[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
"We're near out of food and water." Konrad said, after having taken a ginger sip from his water skin. He wiped his mouth and handed it to Olaf, who looked nearly as tired as Camilla. The man was very skilled, and strong as a bull. But he looked as if the small portion of the wastes they had been through had drained much of the fight out of him, and he had already looked as if he had seen near too many winters for another campaign.

"Unless the river is far underground, it could be tainted with warpstone." Skaldi warned. They had made good time despite Camilla's understandably weak pace, but they had still not made it to where the air was cold, and even then the taint of Chaos still flowed freely over the land. The Kislevites had intoned Ursuns name constantly, bewildered at their luck of not being eaten by any of the horrible denizens or warbands that could have come across them in this bleak journey. But Dietrichia had a satisfied look, as if she knew that powerful Gods watched over them as long as Cyrdic and Camilla were there. She insisted they would make it to Praag.

The others were not as optimistic as the witch.

"Can you find an entrance?" Cyrdic asked Skaldi without looking at the Dwarf, instead his gaze was trained backwards and to the east, vigilant for any horrors that might befall them. On the eastern horizon, a vast ruined city of stone and brass reached into the sky, impossibly large. The city dwarfed Altdorf and Middenheim in its size, and the architecture did not look familiar to Cyrdic's sensibilities at all. To the north, the sky shimmered and convulsed with energy. "A cave or some sort?"

"If there's a cavern, I'll find it manling." Skaldi declared, kicking at the dirt once more to reveal the grooves in the ruined earth. It was amazing to Cyrdic that water could have ever flowed here. He had heard stories that the wastes had progressed further and further southwards over the centuries. Cities of ancient Man, Elf, and Dwarf had been swallowed up by its inevitable approach. He hoped it would come no closer to the Empire.

The Dwarf led them south east, over ground that looked as if it would crumble at any moment. Vegetation that seemed to bleed human blood dotted the landscape, caking the ground and giving Cyrdic the feeling they walked over dried, living skin. It was chilling, and for a short while even Camilla did not mind being carried to avoid touching it.

Later that day, the air began to grow a slight chill, and the ground began to look somewhat more normal. Though Cyrdic knew they mustn't let their guard down. Even as far south as Norsca (Sigmar, what a phrase), chaos mutations ran rampant and daemons could be summoned easily. There was a reason the land to its east was called Troll Country. And they were not even there yet.

It was by Ulric's strength and Sigmar's mercy that they finally found a group of crags and a sloping of the landscape, giving it a shallow, mountainous look despite no peaks rising to reach the clouds. Skaldi led them over the ground, and further within, his eyes meticulous and trained to seek any imperfection in the rock.

It seemed his intense focus on the trail had distracted his other senses, however. It wasn't Skaldi that forewarned them of the dangers ahead, but Dietrichia. She threw her hands up and hissed. "Wait!" as loud as she dared, causing the others to pause. Yantz seemed to grow a cold sweat, looking at her curiously. Cyrdic didn't know what was transpiring, until he breathed in through his nose and tasted a faint ozone in the air. A scent that caused his entire form to shudder, and he felt the hairs on his neck raise, as if electrically charged.

"Vat is it?" Ivan whispered, the group now lowered and hiding between the boulders of the uneven landscape.

Ivan was answered by a crack. The noise was deeper and reverberated unlike a blackpowder weapon. Another rumble followed, and a third. Cyrdic hugged the back of the boulder he hid behind, and he could see Camilla and Ivan across a short expanse away from him. He saw his love's eyes widen in horror at whatever being that existed and defied reality behind him. Clenching his teeth, Cyrdic breathed in through his nostrils and slowly inched closer to the edge of his cover, and second by terrifying second, he moved to give himself the slightest peak of what horror lay beyond.

It was at that moment, he felt true fear. He beheld something he never thought he would see in his mortal life. An immortal beast beyond time, tainted by a dark pact with Chaos and wielding a crackling hammer of lightning.

It was a Dragon Ogre.

[Assistant]
Camilla let out a shriek of terror a moment before Skaldi unceremoniously pitched her aside. The Tiean screeched and bounced over the rocky ground, instinctively curling herself into a ball to avoid the worst of the fall. Dietricha looked up at the thing in astonished puzzlement a moment before the thing hurled a bolt of greenish lightning from its arcane hammer. A greatsword standing in front of the wizard opened his mouth to scream but any sound was lost in a thunderclap that sprayed everyone with steaming gobbets of flesh. The blast picked up the redhead and hurled her twenty feet backwards into a granite boulder.

"No!" Yantz screamed, eyes wild with horror at the thing. The big horsepistol he carried crashed out and if the bullet flew true the gargantuan thing showed no sign as it stomped forward like a massive bounding hound, one of its feet coming down on another greatsword with a bone shattering crunch. Arrows ficked up at it as the kislivites fell back, shooting their powerful recurve bows as they did so. Camilla saw several arrows bounce harmlessly from the things hide. The elven blade lay on the rock five feet away from her. Without conscious effort she began to crawl towards it, dragging her battered body hand over hand towards the weapon.

"Run!" one of the soldiers yelled, his voice high and tinny in the aftermath of the thunderclap and he turned to flee, dropping is sword and vaulting away as fast as his legs could carry him. Camilla felt a flash of envy, and wished her own exhausted body would work so effectively. The ogre swung its weapon again, this time aiming at Cydric. Camilla felt her heart leap into her mouth but the Ostlander dived sideways and rolled, coming up on his feet, the rock beneath where he stood fractured and smoking.

"FUCK!" Yantz yelled and made a running leap towards the thing. His eyes were so wide they were completely rimmed with white, bastard sword gripped in both hands as he swung it down with all his might. The weapon bit into the things arm and hung. The Dragon Ogre snarled in world ending rage and flicked its arm as though ridding itself of a flea. Yantz lost his grip and flew through the air in a high and certainly terminal arc. Silvery light plucked him screaming from the air and set him down, none to gently amid the splattered remains of the first greatsword.

"Mine!" Dietricha snarled, standing atop a horse sized boulder, blood running from her nose but otherwise intact. The ogre roared a challenge but the air filled with a weird sizzle, like fat dropping into a cookfire the size of the whole world. Eye searing lighting leaped from the deranged woman, bright enough that even though she closed her eyes Camilla saw dazzling purple after images on her retinas. The bolt slammed into the creature pitching it back six feet and filling the air with a stench of burning hair. Incredibly the beast wasn't dead, though a chunk the size of a dinner plate had been blown from its scaly hide. Camilla's fingers closed around the hilt of the sword just as the thing flung its own lightning at the sorceress. Dietricha leaped away as the boulder she stood on was blasted to flying gravel by the ravening energy.

Camilla clutched uselessly at her sword, unable to stand or even lift the weapon as the battle unfolded. One of Ivan's Kislivites was down, blood leaking from his tunic and the stump of one arm. The snarling horseman fitted another arrow to his bowstring, intent on vengeance. Yantz' pistol cracked again though from her vantage point Camilla couldn't see that it did any good. Screaming in frustration he threw the weapon at the ogre, bouncing the heavy stock of the things head and then pulled a knife. Camilla shook her head in stunned wonderment, she needed to stand, to help Cydric but her muscles just spasmed uselessly and clutched tighter to the elven weapon.

[User]
Skaldi recovered himself, having been thrown aside by one of the concussive force of one of the Dragon Ogre's lightning blows. Any man of the empire or Kislevite horseman would have been broken, but the Dawi were made of stubborn stuff. He cursed in Khazalid, and set his jaw firmly, eyes blazing. The Dragon Ogre itself was preoccupied. Distracted was a better term, the bolt that had shorn off a bit of its skin causing it to glare balefully at the witch.

Skaldi was of one of the Elder races, learned in old lore. What was history and legend to them, was myth to the men of the group. Dragon Ogres were known only by the darkest stories of Chaos. Cyrdic was no scholar, but he had heard many of the legends. If what he knew about Dragon Ogres was true, then this beast they faced was likely older than civilization itself, and its lifespan would likely outlast the world.

Konrad had been obliterated, and Luka had been maimed. Ivan stayed by his comrade as he lay bleeding to death on the ground. Dietrichia began to incant once more, her eyes full of wild fear. Cyrdic had just thrown himself out of the way of a blow that shattered stone, catching himself on a boulder. He searched for Camilla, and saw her on the ground behind one of the larger rocks, clutching her sword. He saw she was alive, and that was enough. Ivan too. His eyes fell to Dietrichia, and he saw her glow with power. His eyes must have been playing tricks upon him, for he saw the very air twinkling around the sorceress before a wind that tore at even the rocks ripped across the landscape, contained within the area of the Dragon Ogre.

