford that. With a great amount of hesitation she lowered her arm uncovering her face. "Coward where are you!? Stop hiding and show yourself!" she was looking in the direction the thud had come from so if he did take the bait she would see him come at her, at least if he didn't try sneaking around to try and flank her, but then he'd have to get past her wind barrier.

[Assistant]
Chad Belton: On the Move
It was a couple of minutes after he left the house that Chad received Sheila's text: We have visitors. Don't know how long they're planning on staying, but I could use some help if you think you have the time. Let me know? "Help", the code red phrase, not to mention the other coded messages. The base was under attack, then, and what good planning he'd engaged in: he had his Cape outfit on him, all folded up in his backpack. Why wouldn't he? But, at this sort of time... was he truly needed? Maybe, maybe not... ah, but he couldn't really. The teachers might be upset if he didn't-

...no they wouldn't. They barely noticed him to begin with, if at all. He was a good enough student, and that was all they cared about. Not teaching him anything new, not helping protect him from the bullying he'd suffered, not fucking giving him any sort of helping hand, but maybe he'd bite it off anyway of they did, then start shredding the arm connected to it, let their blood pour out and the muscle and cartilage fly all over the ground-

'Yeah, I've got time,' he murmured to himself, sending back a text to Sheila specifically: I can make it. He always tended to leave a little early... a lot early anyway, so if he went at a moderate jog the whole way there, and back afterwards, he could probably make it into his first class in good time, even if he had to change. And he would, of course. Could just put the firefighter stuff over his school uniform... yeah, yeah that'd work out.

Moderate jog, then. He trained, he was fit enough to handle that. He recalled the building, figured out the route from where he was in his mind, and began to move toward the HQ. He'd stop off a few minutes away just to change into costume, and then... whatever needed helping with, he'd help with.

[User]
Once he realized the futility of his halfhearted attempts at escape, Elliot simply stood, still as a statue, and waited for the ordeal to be over. He heard everything spoken by the other Wards -how could he not have?- but gave no reply. No attempts at amelioration garnered acknowledgment, and neither did he take up any oaths regarding Alessa's demand for pacification nor push for coherence. However, he neglected any overt hostility, broodiness, or resentment too, which in and of itself said something.

Elliot remained distant as the group, little by little, trickled back to PRT HQ through its more subversive entrance. One nigh-unknown to the public as a hero required little in the way of cautiousness to hide his identity, but the mental energy otherwise spent being inconspicuous allowed him to replay the terrible scene over and over in his mind. He wanted nothing more than to wipe this morning away. Never had he thought he might be confronted in any serious capacity, and in the moment of weakness he'd let the gig up. For a minute or two, the young man showed the depressed little heroes not the Margrave, but Elliot, a worthless entity made of shame, incompetence, and envy, best left buried deep, deep below. It would not happen again. When the others failed to live up to their new resolutions, having realized their pity project beyond salvation, the Margrave would be alone once more.

Eventually the Wards strode reunited into their team's designated area, tucked safely away in the Protectorate's hidden fortress. The others, the Margrave thought, seemed to be awfully eager to restore normalcy, nattering away as if nothing had happened. He had to give them some credit for putting forth genuine behavior after the scene at Little Owl. Nobody in their right mind would want to make nice in a situation like this, with tensions so high and the air anything but clear. The Margrave observed them as best he can, since his normal nature that Collin expected, antisocial and withdrawn, demanded no effort. How calculated, rather than true, was that smile? That laugh? Could the Margrave learn from their deceit of Collin to better understand when he himself was deceived? Their conversation came to a boiling point as Alessa came up with a bonding activity straightaway. No wasting time, the Margrave noted with a dry smile. Like a funeral the day after the death. Or marriage the day after engagement. No costumes, huh? In his case that condition came quite easily. He took a deep breath through his nose, then said, "Whatever you want." How funny that his usual practice of not putting on airs of being a pleasant person meant so much less bother in a situation like this.

For a moment Evelyn's suggestion flabbergasted him, since her manner of speech demanded response and he had hoped to coast through this charade, but he worked together a response that fit his character. "Huh? A goody two-shoes saying we should abandon our noble pursuits and skive off to the countryside? Who are you, and what've you done with Evelyn?" He gave a chuckle, positioning his head in a dramatic manner. "That's something more suited for the likes of me, the Margrave. Bringing valiant heroes of the light to my level...what whisperer in darkness could decline? I'm all for it."


[System]
Nickname: Fallen Angel, although her organization refers to her as Calamity Princess

Age: 17

School Year: Third Year
Transfer Student

Gender: Female

Appearance: Pale skin, heavily contrasted by her black hair, akin to a liquid void running down her back, and deep, purple eyes that seemed to stare into one's soul. With dainty limbs and a bust not too small nor large, one would have the image of a pretty and delicate doll. This is accented by the ribbon tied in a bow on the left side of her head, and the dark purple clothing that she generally prefers, which adds a mysterious aura around her.

Nationality: Russian

Personality: It is actually extremely hard to perfectly categorize someone as unusual as Sasha herself. If you knew her past, you would call her a psychopath. If you only just met her, a mysterious girl. And if you know her personally, a mischievous trickster. Although her body language and expression seems to be normal, and acting like a high-class girl, at least of the time it's fake. The other half is when she's feeling eccentric, and decides to act as is. Always keeping her true thoughts and plans behind closed doors, while dancing around any topics that has to do with her, her past, or her owners.

Those who know her personally, and know of her plans, would tell you that she is extremely meticulous. Having one back-up plan is not enough. Planning for every possible outcome is something that Sasha strives for, event including a target(s) reaction and/or thoughts, while pretending to be a delicate, philosophical yet air headed idiot. Manipulating others from behind the scene is also something common with her, as well as watching and commenting on someone else's plans as they enact it.

