[System]
Character Sheet
Notable Parents: None
Age: 22
Sex: Female
Hair Color: Strawberry blonde
Eye color: Red
Appearance: Like the picture below, but her hair is strawberry blonde, (Couldn't go with pink sorry :) ) Though in the picture I'm guessing she is Half Guado due to her length of arms and fingers But i'm only making her human, with longer (Not as long as those) fingers. She is also a whopping 5 foot 4 inches.

Three pictures to see her different emotions :) Besides I loved them all and couldn't pick one. She is the one with pink hair and the staff. ignore the others.

None of these pictures belong to me what so ever I found them and will give credit due,
Ivaneth (c) HardyDytonia
Ynnestra (c) Orangenbluete
Wanda (c) Tsuranami
Art (c) Gurakko
Eko (c)*Tsuranami

found on Deviantart

Weapon: Staff (Like above) Help channel her white magic and Summoning.

Any Armor: None

Skills:
- Can make friends with anyone, looks for the good in all
- Has knowledge of Healing and first aid

Shortcomings:
-Far too trusting
-Hate's fighting, so is a bit of a burden in a fight

Occupation: None doesn't remember

Biography: To be Revealed in the RP. Never liked writing this in a CS anyway. But she has Amnesia, and only remembers the last 2 years.

Personality:
She is very kind and loving, she also is kinda Naive. She explains that she was VERY Sheltered and her parents kinda made her live under a rock...not literally of course. It is just a story, because it's easier to say that than say she has Amnesia, and only remembers the last 2 Years. She hates fighting and is often takes the role of Diplomat. She does remember always wanted to be a Summoner growing up, which is kinda hard because she has to fight, but she knew it would be better for everyone She does remember training to become one as well. But of course Sin is gone, and her dreams were in the clouds. So she tries to find out all she can About Aeons and Fayths, including the prayers and what ever she could get her hands on.

Are you arriving in Besaid or Living there? Arriving

[User]
"No, I'm not hurt…" Nai cried as Lulu wiped the tears from her face. She loved Lulu as a second mother and for that reason she felt easy telling her everything." It's just that…" She began still crying a little, when Alex began complaining. Finally managing to calm her cries a little, Nai continued." It's was Gippal… There was a girl down in the chambers of the Fayth… as soon as he saw her he ran to embrace her!" Nai started crying again." For five years I lived constantly worrying if he was alive or well. I…I… I waited for his mother's call every month, not sleeping from worry and he… he… HE WAS OFF SOMEWHERE WITH ANOTHER GIRL WITHOUT EVEN SAYING IT WAS SO!!! Why are men always such idiots..." She cried… the fact that he was missing for 5 years was already making her angry, but to think he spend it off somewhere with another girl and letting her to be sick, worrying about him that was what pushed the frail mage over the edge." I just don't care anymore!!! I'm leaving the temple before I bring it down on his head…" She cried as her eyes flared up with burning red glow for a moment and she quickly headed turned the exit. She hadn't passed even a step before she heard Urick. "Are...Are you two ok?" He asked. Nai only turned to look at him. Her eyes had a very specific feel to them at this moment. They were red from crying and tears were still going down her cheeks, but they clearly conveyed she felt deeply hurt and betrayed. As Alex released the handles of her chair, Naisha turned towards Lulu." I'm sorry teacher, but I will be leaving now… otherwise I may do something completely stupid. Please go after lady Yuna." Nai said with some tears running down her cheek and she quickly headed outside.

 She went back to the feast, some of the people noticed her looks and tried to question her about what had happened, but she ignored all of them, instead she just passed by the tables, taking a bottle of alcohol. Then she headed towards the beach.

[Assistant]
Alex tapped her foot on the ground in irritation as she waited for Urick to explain, but it seemed his mouth was clamped shut was fiddling with his thumbs more intensely. Irritation growing more, her blue eyes snapping toward the tearful Naisha as she spoke to Lulu then left the temple. Turning her cold gaze on to Urick once more, she started to growl in frustration, arms trembling as she tried to withhold punching the ever living shit out of the muscular man. Damn Urick always had issues talking none the less explaining things. But times like these made it frustrating.

"You two... Left us for five years without any word. I accepted it when you finally came back cause I was happy to see you again. And... I thought you two were living your dream and going out to explore the world. But to think, you were with a girl. I don't care if you fall in love, have a family, do whatever the heck you want... But to just abandon us like that! How. Dare. You. I see now... You two didn't really come here for us. Your friends. Fine then. You should of just said so." Alex said coldly with a growl as she glared at Urick whom slightly cringed back, mouth opening and closing as if trying to say something but was completely unable to.

Growling, Alex reached and clamped his left ear lobe between her fingers and gingerly twisted it like a mother scolding a child, pulling on it. "If you follow I'm beating the shit out of you. Same with Cottonhead. I have more important things to do like be with my friend. Which you two made her cry so I'll beat the shit outta you if you come near her." she hissed before letting go and storming away and after Naisha.

Moving out of the Temple, she passed the feast and paused for a moment. Before picking up two saucers filled with food, one in each hand before following after Naisha. She heard someone yelling out a scolding or two but she didn't care as she moved along. Soon, catching up to Naisha heading toward the beach. With a sigh, the red head forced a smile.

"Awe come on Nai, who needs those two. Us two can party on our own. We got food and alcohol, perfect partying things eh?" the tall woman chirped, as if trying to cheer her friend up. Alex wasn't very good in this department, but she tried her best.

When getting to the beach, Alex stretched a little and sat down cross legged, one saucer resting on her lap, the other one in her hands. Taking one one large leg in her hand. "We should go out and explore for ten years without contacting them. See how they feel. Make a list of all the eye candy we see." she joked and chowed down on the leg hungrily.

[User]
The pale woman waited in the temple with her arms crossed for the pale haired man and the summoner Eva to make their appearance. She heard what the tall red head was spitting at her and bore no reaction. As always her face was stoic. The priests looked at her in anger yet none approached her, sensing something was off about the pale rider. She decided to be patient, after all, she was to escort those two in wherever they were going as they made their way to the Macalania Temple.

As she wasn't far behind the muscular pale-haired man, she heard the entire conversation between he and the red-haired amazon. Once she had traipsed her way through the door after her tearful hover-chair bound friend, she came up to his side.

"She certainly thinks highly of herself."

Her arms remained folded as she spoke, no hint of malice present as though she were simply stating a fact. She looked up to Urick, her vibrant blue eyes meeting his. Going by his body language, his personality was most certainly one of a teddy bear despite his mass. The poor man probably had no idea what to say. She averted her gaze momentarily, thoughtful. When she turned back to Urick, her arms had unfolded, one of them was placed on the large man's arm. Her touch was ice cold.

"You and your brothers hiatus from here were surely for your own reasons. You should not feel bad just because others may tell you to be."

Her head turned to the great walls covered in scriptures standing around the temple's interior. Letting go of his arm, she gestured that he follow. She walked to be in front of one of the walls, leaving enough room beside her for him to stand beside her should he choose to follow as she silently requested. Her hands folded together in front of her in prayer as she slid the hood of her cloak off. Her eyes closed and her head bowed, she spoke again. For once, she looked rather at peace and serene.

"If you feel guilt, then ask not forgiveness from those who have turned the other cheek. Perhaps, however, you are not religious. If that is the case..."

She lifted her head to look at him, her eyes mostly closed still but cracked open enough to see him from the slits of her eyelids.

"Then the feeling you may seek can be achieved in other ways as well."

Her head bowed again and her eyes closed, but she continued speaking.

"The aura of the temples I have visited I find... are enough to center me. I enjoy it."

[Assistant]
Cassius simply smirked at Bohdan. "I suppose simplicity has it's benefits." he chuckled in a way.
As Cassius finished his meal; he listened to the Ronso. He pretty much was just confirming repeated information and what not; which wasn't anything he has not heard up to this point, but what he did know what most Ronso simply don't leave for no reason; this raised questions about his mission, but he would not press him too much.

Upon finishing his dishes, he walked stood up before placing them in the kitchen, washing his dish, hands and face.
"Well, don't feel guilty about the money thing, it wasn't liked I worked for all that Gil. It should give passage to Lucca and what not. Or is there not a fare for getting around these days?" Cassius spoke up.

He folded his arms upon returning to his room, Rohzar stared at him in slight annoyance.
"Don't give me that..." Cassius raised his eyebrows to his Caretaker.