The creature seemed nearly unaffected, its body growing rigid and its clawed feet digging into rock as it roared its own spell, the language archaic and unintelligible, but the force of the chaos within it began to tug at Cyrdic's sanity. Suddenly the hurricane winds were shattered, and Dietrichia was thrown back into the crags like a tossed doll. Yantz was now on the ground, curled into the fetal position as his eyes bled from being within too close proximity to the chaos spell woven by the beast. He looked alive, though. Cyrdic hoped the sorceress was.

He gripped his runic sword, his teeth bared as he gathered his strength and leaped at the Dragon Ogre, his sword turned into an overhand grip. His runic sword plunged into the creature's thigh, digging deeply. With a brutal roar of pain, its gaze fell on Cyrdic with hatred. The very gargantuan, human head opened its gaping maw to reveal teeth like a rabid wolf's, and reared its head back as if to bite Cyrdic, hefting its hammer. The Ostlander tore his sword out of the beast to defend himself, certain he couldn't block a hammer blow directly.

"No!" Camilla screeched from the side, simultaneously a cry in Khazalid announced Skaldi from behind. His bearded axe chopping into the otherside of the Dragon Ogre, cutting into its midsection below its legs. Cyrdic rolled, the hammer blow now clumsier but still lethal. It missed Cyrdic, but the weight of the blow sent him spinning into the gravel of the landscape heavily, unable to tell up from down.

All he knew was that if they couldn't think of something, they would all die here.

"Ve maust flee!" Ivan called out, dimly heard over the roars and crack of stone. He looked about ready to charge in a second time if they were not able to run, or more likely to give the others time to. Cyrdic would not let the big man do that for him, though he couldn't argue with the man's fears.


[System]
Age/Gender: 30/Male

Nationality: Norwegian

Appearance:

Rank: Corporal

Preferred Role: Grenadier/Special Forces Operative

Brief Background: Born and raised on the countryside in eastern Norway, Erik was up for the compulsory military service of the Norwegian Armed Forced, though he was allowed to finish his studies in Maritime machine operator before being drafted. Once drafted, he was one of few draftees that enjoyed the military life and all it had to offer, and so he decided to stay. He soon found a longing for tougher challenges, and after serving in Afghanistan and peace-keeping operations outside the Somalian coast, he applied for the best the Norwegian army could offer: FSK, Forsvarets Spesialkommando. Everything about Erik afterwards was top-secret, even more so after his transfer to the so-called Task Force Zero.

Notes: (Any added info that doesn't fit elsewhere)

[User] Breach didn't sit down when she got in the helicopter... well, she didn't sit in a seat anyway. She sat cross-legged on the floor of the heli as the team flew to their mission location. She perked up when her name was called, and happily chimed in. "I'm impartial to what I do, as long as I can be a good member of this team." To be honest, she could provide a good sneak due to her being so small, and if hostile choppers come near, she might be able to try and blast one out of the sky. She giggled at the thought of that. A flaming chunk of military-grade aircraft plummeting because a grenade landed on it. It sounded like the 4th of July. Breach couldn't wait for this mission.

[Assistant]
Tyler hopped up into the heli. Looking about then taking a seat mid way down one side. He let out a light little grunt as he sat on the seat, rolling his shoulders and getting comfy for now. He grabbed the earpiece when it was handed to him, putting it into his ear, nodding when it was set. He rubbed his jaw just below his ear to get used to the feeling. And was shocked out of his own little world when someone beside him spoke he turns and grins seeing the red maple leaf on his fatigues. He smiled a little. Then perked up even more, "Samson Cree Nation. Just south of Leduc. Did my basic at CFB Wainwright with a little at CFB Edmonton as well. Once CSOR and CJIRU got their hooks in me I did alot of training out of CFB Petawawa and CFB Trenton. So I've been back and forth across the Great White North. But Alberta will always be home." He grins brightly.

He looks over sharply when he hears his callsign. His eyes resting on Merlin. Committing the bearded man's profile to mind. He nods, then turns back to Adam, "Tyler Crowstep, callsign Blacktail. Pleased to meet you Mr. Delgado. Look forward to working with you. Now, how about you? Where you from? What end of the land of the Maple Leaf do you come from eh?"

[User]
"Thank you, Commander," Sergeant First Class Morse, also known as Dash placed his notebook back in his pocket. He had secured VHF radio frequencies and call signs for VFA-102 Diamondbacks. The squadron consists of twelve F/A-18F Super Hornets. The squadron commander told SFC Morse they would have a flight of four Super Hornets available for Close Air Support to provide ordnance wherever needed during their operation. Sergeant Morse shared his callsign, Dash Three Seven with the Diamondback's Squadron Commander to help coordinate air strikes if needed.

Sergeant Morse hefted his pack and followed the others out onto the helicopters taking them into Indonesia. He retrieved the earpiece and listened to the British SAS NCO talking with the Team Commander, Captain JB Upton. 'Man, he does look a lot like Jason Bourne,' Tyus Morse thought to himself. He listened to Chief Bastion detail his ideas and suggestions to the Captain. Tyus silently approved of the Chief's ideas. When the opportunity arose, he piped up, "Eagle, this is Dash. Prior to departing CVN-73, I secured radio frequencies and call signs for the US Navy's VFA-102. Commander Little, the squadron Commander informed me that he could have a flight of four F/A-18F Super Hornet's available to us if we need Close Air Support. I have comms and they are up." As a US Army Special Forces soldier, SFC Morse had training and experience serving with both US Air Force and US Naval Attack Aircraft, working as a Tactical Air Controller.

Sergeant Morse looked around at the others aboard the helicopter to get a feel for who Wolfman, Chip and Breach were. They would be his teammates pretty soon.

---

Sergeant Czerepusko became familiar with Corporal Thatcher. "OK, Wraith. Thanks for working with me. You are the boss and call out the targets for me. Give me corrections as needed, OK?" Scooter wanted to establish a good rapport with his spotter. "If you like we can swap roles once in a while. That way you can be the shooter and I'll be the spotter."

Scooter boarded his helicopter with Wraith and received his earpiece. He listened in on the conversation with Chief Bastion and Captain Upton. It looked like he and Wraith would be providing overwatch on the ground. They would need to hike up into the hills to find a clear line of sight that afforded decent visuals of the countryside and potential Area of Operations.

[Assistant]
"Yeah, I like it, we hit em from two sides, they'll have to splinter their force to deal with it. Of course their numbers are bolstered by the local insurgents, Valverde. The one danger of approaching from the jungle is the very real possibility that they've mined it. Recon'll sort that out, of course, and we'll shift the plan as needed. I feel it's important to re-state that we won't engage until a full recon is established and we get eyes-on with Valkyrie operatives, we're here for intel more than anything else, so it'd be ideal if we can take at least one alive, and if the recon is right there's only a dozen of them, so we'll need to watch out, make sure we don't take out too many. As for air support, I'll run a call up the chain, see if we can get clearance from the local authority. If we're cleared, Dash will coordinate the strikes, but for now we'll operate under the assumption that we're on our own. Other than that I think we have a solid plan." JB glanced around the chopper "Any more questions?"

---

Adam waited until the squad leaders had finished detailing the plan before he answered Blacktail.
"I've been all over really, but I was born in Newfoundland. Haven't been back in a few years, but like yourself, I'll always consider it home."

[User]
(I owe you all a post!)

Wizard looked back at Eagle, his mind back on the job at hand, nodding.
"Sounds good. Slow moving through a minefield, worst when it's in an environment like that without and tools, but once we get something mapped out with recon, we can figure out our approach. Take it step by step, reframe, and make sure we're where we want to be, not where they want us to be. I'll move on your call, let's not rush this." Merlin commented, nodding regarding the operatives.
"If they're a threat, we drop them. It's going to be difficult to get up close so they don't detonate, if that's their ROE." Was all Merlin had to say, as he heard the Canadians talk. Looking to the Norwegian of his team, he chuckled, making a remark.

"Fucking Canucks....eh?" Merlin merely commented to Viking, his tone sarcastic as ever, as he looked back at Blacktail and Joker. He shrugged his shoulders, as he looked out at the scenery of the islands in the distance, and the team that he had to hand in the cramped chopper.
"Lads, I'd suggest we keep a tight search on when we're out there, make sure we don't get caught out. Jungle's a heated place. Let's give em' hell."

------

Wraith nodded to the Pole, adjusting the earpiece, as he looked at the Bor, then back at Scooter.
"Got it." The Kiwi replied, as he adjusted his own AUG, keeping it pointing down, adjusting his boonie hat, the ghillie's hood not wrapped over his head fully, knowing it would just get too warm in the airframe for that right now.
"Ever been to jungle like this? Fucking spiders, man." The New Zealander added, right now, Ed must have sounded like Crocodile Dundee to Romek, even though the two accents had a difference. Training in Borneo with the NZSAS was an experience to say the least, and he was still getting used to the madness that was high humidity and thick jungle, critters and shit that wanted to kill ya.