Bio: Sasha was born in the slums of Russia, where she was forced to fight for survival. While living in such terrible conditions, she had incidentally attempt to steal from someone who, no matter how hard you try, would never be found in any database. Not even the government had him on file. He, seeing potential in the girl, took her under his wing...on one condition. Needing to see the girl's resolve, he told her that he would support her, only if she could murder her parents. Immediately, Sasha led the man to her so called home -nothing more than a rundown apartment amongst the other rundown apartments- where she requested the man to pin down her parents. Glancing around, she found a sharp enough tool -a rusted knife- before making her way to her parents. Before committing the act, she did not break down, nor did she stiffen up. What she did, was something quite bizarre. Whispering quiet words, she brought the knife down, once, twice, before throwing the knife away. She had not only shown her resolve, but also talent in another way. She took her first lives. However, that was not the frightening part. What would've chilled any normal person, was that, right before she killed, she had a gentle smile. She had whispered the words, "Thank you~" to her parents' horrified faces. And she had killed without hesitation.

Passing the test, the man had brought her into his organization, a criminal network that spanned all of Russia, and was now aiming for the world. He had, alongside others, searched for those with talent. Talent, which could be used to further their goals. With a smile and a nod, Sasha agreed to help them, despite being told that she would be trained to kill, studying to assist integration closer to her targets. Her only spoken response was "I'll be your weapon." Several years of training, she had gone straight to one of the higher-ups, before making a request. "I'm bored of this training. Give me something new." Completely absurd request, as most of the requests that normally received were complaints, booze, women, or raises. No one requested more training. Hell, no one thinks that the training they got was boring.

To this odd request, the higher-ups debated, before sending her to Gakuen Academy, where they heard about the institution. Before she left, she was given a few words. No, orders were a better word for it. "Even while outside of Russia, you still belong to us. You are a weapon of ours. We will give you contracts ever so often. As usual, you have no right to refuse."

Weapon: An unusual parasol. While appearing to be a simple yet decorative black laced parasol, it's actually a multi-use tool/weapon. The handle and bar of the parasol is actually a gun, capable of chambering shotgun shells, whether slugs, flechettes, or the like, while the 'rainproof' part of the parasol is actually made of carbon fiber, making it an effective shield. And if all else fails, it can be swung as a bat.

Equipment:
Multiple Card Decks: She carries several different decks on her, for different purposes. While some are the more usual kinds one could find, and even buy in a store, there are a few others that are somewhat unique. Cards that have a thin sliver of C4 inside, sharpened metal edges, etc. of course, one of them is a simple rigged deck for magic tricks.

Skills:
Body Control: With a lot of practice, she can control and utilize her body to its fullest, making sudden burst of speed, or having extreme reaction times. Of course, doing this for a period of time is draining on both mind and body, and her limit is a whole day.
Magic Tricks: Extremely skilled in 'sleight of hand' and the like. Although meant for distractions, it is quite handy when it comes to small weapon concealment.
Piano: She is surprisingly capable at playing the piano.
Subterfuge: She has a way with words and trickery, leading people around without them realizing it.

Other: Body control is really just balancing the fine line between pushing your limits and breaking yourself. Personally, longest I've risked is half a day. The standing to high-speed jump is part of it(although I can't time the stop right without colliding with something >.>)

While she doesn't have an ability, she pretends that she does, calling it 'Lucid Dreams', describing it as combining fantasy with the real world. Really, she's only using her skills in subtle ways.

You could probably surprise her if you call her by Calamity Princess or talking of her past or organization, as only her organization is suppose to be the only ones calling her that. Although that be unlikely, unless your character has a way of find out such information.

Something very, very surprising may be discovered, although this is a hidden secret that only Sasha herself knows. While capable of taking painful hits without too much of a problem, she seems to be extremely sensitive or over-reacts to groping and gentle touches.

[User]
Minako watched as the blonde scrubbed her arm with the disinfectant, she tried not to be bothered by it, this was just something that needed to be done out of the way. Younger sister? She's the younger sister of that so called director? Cut me down faster than I think huh? Not if this little sister gets a good torture in you first. Minako giggled to herself from her thoughts, she took another look back at her arm and sighed.

"Onii-chan better take care of my wound and help me heal up~" Minako said to herself before she saw the so called nurse walk back in, but instead wearing a black and orange maid dress. When the bandaid was put over the gaping hole, Minako couldn't help herself but giggle a little at the silly design. But she shrugged before she was grasped, starting to notice how different the area was changing around herself and the blonde.

"Bye bye Shark-chan!" Minako giggled and waved at her before looking away from her and gritting her teeth in disgust. She looked over at the long lunch line full of students, she took a look around at all of the students eating, trying to find Onii-chan. Where could Onii-chan be? Onii-chan has to be here, otherwise I'd have to find something entertaining to satisfy me, such as killing~ Minako giggled to herself before making her way over to the lunch line, she's really just hoping that she won't be treated like a pig, she desperately wants to be in that famous Black Class.

[Assistant]
As the students began to eat their lunches and Rei struggled to force someone to eat with them at their table with the threat of death, while others began to crowd the lunch room and Saya's plan to keep the students safe worked in the end, they wouldn't find out that because of Saya's old problems and issues with the Japanese mafia, her issues were swept under the rug and next to no one would know about it besides the almost mindless slave she had attending the school.

The lunch room started to become crowded by the mass amount of students that began to enter the room, and when another student arrived to Kaede with an empty tray arrived it was a girl that was wearing a zebra mask on her head, and when she spoke everyone went silent." Please mum...May I have another ?" she spoke with a heavy British accent through the mask partially muffling her voice.