"Give you what?"
"That Look. Seriously, you look like you dread me leaving. Are you that bored with your life?" Cassius somewhat teased through words.

The man smirked a bit. "Hard to be bored of someone with such gull. If I didn't like you, I would have poisoned you two years in."
"Careful. I have a gun. Ooohgahhh Boogah. Machina..." Cassius waved his arms in sarcasm before smiling.

Rohzar simply double face-palmed at the silly display. "I'm just more upset you're about to leave so suddenly. Before you were here, all I did was hunt fiends on the roads. Cook for a village every seventh day of the week, and play Blitzball... And work on Martial arts to stay fit. My life was boring. " He chuckled.

"Yes, because having no water resistance in sports really isn't exciting." Cassius smirked.
"In all seriousness, I want to see the world myself, walk on one's own legs. You're always welcome to come." Cassius offered.

Rohzar shook his head. "I cannot leave here. It would break tradition of my family being a hunter."
"Not contradictory at all... You only took care of me the last three years." Cassius chimed in.

"I guess you got me there." The man chuckled.

"Relax, if I'm leaving it will be in the morning." He gave his friend a hug.
"Not a burst of sentiment, but I guess this is sorta like how a parent feels sending off there child..." He sighed before hugging his charge. He clearly did care in many ways; it was his responsibility for three years, and he was walking away now... It was slightly heart breaking to him to see this reality happening.

Rohzar turned his eyes to the Ronso. "Take care of him in my stead." He spoke lowly as if trying to be less obvious despite him quite literately holding Cassius.

[User]
Eva had stayed quiet during the moments with the Fayth and apparently Saina. What made them so special? She was just a girl trying to get her memories back. How would meeting her and Gippal be so important for the Fayth to come back to existence? Was it because of that man? Was he really that big of a threat?

 Suddenly she heard "What in Yevon happened here Gippal?" Eva was wide eyed as she saw the High summoner. The one who defeated Sin for Good. "Who are these two?"

 She didn't wait for an Answer as she moved forward and crouched down to feel the glass of the now glowing statue of Valefor. It was clear that she held a close connection to the aeons... as a proper Summoner should. She looked up to the others. "Well tell me!"

 Eva was about to address her when Saina stated what happened in a sort of monotone report. She then mentioned she was to accompany Eva a Summoner.... and her Guardians. She shook her head as reality kicked in the door. She was a true Summoner now... Valefor had granted her powers to her. She smiled... she never thought that would be the case for her. Her dream was coming true...to a point, as there was no Sin to fight anymore. She looked to Saina who then offered her sword to protect her, and just as quickly she turned with a flick of her cape and left the Chamber.

 Which left Lady Yuna, Gippal and her self looking at each other. There was a moment of silence between them when Eva finally spoke up. She bowed to Yuna and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you High Summoner Yuna, My name is Eva. It's an honor to meet the one who defeated Sin and brought us the eternal calm. Gippal has told me of all your Adventures while we traveled together..."

 Yuna politely nodded and said, "It's nice to meet you as well Eva, and it's just Yuna please." She looked to Gippal and said, "It would seem you caused quite a commotion after disappearing for five years..." She shook her head and continued. "I must figure out why this is happening...It is good to see you are alive and well Gippal." She hugged him in which he returned. "But your and idiot. Not contacting any of us, especially Nai and Alex? I thought you were better than that." She then waved him on. "Now shoo" As she used her hands to flick them away "I'm going to wait for Valefor to return. You better clean up your mess. " She looked back to Eva "I will wish to talk to you sometime as well."

 Eva was wide eyed at her bluntless at Gippal. She felt guilty now having taken up the last two years of his time because of her. She started her way out pulling Gippal with her...she didn't want to give lady Yuna any more reason to get more mad if they stayed. "Come on Gippal, Lets go find your friends..." She said with a nervous voice.


[System]
Age: 30s
Appearance:
"I got red in my ledger. I'd like to wipe it out."
Gender: Female
Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Personality: Calm, confident, and completely deadly
Bio: Short version? Trained by the Red Room, defected to SHIELD, joined the Avengers, kicked major butt.
Equipment: Two pistols, her catsuit, various hidden weapons of all kinds, and the Widow's Bite - gauntlets capable of unleashing a fatal amount of electricity
Powers and Skills: Natasha is a master assassin and spy, capable of killing a man with a paperclip. She's deceptively strong, fast, and flexible, and her pain tolerance is ridiculously high
Other:

[User]
From somewhere on the shuttle, a rough-voiced man was shouting to himself, and Mortimer looked quickly before swallowing hard and looking back to the fox with a nervous smile. That was Deadpool--he knew who he was, he'd seen him on the news plenty of times. Vigilante hero, and if he recognized Mort as Toad, it could be problematic.

Hopefully, he either wouldn't bother with a inadequate terrorist or he'd be from another timeline, and the version of Mort there would either be non-existent or look completely different. He really hadn't wanted to run into people from his dimension here--especially heroes--but he supposed he could keep his hood up and lay low.

He returned his attention to Tails as quickly as he could and gave out a winding, self-deprecating reply.

"That's real cool, man, that kind of stuff--I fixed a jeep and my teammate's automag, before, but nothing like that." Mortimer used a webbed hand when he talked to emphasize his point, then paused.

"Uh...human, just mutant. I'm Mort." He held out aforementioned hand to the other to shake. "Mind the claws. What're you, a fox right? Where from?"

[Assistant]
Tails nodded he knew technically what a mutant was and that was interesting because he looked at Mort and he could see that he was no different from other people than Tails was in a crowd at Times Square.

Quickly Tails replied to Mort's question.

Sanchez

"I am from Mobius a world where people like me live except they are different animals, like those two!"

Tails pointed to the odd looking Mobian he didn't know then to another Fox like being that looked similar to Tails yet older.

"They're from my world, I don't know why they came but I came because I need to learn to be independent"

He said to Mort, he looked at Lex and then traversed the shuttle taking a seat beside Mort so he wouldn't be talking from across the seats, he took his bags with him.

"You seem cool so I will sit with you and leave him alone, he seems to be interested in other things"

He pointed at Lex and then turned to Mort, his ears picked up the voice of a rough sounding man who was yelling to himself.

"Where are you from Mort?"

Tails asked.

[User]
Mort followed his finger to the two who were making a racket earlier, and nodded, then slid in to allow Tails to occupy the seat when the Mobian decided to move. "I'm fine with that, go ahead."

"Independent, huh?" Mort gave a soft laugh, because that reminded him of things he'd been told before. Tails didn't sound very old for needing to learn self-sufficiency, however, and the Mort raised an eyebrow. "How old are you?"

"I'm from Earth 80...69, I think. Or at least that's the number they told us when they were setting up S.P.R.E.A.D. It's like regular Earth, but with a nasty war going on. I figured I'd take a long vacation until mutants and humans figure their stuff out." He laughed weakly, and ran a hand through his dreads, the metal beads of which clinked together at the movement.

[Assistant] Looking over the other people in the shuttle, Natasha quickly catalogued them and any apparent abilities in her mind. Don't tell me I'm the only non-powered person in here. She thought, a touch exasperated. As usual, however, she looked to be perfectly content. Her cover, Raquel, was a fairly calm and capable kind of person.

[User]
Jacket had boarded the shuttle there where a lot of odd people in here but the one that put him on edge the most was that woman and bald man he had just placed a gun in his pocket. But he tried to ignore him which was a lot easier then he thought it would be.

So just he looked for an empty seat he saw one across from a pair of twins so he sat down they didn't pay him much mind other then a quick glance well brother of the pair seemed stare at him a bit longer but he quickly went back to talking to his sister. Jacket just messed with his Walkman before putting it back into his pocket so he just waited for the shuttle to lunch it made him anxious so he tried searching his pockets for something to take his mind off things, he found it and it was his Game-Boy he forgot that he had taken it with him. so he checked what cartridge was in it, he found it to be "Super Mario Lands" so he turned it on and went on playing his game

Bad was quite displeased with the fact that the shuttle seemed lack a seat appropriate to his Size so he sat down in the corner of the ship and went back to reading his book

[Assistant]
Tails always got tired of explaining how old he was but he decided he would tell Mort.

Sanchez

"I am eight years old, but most people consider me a genius for my age!"

He looked around again noticing an odd looking man with a chicken mask, be he looked back at Mort to continue speaking.