[Assistant]
He was assigned to be under command of the die-hard, no-nonsense British guy who Viking only knew by one name; Merlin. Either his callsign was one of utter laziness, or he would himself witness that soldier create a magical chaos out of their first mission. Viking was not sure what to expect, but he gave a nod as he looked at his - for now - commander.

"I'll do my best not to flinch at the various species of mosquitos that'll certainly bite me, Merlin. I have a tendency to be quite the attractive blood bag to them, you see."

Chink. The bolt of his HK416 slid back into its position as Viking checked his personal favourite firearm one last time. His trusted friend through thick and thin - Viking liked to think of them as flatmates, taking care of each other no matter how tricky they each could behave sometimes - would have its baptism in fire in a new enviorment, though Viking knew that they would both pull through.

They had to; Viking had still not gone through his "1000 movies you have to watch before you die"-book, and he was sure the terrorist-fuckers surely wouldn't hear his plead.

Merlin threw a comment in Viking's way, one that Viking completely failed to understand, making him look at the others in the chopper hoping someone would explain the joke. No one did.

"Any intel on any persons of interest down there? If there's someone we definietly not should shoot there, I'd like to know now."


[System]
"Oh don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me", I said "you're holding back", she said "shut up and dance with me!"
Face Claim: Kay Panabaker
Age: 11
Gender: Female
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Date/Place of Birth: July 13th, 1998. Swindon.
Currently: Hogwarts
House: Gryffindor
Wand: Dogwood, 6 ¾", Phoenix Feather. Springy and excitable.
Patronus: Will be a Stoat
Personal
Childhood/Family Life: Sadie's childhood has been hard work. Raised on the family farm, Sadie is well acquainted with long days and extensive studying. An excellent student, she often ranked in the top ten in her coursework.
Exceptionally close to her mother, Sadie's most cherished memories are their numerous outings and girly nights. Sadie nurtured a mechanical streak with her father, helping him maintain aging farm equipment. Her relationship with her brother Brennan has always been strained, their personalities too similar to allow them to get on.

Personality: Bubbly, excitable, and prone to mischief, Sadie has a loud personality. Often bouncing between four different thoughts, she is often mistaken as a brainless ditz. Beneath her cheery exterior, however, lies a deeply curious mind and fiery determination. Passionate, dedicated, and fiercely protective of her friends, Sadie's sharp wit is a weapon in and of itself.

Hobbies: Video games, geo-caching, studying, calligraphy, cards.

[User]
After the first week, Sadie finally found the rhythm of her schoolwork. It was tricky work—she frequently had to ask her classmates what certain magical terms meant—but that was good. Sadie had always liked cutting her teeth on difficult concepts. There was nothing like the joy of finding the answer, especially when she found it herself. She'd apparently become the class nerd, but Sadie found the near apathy of some of her classmates staggering. She knew in the way that she knew that she must breathe that she would never tire of the magic of spells and potions and earth beneath her fingernails.

The first Quidditch game was terrifying and exhilarating in equal parts. She couldn't forget the sight of that little Hufflepuff girl hurtling towards the ground. She'd woken up in a cold sweat half a dozen times, heart slamming into her ribs until she feared they might break. No one else seemed particularly bothered, and Sadie kept those nightmares quiet.

It had been two months, and Brennan had barely spoken more than a dozen words to her. She'd seen how he darkened when she came around with George, his lips pressing into a thin line. But it hadn't been George who'd said those awful things, she wanted to scream at her brother. Somehow, Sadie didn't think Brennan much cared. It was, truthfully, rather lonely. At least her mum wrote frequently, sending sweets and trinkets from back home. Her dormmates had been fascinated by the still photographs Sadie's muggle friends had sent, their fashion and technology so alien to them.

She was surprised to find herself missing home. Magic was wonderful and great, and she adored it, but she yearned for her phone, for streaming music and television. She missed knowing slang and context and staircases that didn't change on her. Sadie had a sharp sense of direction, but Hogwarts seemed to be purposefully trying to make her late for classes by completely altering its layout halfway through her walks.

Halloween was as lavish as Christmas, she'd realised with a gasp as she and her friends entered the Great Hall. It was spectacular, flickering candles and spiders crafted of wisps of smoke dancing up and down webs of gossamer magic. Sadie spent the first five minutes of the meal whipping her head back and forth to catch sight of something new and wondrous. One of the older students chuckled as she gasped in delight at little cauldron cakes with ladles stirring around in their chocolate.

Seine was regaling them with a particularly thrilling (and brutal) Quidditch recounting, Estonia vs. Laos, but she was only half listening. Seine was an amazing story teller, but she'd already heard the match--yellow and black robes whipping in wind, body tumbling like a rag doll toflat, flat earth—and she instead focused on the food.

She was halfway through a bowl of pumpkin soup when she noticed that a tall, thin Professor was whispering into the Headmistress' ear. Sadie watched at the elderly witch's face blanked, her lips pursing into a thin line. Little whispers seemed to break out along the Head Table—and then they were hushed, smiles placed back on their faces. She almost thought she had imagined it, but…

"Did you see that?" Niall muttered from across the table. Sadie met the his curious gaze, flicking her eyes back to the Head Table. Everything seemed normal, but…

"That didn't look like good news," Sadie murmured, knitting her brows together. "Wonder what they're hiding."

[Assistant]
George found himself chatting along with Seine, regaling the events the match he'd read about.

"Wasn't that the game where Keola was banned for life?" He asked, wiping pastry crust from the corners of mouth. "Didn't he almost murder Estonia's keeper?" He was barely aware of Sadie's attention existing elsewhere, instead solely focused on the conversation at hand. Seine's eyes animated and his hands waved with enthusiasm.

"Yes! He nearly get the woman on fire. Oh what was her name- Ti-, no... To, er-" He paused for a moment, as if trying to pull the name from the very back of his mind. His hands danced in a circle like a fisherman recoiling a rod. "Tulli!" Seine yelled suddenly. "My dad said that the whole crowd just freaked out! He plays for some Chinese team now though, so his ban must have been lifted... I don't know why." Seine continued, trailing off to stuff more food into his mouth.

The Great Hall echoed with the chorus of the ghosts and the echo of students laughing and babbling about anything that sprang to mind. The faces of each first year still seemed to irradiate with excitement and elation. Pumpkins floated about the room, each one carved to display a different face. From cackling smiles to slanted and devilish eyes. Each one was unique. George had spent the first part of the evening wondering exactly how had spent all afternoon craving each face with such creativity until it occurred to him that a simple charm would have easily done the job. The ghosts seemed to glade through the room, going from table to table, each joining in a small chorus of a song that seemed far older than anyone else in the castle.

"What do muggles do for Halloween?" George asked after the conversation of Quidditch had died down. He'd never truly realized how different their worlds were. Muggles had such strange things, items he didn't understand. Their paintings and photographs didn't move yet large screens played sound and moving images, changing at the push of a button. There was music coming from tiny devices in pockets and huge metal birds that flew in the sky. How could they stand not being able to get somewhere instantly? What if something was broken? Did they just throw it out? There were far too many questions to make any real sense of and two months of Muggle Studies had done little to ease the burden he had in his head. He wondered what muggle kids did for fun? What sports did they play? What did they learn at school? How did they speak to people in other countries? How many of them knew his own world existed? What was it like to be told you were a wizard!?

George pulled another lump of his pastry and ate eagerly awaiting Sadie's response to his question. Did they eat big meals? Did they have parties? Did they do nothing? He could remember seeing shop windows decorated with masks and spiders webs. The image of a green faced women, her nose huge and long, with a single boil on the end was firmly placed in his mind yet he didn't really understand why. Was that what muggles thought his kind looked like? Sure, goblins weren't great looking but wizards and witches looked like anyone else. There were some perculier types but everyone looked normal.

George looked across to Sadie, waiting for her reply only for his eyes to follow her gaze across the table. He frowned a little and pulled his forehead tense. He watched the exchange for a moment before voicing the same opinion they all had.

"What was that about?" He muttered, looking between his two closest friends and Niall.

"Do you think it's something serious?" Seine asked, leaning in close to his friends. "Maybe something has happened in the castle. They wouldn't just start panicking if it did." He offered, putting down his food to glance at the others. George followed suit, looking between the trio in the hope that someone would provide answers.

"It's probably nothing." He suggested, trying to, for once, play devils advocate. It wasn't a role he usually played, but one he felt he would need to learn in time. "Its not like their going to tell us, is it? Regardless of what it is. If it's serious, it'll be in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. It's probably nothing." He repeated, desperate fantasy despite the fact he was riddled with anxiety, his thoughts lousy with the one hundred worst case scenarios he'd suddenly come up with.

"George has a point. If it is anything serious, it'll be in the Daily Prophet. It's not like their going to hide it really. Even if they did try, someone's parents would know and send a letter." Seine blurted, his eyes bright. "Do you think the centaurs are angry? Maybe thats what it is. I heard they start stampedes a lot in the forest. What if it's a werewolf? Then again, they'd have to tell us about that one.." He added.