And she wanted Kaede to answer her instantly and before Kaede could say anything she asked Kaede once again." Pl-Please mum...Can..I..Have..Another?" The girl's arms shook as she held onto the tray as if she was cold and someone just poured a tray of ice cubes down her back, then she let go of the tray and let it fall.

The room oddly was silent enough to hear the tray fall and the girl wearing the zebra mask on her face had a butter knife in her one of her hands and started to yell loudly she raised her hand with the butter knife into the air and she tried to Lunge at Kaede, but at the last second Sayaka stopped the attack by punching girl with the zebra mask on her face and knocked her into a nearby pillar.

" Denied." Sayaka said to the zebra girl, suddenly the doors to the lunch room were kicked open by other people who were wearing a variety of different animal mask over their heads, they almost out numbered the students in the lunch room and rushed the assassins and actually put up a good fight against the assassin students.

A camera on the corner of the lunch room caught the entire act and was still catching it till an assassin threw someone at the camera and knocked out the feed, before Saya could make an order to the guards to attack the animal masked enemies, a couple of guards that were wearing animal mask kicked in the door to the security room and tried to rush Saya just like they were rushing the assassins in the lunch room, more guards with animal mask started to pour in and they started fighting the regular guards rushing them and fighting.

In the hallways Izumi and a number of guards were holding their ground against a large wave of these animal masked enemies, while many of them attacked her and the guards from both ends of the hall way, Izumi pulled up her hologram phone and tried to call the security room while taking down some of the animal masked guys with her off hand while her other hand was held up to show her face to the hologram screen, while she was calling the security room, one of the animal masked guys tried to donkey punch Izumi, only for the woman to punch them and keep looking at the screen.

When one of the animal masked people dropped to the ground in front of Izumi she noticed that the guy was wearing a default uniform of the school here, then she began to notice that the others were wearing different clothes and others wore school uniforms, suddenly the hologram screen came up on voice message and Izumi left a quick message." Mom, some of these people attacking are members of the school." Izumi sent the message to the security room's phone and began to help the guards hold their ground against the large swarm of animal masked men and women that seemed almost endless.

Sayaka jumped back over to the table with Rei and Addie and covered Addie while Rei was probably getting up and trying to get a hold of the situation, Sayaka tried to use her flamethrower but before she could activate the spread fire weapon, one of the guys tried to jump her and Sayaka was forced to punch him, then Sayaka tried to use the weapon again, but she was again jumped and she was forced to punch another masked girl and then elbow another masked man." Rei will you get that tight ass over here and cover me so I can use my flamethrower !" Sayaka yelled at the blue haired assassin.

[User]
Sasha blinked in surprise, before laughing lightly. "Assassin too? So you're an assassin then?" Despite being teased in return and having her bluff called -she will remember that, and make sure to return in with a vengeance- she was still able to poke a little fun at the boy. The boy had asked if she was an assassin 'too', which had revealed that he was an assassin as well. And he had revealed this information, before she had denied or consented with his words.

"I'm just a normal person, who seemed to have entered the wrong school." With a dainty little shrug, she continued to walk with the boy, tilting her head while asking her next question. "Ah, but what do you specialize in? The job of an assassin sounds like it is filled with adventure!" Of course, she knew that this place was meant for assassins, and that just about everybody here had something unusual about them. Probably even the American that had run off somewhere was something unusual. But the boy didn't need to know that she had any kind of experience regarding assassination. Hey, if the boy ended up creating the wrong assumptions, even better.


[System]
Nickname: Fallen Angel, although her organization refers to her as Calamity Princess

Age: 17

School Year: Third Year
Transfer Student

Gender: Female

Appearance: Pale skin, heavily contrasted by her black hair, akin to a liquid void running down her back, and deep, purple eyes that seemed to stare into one's soul. With dainty limbs and a bust not too small nor large, one would have the image of a pretty and delicate doll. This is accented by the ribbon tied in a bow on the left side of her head, and the dark purple clothing that she generally prefers, which adds a mysterious aura around her.

Nationality: Russian

Personality: It is actually extremely hard to perfectly categorize someone as unusual as Sasha herself. If you knew her past, you would call her a psychopath. If you only just met her, a mysterious girl. And if you know her personally, a mischievous trickster. Although her body language and expression seems to be normal, and acting like a high-class girl, at least of the time it's fake. The other half is when she's feeling eccentric, and decides to act as is. Always keeping her true thoughts and plans behind closed doors, while dancing around any topics that has to do with her, her past, or her owners.

Those who know her personally, and know of her plans, would tell you that she is extremely meticulous. Having one back-up plan is not enough. Planning for every possible outcome is something that Sasha strives for, event including a target(s) reaction and/or thoughts, while pretending to be a delicate, philosophical yet air headed idiot. Manipulating others from behind the scene is also something common with her, as well as watching and commenting on someone else's plans as they enact it.

Bio: Sasha was born in the slums of Russia, where she was forced to fight for survival. While living in such terrible conditions, she had incidentally attempt to steal from someone who, no matter how hard you try, would never be found in any database. Not even the government had him on file. He, seeing potential in the girl, took her under his wing...on one condition. Needing to see the girl's resolve, he told her that he would support her, only if she could murder her parents. Immediately, Sasha led the man to her so called home -nothing more than a rundown apartment amongst the other rundown apartments- where she requested the man to pin down her parents. Glancing around, she found a sharp enough tool -a rusted knife- before making her way to her parents. Before committing the act, she did not break down, nor did she stiffen up. What she did, was something quite bizarre. Whispering quiet words, she brought the knife down, once, twice, before throwing the knife away. She had not only shown her resolve, but also talent in another way. She took her first lives. However, that was not the frightening part. What would've chilled any normal person, was that, right before she killed, she had a gentle smile. She had whispered the words, "Thank you~" to her parents' horrified faces. And she had killed without hesitation.