"I am trying to be my own person and not try to be something I can not be"

He said, this was true because he was trying to not always depend on his friend Sonic, because he knew Sonic and because he felt as though it was time to discover himself.

"It's hard to be the sidekick!"

Tails sighed glumly looking at his feet.

[User]
"Oh, heh, yeah. I hear you, man." Mort looked away and thought back to all the times his teammates had sent an withering look his way, how he'd always been last to get his coffee in the morning, how easy it'd been for them to leave him--it was very hard being second (or in his case, fifth) best. It hurt, but not as much as the self-loathing that coiled in his chest at the memories.

But he smiled kindly for Tails anyway, hoping he'd cheer up, and pulled out the bag of Doritos from his satchel and popped them open. He held out the bag with one hand in offering to the younger.

"It's not easy when you're still figuring everything out. It gets better." He wasn't sure, but it sounded good.

[Assistant]
Tails nodded and looked up at Mort, he reached his hand into the bag and pulled out a few odd looking triangular shaped pieces of fiber and popes one of them into his mouth.

It was delicious as a matter of fact it probably was the best thing he had ever tasted, he smiled at Mort who Tails figured was also a sidekick of some sort always left in the dust, so to speak.

Sanchez

"That makes me feel better Mort thanks!"

He popped another 'Dorito' into his mouth then when he finished chewing and swallowed he licked his fingers and then spoke again.

"That tasted really good it's probably the best thing I have ever eaten in my life!"

He said to Mort, the food was probably the best thing he had ever eaten other than rabbit which was really good but he appreciated that Mort had cheered him up a little bit although Tails could never forget that he was number two, even if he ate Doritos all his life.

[User] Lex realized the others here had powers. He then guessed the red-head woman was possibly another human like him. "I like to build robots, mech suits, and weapons. I usually make whatever is useful for me and my goals." Lex looked over seeing a annoying man in red, who resembled Deathstroke. A relative maybe? Slade did have family. Lex looked back at the computer, the donwloading was complete. He smirked to himself, as all the shuttle's technological secrets were now at Lexcorp,and his computer. He looked over as the ugly green guy talked with Tails.

[Assistant]
His smile was a little bit more genuine now, glad his words had worked their magic--or his chips, either way.

Mort took a Dorito and flicked it into the air, deciding to show off; his tongue shot out of his mouth and snaked upwards three feet or so, catching the Dorito and retracting to his mouth like a rubber band. He chewed, and grinned.

"You don't have Doritos in Mobius? I wouldn't say they're the best, but they're pretty good. I think pizza cheats them out of...fourth place, maybe?" He shrugged. Considering he had no qualms with eating bugs or small lizards, live, he probably wasn't the best judge of flavor.

He noticed the scary looking dude looking at them and raised a brow, wondering if his tongue move wasn't low-key enough.

[User]
Tails was impressed by Morts abilities, which were very frog-like but interesting at the very most.

"That's a pretty cool ability,"

Tails said to Mort, who chewed on the Dorito he seemed pretty surprised that Mobius didn't have Doritos, in fact Tails wondered why no one had ever made Doritos although people made things like Pizza and Chilli Dogs but no Doritos, he noted to keep this in mind once or when he returned to Mobius to start manufacturing Doritos for the world.

"Mort we do have Pizza, and as a matter of fact Chilli Dogs"

Rolling his eyes he said as he became comfortable in his seat, his tails twitching.

"My best friend is obsessed with Chilli Dogs"

He said, reaching for his bags pulling a backpack close to his and pulled the incomplete android out and then pulled a screw driver from his tool belt and began surveying the small android for imperfections.

Sanchez

[Assistant]
The shuttle had finally arrived. Truth being told, the gathering crowd made Sable both interested and uncomfortable, not that he would show signs of either. He had a sinking feeling in his being that he would have to eventually deal with these strange folk, but couldn't explain it. Nor did he want to.

Not to say he didn't want to: the anthropomorphized foxes made him ponder, perhaps they were new members of the Vulpix family line? They looked much more different than any other Pokemon he had seen before. Then again, the world flew ahead of you after being alive for thousands and millions of years, existing mostly as a legend.

Boarding the shuttle, Sable took a seat in the back of the car. He fixed his sunglasses and focused his attention on a small book -- a personal book that would document his experiences for his siblings, Kyurem and Reshiram -- because in all honesty, this trip wasn't a vacation or anything else. It was a new final frontier to see what the multi-verse could bring to his species -- and his ideal of a perfect world.

And being a pilgrim wasn't very easy, apparently.

[User] Bad Mothafucka looked up from his own book as he saw the new arrival his interest was a bit pecked at the book that the man was holding

[Assistant]
He felt eyes on him -- the legendary Pokemon was being watched.

Tapping the button on his pen, he placed both that and the little black book into a pocket on the inner side of his heavy, black coat. He fixed his sunglasses, looking at this unfamiliar. . creature. "Is something I can help you with, gent?" The green skin was a little off-setting, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Especially in the past couple of years when Sable had been introduced to violence, guns and the obscure idea that humans could have "superpowers".

Life was certainly more "alive" in the past century or so.

[User] Mizn was alerted when the shuttle arrived at the station quickly gathering his only items the bobble head and dust canister. Entering shuttle 11 he located a seat near the balded headed organic. Quickly taking his seat the automaton looked around at people he will be traveling with. He decide to try to make small talk with the baled human next to him. "Introduction: Greetings bald human, I am Mizn how are you?" the automaton asked.

[Assistant]
"That's a pretty cool ability."

"It ain't much and it ain't pretty, honestly. Your friend's off a bit, man; chili dogs don't even come close to the top five. Have they ever tried a quesadilla, or...?" Mort watched Tails work in minor awe, the slits of his pupils contracting.

When he'd been younger, he'd been fascinated by this sort of thing. He once tried to take the VCR apart to see if he could put it together again (he could) and when his dad found out, he'd been given hell (he had to. If he hadn't put it back together, he might as well have been excommunicated). He smiled at the other in admiration and growing fondness--Tail's wasn't kidding around when he said he was a genius for his age--and ignored the envy he felt.

"That's the types of robots you work on? Is it an AI?"

[User] Lex looked up at the person who came up to him. He looked part machine. "Please to meet you. My name is Lex Luthor." He said with a smile. He cured as he thought to himself *Dammit! How can I read this data with all this clods surrounding me?! I have to move to a more secluded place.* He looked over at the Green guy and tails talk more. He saw the green guy display some metahuman abilities. Lex looked down at Miles robot and saw something. "Your android's arms are faulty. They appear to be to loose. They would fal off after a few days. here let me see." Lex took the android and took out some tools from the breifcase with the warsuit, making sure the people arround him didnt see the suit. Lex adjusted the arms and handed it back to Tails. "The arms should be a little tighter now, but not enough that he cant move them around.

[Assistant] Although Natasha didn't want to socialize, her cover identity was a fairly friendly person, so she stood and walked over to a couple of men talking. It didn't escape the Russian that she seemed to be the only woman on board. "Hello, fellas." She said, making sure that her voice was calm with an undercurrent of excitement. "I'm Raquel Nolan. What're your names?"