[User]
George offered reassurance—they were probably just being suspicious, right? Sadie chewed her lip, glancing back up at the Head Table. The Headmistress seemed impassive, tucking into a roasted pumpkin. Professor Sprout looked cheery as ever, regaling Madame Hooch was a tale, hands dancing as she spoke.

Niall didn't look convinced. His brows had furrowed, blue eyes still watching their professors, like he didn't trust them. She couldn't imagine why not. Her professors seemed lovely—although Professor Binns' voice was very difficult to listen to without feeling drowsy—why should she distrust their judgment? It wasn't like she knew enough about this world yet, anyways.

"I guess," he said finally, shifting his gaze over to the Slytherin table, as if he were trying to make eye contact with someone. He nodded his head towards the table and shrugged. Sadie resisted the urge to twist around in her seat and see who he was looking at.

"Are werewolves common, then?" Sadie asked Seine. God, would she ever feel like she knew this world? Every day seemed to be a constant reminder that the rules of reality she'd known her whole life meant nothing.

Seine shifted uncomfortably for a moment, studying his mashed potatoes as if they might answer her question. She was nearly ready to brush it off when he spoke up.

"Yeah—during the war there were a lot of attacks. A lot of people were turned."

"Jesus," Sadie didn't mean to blasphemy, but it was just… she didn't know the context, but even she could tell that that was awful. She frowned, pushing her roast beef about her plate with a fork. She forced her thoughts to better places and turned to George. "Right! So, muggle Halloween…"


[System]
Age: 10 Months
Gender: None - Vocalizer uses male voice pattern.

Equipment:
Artie's AI core is equipped within a prototype X4 Tactical Combat Unit. The Combat Unit is a state of the art droid, designed specifically for combat, using advanced cyberlimbic technologies to create a single body. The body itself is made up of advanced electronic circuitry housed within a EMP-cased shell of advanced artificial servomotors and processors. The artificial body is then clothed with diamond-carbon weave kevlar, and additional high strength alloy armor plates are equipped in a manner to make the robotic unit considerably more durable. The X4 Tactical Combat unit is able to use U.S.F. standard equipment, and comes with its own built in weaponry. Alongside its light machinegun, the X4 also houses a control system with which several X3 units can be slaved to.

ACR-10 Battle Rifle
Combat Blades
APP-3 Machine Pistols x2
Electrical Whipcord
Mini-Rocket
Suppression Foam

Personal Skills:
Highly mobile and capable in both long ranged warfare and hand to hand combat. His hardy construction makes him extremely durable and capable of taking much punishment. He has the logic and computing skills of a supercomputer and has the ability to control multiple X3's at once.
Personal Weaknesses:
As one of the first attempts to mass produce AI's, Artie is prone to the occasional glitch. He also occasionally expresses conflicting opinions, and exhibits less compliance than many Corporates would like.

History: Advanced Reconnaissance and Tactical Electronic Interface, Serial number 0014, commonly referred to by the squad as 'Artie' is a prototype Artificial Intelligence unit created by the Lorne Corporation for the Coalition, with the intention of mass producing capable and efficient, yet cheap AI. Only created in limited numbers as of now, each ARTEI unit is typically bound to a human "Operator", either a USF Squad leader, or Hunter unit, to provide it with tactical as well as strategic advice. ARTEI is capable of re-tasking local X3 units in order to provide further aid.

ARTEI-0014, commonly known as Artie by development teams as well as the few ground teams its been in contact with was the first ARTEI unit to complete training 5 months after its creation. 0014 then spent the next 4 months conducting classified raids against various pirate forces in order to continue gathering combat data and combat experience. ARTEI-0014 has spent the last month at a holding facility, where he maintains guard over a select group of unique humans.

[User]
Its been almost a month since things started to get weird for Matt. It happened during one of his rare trip to town district, he was on the hunt for a cheap VR capable headset when random numbers, words, and symbols started to appear in his line of sight. None seem to make sense at the time, just gibberish scattered everywhere, layers upon layers of numbers and words, some vivid enough, and some almost invisible.

He thought it would go away after some time, but days passed, the numbers and words lingered, sometimes disappearing briefly, but returns just as fast, and he noticed that it appears especially when he's near computers. And when he thought he had the worst of it all, is when the lines started to appear too. Thin thread of glowing lines crisscrossing everywhere, extending from each houses, establishments, and even from people. He had half a mind to call for an ophthalmologist then, but eventually decided against it since he didnt know how to describe his situation without making the doctor think he's going nuts. And then he began to notice the patterns.

The lines didnt simply extend from houses or establishments, or from people. It is somehow connected to their techs, or gadgets if you'll have it. Each line represents a tech's connection to each other, a communication line that became visible to him for some odd reason. Not only that, the numbers and words that started out as gibberish became more clearer - messages, codes, and programs passing through the connection lines. The only reason he couldnt make sense of it at first was because he's seeing these things all at the same time, hundreds and thousands of digital information flying in and out of his vision. Matt learned that if he concentrated enough on a single line, he could see the whole content with much clarity.

Days and weeks passed, he has grown more accustomed to his new found abilities. Matt discovered that not only he can see and interpret the lines, but he can also affect it, and the information that flows within it. At first, he can only do small things like switching his neighbor's TV channel, or adding a few interesting words on someone else's emails, or redirecting calls. And then, came a time that he is able to completely manipulate and intercept data, and be able to feed the lines with his own version of digital information, making the tech to interpret the data the way he wants them to. However, as he discovered more of his power, the more lines seem to appear, and the more complicated they became. One time, he saw an U.S.F drone pass by, and the connection line he saw there was entirely different from the rest he'd seen so far. It glows differently and the data that flows in it are quite hard to interpret, or at least at his current level.

"Another incident today, as a man in the spaceport tried to breach quarantine. Witnesses say he literally walked straight through the walls into the port. However when he tried to take off U.S.F forces were deployed and the ship was brought down, no-one was injured in the crash however damages are expected to take one month to repair-"

Matt waved at the the old tv set, instantly switching it to a different channel. He knew about the existence of other people like him, people who possess extraordinary powers. He's been doing research about them, and what he found out so far is that the mutations started almost a month ago, the same time he had the numbers and words in his vision. Also, he's read some (reliable) accounts pertaining to supers going missing. Matt tried to look for more information about that matter but finds it rather difficult, either someone is trying to block him off or that there isnt much information to begin with.

"... tried to breach quarantine." Thats odd. Mars have several quarantine sites scattered around each colony, and they're there simply to evaluate new comers, its a mandatory procedure for immigrants from Earth, everyone knew that. Then why would someone want to break out of a quarantine site? Matt was sure the quarantine procedure doesnt take too long to warrant a break out, else the U.S.F has a good reason to detain people... like having powers for instance. May be the U.S.F have something to do with the missing supers.

These things have kept Matt awake all night, and sometime before dawn, he has decided to check on the nearest quarantine site to confirm his suspicions. He could be in for some trouble if the U.S.F really has something do with it all, but some part of him wanted to know whats really happening, and there's just no way of talking him out of it.

[Assistant]
Rose

"Einstein said: 'Everything Is Energy and That's All There Is To It. Match the Frequency of the Reality You Want'. This 20th century Theoretical physicist changed the world, when he spoke of how energy can only transform, never cease to exist. Because of that he also believed in eternal life, and that we would one day become pure energy, as we would no longer need physical form. Today, hundreds of years later, scientists finally understand the true meaning behind those words. If we are to evolve as they dominant species in the universe, understanding energy is…"

Rose put down her book about energy and matter, as the news-bot yelled out "NEXT" in a hollow voice. Being next in line, she stepped forward to the worn, filthy-looking counter and the metallic man standing there. Man actual wasn't the correct definition; it was a robotic torso on a stick behind a counter. Here was one of the few examples of charity that still worked in the poverty district.

"Good morning to you ma'am. Please know that in order to improve our service this conversation might be recorded," the V.I. started out with as always.

"I'm not a ma'am, bucket-head, and if anyone was interested in improving service in this forsaken part of town, I think they would have done it already."
Rose sighed and ran a hand through her long blond hair. While trying to sound as innocent as possible, she then asked: "So… bucket-head, I would like to know about this night's events."

"Very good, ma'am. On this very night a particular large amount of stars where visible from the north corner. Sargent Owen has lost his cat at 00.05 and is putting out a reward. There was also an unfortunate recycle accident-"

"Yeah, tell me about that," Rose said, but immediately regretted. Had she spoken to a human, they would have detected the eagerness in her voice.

"Hang on, ma'am." The faceless machine seemingly spend a moment processing information before answering. "Last night, as recycle-fluid entered the container halls, they burned down a security door and caused this night's recycling to be stopped and postponed. The number of casualties where… 0."