Passing the test, the man had brought her into his organization, a criminal network that spanned all of Russia, and was now aiming for the world. He had, alongside others, searched for those with talent. Talent, which could be used to further their goals. With a smile and a nod, Sasha agreed to help them, despite being told that she would be trained to kill, studying to assist integration closer to her targets. Her only spoken response was "I'll be your weapon." Several years of training, she had gone straight to one of the higher-ups, before making a request. "I'm bored of this training. Give me something new." Completely absurd request, as most of the requests that normally received were complaints, booze, women, or raises. No one requested more training. Hell, no one thinks that the training they got was boring.

To this odd request, the higher-ups debated, before sending her to Gakuen Academy, where they heard about the institution. Before she left, she was given a few words. No, orders were a better word for it. "Even while outside of Russia, you still belong to us. You are a weapon of ours. We will give you contracts ever so often. As usual, you have no right to refuse."

Weapon: An unusual parasol. While appearing to be a simple yet decorative black laced parasol, it's actually a multi-use tool/weapon. The handle and bar of the parasol is actually a gun, capable of chambering shotgun shells, whether slugs, flechettes, or the like, while the 'rainproof' part of the parasol is actually made of carbon fiber, making it an effective shield. And if all else fails, it can be swung as a bat.

Equipment:
Multiple Card Decks: She carries several different decks on her, for different purposes. While some are the more usual kinds one could find, and even buy in a store, there are a few others that are somewhat unique. Cards that have a thin sliver of C4 inside, sharpened metal edges, etc. of course, one of them is a simple rigged deck for magic tricks.

Skills:
Body Control: With a lot of practice, she can control and utilize her body to its fullest, making sudden burst of speed, or having extreme reaction times. Of course, doing this for a period of time is draining on both mind and body, and her limit is a whole day.
Magic Tricks: Extremely skilled in 'sleight of hand' and the like. Although meant for distractions, it is quite handy when it comes to small weapon concealment.
Piano: She is surprisingly capable at playing the piano.
Subterfuge: She has a way with words and trickery, leading people around without them realizing it.

Other: Body control is really just balancing the fine line between pushing your limits and breaking yourself. Personally, longest I've risked is half a day. The standing to high-speed jump is part of it(although I can't time the stop right without colliding with something >.>)

While she doesn't have an ability, she pretends that she does, calling it 'Lucid Dreams', describing it as combining fantasy with the real world. Really, she's only using her skills in subtle ways.

You could probably surprise her if you call her by Calamity Princess or talking of her past or organization, as only her organization is suppose to be the only ones calling her that. Although that be unlikely, unless your character has a way of find out such information.

Something very, very surprising may be discovered, although this is a hidden secret that only Sasha herself knows. While capable of taking painful hits without too much of a problem, she seems to be extremely sensitive or over-reacts to groping and gentle touches.

[User]
Minako watched as Shark-Chan flashed over and back with the needle and morphine. With no notice for Minako, the morphine shot went into her arm, she bit down on the sides of her cheeks to distract her from the needle. When the needle was taken out, she had already started to feel the side effects, one of them being a slight drowsiness to start off with. Minako was then told not to scream too loud, she widened her eyes a little at the statement as she felt fingers going into her wound.

"Ouch..." Minako whispered to herself as she closed her eyes tightly continuing to bite on the sides of her cheeks. Minako then felt the bullet pop out as she opened her eyes to take a look at her arm. It was awkward for her to take a look at somewhat of a hole in her arm, she then took a look back up at Shark-Chan. "Thanks to that dumb blue head this happened to me..." Minako said as she stopped biting on the side of her cheeks, she started to grit her teeth, she looked back down to the wound as she sighed.

Say, what if I do actually plant a bomb here? Minako thought and snickered to herself.

[Assistant]
Riddle Academy - Cafeteria

BMG

---

Kaede

Kaede listened to the whole situation with the Yakuza attack and how Izumi was fighting them on her own in the rooftop. "I wanted to be there with you, but I have to keep theother students safe..." Kaede said over the intercom making a brief pause before finishing with "Come back in one piece or I will not forgive you, Izumi" Kaede said over the intercom, despite all their disagreements Kaede considered Izumi a sister and if those Yakuza hurt her in anyway "I'll hunt them to the depths of hell" the sound of her whispering was muffled by her scarf, though, so no one should have heard that semingly non sequitur.

Kaede's attention was snapped back to the cafeteria when she heard gun shots coming from the entrance. She wasn't surprised to find that they came from Saya's problem sister, Rei, though. With a swift move (or rather a well placed illusion), Kaede was in front of Rei, and had disassembled her pistol in the meanwhile "Riddle Academy Student Handbook; Rule 1, paragraph 7: 'No dangerous acts are permitted within the living wards unless permission is given by the Head Directo or an emergency arises.'" Kaede said while opening said handbook and pointing the rule to Rei "I believe you received a copy of it too, haven't you, Momoko-san? Please, heed to it next time, unless you want to face the disciplinary comitee's punishment."

With that said, Kaede did a well rehearsed curtsy and bow "Well then, young ladies, what may I help you with?" she said while motioning them to their table, which was already occupied by Charlie "I'm sorry, young miss...ter? But would you mind sharing tables with these ladies? Also, if there's anything I can do for you don't hesite to say it." She bow again before leaving, all the while throwing a long glance at Addie.

Addie

"Kya!" Addie cried when she was suddenly startled by Rei's haphazard shooting "W- why did that?" she asked while still quite a bit shaken.

However, before any of them could do anything else, a mysterious looking maid appeared in front of them holding a guidebook and berating Rei for shooting randomly inside the school living area. This time, Addie had to agree with the maid, in that Rei's behavior was way too dangerous, though the way the maid kept stealing glances of her, even as she followed her routine couldn't do anything but make Addie feel very uneasy and self-conscious.