[System]
Age: 27
Occupation: Defense Attorney
Nationality: American
Appearance: Desmond stands at 5'11", is of average weight, and with messy eye-length dark brown hair and blue-green eyes. He is trim and fit, though not too muscular, and generally dressed in an expensive three-piece suit. When out scavenging or fighting, he wears black dress pants and a black leather jacket over his white t-shirt.
Place of Residence: New York City, United States
Strengths:
Charismatic: Desmond is a natural leader and orator. He is better with his mouth than most are with a weapon, and is generally well-liked by most he meets -- despite having very few close friends throughout his life.
Competent Mechanic: Many of the young lawyer's childhood memories took place in his father's garage outside of the city, tinkering with cars and engines. His father was a local mechanic, and although he aspired higher for his only son, he still taught the boy all he knew. As a result, Desmond is a pretty good guy to have around when there are car problems. Still, when it comes to the more difficult engine problems and the like, his knowledge only extends so far.
Semi-Trained Marksman: As a boy, when he and his father weren't in the garage, they were often upstate on hunting trips. Through those excursions, Desmond learned how to aim and shoot a rifle and pistol, as well as routine maintenance. In the first few days following the rise of the dead, Desmond took refuge with a group of army veterens, who gave him a silenced pistol and a few pointers regarding firearms. Though he is by no means an expert, the lawyer brings some knowledge and skill to the table.
Weaknesses:
Alcoholic: Desmond, in response to his lack of emotional communication, often took to the drink to relieve the stress and frustration. With the start of the end of the world, this habit has started to grow more severe, though not yet debilitating.
Lone Wolf: The young lawyer is a curious contradiction of rallying extroversion and hazardous introversion. Though he excels in leading and bringing people together, he often neglects to include himself: often performing stupidly dangerous missions alone, or not telling others of a personal situation until it has reached critical levels of importance and he is forced to.
Belongings:
Clothing: Two suits (black, three-piece), some jeans and t-shirts, an expensive black leather jacket, a pair of black loafers and a pair of sneakers.
Weapons: A silenced Beretta M9, a Smith & Wesson pocket knife (5 inch blade)
Aldous Huxley's Brave New World
An expensive black watch, always fastened to his left wrist
His grandfather's dog tags from WWII
Personality: Charismatic, smooth-talking, and professional; Everything you'd expect from a big city lawyer. Around others, he appears good-natured and -- considering the circumstances -- quite content with life. However, by himself he is quite introverted and pensive. When talking, he manages somehow to always be at the center of the discussion, while never actually revealing anything personal about himself. He's learned the hard way that a person's life is taken away all too quickly in this new world, and doesn't want to feel the pain of losing more people close to him. So, he emotionally detaches, and keeps trudging along as an island of miserable solitude, cloaked with the guise of a happy man.

[User]
Gabel Wester
 The little girl sat among the pillows on her living room floor, each one having been brightly decorated with glitter and stickers to this young lady's content, boredom mostly. Pushing herself to her feet she wiggled her toes happily taking another bite of the sandwich she clutch each bite as if it would be her last.

 Trudging out of the living room making sure her feet were quiet as she stepped onto the hardwood floor of her kitchen Gabel finished the sandwich eyes almost sparkling as she finally had spotted the can opener under a pile of what used to be important papers her father had set down. She moved the papers aside little fingers clutching at one of the handles before she took it over setting it on the table with a soft thud the sound just enough to trigger the groaning of her father in the bathroom.

 Gabel looked over at the bathroom door her happy expression turning into a frown before she spoke in a whisper, "Go away monster." The clever girl knew what was really going on and had been taking care for herself since her father locked himself in the downstairs bathroom telling her everything she needed to know before the man passed. Gabel really did miss him.

 Sounds from the entryway caught her attention, scraping hands on the glass frightened her. Had they finally gotten past the gate? She neared watching this monster claw mindlessly as the window it's dead growl directed at her, she froze her eyes watering slightly at the sight before her a ripped open jaw basically hanging from it's place, she was suddenly feeling sick.

 Quick little footsteps backed out of the room and ran upstairs hitting each step with a soft little padding sound, the past few days she had learned to be quite due to the noises that thing that used to be her father would make. She paused at the landing in between the stairs little eyes peering out at her front yard focusing on a broken fence. Maybe she could fix it? Maybe if all the monsters went away, oh who was she kidding, she was only seven. Gabel just stood there watching the dead things outside from the safety of her home.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jazileena Felix

 Shaky fingers ran through part of her hair pushing it back behind her ear. The sound of the walker's slight scratching was maddening to her at this point, hand going to rest on the steering wheel she just looked over at it examining this creature. Skin slowly rotting away, its bloody teeth snapping against the window, chunks of flesh still hung down from the thing's mouth dangling in a sick manner, blood caked into the fingernails hands just grabbing at the glass dumbly wanting to get inside.

 Jazileena kicked against the bottom of the car's carpeted floor screaming at this sick creature having lost her cool, "PISS OFF!" Just making everything worse she took a deep breath, the monster frantically trying to get in scratching more violently than before. From a distance Jazileena could see more of these things coming, it was time to move.

 Turning the key the engine roared back to life, wasting no time Jazz had it into drive within a matter of moments taking off shortly after. She would find someone, she needed to know at least someone was alive. At this point Jazileena was looking for a reason to exsist.

[Assistant]
Me Dead
Ved

---

 He eyes trailed, gazing off a bit as he rested his sight on the young Korean man standing before him. He wasn't tall, or built impressively, but he clearly knew what he was doing, as his knife was drawn, and a hand at the ready and a crossbow within it's grip. The young man wasn't letting his gaurd down, and that was something that peeked Ved's interest. He had heard the crack in the mans voice, an the wet spots on his shirt betrayed him, he had been crying recently. That, added with the fresh blood on his shirt, indicated that he wasn't too experienced with killing walkers. Lucky Bastard.

You want to talk? Fine, take your hand off the bow, and step within swinging distance."

 He commanded lowly, the guy had a look of innocence alright, but it was an "innocent" man that put the bullet in his knee. He took his bat, and in a quick motion, drove the nails of it in the ground a few feet in front of him. It was close enough that if something went down, he could grab it by stretching out, but far enough that he couldn't touch it standing straight up.

"Step one foot away from the bat, and put your knife in the ground next to it. Put us on a level playing field."

[User]
Conner Davis

 Conner sighed softly looked back at the walker on the ground for a moment before letting go of the strap on his bow and dropping his knife on the ground his feet shuffling forward just a bit before he spoke, "I'd rather we just stay away from each other for now." One of his hands reached back rubbing at his neck softly seeming tired, god he looked like he hadn't slept in awhile.

 "Any idea where we are? I haven't been too focused on road signs lately." his voice held a slight accent, "My van ran out of gas and I haven't really spoken to anyone since this shit went down." A New York accent maybe? Conner was a bit nervous, sure he liked people but since this all he'd seen quite a few messed up things done by people themselves. In The Big Apple parents would just abandon their kids, pretty fucked up if you asked him.

[Assistant]
A Dance with Death: The Pas de Deux

---

The next series of events happened so fast that Ana failed to keep up with it all. From her own perspective, the man noticed her, one second, and the next he was bringing his gun up. Not knowing what was going to happen, Ana ducked under the dashboard of the police cruiser just as the man's first two shots whistled by. Whatever he was aiming at, he hit something squishy that eventually fell with a muffled Thud!.

While all this was happening, a second shambler managed to catch up to Ana's car and in an event of perhaps sheer unluckiness, the zombie managed to frail just right in its hungered lunge to catch its hand on the backseat's door handle, pop the door open, and as it pulled away, it yanked the door open with it. Greedily, it flung forward and tried crawling towards its tantalizing target. It was stopped dead by a second volley of shots. Ana screamed as her attention had just turned toward her uninvited guest, just in time to see the two bullets pound right into its rotten skull.

In all the excitement, Ana had dropped her sidearm, which was placed delicately on her lap throughout her drive, and lost it when it slide under the pedals of the car. Panicked, Ana remained hunched over as she scrambled to place her own safety net, and bargaining tool, back into her hands before anything or that man came back over. Ana had just managed to grab it and lifted herself back up, so she could peer just over the vehicle's dashboard, hoping to see that the man was still a distance out... But no. She saw him in her peripherals just as she raised her head.

Ana turned to face the man, feeling a bit relieved that he was showing concern for her well being, but she her relief faded as she was now becoming alarmed at the man's tone. "Wh-wha...?" He didn't even give Ana a chance to respond before he brought his weapon up followed by very aggressively asking the same question twice. Ana dropped her gun in the shock, probably for the better, and rose her hands up in a surrender. "N-no no no! I am fine! Healthy! Really!" Ana hastily stumbled over her words, her accent sounded heavy in her panic, rolling her 'r'. "Fucking hell don't shoot me, asshole!"

[User]
He watch her movement, her hands went up into the air in an attempt to surrender. 'Thank fucking God' He thought with a visable sigh, shoulders relaxing. It wasn't until he heard her speak did he cock his head to the side away from his sights with an inquisitive look facing her. He lowered his rifle so the sling would hold his gun in front of him. His look turned to a strain as he seemed to be thinking with his head down before looking back up at her. "Bespokoystvo net. Dver' narusheniye pozhaluysta." It was broken Russian, she would be able to tell. But his hope was to at least get a ride out of the area. His eyes went wide as he heard the sound of multiple growls and other similar sounds approaching from behind him. He turned to see more than a dozen walkers approaching. Must've been from the horn. His head snapped back over to her. Dver' narusheniye pozhaluysta? Dver' narusheniye pozhaluysta!? Dver' narushen-Fucking unlock the passenger door!" He struggled and stumbled over the words until he said 'Fuck it' and just blurted out what he wanted as he moved around the other side of the car, rifle at the ready. Each shell from the chamber equaled another walker neutralized, mostly thanks to his training.