"I thought those doors were impregnable." With a quick glance over her shoulder, Rose made sure no one was listening.

"Burning down a security door requires more than 2500 degrees Celsius, ma'am. For more information see an education-bot or visit 21. century Wikipedia."

"But recycle-fluid is nowhere near that hot, how can such an accident happen?"

"I'm sorry, my files seem incomplete. Details in this matter have been limited by the USF for your safety."

It was as Rose feared. The USF seemed to cover up the incidence which meant they knew someone like her, a freak, had caused the destruction of a security door.
She left the line with the words: "Thanks, bucket-head."

"Have a nice day, old ma'am."

Rose thought back to the night's events. She hadn't meant for it to happen – she didn't want to incinerate that door. She had thought she would have more time; more time to scavenge parts from the junk containers. Suddenly the doors started closing and recycle-fluid poured down from the ceiling. Before long it would fill the great container halls and turn everything into mush. Rose had been trapped, and in an act of desperation she held up her hand towards the door. Next second there was a huge smoking hole in the door and door frame. What was supposed to be able to endure so much punishment had been absolutely annihilated by her power.
This unfortunately wasn't the first time she had used one of her energy beams, and each time they left a breadcrumb for the USF to follow.

Now she had more reason than ever to watch her back, and last night's loot was her only comfort. That, and the reminder that she was Rose – when life pushed her, she pushed back. And now she could push back with a power that turned reinforced steel into butter.

[User]
In the Park - Several minutes ago

The hunter walked over to the net, as he hit a button on his wrists the spikes retracted from the ground, he then pulled them together and clipped them into a handle. The net still periodically sending a spike through Cassies system, as he got nearer the tree line a LAV-55 rolled up, as he stood at the back the door opened and he hoisted Cassie into the back compartment of the vehicle. He then walked over to their new asset. "Artie, finish downloading the targets data and then get out there and find him, and I can't believe I'm saying this, follow your gut and do as you see fit." He indicated to Cassie in the net. "I need to take this haul back to the keep. Off you go."

Watcher
"A new ones popped up on the radar. She's been getting herself out of trouble. Trying to see if they're onto her yet. The worst thing is they're closer than she thinks. The technopath however is in the clear, hunting for answers. The two of them together... may just find some. Divert some messages the technopaths way, let him find her himself. It's not quite time for direct contact." There was a moment of silence.

"Get some footage of Cassie online, put it out there. Even show her teleporting to protect the child. The U.S.F has been covering up and preventing any coherent imagery from getting out and this may just give people the kick we need them to have."

[Assistant]
"Artie, finish downloading the targets data and then get out there and find him, and I can't believe I'm saying this, follow your gut and do as you see fit."

CONFIRMED. LEVEL OF FREEDOM ELEVATED TO: "AS SEEN FIT."

//DOWNLOADING TARGET DATA...
RENAT EMLYN_
CITIZEN ID: 4561-2407-9485
AGE: 16_
GENDER: MALE_
STATUS: ANOMALY_
THREAT LEVEL: LOW_
COURSE OF ACTION: CAPTURE_

Artie dismounted from the LAV-55, his feet landing on the ground with a loud clunk, as his thick alloy feet hit the park's pavement. The droid made a motion similar to rolling its shoulders as it did a quick diagnosis on its various weapons systems. Artie appeared extremely similar to the X3 droids that commonly patrolled the streets, the only cosmetic differences being a minor height difference, a black coated chassis as opposed to the olive drab of the X3, and his bright red scanner "eye". However, internally, Artie was infinitely more complex. He was fitted with more advanced scanners, more advanced weaponry, EMP-coated shells, advanced systems, and redundancies for everything. Built less than a year ago, Artie was essentially state of the art, in both mechanical design, and AI creation.

As the hunter left with the first anomaly, Artie stood in the park, gathering his surroundings. He concluded that the park was an anomaly in and of itself. Whereas the majority of the city- as well as Mars' landscape, was desolate and void of vegetation, this park was one of the few areas were trees and other greenery grew. Artie could not comprehend why for the life of him. The primary purpose of vegetation for humans was to produce oxygen for them to breathe, however, Aire, like the rest of the cities on Mars had built-in atmospheres, already fit with oxygen generators. The amount of oxygen produced by the parks were insubstantial at best.

As Artie scanned the park, he picked up a life sign, not far away- very close by in fact. Exiting a nearby alleyway was a smaller life sign, approaching the park in a manner that his Hunter Partner had described as "sneaky", implying that a slow motion, with a hunched over back implied one had achieved stealth. Quickly scanning the life sign, Artie's eye shined brightly in Renat's direction.

CITIZEN ID: 4561-2407-9485 CONFIRMED. TARGET LOCATED.

Rifle in hand, Artie began approaching Renat, its footsteps deliberate and imposing. Holding out a hand, Artei spoke, its voice processor sounding hollow, but distinctly male.

"Citizen 4561-2407-9485, Renat Emlyn. You are under arrest. Do not resist."


[System]
Gender: Male.
Age: Unknown, due to warp influence.
Faction/Race/Species: Adeptus Astartes.
Sub-Faction: Fallen of the former Dark Angels of Caliban.
Rank/Position: Former techmarine.

Mental and Physical Traits: Xepherial is a logicalist and a pragmatist to a far greater degree than his Adeptus Mechanicus mentors would be comfortable with in current times. He is sharp of mind and exemplifies a scientist in his pursuit of truth and understanding. Ideally, his fighting is done by the machines he communes with, which can be quite substantial with all of them working in blessed coordination. He prefers to plan ahead and be prepared for battle, but should he personally engage, his sharp mind can simultaneously command four extra limbs in addition to his own, making him a terrifying opponent indeed. He doesn't have much experience fighting unarmed and unarmored and doesn't plan to gain that experience. He's standard size for a space marine but of course does see to the maintenance of his biologic components as diligently as he would any weapon or vehicle. He is typically quiet and confident and fully devoted to the Emperor while also fully respecting the presence of the Omnissiah in all non-sentient machines.

Appearance: Xepherial looks surprisingly youthful, with straight black hair and light colored skin. His eyes are a confused shade of hazel, but he usually wears his helm. He always wears his artificer power armor, a variant of the Mk V Maximus, with the left pauldron being black and bearing the old icon of the sword and wings. The armor of the right arm and left leg is red. His servo-harness is black, bearing two servo-arms, a combi-tool, a Fyceline Torch and a Plasma Cutter. The Machina Opus is clearly visible on his midsection and right pauldron, while his chestplate bears the typical Imperialis.

Wargear: Calling upon his training from Mars, Xepherial was able to repair and maintain his gear. He has the servo-harness and four accessory arms which wire directly into his spinal column for maximal control by his brain. He carries a bolter and still has his Omnissian power axe. Other than that, he is accompanied by whatever constructs he has either built or found across his path and restored.

History: Xepherial began as a native to Caliban, was recruited and trained, survived, and a century or so later was sent to Mars. He spent the standard 30 year cycle at Mars and then returned home, just in time to miss departing with El'Johnson and the majority of the Dark Angels forces in the Crusades. Apparently, Luther and the Lion had some kind of disagreement that was mentioned only in whispered rumors that had caused some bad blood. For the next 50 years, El'Johnson kept failing to return to Caliban, and everyone began to suspect a problem. Xepherial had been "left behind" with the Lutherian Dark Angels, and was on that side of the fence when Lion El'Johnson finally did return to Caliban after the Horus Heresy and civil war broke out. Xepherial remembers everything.

That was because it all happened only less than 50 years ago, according to Xeph. The warp storm had sucked him in and thrown him across time AND space far into the future. He originally had no idea where or when he was and wandered alone on a strange hostile world on the edge of the warp that was ruled by human warbands and mercenaries. His first encounter with the natives quickly demonstrated that he could not be easily taken down and salvaged, so a truce was eventually reached. Xepherial agreed to temporarily join the warband, exchanging his service for information and supplies. He came to be a respected oracle of sorts giving his adopters quite an edge in their inter-gang wars simply by upkeeping their machines.

The forsaken denizens of his world seemed to quickly become more and more depraved over time, and the worship of chaos was something Xepherial couldn't stomach. For years, he listened to communication lines and plotted his departure form the world, driven by the need to discover what had happened to his home planet, his chapter, and his honor. Finally, the predictions of a psyker, a shaman among the natives told him a set of coordinates where he must go, that "one of his kind" would be found there, but also he gave a warning. His brothers were his brothers no more, and if they found him, they would kill him.

Xepherial eventually acquired a small ship and was able to revive its machine spirit enough to fly once more. Deciding he would rather die than waste a warrior's years on some Emperor-forsaken hellworld, Xepherial launched himself on a mission of faith.