Addie gave off a sigh of relief, once the mysterious maid left them in the company of cute boy... or, was she a girl? Not that the quirky lavender haired girl minded that, anyway... Nevertheless, Addie blinked once or twice, fidgeting nervously before talking to the cutish trap "H- hi! Can we, hmm... sit here?" she asked, while a slight blush graced her face "Oh! Sorry, we didn't introduce ourselves first. I'm Adelia Accel and these are my friends Rei and Sayaka-san." Addie said, before falling silent, waiting for the otokonoko's reply.

Meanwhile, somewhere on the dimly lit, damp passages that lie under the main building of Riddle Academy...

Riddle Academy - Basement B2

BMG

---

???

A mysterious blonde girl, wearing a custom school uniform prowled the tunnels very causally, despite their inherent creepiness, listening cautiously as the droplets comming from the pipes hanging precariously overhead hit the puddles of stagnant water covering pretty much all the floor.

"Man, I think this place needs a better plumber, 'cause the current one sucks" She said mockingly, despite the fact that she was literally buried way over her head in hostile territory "Anyway, where was that secret storage, again? This damn thing doesn't work underground, shitty piece of crap" the mysterious blonde said, pocketing her cellphone, after being sure that it would get no reception deep underground.

"Oh, well... I guess I'll have to do it the hard way, then" the girl, who sure was way too fond of talking to herself, said after retrieving the PDA that she stole from a guard that was being sent to the infirmary and checking in the basement map, though it was hardly of use, since it had no data on the section she currently was in. Still, she was able to have a small idea based on the distribution of the air vents and the service tunnels on the floor above.

"I hope those old geezers at the director's board really give me that one week trip to Hawaii after this job, 'cause I'll sure as hell charge them extra..." The girl said, before disappearing further within the shadowy galleries.

---

@TheWindel@AgentFallenSoul

[User]
Charlie Walker

Charlie turned it's head and looked at the maid who was disciplining the student who had apparently left bullet holes in the table. Looking at the table it began analyzing the holes "Those were shot from an FN Five Seven...standard gun it seems with a lot of people in this field, not my choice of pistol but it is a solid choice. Why would they shoot at the table however?" it looked under the table and saw nothing "There was no person there...so...what was the purpose of shooting it like this? It almost seems like they were going for the bear making their territory approach...this could be a problem if they were making their territory, how shall I approach this? Making make a bigger mark? no that could cause scolding...I will apologize and act accordi-" turning it was going to start moving but it seemed the maid approached it.

Charlie nodded and bowed slightly "Thank you for your kindness..."

Then it hit it like a wave, looking up the maid had left but what remained was a girl who was extremely...adorable? "a·dor·a·ble, it's an adjective...means to be inspiring great affection; delightful; charming...how is it possible I just have experienced thinking this word...about someone else none the less..." it stood and shook it's head "No, I do not mind if they sit here, actually truth be told...I had wrongfully taken the seat, I do not like conflict so I shall move, my apologies"  it bowed in apology before standing and turning, thinking for a second "What was that? Why did I just...what? I could have easily just remarked the table but my head made me say something else, what on earth is happening right now? I have killed countless people, witnessed horrible things, and I am experiencing attractions? What is happening..."

[Assistant]
Sasha couldn't help herself but to giggle aloud, as she heard the boy attempt to respond with an uncaring attitude. Obviously nothing more than a facade, a paper-thin one at that too, if his stuttering was any sort of indication. However, for someone to continue to resist themselves against her words, it was quite intriguing. Despite the fact that she was obviously playing around and not actually aiming to manipulate the boy, she still felt like it was an amusing challenge, or game.

"Oh my, so it seems that you are confident in yourself. Careful now, else I just might call that little bluff of yours~!"

Teasing the boy once again, she walked closer and leaned towards the boy once more. "You know, there's nothing wrong with being attracted. All you have to do is take a chance, and take charg-" However teasing her actions and tone were, it was cut short by a cute growling sound, with Sasha's face becoming tinged with a lovely shade of pink.

Quickly stepping back, the Russian backed off from the boy. "Eh....shall we get going?" Somewhat knocked off pace by the betrayal of her own hunger, she fidgeted slightly while breaking eye contact with Lucifer, her face still dyed that same shade of pink.


[System]
Appearance:

Apparent Age: Young Adult

Gender: Male

Nation: Renais

Class: Cavalier

Weapon Mastery:

Sword C

Lance D

Level: 4

Background: The youngest child of Ginnava, Marwood was her bundle of joy and baby of the family. She actually took the time to teach him to ride herself. As such he desires to make her proud yet at the same time with age came distance and difference. While his mother relies on codes and formal declarations Marwood is normally on his horse with a squad of knights by the time she starts issuing orders. This has caused much division between mother and son, with Marwood often leading knights into battle against horrors without having approval from his mother.

Aside from that, he is good friends with both generals, he often finds himself in their company or training with them. While many of his men pass around rumors he is to be engaged to one the generals there is little no proof of that claims. As a prince, he received a formal education with lessons in history, strategy, and etiquette. He threw away etiquette preferring to spend many a night out defending villages or celebrating victories with his knights. He even formed a special group of cavaliers that ride with him to villages and towns under assault, thus with almost all his training being done on horseback his skills off it is lowered.

Currently, Marwood most trusted knights are Hodge, Ismay, and Mylle. Each of them is a cavalier from the standing army of Renais and all of them make up the Renais riders. These four often leave the moment word of trouble sounds moving between towns, attacking bandits, monsters, and horrors. They have saved hundreds of lives alone, yet while hailed as hero's it troubles his mother that his free-form fighting is not proper of a prince. He has a history of being rather bold and challenging letting nothing stand between him and his moral compass, politics be damned.