He would try to open the door. If it was already unlocked he would quickly throw his bag into the car and enter, quickly slamming the door closed behind him and following up quickly with pushing her back in her seat while he would lean forward rifle up, firing away through the driver side window as he would yell "Vpered vpered vpered!"

If the door was locked he would knock on the window rapidly as he would watch them move in, putting a round into them. "Hurry uuuuup." He would half yell in an attempt to have her move faster. However once the door was unlocked, he would throw the bag into the car, and then hop in, closing the door behind him. He would then smash the passenger window out, clearing the glass away from it before leaning out of it, his ass sitting where the window was, his rifle up and firing away at the walkers. He would slam his hand on the top of the roof several times yelling "Vpered vpered vpered!"

[Assistant]
The door to the residence opened, the lady inside stepping back to allow entrance, and Desmond exhaled a sigh of relief. He realized then that he had been holding it the whole time, anxiously waiting to hear the instantaneous, deadly pop of a bullet going into his body. It hadn't come, yet at least. The woman seemed less-than-friendly to him, but in the world they lived in, that was to be expected. Anything less than utterly hostile left an opening for cooperation. With a gracious nod, Desmond entered through the open door, and turned to face his host.

"Actually, I was hoping to talk more along the lines of the lay of the land," he replied, his eyes occasionally making sweeps around the seemingly otherwise-deserted house. "I just rolled into town, and the place seems relatively safe from what I've seen. Do you know anything about the area that you'd be willing to share with me?"

It was a long shot -- most survivors he'd encountered on the road from New York weren't nearly gracious enough to even invite him into their homes, never mind helping to orient him with his new surroundings and give a breakdown of the area. But at the least, it showed her that he was just another survivor. Though the two looked quite dissimilar in attire, both faces wore the weary expression of one whose future was uncertain. Now closer, he could see her face more clearly: a sort of tough-pretty, with a short mess of blonde hair and a pair of aviators covering her eyes, though -- eerily -- he could still feel her stare.

"Is this your place?" He asked, already knowing the answer. The house looked untouched, unlived -- as if the family had gone away for a simple vacation, and would return shortly. The woman did not appear at home there, Desmond could tell from her body language. And anyone with a brain would have at least begun the process of fortifying by then, and this lady most certainly seemed to have a semblance of intelligence.


[System]
(Picture coming soon)
Age: 35
Species: Human
Appearance: Mocha-colored skin, long dark hair down to mid-back, dark brown eyes, slender frame. She holds a modest but classy sense of style.
Occupation: Traveling merchant.

[User]
Miria listened to this old jinni's plea, her heart torn between compassion and doubt. Her countenance froze, as though rigid stoicism would somehow shield her from making one decision or another.

A part of her wished she had never offered Curdle that small tapestry for the urn, even if this was a dream and nothing physical was real. The emotions were more tangible than anything she could touch, see, and hear right now, like the life force of all movement and color in this subconscious world. Emotions controlled Miria's stiff hesitation and this jinni's calm desperation, and he had admitted that it was her kindness that made him choose her for this task of…

…Of taking the ashes of someone she had never known and probably never would have met if this person was alive to a very distant city that harbored at least a little animosity towards jinn customs. She wished she had been cruel enough to dump this Lady Fiira's ashes the first chance she got, like any sane human woman would have done, and then she would be facing only her normal worries. She'd have her usual dreamless sleep or a nightmare-wrought attempt at rest as Tamal ever haunted every unconscious thought…

Tamal. Thinking of him now did not pit her among the apparitions of her past as it usually did. The scene did not shift in response to her thoughts, the market and her booth as steadfast as Curdle's feelings towards his master even after her death. Miria looked at Curdle now, this haggard, worn creature, his physical presence imprisoned back in Renna and his consciousness chained to her thoughts. Whatever guilt, hatred, and regret she harbored towards the jinn in general, Curdle somehow kept it at bay. His presence had shattered the normal course of her dreaming, and now she was questioning his motives in a rather dull market place instead of reliving her blood-soaked regrets yet again.

Perhaps it was fate that somehow brought Curdle and Miria together? But Miria no longer believed in fate, or at the very least it frightened her. Still, she couldn't ignore that with how cumbersome this Curdle could be, he at least had one use.

And she knew she could never turn this jinni away, not with a plea like that. Perhaps she should resent that Tamal hadn't hurt her enough, as absurd a notion as that was. Or perhaps the years had softened her countenance too much.

"Sherahd is bound to be part of this caravan's route," Miria said, her tone clipped and frigid, "as it is a major trade hub. I will keep your master's ashes for the time being, mainly because I don't see it worth it breaking from the caravan to dump her over some sand dune. Knowing how the world works, a breeze will blow the ashes against me anyway, and that thought is too disgusting to bear. But I can't make any promises once we reach Sherahd."

Carefully, Miria stood, dusting off her clean, spotless clothes. "And you can stay in my head if you wish," she said with a haughty sniff, looking quickly away from Curdle, "if your presence still allows me a good night's sleep. Don't expect me to engage you in any way, though. And I hope you gone when I wake."

[Assistant]
Coarse grain pressed itself into his skin as Curdle held his pose in the long silence. Whether it was truly any longer than a breath or two, he could not have said, but it felt as though time had ceased its flow. There was no measuring how long she held him captive to her mercy, waiting for whatever release she felt him worth.

He could feel that sand leaving imprints in his palms and forehead. Imprints as fickle and diverse as the chance that had brought them together. How many other cloth merchants might have been in that market? How many passed through Renna's gates? How varied were the options of how that day might have turned out differently? It was no accident that fate was entwined in the sands of time. One single grain's displacement and how many paths suddenly shifted and changed and never again followed what almost had been?

The old jinni was caught feeling his own weight in how heavily he pressed those sand grains between himself and the market's stone. Caught hearing nothing but the faint roar of blood in his ears and feeling only the warm brush of his breath across his cheeks where it was trapped against the ground.

When she finally spoke, he was dizzy with relief, and did not immediately understand the words. It was enough that she released him from the wait, good or bad, her voice offered its own solace. Cold though it remained. The tension in his hunched spine gave out as though his body had collapsed, elbows and shoulders drooping, breath escaping him in a heady rush.

Her decision was made.

She turned it into a matter of convenience. The caravan went to Sherahd, and so would she. Even her abrupt dismissal of what was, to Curdle, a hard-won freedom found no purchase when she threw out her barbs. Dumping Fiira anywhere was not and had never been his intention, but that Miria had considered it even slightly was strong hint that she did not think to simply abandon the urn, ashes and all, where he would never find it, and circumstance might never knock loose the lid. The Lady would not be trapped in the dark by his thoughtlessness. For that alone, she had his eternal gratitude.

That she was willing to go further in offering her aid, he was stunned into disbelief by how easily the words tripped from her tongue. So impersonal…

He had not regained his presence of mind or his tongue before she'd turned away, and it was almost all he could manage to lift his head then. But he did, that and more. Slowly, hand shaking, he brought dusty fingers to his lips and reached across to the ground as near her feet as he could. Letting them rest there a moment before he could find the strength to lift himself from his genuflection.

The gesture was not meant to be seen, or even acknowledged. How could it be? There was no possible response. But it was all he could think of to give her in return. She had agreed to help him regain the honour he'd given up too easily. His sense of worth had been lost with it, and was, perhaps, the more significant loss, but it would be far harder to find again. Still, in helping him on the road to one, she set him towards both, if he could take it, though he realized nothing of this beyond his overwhelmed understanding that Fiira would not suffer for his weakness.

For that, and nothing else, he strove to do as she seemed to want. Unfortunate, that he did not know how to leave, or he would have that very instant. All he could give her was his silence. Speaking no more words on the subject, though he surely couldn't manage any, just then, so it was hardly an effort. He remained on his knees, as small a presence as he knew how to be, and did not look up to see what she might be doing or thinking now. He did not even raise his hands to brush the sand from his forehead or fingers. He would be as nothing, if she asked it, that he might intrude no more in a private place where no one else belonged.