[User]
Oskar rounded a corner with a couple troopers ahead of him, one of them a murdering psychopath who gunned down his own squad for the fun of it. Oskar was going to kill him as soon as he had a weapon more useful than his fists. The trooper hopped through a bulk head and was immediately knocked down by an auto-cannon with his head missing. Oskar flattened against the wall and poked his head out just far enough to clear one eye. he spotted the auto-cannon down the hall, a perfect spot to pin them down forever. "by the emperor" he mumbled to himself trying to think. He didnt know the lay out of the ship well enough to find a quick way around this obstacle. He heard a familiar voice yell at him from down the hall.

Vespin shouted at them from down the hall, detailing the situation that Oskar had already worked out for himself. basically he was fucked, but Vespin was giving him an out... for some reason. So he decided that it was his only option. He used battle sign to tell his little gang that they where to hold position, and if he where killed that they where to scatter and run. He pulled off his service cap and waived it out the doorway. "Im coming out!" Oskar shouted, he waited a couple heart beats before stepping around and through the door. He clenched his teeth and took another step forward ready to recieve an auto-cannon shell to the face. When he didnt he held his arms out, in a universal sign of 'I am unarmed' while he walked calmly but quickly to about the half way mark before shouting at Vespin. "Im Oskar Rolt, Sergeant of the uh-.." he faltered, because he wasnt technically a seargent any more, nor did he belong to his regiment any more. "Sergeant of this penal corp" he finished, it sounded good to him. Before vespin could say anything he started again, carefully crafting a true story "The cell block took damage, we where released and The ship has been boarded by hostiles" Which was technically true, "We have come to get weapons and repel boarders." which was half true.

It was the best he could come up with on the fly, he knew Vespin was a criminal who probably remembered Oskar. However there was no time to barter and carefully craft a position, not that Oskar was any good at that kind of thing, he would rather set the little bastard on fire until he got what he wanted, no time for that however. He hoped Vespin would accept his story, if not... he might try the truth. 'We are coming get weapons to take the ship and start a merry pirate adventure' somehow didnt sound very convincing.

[Assistant]
It was a bit surprising, seeing Oskar Rolt of all people leading the group. Not that he wasn't capable of it, the man had lead teams before. No, it was just strange to see him sticking his neck out like this. Then again, all Vespin knew about him was his rank and that he got himself put in the penal legion. That, and his penchant for going in to things flamer first, whenever possible.

"Oskar, I've heard of you. Have to say, you don't quite live up to your reputation. I bet you're shit at cards. Little advice for you, never show your hand before you know what game you're playing." Keeping the cross hairs aimed at Oskar, Vespin made sure to keep an eye out for the other prisoners, and an ear out for his own men.

"It was my men who got sent down here to deal with you. We were given shot guns, not collars. You don't send a commissar along with demihumans to and no collars to get penal legion ready to repel borders. Now, be honest, and maybe we can make some actual negotiations. Lie to me again, and I'll see if the next 'sergeant' your group sends out can't get things done before you all get gunned down."

[User]
Oskar listened to Vespin, who was mistaken. They hadn't been released, he did say the cell block had taken damage.. oh well. and he was excellent at cards He didnt have the time to argue the minutiae so plan B then...

"Fine" he said and rubbed the back of his neck, this was going to sound insane "A Space Marine smashed open my cell and requested my help... he should be along shortly if he wasnt caught by your friends. An ork attacked us when we fled, so i decided that we would come up here and get armed, maybe take the ship for ourselves or this Space marine. Maybe become pirates. But i mostly wanted to get armed and armored before i thought too far ahead."

It sounded crazy, he hardly believed it himself. except that he witnessed it happen, He hoped Vespin knew he wasnt smart or creative enough to come up with that on the fly unless it was true.

[Assistant]
Xepherial started down the warp-cooked plasteel corridor, his methodic march mimicking gummed workings of his dulled wit. His body was hot with the energies of his accelerated healing processes which raced his metabolism, causing him to break out in a fevered sweat inside his compromised armor. Finally, he was alone again and able to devote an iota of his consciousness to grasping at the fading memories of his prime directive. Who was he? He was Xepherial, Dark Angel, one of the Imperial legionaries, son of the Lion, native of Caliban. Yet so much of this meant so little in present times. His legion was gone. His world, gone. His chapter master, Luther, his primarch... all gone. And what of the Emperor? As Xepherial walked, listening to the lurch of the hull and the cacophony of shouts and stamping and weaponfire, he tried to envision that esoteric being who had always been so far away. Memories resurfaced at the sounds of battle around him, and he recalled his last moments before the very world itself broke under his feet, and reality itself twisted and ripped apart things that should not have been physically able to rip. Had this Emperor been responsible for that? Had he betrayed them, those who were born on Caliban? Or had it been the Lion himself? The very thought was painful, and Xepherial's mind rebelled at persuing this train any further. It didn't matter. He'd hunt down the answers he sought and deserved until he either found them or perished in the attempt. For now, he had to make sure this Imperial ship survived to carry him onward to that end.

He had been headed in the direction of Oskar and the escaped convicts when Xepherial suddenly felt what could only be described as an intrusion on his mind. Words jumped in there without his consent and spoke to him regardless of whether or not he had wated to hear it, and this struck a spark of fury within the altered astartes. He knew right away that the message was a psychic delivery despite the wondrous presentation. The Legion of Caliban had had its own librarians, yet they would never have dared such disrespect. His lip curled and he saw the image of a pathetic supplicant serving as messenger.

"My companion? Scion? ..." Xepherial growled as he realized the sycophantic psyker could hear everything he thought. He spoke aloud. "Get out of my mind witch, or I will make you suffer before I kill you. The prophecy is a lie. I'll find my OWN answers even if I have to go to Terra myself!" Xepherial was furious, far more angry than he would have been had his humors been at all balanced. His mental slowness sought to betray him as his desire to kill and wreck havoc threatened to overcome his clarity and patience.

[User]
Maybe the psyker mutant heard him and knew where he was, maybe he didn't, but Xepherial gave it no further thought. The techmarine proceeded down the corridors as if lost, haphazardly taking turns through the interior of the ship while the battle with xenos continued outside in the void of space around them. By some random chance, he strode up to find himself behind Vespin Longshank, a guardsman who was engaged in a stand off with Oskar and the escaped criminals.

The battered, red-eyed black knight with spider-like servo arms stopped in the hall, his last footfalls silencing the exchange between the two men. He hesitated only a moment, to allow the human to register what he was seeing, then he spoke with a directness that scorned the mere mortal before him, "Take me to your captain."


[System]
General:
Gender: Female
Age: 36
Appearance: Stoic and grizzled, a head shorter than most with as many scars as quick witted comments. A long grey coat over bulky flak armour finishes the look of a guard for a typical noble house, though her unkempt dark hair, hardy figure and bloodshot eyes would suggest much greater hardship. Tends to be abrasive to others around her, due to her Lower Gothic and Outcast background. In a fight she knows who her friends are, but outside of one everyone is treated with hostility

Origin
Homeworld: 21 – Forge World
Homeworld Superstition: Tapping for Blessing: A machine spirit that is acknowledged is one that responds well to its users; slightly tapping a device twice with two fingers soothes the spirit and brings fortune.
Homeworld Memento: Bootlace (pending description, but probably smells a bit)

Class: Outcast
Background: Pending! Will be here in a day

Stats:
Experience: 0
Level/Rank: 1

Wounds: 14 wounds with divination
Armour: 7 (Flak Vest - 3 Armour and a Toughness bonus of 4)

Corruption Points: 0 = Pure
Insanity Points: 0 = Resolve of Steel

Characteristics:
Weapon Skill: 36
Ballistic Skill: 31
Strength: 30
Toughness: 33 (43 with modifiers)
Agility: 40 (got a 20) (42 with modifiers)
Intelligence: 31 (41 with modifiers)
Perception: 34
Willpower: 28
Fellowship: 26 (16 with modifiers) (+10 when a lie is involved)
Influence: 27

Divination: Imperial Divination: "Trust in your fear." Increase Agility by +2 and gain 1 wound. A swordsman who fights for their soul has a blade that is all the sharper, accompanied by a grim demeanour that can weather the hardiest storm

Class Bonus:
- Weapon Training (Chain, las or solid projectile) (+15 to Ballistic Skill or Weapon Skill when using a weapon of a certain type)
- Acrobatic (+15 to Agility or Strength checks when Acrobatics is involved. eg, climbing a roof, flipping) OR --- Sleight of Hand (+15 to Agility checks when being fast with ones hands, pick-pocketing etc)
- Common Lore (Underworld) (+10 to Intelligence checks when recalling lore on the Underworld)
- Deceiver (+10 to Fellowship tests when a lie is involved)
- Stealthy (+15 to Agility tests when being stealthy, avoiding detection)