This has caused quite a lot of trouble when he chased a band of bandits into Jehanna where he killed them. Upon his return, the generals and his mother both gave him an earful which he quickly ignored, thought the punishments did last for months. Undeterred Marwood freely admits he would do it again in an instant, he cares not for the borders only saving lives which Jehanna eventually let slide understanding he believed he was doing the right thing.

Recently Ginnava, has announced that she plans to marry off the younger prince and is currently eyeing Jehanna's princess as the best candidate due to the politic and military benefits of the relationship. Marwood meanwhile has been as far from the castle as possible, and away from the Jehanna border. He is not happy about an arranged marriage with a princess, he would prefer a natural romance. His mother meanwhile has been dispatching riders to drag him back if needed. Marwood needed to be tamed and Ginnava thought a wife would be perfect for the job.

However, with the recent threat to Grado, he abandoned Renais to go and help the kingdom. Renais and Grado were historically close and he feels he must do as his great ancestor would have done and journey to help the Emperor who he admires as a good leader and warrior. He hopes to help drive back the attacks and force Renais into action and perhaps Frelia as well.

Plot-Susceptive: Yes

Equipment and Items: Reginleif, Steel Sword

Personality: Brash, Marwood is nothing if not bold in his ability to face danger or trouble with a smile on his face and honesty in his heart, he is a caring and kind young man who refuses to let politics get in the way of caring about people. To Marwood politics and the chain of command as things that slow down helping people, thus to the frustration of his teachers and his family Marwood continues to ignore anything but what he believes is morally right. While many outside the castle think much of the younger kind-hearted prince others feel he is too rebellious and daft to ever be allowed near the throne.

Ability Assessment: Marwood strength and skill are his best qualities, his speed and defense are good as well though not as great primary attributes. This is due to Marwood focusing on fast devastating blows to bring down a target depending on his armor and his mount in combat. Marwoods luck and stamina are average or just below with his magical resistance being well below the norm as he rarely ever encountered an enemy mage. The rest of his skills had some development throughout his training but a lack of magical counter training his given him a glaring and little-known weakness.

Quirks/Talents/Aspirations/Other: An avid singer and storyteller Marwood spent his younger days sneaking out and telling singing and telling stories at the local tavern. He has secretly wanted to be a bard but royal duties prevent that and he also wishes to marry someone he loves rather than an arranged marriage like his mother has in mind, possibly to secure a new ally. He is a sucker for a good romance book, though he doesn't like people to know. He gets very nervous around women and has never been good at flirting at all. Marwood also has an aversion to a certain Princess of Jehanna, in fact when anyone brings up an arranged marriage between him and a princess or noble Marwood can usually be found trying to slip towards the door to make a hasty retreat.

R-button Summarization: The prince of Renais with a good heart and a rebellious streak, cares deeply for others.

Level Up Quotes

0-1 Points: "Melinda and Leoma would laugh if they saw this."
0-1 Points: "This isn't really very princely is it?"
2-3 Points: "I must do better for Renais!"
2-3 Points: "Oh and after all that work?
4-5 Points: "My brother isn't the only one to take after father."
4-5 Points: "Ha, that'll show Rylan won't it Fiona?"
6+ Points: "Alright Fiona, I've earned an ale and you've earned a apple."
6+ Points: "I almost feel like singing! I won't of course... Bad time for it..."
Capped Stats: "How am I supposed to match Rylan now?!"
Capped Stats: "But I can't stop now! I don't wanna stop being a knight of Renais!
Changed Class: "A knight of Renais is always ready to learn."
Changed Class: Rafaela might not recognize me in this...

Critical Hit Quotes

"May the Gods have mercy on you, I won't!"
"You are in my way, that's a bad place to be friend."
"I'll drink to you and your fallen comrades."
"I do not hate you. I simply must kill you."
"Somebody has to win and guess what? It's me."
"I just stab people, what happens next is between them and the gods."

[User]
Isolde

---

---

Ha! Success!

Isolde gave a small shout of victory once Morag fell, excitedly bouncing in her seat. Well, that had gone well. Aside from a few small cuts and bruises they were doing well. With a flourish of her Halbered, she placed it back in its holder on Kergin's saddle as she turned to the others. They all seemed fine, too then. She breathed out, letting the previous nervousness fade somewhat. They could do this, then right? They just had to get the Fire Emblem to safety, right?

...

She cast a glance over to Romilda and Voss.

"Uhm uhm, I dunno who you are but thanks for the help!" Isolde shouted to Voss, moving Kergin over closer to the others present. Ah, what should she do here? She didn't know if she should voice her opinion of letting Romilda come with them or not. Leaving her here to die seemed cruel and dangerous, but after what she did...she was reminded of her own father. "D'ya think we should let her come with us?" Isolde voiced quietly, in an unsure manner.

[Assistant]
Titania

---

---

Titania gave a sigh of relief as the last foe finally fell and everyone was still okay, thanks to a little bit of help from herself of course. It had looked a bit dicey for Marwood which was why she'd ran over and helped. Now they had jumped the first hurdle, they could probably get out of the castle and get a little bit further away before running into more trouble, though she had no doubt that they would do just that. "We should let her out. Even if she's a criminal, surely she doesn't deserve to be locked up to die, or worse: whe- I mean if the invading army gets here." Titania changed her words at the last moment, feeling like it wouldn't be appropaite to say the defending force was doomed to fail when it consisted of Reina's father. Anyway, leaving somebody locked up in a jail cell was basically a death sentence. Furthermore she seemed to know about the Fire Emblem and that they needed to keep it safe, so she might even be willing to help them. Surely a pardon in a time like this wasn't too much to ask for?