He had no plans to ignore her. In fact, he was very carefully doing the opposite, though he did not wish to give that away. Heedful of her every action, he was listening attentively, watching her feet at the edge of his sight in case she suddenly desired something of him. His gaze, however, would not leave the cloth still where he'd left it. Near to his knee, but not quite touching. Its colours twisted in his vision and the longer he stared, the less its details remained intact.

He was tired, he realised slowly. And he could feel a new weight on his shoulders, in his chest. His body was heavy. It wasn't here. But it needed the sleep this dreaming didn't offer. Or why else would he be tired in a dream?

Already, though he was not aware of it, his shape and form were becoming looser. More insubstantial as his chin began drooping towards his chest. Young and old, sometimes weightless above the ground, sometimes, somehow, beneath it, sinking. Flickering fitfully like a dying fire burning out the last of its heat and life. Though, in his case, it was only his control and magic slipping as his mind began to doze.

Though it took a long few moments, the end, when it came, was sudden. One instant, he was there, the next, as his chin finally struck his chest, he was gone. No fanfare, no puff of smoke or flash of light, merely empty space.

In Renna, stretched out on the floor, head tilted by the weight of his horns, an old man had begun to snore.

[User]
Miria felt Curdle's absence almost immediately; vibrant color drained into a dull pallet and vivid noises of the marketplace around her blended into indiscernible noise. She glanced behind her, meaning to catch sight of Curdle but seeing sand where he once knelt, fading humanoid shapes drifting over the area as though he had never been a part of this dream. It surprised her to feel a slight pang in her heart; she had expected that he would at least follow for a little while.

Her last words echoed in her mind, a reflection of the possible thoughtlessness in them. She did say she wanted him out of her head by morning, and that feeling still rang true. So, why did it bother her that Curdle had left to immediately? She didn't understand it and decided that it was best not to. He was just an old jinni who needed her to help him pay respects to the remains of someone he loved.

She sighed, turned back around, and continued walking, each step erasing her consciousness of what had transpired like unraveling a ball of thread with each forward step. Soon, she was lost in her dream, as obscure as the shifting shapes around her.

But she did not forget, the memory touching upon her recollection, sightless and intangible, but present as the light of the morning sun over the surrounding sand dunes. Miria awoke, fed and groomed Raha, and prepared for the long journey with the rest of the caravan, her movements automatic to allow her mind to be elsewhere.

Was what happened even real? Miria checked her cart for the carefully-stowed urn, finding it tucked safely away, the sight of it summoning Curdle's tears and his words of weary relief. Where she had gone wrong with Tamal, Fiira had gone right with Curdle. Where Miria believed she had attempted the impossible and been punished for it, Fiira and Curdle had dared to love each other, in whatever way that love signified, and had managed to survive the gauntlet of prejudice and cruel expectations. How common was a bond like theirs? How common was a tragedy like Miria's?

The jinni that served Miria breakfast did not respond to his master beyond what he was ordered to do, his gaze empty as he ladled leftover stew into jer small bowl. A cluster of young jinn animal tamers who had been whispering to each other scattered when humans walked by, knowing that conversing with each other without permission was forbidden, but the humans seemed too busy with their own morning chores to care and the young jinn exchanged mirthful glances at each other. The sand jinni that lead the caravan, who was the key reason they did not all sink into the sand and die beneath the sun, ate her breakfast with her master. They spoke quietly, animatedly, the jinni relaxed, her master bemused, like two good friends engaged in conversation. Yet Miria could see the thick callouses beneath the heavy iron ring around her neck where the metal had chaffed painfully against her skin for years, and she could see glimpses of scars peaking over the collar of her tunic.

How well did society truly accept this human/jinn balance? Was there even a balance at all, or were the scales tipping below the surface, straining against what was natural, threatening change?

Miria pondered this as she finished her preparations, as the caravan moved once more, as they pushed through a long, hard day through the desert. Why had her compassion towards a jinni make her a tragic victim? Or did she simply have the misfortune of falling in love with a creature that never saw her or the world they shared the way Curdle did? How had Curdle not fallen into hatred like Tamal did?

When they finally stopped for the night, at the call of the sinking sun and the darkening sky, Miria sifted through her wares for the small bit of cloth she presented Curdle in their dream meeting. She held the fabric in her hands, the last evidence of her compassion she had held towards someone she didn't understand, and spread it over the urn.

That evening, she weaved until her fingers ached and it was a struggle just to stay awake, and she slept. Curdle did not touch her dreams, and she greeted the morning with a mild sense of disappointment. The day toiled on, Miria's focus occupied entirely on fighting with the rest of the caravan against a minor sand storm—weak enough for there to be no need to stop, strong enough to be a nuisance. The sleep she fell into that night was driven by exhaustion, leaving her no capacity to dream. Regret greeted her that following morning; she wanted to talk to Curdle again, if only to learn how his path differed from Tamal's. She wanted validation for being weak and foolish enough to help a jinni instead of refuse him, of accepting his presence instead of loathing him.