Talents:
+10 to Intelligence (added above)
+10 to Toughness (added above)
-10 to Fellowship (added above)
Omnissiah's Chosen: Tech-use talent (+15 to Agility or Intelligence rolls when operating Imperial machinery, +5 to Intelligence or Agility rolls when operating (filthy!) xeno machinery)
Never Quit: Having fought tooth and nail aboard star-ships across the universe Adrianna is used to holding on until she can see the end of a fight. An Outcast character when brought down to 0 Wounds rolls a d6, on 1-2 the character gains 1 wound and can fight, on 4-6 the character is knocked unconscious
Linguistics: Low Gothic

Equipment:
Laspistol - 1 handed - 30m range - 1d10+2 energy damage
Chainsword - 1 handed - Melee - 1d10+2 rending damage - Penetrates 2 armour
Flak Vest - 3 Armour - Agility restricted to 60
Knife - 1 handed - Melee/Thrown - Strength in meters(When thrown) - 1d5 rending damage - Primitive - Availability: Plentiful - Cost: 5 Throne
2 Frag Grenades - Thrown/1 handed - Strength in m - 2d10 explosive damage – Blast
3 Smoke Grenades - thrown/1 handed - strength in m - Smoke, blast

Obscura
Though often illegal, obscura is popular in many fighting units where combatants are eager for respite from constant battle, as well as among civilians seeking relief from the drudgeries of harsh life. Obscura-users enter a dream-like state for 1d5 hours (if required to engage in combat, consider them under the effects of a hallucinogen grenade). For 1d10 hours after the effects wear off, they enter a deep depression, unless another dose of obscura is taken. Obscura is Addictive.
Injector
Many drugs require a device to administer a dose such as a syringe, spray-injector, or gas flask. Each can hold one dose of any drug, which a character may administer as a Half Action.

123 Throne Gelt spent on:
Backpack – 30 tg – 93 tg remain
Chrono (watch) – 25 tg – 68 tg remain
Knife – 5tg – 63 tg remain
2 Frag Grenade – 20tg – 43 remain
3 Smoke Grenades (price not shown, I'll say all my money is now spent)

[User]
Atreides calmly listened to the information he needed to know get validated as the chest was opened and he collected his items. Hand vox, crude but useful if he felt like listening to his comrades in arms. Hive attire, familiar in appearance, as he threw that on and properly set the collar to maximize its property to hide his attire and equipment under, letting it set comfortably without having to worry much about exposing himself at all. He preferred a hood or head attire of some sort as well, but it would suffice until he could acquire such things. He was personally looking forward to getting back into the natural flow and crowd of a hive city and its inhabitants, it was easy to get lost and move in, but if you were familiar with them it was possible to track someone through with a bit of luck and skill. Undercover as a regulator would work if they didn't stick together as a huge group, and he crossed his arms under the heavy overgarments he wore, sleeves hanging empty by his sides as they were dismissed. "Likewise, Interrogator, we will be in touch."

Grabbing the dataslate, since he would have use for it and intended to add information as he found it, along with the fact he did not trust the rest of the acolytes with not doing something stupid and messing up the dataslate and its information. With that he, after inputting the data code to prevent memory wipe of the slate, pulled up the relevant information on the sector they were going to and reviewed and prepared while they were on their way to Coscaria. The crowds that were left and the increasingly deteriorating train cars did not phase the Arbitrator one bit. It was par for the course, as he read over the information, and waited for their destination to be announced, keeping some distance from the fellow acolytes to avoid drawing suspicion of a group of such clothed individuals, all clumped together. It still drew attention and attention was something he did not need. This was a shadow mission after all.

Once the group arrived at Coscaria, Atreides wasted no remaining day cycle remaining as he turned away from the group, speaking briefly. "Raise me on vox if you need me, I have questions to ask." He didn't yell, having only spoke loud enough for them to hear as he left the group. He intended to use his familiarity with such hive areas to reach Hab block 7-17 and attempt to gather what information he could from the sister. He would attempt to be polite and respectful to the grieving sister, but he would get the information however he could. His authority was absolute in this, and he would not leave without something to work with in hunting down this heretic.

---

Collect items and put on disguise
Review data slate
Navigate to Hab block 7-17

[Assistant]
Having listened intently and give a solemn bow to the Medicae when he mentioned the servitor, Warmund walked step by careful step with his fellow acolytes to the transit and sat silently during the way there, only looking up to check the scenery and such. Around half way there however he took the Hand vox from each acolyte (with permission from the respective owner) and tried to get them to the best frequency he could(unless they must stay the same), fix them up and hopefully improve there general performance. As well as this he calibrates his eairpiece to the same frequency and throws on the Hive apparel.

As the group step off of the transit for the final time Warmund suggests that each read the data slate and that two teams should follow two separate leads. Rather than piping up anymore Warmund holds his tongue and waits for suggestions after his own, he looks around for sniping spots and look out areas he could use to his advantageous. Some among them may find this environment unpleasant, but forge world air is dirtier than many, and its crowds more ruthless - thus Warmund finds himself quiet at home.

---

Check Vox's
Calibrate Earpiece
Suggestion
Scout out the area (Visually)

[User]
Taking the equipment provided, minus either the sample kit or the dataslate, Arkaeus silently followed the party onto the transit rail system.

Eventually they reached their destination and he stepped out on the the platform. The Arbitrator excused himself politely to go investigate things by himself, which he was grateful for.

The cloak provided went on nicely enough over his psyker robes, thankfully concealing them from whatever public scrutiny they were about to endure. As he adjusted the stiff, high collar, he briefly paused to consider the last new addition to their group: the Outcast, Adrianna. He couldn't tell much of her, other than her combat skill, but at least the new face was a comforting sight in a place where he was surrounded by strangers. The compact hand Vox piece he'd been given was simple enough to stuff in one of the inner pockets of the cloak, along with the lone chem lamp.

Arkaeus gripped his staff. This was where things got serious, he knew. Knowing this, he closed his eyes to mutter one short prayer.

"Oh Immortal Emperor,
guide our actions this day
so we may quell this heresy
in your name."
Whispering this, he reopened his eyes and gently tapped the ground with the base of his staff.

"So, fellows, a plan of action?"

---

* Follow party
* Adjust cloak
* Pray
* Ask question

[Assistant]
Adrianna approached the group, and awkwardly stood there wondering who to talk to. Or perhaps the better thing to ask would be who it was wise to talk to. An Arbites, a crazy sister of battle, an obvious psyker that sent chills down her spine, a zealous priest or a death obsessed assassin. The last to step off the transit module was some sort of guardsmen. She added him to the long list of people she didn't trust, she'd faced too many of them for that. Just seeing the group step off the train she knew that these were the people to meet, as they stuck out like a bleeding thumb. She checked her Chrono and herself before setting off for them.

She saw the psyker utter a prayer, and tried to get his attention, for lack of better option in the group

---

* Try and get Arkaeus Martavan's attention
* Take an aggressive stance, hand on hilt


[System]
Character Role: UNSC Admiral of the "Solar Winds" Marathon Class Cruiser
Character Age: 32
Character Gender: Female
Character Appearance: An average heighted female (5'9) , with a particularly slender body which for some reason is still packing, chestwise. Many people accuse her of having silicon implants. She often skillyfully adorns her facial features with seductive makeup, and keeps her hair punkishly dyed green and medium length. The Admiral is mostly only seen in her fleet uniform, which she keeps polished and tidy at all times. REFERENCE
Character Personality: Although her IQ level is considerably high, the Admiral can best be described as a complete clown when it comes to.. anything, really. She is craziness at its best, and dislikes when subordinates question her decision-making. She is sharp, does not take no for an answer, and is quick to provide solutions to anything just about instantly, whether they're good or bad solutions. Despite her insane nature, she still keeps a completely clean mission completion record. It's why she's the Admiral after all.
Character Gear: Tight, tidy and polished UNSC female's CO uniform, adorned with flirtatious white boots, all of her fleet pins, and a utility belt which includes a Magnum side-arm.
Character skills: Being a manipulative bitch, high athleticism, and superb decision making.
Character Backstory: Pantera Faye was born to UNSC Captain Faye, and his wife Ultherea Faye, an economic ambassador. It was only natural the she follow in her parent's footsteps, and by the time she was of age, she enlisted to the UNSC Navy. The only problem was, Pantera was regarded as completely insane. Many considered her a disgrace to her parents, and she often suffered from discrimination and whatnot. It was only by chance that she was not removed from the Navy program. But, little did her superiors know, Pantera was a real prodigy. It was only when she was sent on her first operation, (which was no doubt an easy task given to her only for the sake of actually giving her something to do) that her superiors realized the potential in her. Since then, she has miraculously ascended through the Navy to become one of the UNSC's most successful yet definitely most insane CO's.

[User]
Mass confusion lines the unsc cruiser as it's inhabitants attempt to get a grasp on the situation. One moment they were on their way through the Scutum-Crux arm to verify the fates of missing unsc ships, the next red lights start flashing throughout the corridors. They had not yet reached their destination, so what could possibly be happening? Could it be the covenant? Unlikely, but considering the cargo this ship was carrying, it wouldn't be smart to risk that chance. Whatever these warnings are, it means we expect to be attacked soon, if not already.