[User] "I'm no fan of magic... And I know she's a bit infamous but, she's knowledgeable and no threat without her magic." The prince added, looking warily at the woman. "We cannot abandon her to die here, and if we're going to keep the Emblem safe we need all the help we can get. Even if it means trusting criminals, better than Jehanna's who've caused all this pain for Grado." Marwood sighed and waited to see what Reina made of the situation.


[System]
Age: 30

Race: Caucasian

Sex: Female. Approximately 5' 11" tall, with blonde hair, steel grey eyes, and an athletic figure as per her military pedigree. Objectively quite stunning in her attractiveness.

Skills: ace pilot, energy weapons

Personality: highly intelligent but generally, socially clueless. She comes off as cold and unfriendly but truly, she doesn't have a natural propensity towards small talk and casual conversation. Smoker.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Enclave-issue plasma pistol, mismatched light armour pieces suitable for a travelling merc. Also carries a small knapsack full of items of sentimental value, such as a photograph of her and her twin brother, various medals and pins earned within the Enclave (including her dog tags), and a pocket watch featuring an engraving.

Occupation: Mercenary/security guard for hire.

Faction (Minutemen, Institute, BOS, Railroad, None. Etc): Formerly Enclave, now unaffiliated.

Backstory:

Frieda was born seven minutes before her fraternal twin, Brian, but spent the majority of her life living in his false shadow. Their father was a high ranking official who lost his life during a mission while the twins were young. Subject to the same vigorous physical and weapons training through her life in the Enclave, no matter what she did, somehow her brother was favoured even when their skills and scores were on par. Where Frieda was more acerbic in personality, her brother's stoic demeanour tended to be extolled. Eventually, she was to be trained as a pilot, whereas her brother was destined for the front lines and recon. Her natural ability to focus on her task at hand while under pressure and make clear, logical decisions, saw her rise quickly through the ranks as one of their best pilots.

Despite the artificial rivalry their peers and superiors tried to place upon them, Frieda and Brian were inseparably close. They celebrated each other's achievements and differing designations. Brian was the only person in her life constantly validating her own skills, when so many others preferred to compare her to her brother. They held up and supported each other. When her brother left on a recon mission, never to return, his loss was a devastating blow. The Enclave considered his and his team's mission a failure, and did not send a rescue team.

Frieda wandered through the months that followed in a total daze, unable to find any peace in the thought that her brother was gone for good. He had been a grounding presence in her life, and without him, she found it impossible to find meaning in staying with the Enclave. In a daring move, she packed her most valuable things into a knapsack, stole a Vertibird, and decided to look for her brother, herself. Unfortunately, she miscalculated the trajectory of a rad storm, and found herself completely off course and crashing into the woods of what used to be New Hampshire.

Alive, but without any caps to her name nor desire to return to the Enclave, she wandered east, taking small mercenary type jobs from various settlements until she reached the ocean, and arbitrarily chose to wander south. She found herself wandering into Salem, hoping the sparse settlement could use some full-time muscle, until such time she was able to begin the search for her brother anew.

and:

Name: Celeste Brown

Age: 24

Race: Caucasian/mixed western European

Sex: Female. Barely 5'1", with shoulder length, very dark brown, curly hair, and bright blue eyes. She carries a stout figure with a noticeably voluptuous chest.

Skills: cooking, bartending, bartering

Personality: very charismatic, friendly, and genuinely sweet to everyone she encounters.

Weapons & armor/clothing: Wasteland settler garb including t-shirts, sweaters, skirts, dresses, slacks, and sneakers. Carries small sentimental trinkets, such as a pair of her mother's earrings and other inherited jewelry, and her father's first set of knives.

Occupation:  Barkeep/innkeep

Faction (Minutemen, Institute, BOS, Railroad, None. Etc): None

Backstory:

Celeste has a very plain and lackluster backstory. Originally from a settlement on the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, she was born to two, loving, hard working parents. Her mother operated a successful trading business, having set up at the border, and her father was a talented baker and chef. She learned the best of both occupations from a young age; the art of the deal from her mom, and how to create the flakiest pastry and well-balanced soups from her dad. Through her late teens, Celeste started to feel the wanderlust. While a steady stream of folks came through Niagara Falls between the two pre-war countries, so did their stories. Celeste started to dream of the world beyond the river and the escarpment, but for many years, seeing it for herself remained a dream. A caravan travelling from Burlington near Ronto, en route to the eastern seaboard, thrilled Celeste with their talk of the bright and beautiful Diamond City, that she insisted she go with them. She chipped in her own caps for the protected passage, said a bittersweet goodbye to her parents, and was on their way.

The travel would prove to be very harsh on sweet, tender Celeste. Slogging through the terrain, surrounded by hostiles at every turn, and fearing for her life, all had begun to tarnish her shiny impression of the world outside her childhood home. Chronic optimism kept her going, but a very small part of her began to consider that she had made a huge mistake.

Celeste would never make it to Diamond City. The caravan made a stop in Salem in an attempt to top up on purified water, and Celeste would fall in love with the town. The setting, the buildings, everything felt so beautiful and comfortable to her. She had a pocket full of caps and stars in her eyes. After a convincing conversation with the caravan, who assured her that Salem could become part of their regular route, she decided to settle back down and merely travel through the wasteland as she always had: by the stories and tales brought in by others.