By the time the caravan reached Hudris, days later, Miria had all but dropped her expectation for meeting the jinni, suspecting that if he did show again, it would be at Sherahd. She fell into routine that evening, prepping her wares for sale the next morning, settling Raha in the stall they'd both be sharing for a week, and making sure she would be presentable to the public. She fell asleep that night like any other, too worried and excited about the uncertainty of the next day to afford a thought to her jinni acquaintance.

~~~

Miria stepped through a spacious house, none she ever recognized, its clay walls and mish-mash of stone and wooden floors decorated in a humble Mediterranean style of dark and earthy tones, indicating sophisticated coziness and thoughtful class. Each room, Miria noticed, had so many windows, every one overlooking a cluster of palm trees or the rooftops of neighboring houses down a sloping hill or the spread of sand dunes in the distance. She felt strangely at home here, relaxed, even as she explored every room for the first time, and she wondered idly who this home belonged to.

It did not cross her mind how crisp and vivid every detail of the house was, how rich the colors, how vibrant the sounds of birds chirping outside, her thoughts instead choosing to settle into this content feeling. How long had she felt so at ease?


[System]
Nicknames: The Swordsman of the Night Parade
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Rank: Assassin
Specializations: Single sword combat, Brawling, Quick thinking.

Appearance:

Personality: Ryuga is a rather rude and blunt individual, being born and growing up in an improvised environment, caused him to take a more thug like demeanor though more mellowed out than the common street thug. He also has a more negative view of the world, which causes him to take unexpected situations as in stride, as he is absolutely sure that the world is out for him. Though despite his thuggish demeanor and general cynicism, he has a soft side especially towards his adopted family and is able to quickly connect with lower caste members of society. While he tends to follow his own way and only gives lip service to the code of Bushido to get by in the Shinsengumi, he actually respects those who genuinely follows it. As in his eyes people who can follow such strict rules and are still kicking are genuinely impressive for being able to do so.

Biography: Ryuga was not born from a Samurai family, infact he was just a nameless orphan from an improvised area who just so happened to have a talent for the sword, having first picked one up when he was forced to defend himself from a bandit an eventually using it to become a sellsword to survive. He took on many jobs for various people, gaining both fame and infamy as he became known as the Swordsman of the Night Parade.

One day, he was seriously injured after a job that had gone wrong and collapsed on the side of the road, he thought it would be the end of his life, but he was saved by a wandering samurai and the three children that the samurai took in. At first he didn't really know what to make of it, as he had lived a life of selfish survival, but he knew one thing people were after this wandering samurai, owing the samurai his life he joined them on their journey to protect them.

He never knew what the samurai did to have assassins after him, he never asked, as a sellsword it was common courtesy not to ask about a person's past or the reasons behind a job. He just kept on following them and fighting along side the samurai to repel his assassins and the group became something he never had before, a family.

However, one day a particularly powerful assassin simply as Yon, was sent after them, who was more than a match for the two of them. The Samurai took a fatal blow for Ryuga and left a brief opening that allowed Ryuga to exploit and take the assassin's left eye. The assassin retreated after that, having suffered an injury, the assassin decided it wasn't worth it to risk his life any further.

Ryuga took the children under his care, he decided after that encounter continuing to travel wasn't safe and bought a small home and hired a caretaker in the city, by collecting a few bounties. He joined the Shinsengumi to continue providing for the children, due to the fact that they valued merit over family names, meaning someone like him who had none, could get in. He also didn't want to have the children he takes care of to get influenced by his line of work as a sellsword and end up on the wrong side of the law.

Fighting Style: His style doesn't have an official name, as he has never been trained in an official sword style. Instead his style is an amalgamation of self training, on the spot improvisations, and moves that he copied from watching other swordsmen, making an extremely fluid hybrid style that is described as fighting a person who has been possessed by a hundred demons. It is both versatile and combined with him throwing out kicks, punches, and throwing knives, it makes it unpredictable. However, it's greatest weakness is in it's lack of discipline and lack of focus, which leaves it with no real physical strengths or weaknesses as it doesn't really specialize in any specific technique, making it a jack of all trades style.

Preferred Weapon(s): Katana, Throwing Knives, Iron plated Gentas.

[User]
Haruka sat across from Fujimaru at the table. Her arms were folded across her lap and her posture was straight. Her comrades in the 11th squad appeared to be bored and disinterested, but that is why she felt she needed to be more keen than usual. When leaders met, the chance of attack was always higher; the odds of killing a commander in such an attack were better. It was also why she insisted on sitting across from Fujimaru rather than beside him. Somebody needed to be watching his blind spot if something did happen. She furrowed her brow at the mention of the Mad Dog. She hated the Imperials, but violent ruffians like him were beneath even those Western dogs. At least the Imperials fought for something.

"We will indeed root out this weed," Haruka said during the lull in the leaders' dialogue. "But let us not be reckless. If they could sneak by us, that means the enemy already knows at least one thing that we do not. If things go smoothly, may I suggest we take a prisoner? Perhaps he could shed some light on who is helping them. If we wish to stomp out the root of this problem, we must find who is spreading the seeds." She offered her suggestion calmly and respectfully. She knew many of her comrades relished in the thrill of killing, but killing alone would not win this fight. Discipline, on the battlefield and off, would be necessary. After all, it is discipline that separates the samurai of the Shinsengumi from ruffians like the Mad Dog.

[Assistant] "Of course it is allowed Corporal Orihara we must find out as much information as possible before exterminating the threat as quick as possible. That is why my squad will only participating lightly in the counter insurgency aspect. They are taking great care to make sure the fools don't get out of the city. Worry not I assure you that we will succeed today." Saito said with a quick nod as he looked over to the rest of the 15th Squad taking a slight moment to look over Nagatoki with some disdain as if he saw right through to his own thoughts. "Please take extra care not to treat these dogs as anything other than dumb animals. They threaten the Shogunate, and the peace of our nation. They are nothing more then savages to be thrown into the offal with all their rest of the Sancho Alliance. Good luck Captain Kozuki." Saito said taking a moment to bow his head, and then left the room leaving them all with Okita. Kozuki felt that Saito would be able to easily handle this situation on his own...but he wanted results, and he'd give it to him. His fellow Squad Captian Saito was ruthlessly efficient, and strong. Fujimaru wondered if he could ever hold up his own against a man like him. But at the end they were all wolves of Mibu. Even the young man Okita despite his disease was a colossus among samurai. "Before I take my leave does anyone of your squad members have any questions Captain Kozuki? If they feel the need I can answer them quickly. I after all have been handling the case by myself up until now." Okita said with a smile. Kozuki looked back towards his men, and women, and nodded. "Well does anyone have any questions for Captain Souji? Make sure they are kept tactful please, and don't waste his time."

[User]
The moment that Saito had left, Nagatoki had returned his gaze from the random spot on the dimly-lit ceiling to Okita. The look that the troop captain had shot him was unnerving. Made even more so due to its odd timing. He lifted a hand to his smooth chin and scratched it nervously. Gave me the goosebumps, he admitted only to himself.

Without much hesitation, Nagatoki stepped up. "This Mad-Dog idiot," Nagatoki gestured his hand with his words, a easy smile playing on his face. "Is he really this dangerous? I know Captain Fujimaru said no dumb questions, but hopefully you'll forgive me this once. All I'm saying is, this seems like overkill. Far too much for some backwater samurai. In fact, I could probably take him on my own."

"Surely you've heard news of the Bright-Eye Manslayer," with a cocky smile he pointed to himself.

[Assistant]
Okita smiled at Nagatoki and nodded his head, "Rumors about both of them? Well I can only tell you them as conjecture, and not absolute truth. If you want official information please send an inquiry to Mister Hijikata." Okita stated both putting his hand on his chin, and considering his words carefully. "Let's start with the residential mad dog. He's dangerous that should be clear enough. Rumor states that he is the equivalent of ten men. Having carved his bloody path through Kyushu with his Tanto knife he was last thought to be hiding somewhere in the mountains. Tani Sanjuro of the 7th unit said he thought he met the man at one point. Apparently he's a very good liar capable of putting on masks at will. In short he can be anyone he wants but his true face is that of a blood thirsty murderer. A Man Slayer in the making." Okita said as he nodded promptly to end his sentence but then he hesitated for a moment before continuing. "If you want my own opinion then I believe he's not acting for any personal creed. He's fighting because he's a war monger, a blood thirsty killer with war as an excuse to kill as many innocents, or samurai as possible." Okita said putting his own thoughts in the air.

"A bright eyed samurai...I'm afraid not much is known about him so far, assuming you're talking about a man said to be unparalleled in the Choshu Alliance. Apparently his skill is warrant enough for even Captain Saito, or myself to fight him. But I think its all as water in a stream. Words thrown out there to scare the troops of the Shogunate. I wouldn't put much stock in that man. But I wouldn't recommend doing something dumb like challenging him either. I don't wish to see any Shisengumi die because they got overconfident." Okita said gently with a smile to emphasize his warning.

"Let us focus not on any Choshu Samurai for now let us focus on the now. If that man is to become our enemy then he shall have to fight all of us. For now we must be concerned about a filthy wretch unworthy of the tips of our blades." Fuijimaru stated calmly as usual. He wasn't worried about either of them with their numbers game they would have no issue wiping out the enemy. Even one man as skilled as ten wasn't worth much to true warriors like his troop.

[User]
Toki and his crew were standing close to the door. They had actually shown some initiative for once and had volunteered for guard duty - even though they all thought the captains probably needed no guards, judging by the stories of their skill the men had heard, but it never hurt to have few extra men on your side. The Bastard of Yamato had gotten a very icy glare from the long haired, thin faced captain... - Saito? That must have been the captain's name - when he had volunteered his little group, but after a moment of downright unnerving silence they had gotten the smallest little nod of agreement.

Toki adjusted his haori and did his best not to seem nervous in the presence of these 'proper' samurai. Something about them reminded him of the captain who ended up causing him getting involved with the Shogunate - the difference being, at least according to the stories was that these men could probably take his crew on. Still, stories were just stories and he wouldn't be believing any of them before he saw them in action. He would take the stories as the foreigners said 'with a grain of salt'.