Carrying her shotgun over her right shoulder, Savaymin walks uninvited onto the main bridge. One glance is enough to tell her that everyone else aboard is trying to figure out the situation as well. The chaos of the situation causes her to smirk briefly before returning to her serious demeanor. Cupping her hands over her mouth in order to amplify her voice, she shouts, "do any of you baboons know why the hell we are in a state of emergency and what the f*** is going on?" She waits for only five seconds before a voice speaks up behind her describing the issue.
@Cyber Mama

[Assistant] poof

[User]
Pantera Faye

"Magellan! I go to the bathroom for two minutes and we're in a different galaxy! Explain yourself!" The Admiral wailed as she stormed onto the bridge, no less confused than all other officers on deck.

Magellan, the Solar Wind's AI, took more than a few seconds to calculate what just happened. "We have unintentionally entered a slipspace portal. We have emerged on uncharted space. I cannot locate any information for the galaxy we are located in, Admiral Faye."

"Okay. Why did you activate the slipspace drive?" Asked the Admiral, before the AI retorted. "I did no such thing, Admiral. As I said, we ventured into an unidentified wormhole." The Admiral scoffed, taking off her beret and tossing it over a control panel. "Okay. So why didn't you /pilot/ us away from the wormhole?" [/i]

Magellan remained quiet for a second or two. "Unable to explain." The Admiral exhaled, deeply. "Robots these days."

"I am a construct of Artificial Intel--" "Shush. I know what you are. Someone, anyone, initiate a galaxy scan. Tell me we're not in covenant controlled space, or something."

"Done, Admiral." Replied one of her officers, currently working some magic on his respective control panel. "The nearest planet is several parsecs away. Unidentified, highly advanced civilization. I recommend we--" "Set a course." "Admiral, I--" "Set. A. Course."

Without further adiue, the Marathon Cruiser turned about, setting sail at decent trhuster capacity towards the grand Coruscant. The Admiral opened a channel on the intercomm, relaying a message throughout the entire ship for the entire crew.

"Attention all Personnel, We-- Wait, is the microphone on yet? No? Oh, it is? Wait, wait. Shit, this is awkward.
Attention all personne, I don't know where the fuck we are. Magellan piloted us into a-- "I did no such thing!" "Whatever. /Somehow/ , we entered a wormhole, and now we're in the middle of nowhere. There doesn't seem to be any Covenant in the sector, but we'll find out soon. We've set a course to the nearest planet, a few parsecs away. Scanners indicate a dangerously advanced civilization. Red alert, battle stations everyone. All spartans, and Captain Joseph, report to the bridge."

The admiral closed the channel, turning around to find one of her spartans making brief chat with another crewmember. "Apparently, Magellan drove us into a wormhole and now we're in uncharted territory. That's about all I know." Explained the cadet, before Pantera interrupted the two.

"Savaymin, you're here early. Good. You wouldn't happen to know what's keeping all your buddies so long, would you?" She asked, despite the fact that she /just/ asked all spartans to the deck only three seconds ago.

[Assistant]
UNSC Spartans

A few seconds later, the bridge door opened again and three more Spartans strode in, though none of them were armed. The team leader, Commander Marholm, walked in front as they assembled before the admiral in dark blue, grey, and brown armor respectively. "Fireteam Ra, reporting as ordered, admiral."

[User]
Cindra Dubrovnik
Cindra bolts upright from her bunk at the sudden acceleration and shudder of the ship around her, springing into action and donning her hostile environment suit in record time. What could have happened? Cindra should have been alerted before a warp space jump. The Admiral knew darn well how touchy she could be when it came to hurtling through space without warning. And still, a warp space jump would've lasted longer, wouldn't it? Slipping into the corridor, she rubs the sleep from her eyes as she sprints towards the nearest mechanic. She grabs his shoulder, surprising him, and takes in his expression of panic in a second.
"What's happening? Zerg? We weren't scheduled for a jump for a good while yet...Well, don't just stand there. Status report. Now."
She usually wasn't this pushy, but she had made it clear that she wished to be informed before any jumps, and the admiral had agreed. Was he going back on that?
She catches only the words,
"Wormhole...unexpected...no idea..."
before she lets go of the stammering man and sprints down the hall to the control room. On entering, she descends into pure chaos. Mechanics and engineers running everywhere, technicians pounding away at terminals...a madhouse if ever she had seen one.
Cindra stalks straight up to the lieutenant and yells over the noise.
"Hey! I thought we agreed I was to be informed of jumps at a minimum of 2 hours prior to executing them! What's this about unexpected wormholes? Your men have the tech to detect these things for a reason!"
Looking out the main window at the foreign planet, she asks at the same volume, but with considerably more awe,
"...And where in the name of midget whiskers are we?"

[Assistant]
Admiral Owen Magnus

Admiral Owen Magnus walks into the now chaotic bridge and calls out above the din, "Everyone quiet down. Now report, sensors."
The sensors officer replies hesitantly. "One star and one planet with a dense ring detected, nothing else close enough to detect on passive scans."
"Navigation"
"We flew right in to a "quiet" wormhole, systems are showing a complete blank as to our current location. Still working on how the wormhole got there, sir."
"Engineering"
"No damage reported, sir."
"Ok, sensors give me a full sweep, as far as it will give, I need to know what's out there. I am ordering the ship to level 1 alert, bring weapons online and start charging the warp drives, lets be ready for anything."

[User]
When the admiral asked her why her fellow spartans were running late, for some reason all she could think of was a bald, red-green color blind man having a seizure to the rhythm of the red flashing strobe lights.
.
.
.
Yeah, that doesn't make a whole lotta sense. And she'd probably agree with you, if her thought process wasn't interrupted by the three members of fireteam ra standing in front of them. She takes a moment to scan over them, then to the lights that dictate a state of emergency, then back to the spartans. "I think their tardiness may be explained by their lack of suitable equipment for the situation," She theory crafts. "Perhaps they got lost trying to find the armory?" She looks around once more as if trying to spot another person. "And I believe the captain is missing as well right now."
@Cyber Mama

[Assistant]
Dean Joseph Victoria Harbit

The announcement across the ship ends, leaving the chief of security concerned about the state of their ship in the break room. His hand plants itself on the table as he looks around to the thirteen or so security officers that share the room with him.
"Righto! You heard the prune! Get down to the armoury stat. Remember boys, this may just be a drill so keep calm and refrain from shooting unless they talk gibberish or look like an angrier version of the terminator." He begins to make his way out before turning and pointing to one of the officers who's currently standing near a coffee pot. "And for fuck sake, no one shoot Larry again!"

It takes him a moment to make his way from break room to the elevator that reaches the bridge. He hears many of the ship's crew running about in a panicked state. He catches two ODSTs on their way down to the hangar and asks them for elaboration on the subject. Obviously they know as much as he does and offer no help at all.

The doors to the bridge open once more, Dean walking through with his hand placed firmly on his magnum. His eyes narrow on the Spartans for only a moment before focusing. Loud 'clacks' followed behind each step he made although the sound would be easily drowned out by the current chaos and commotion of the ship.

"Captain Dean Harbit, present and accounted for. Awaiting orders Admiral." Dean's voice remains clear of confusion and sharp. While others on the ship may be hectic, it's his responsibility to remain calm in potentially dangerous scenarios. He would await to be addressed by the admiral and if spoken to by a spartan or other member of the bridge, respond with a deep growl of disapproval.

@Laach

[User]
"Front and center, soldiers." Pantera issued as all the personnell she requested now entered the deck. If they were obedient troopers, they would've lined up in front of her at her beckoning.

"Spartans, you're late." The Admiral protested, despite the fact that everyone had arrived at a more than decent timing. "With all due respect, admiral.. You on--" The Admiral unsheathed her magnum side arm, pointing it directly at the spartan's forehead. "Don't sass me." She issued as she whacked Marholm over the head with the butt of her magnum. It couldn't have hurt, considering his superhuman body and virtually indestructible helmet.

Sheathing her magnum, she exhaled, crossing her arms. "Captain Dean, right on time, old friend."

"As you all know by now, we are in the middle of no-where, and we're headed for a potentially dangerous planet. Scans can't pick up on anything useful. We only know it's not covenant, or forerunner. As you all /also/ know, this ship is on red alert. Why are /none/ of you armed? I expect better from Fireteam Ra, and the chief of security himself."

She panned at Dean, looking right into his eyes, as if waiting for something. "What, you think your magnum's going to save your life? Go, go go go! Go get yourselves armed!" She screamed, giving the soldiers in front of her almost no time to react between her words. "Go before I tape you all to the MAC barrel! --- Savaymin, you stay."