[User]
Adam 'Trails' Wilford- Lorelei's Porch

Lorelei called back to him in the night, "So… you're Adam. Right." Adam tilted his head, rubbing at his beard and feigning a look of worry. "I sure hope so. Otherwise I've spent almost forty-three years getting called by the wrong name." The two had fallen silent for a time as Lorelei quietly looked at her gun before she spoke, "Being a sole homeowner—especially pertaining to a gargantuan piece of real estate like this—it feels…odd. I haven't lived in a house like this since my childhood. Feels too good to be true. Just like this town.". Adam nodded slowly, understanding how she felt. Adam gave a short 'hpmph', "You and me both, kid. You and me both. I lived in a small town a few years back with my wife. Before that, I hadn't had a proper home since I was a kid. Even that was one of those small Great Depression homes. Thought about picking a place to shack up, but, eh, all that's not really 'me'. I've spent most of my life as a drifter, anything much more than this cottage is just too decadent for me." He pulled a cigar from his pocket, fidgeting with it as he looked out on the street and leaning over the porch. "Nah. My shack on the beach is more than enough home for me so long as I'm on my own." Adam put it back, deciding not to fall back into old habits.

After a while, Lorelei gazed out at the moonlit structures of Salem. She took a deep breath and leaned to her right, pressing her torso against the tall wooden support beam of the porch steps. Adam figured she might be getting tired so he took that as his cue to mosey on home too. As he got ready to step off the porch, he turned back. "Hey. I uh...I'm getting a little stiff sitting around town like this. Heard from a buddy of mine that came through earlier that there's someplace called 'Lexington' nearby that might have some good stuff to pick through. You seem like an action kinda girl and I could use a second with me. I know that might sound a little much to ask, but if you're interested, I'll be heading out tomorrow morning with Bessie. Sleep on it, you feel like partnering up, I live down on the waterfront. It's that Pre-War shed thing with the huge fishing boat out on the water and the brahmin, Bessie, out front. Ain't hard to miss." Adam slowly stepped down to the street, waving a hand over his head in silent farewell to catch some much needed sleep.

[Assistant]
Rick Noel – Diner – Night

Rick sat there staring at his cup, maybe he had said too much. He nodded as she left, raising his hand giving her a light wave. He finished the cup and departed, it seemed the waitress girl wanted to get everyone out so that she could close up. He stood outside the diner and stared at the sky, mesmerized by glistening stars. He had never really seen a night sky.

He stood there and then he could feel cold night chill aided by the cold sea breeze. He grabbed the rolled up jacket on his pack and put it on.  He was going to head out to the wall and check the progress they were making, but he was tired and his body ached for a soft and warm bed.

Rick made his way to Mary's home but it seemed she wasn't in. He checked the robots and it seemed they were charged. He unplugged them, didn't want to risk the contraptions overheating and sparking a fire while they slept. Rick chuckled as he thought back at his time in the Institute studying these crude creations.

He stretched his arms and let out a yawn. His eyes grew weary. He grabbed his things and headed up. Usually that's where sleeping quarters were located in these old homes. He headed up the dark stairs dimly light by moonlight from a window. He looked into a room that seemed small with a small bed and simple bookshelf. It seemed like it would be guest quarters. Hopefully he wasn't intruding. He placed his bag in a chair and hit in the bed and laid there slowly falling asleep.

[User]
FRIEDA RICHTER - edge of town -- night

Frieda had been staring off between two directions, watching for any indication of movement coming towards the town. Instead, her ears picked up movement from behind her. She glanced around just to see Steve and...someone else coming up from town. The latter was carrying some kind of ballistic hardware, but the dim moonlight made it hard to see what it was.

That's what I get for not carrying a flashlight.

"Hello Possible paramilitary woman Frieda do not be alarmed it is me Steve and employee Edgar, we are just setting up this turret I built to help with raider attacks." Steve and his colleague, Edgar, drew up next to the car.

"Well isn't that fantastic," Frieda replied, with a healthy dose of cynicism. She shifted her position to lower her knees and sit cross-legged, instead. "Make sure you set it up to point into the road and not towards me, or the town, all right? Can you handle that?"

Edgar stood awkwardly and seemed to blush at her words, until Steve waved at him to drop the turret. Once dropped, Steve began to positioning the turret behind one of the other wrecked cars which. Frieda lit another cigarette while she watched, idly aware of the fact she only had a few left in her pack. Something about Steve and Edgar made her feel like she just wanted them to finish up and get the fuck out. "Ideally this turret will be placed on the wall, once it has been finished of course."

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly know that I care for the idea of a super mutant voluntarily walling us all in," she muttered.

"The chair is to fool people into thinking it's a machine gun position only for it to fire on them when they get close...Although for now I guess it will give you a place to sit." Steve chuckled on, completely as if he wasn't even listening to her.

What fuckery is this? Frieda closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm already sitting." The way he tittered and babbled made her think he'd dipped into some of the wasteland sort of 'boosters' she had lusted after some time before.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Waylon's approach. "Mind if I join you? I brought us a couple of beers and goodies."

"Not at all," she replied quickly, before Steve or Edgar could attempt a response. "Steve, here, has dropped off a turret, or something like that." Frieda waved him over. "Steve, have you met Waylon? He runs the weapons shop. I'm sure he has the know-how to make sure your turret shoots at the right sorts of people. You can leave it." She flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"Whoa," she began, accepting a beer from Waylon and eyeing up his rifle. "That's a sweet looking piece. Do you mind?" she held her hands out, Steve and Edgar completely forgotten.

"You know your shit," she smiled slyly, handing the rifle back, after having turned it over in her hands a few times. Frieda took a sip of the beer. "Oh, cheers, by the way. Anyways, seems most folk somehow paste together whatever they can find that will fire a bullet. I stick to my pistol, more often than not. It's just what I'm used to." She pat the spot next to her on the rusted hood of the car. "You comin' up, or what?"

"So, how does a girl like Brandy not know how to handle a gun properly, yet she's friends with the town quartermaster, huh?" Frieda smirked, taking another sip of her beer.