As he slightly moved his weight from one leg to the other Toki slightly brushed his forehead with his right hand to keep himself from yawning - it was one of the few tricks of 'proper' etiquette he had bothered to learn, mostly because he himself found yawning to be impolite and there was a high chance so would these samurai. As he listened to the conversation he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from blurting out his own opinions.

Okita had a good point. Overconfidence was foolishness of the highest strata. The Fuijimaru fellow - captain Koizuki to be precise - made a good point - though Toki found his words sounding hypocritical. The samurai with all the talk about honour and the proper conduct of a warrior, and then this one fellow just pretty much suggesting the solution of 'gang up on the bastard'. Still, he liked Koizuki's way of thinking. It may not have been as pragmatic as his own, but at least there was no immediate talk of searching this... bright eyed samurai... and challenging him to a duel.

When there was a lull in the conversation Toki looked around the room, taking quick, barely noticeable glances of the captains and pretty much everyone else present. These people were... unnervingly calm. There were many a sword in the room, so much skill in their use, all in one place. How easy it would have been to just take few steps and take a shot at them? He quickly shook the thought from his mind - after all these people had given him a chance. Still, as crazy as the thought was Toki did make a note of it. There could always be traitors in their ranks, but he wouldn't be one. Still, thinking how you would do something underhanded often gave you a good idea of how someone else might do something underhanded.

[Assistant] Captain Okita looked at the group and when their lack of silence proved a lack of questions he stood up, and scratched his nose. He bowed to the lot of them, and wished them the best of luck on their mission. After he left through a different door than the one they entered it was clear Okita intended to go a different direction. "Form up on me we march." Fujimaru stated as he marched out the door. As the Shinsengumi marched down the darkened streets of Kyoto after exiting the building the men in the streets really consisted of the merchants, and the standard police. The standard police bowed, and the merchant did the same. Shinsengumi were a new sight but their reputation of having strong samurai was well known thanks to their predecessor unit."I will take point who wants to volunteer to watch to make sure no one exits the building alive?" questioned Fujimaru silently grabbing his belt readying himself mentally to take the life of many men tonight. Kyoto may burn a bit if things got out of hand but it would be because it was his fault. Saito, and Okita out skilled him by a life time. He would endeavor not to soil their names.

[User] Ryuga raised his hand. "I'll take watch." the former sellsword said causally. There was some muttering amongst the gathered members of the squad, no doubt that they were doubting his skills as a swordsman. In his opinion their doubts was completely fair as he hadn't really shown his swordsmanship off to his allies. There just wasn't many chances of late to go all out and his style just didn't translate very well into kendo. Not many people actually knew what he was capable of and honestly the former sellsword didn't really care, he was just after the paycheck to survive and feed his family. He should be focusing on keep on keeping his head on his neck and just leave the glory to the ones who deserve it. "So, Yeah mind if I deal with the runners?" Ryuga rubbed the back of his neck, thinking about what to occupy his time if things went smoothly enough that the watch wasn't necessary.


[System]
Universe: World of the Showa Riders
Canon or OC: OC

Appearance: While untransformed, he's a fairly typical salaryman. His various transformations.
Age: 57
Personality: Takahara is, first and foremost, a henchman. He tends to just go along with things and isn't very bright. While not transformed, he's fairly cowardly, running from combat- he's nearly sixty after all. This goes out the window once he's gotten into the spandex. He has forty years of experience fighting foes vastly more powerful than himself- he's taken so many Rider Kicks and Rider Punches that he can perfectly emulate them. He fights to protect his comrades in villainy with everything he's got- after all, their bosses might consider them expendable, but they're his brothers in mookdom.

Abilities: Takahara's most valuable skill is his ability to handle money. He is possibly the greatest accountant in the multiverse, able to balance books and manage funds in such a way that even the stupidest evil plot breaks even financially. Almost as terrifying is his skill with corporate bureaucracy. He's also one of the earliest Shocker Combat Cyborgs, granting him greatly enhanced strength and durability. This comes at a price, however- his cybernetics don't have an external power source, and as such they run off the calories stored in his body. He never quite got up to "Altered Humanoid" though, and does not have a monstrous form.
Equipment: A Sengoku Driver and various lockseeds, allowing him to take on various armors as a Kamen Rider. These armors come with weapons and various powers.

Faction: Shocker+
Background: Takahara has floated around as villainous organizations have risen and fallen. He started out as a Combatant in SHOCKER before getting transferred to accounting. Then the Kamen Riders broke free and fucked everything up. So he moved on to Destron. Same story. Eventually, he discovered the multiverse as he was hired by Dai-Shocker, a multiversal collection of enemies of the Kamen Riders... and then a pink Kamen Rider promptly fucked up the multiverse AND his cushy job. But at least this setback opened up an endless multiverse of employers. From BOARD to Smart Brain, Takahara's a familiar face among the shady corporations and evil organizations of the Kamen Rider worlds. Takahara's most recent employers have included a museum (that for some reason manufactured USB sticks), a corporation that seemed to have its hands in everything (he ended up doing finances for R&D), a Japanese pharmaceutical company trying to get in on the "Battling Monsters" craze, and a child molester seeking to destroy the universe. But of course a Kamen Rider came and fucked those up too. After the fiasco with the destruction of Zawame, he grabbed a few things from the ruins of his office at the Yggdrasil Corporation as a severance package to go along with the trophies from a long history of failure his employers have endured. Turns out when exposed to various sources of power, the fruit of Helheim matures into a lockseed reflecting the source.

After putting up with the foolish goals of his previous employer for what felt like an eternity, then becoming frustrated with the needless bureaucracy of the Sentient Millieu, Takahara decided to found a new Multiversal Evil Organization. Made up of the remnants of the retired, defeated, and dormant organizations, Shocker+ has become the gold standard in for-profit multiversal villainy.

[User]
Trunks breathed a sigh of anticipation. This was going to be his first job for the Dunkelzahn institute. If ever there was a time to prove himself to his superiors, now was the time. He closed his equipment into large cases, except for his sword. His sword he left sheathed on his back. With a click of a button, each of the cases condensed into tiny capsules, which he stored in his Capsule Corp jacket. While the technology used by the institute exceeded his own by leaps and bounds, Capsule Corp tech still had its uses.

Trunks readied his stepper box, and looked over the distress signal. It was notably ambiguous, and that put Trunks on edge. The last time he had to address a mysterious threat, it had turned out to be an entity designed to be the perfect warrior, destroy all life on earth, and was stronger then his worst enemies. Still, Trunks was stronger then ever before, and could easily rival Cell's power on his own.

Trunks took another deep breath. Stalling while reminiscing about his past would do no one any good. He double checked the capsules in his jacket, and prepared himself. It was time to show the multiverse his strength; the strength of his home, and the strength of the Saiyan race. He engaged his stepper box, and warped to the ship emitting the distress signal.

[Assistant]
The sounds of high heels clacked against a metal floorboard as Koizumi Mizuki paced through a narrow hallway aboard the Mother Ship. After a few steps she paused in her stride and loosened the grip she had on her legal binder nestled in her left hand. Stretching out her left arm, Mizuki moved the binder in front of her and opened it to the front-most page. She peered intently at the documents which concerned her analyzations with Sector 930/33100, World 0405-H.

As per her observations, they were still not yet ready to be allowed into the multiverse proper, under the Institute's banner of course. Though the real matter would come when Mizuki would report the findings at quickly upcoming meeting. And then after presenting, hearing whether or not the Institute had continued in that world, or if they would reassign her somewhere else. As such, she knew she would have to put her best foot forward while presenting this information.

With this in mind, Koizumi quickly shut the binder and kept it clutched against herself once more, as she headed to the bathroom to freshen up. And so quickly she entered the nearest latrine and placed down her purse and binder upon the bathroom sink counter. Unzipping her purse with a smile, Mizuki began digging around searching for her make-up. However while she was doing that, by mistake she picked up her phone which was vibrating.

Quickly she pulled it out and noticed the most recent, of countless, messages. It was a bulletin noting a recent emergency distress mentioning a pair of co-ordinarants and mention of pay. Well this was an unfortunate set of circumstances!

Mizuki wracked her brain pondering on exactly who, in the Institute, had jurisdiction there. But for the life of her she couldn't recall. Returning the phone into her purse, and placing the binder in it as well, Koizumi slung it back over her right shoulder as she exited the bathroom.

Carefully striding through the hall, Mizuki headed towards the nearest transporter hub, that wasn't being used of course, and tapped in the location acquired from the phone. And so in a flashy beam of light, she was heading towards the location marked out.

Hopefully this would be a big enough deal that she wouldn't be scolded for attending the meeting late.

[User]
Consciousness eased its way back to Aoi's mind as she woke within the prison. Annoyance spread through her as the discomfort caused by her unnatural position set in. Her face was smashed into the corner of the room where the floor met the wall, and her body was crumpled up behind her, as though she'd been thrown carelessly into the room. However, the pose was sure to please the audience, as it showed off her curves quite well.

Aoi made an attempt to roll over, only to find that her hands were cuffed behind her back. Her God Arc was bound into her grasp, preventing her from rolling out of position. If I can't go one way, I'll go the other, concluded Aoi. She gave her Arc a squeeze and it sprang to life, pieces exploding out from it to reconfigure it into rifle mode. The force of the pieces hitting the floor forced the God Arc into the air, turning Aoi onto her side with it.

Finally able to see beyond a small patch of grey flooring, Aoi was suddenly aware that she had no idea where she was nor how she'd gotten there. The room contained the amenities of a warden's office, but with much fewer personal effects than one would expect. The walls and the top of the desk stood bare, the chairs were without cushion, and there was little other furniture to speak of. This kind of setting wasn't uncommon in Aoi's universe, so she felt right at home.

On the floor beside where her God Arc had sat were a bloody arm and leg with ragged wounds, both human and both seemingly from the same person. The satisfied feeling that emanated from Aoi's God Arc told her that someone had touched it while she was knocked out and had learned the hard way why one shouldn't touch a God Arc that is not their own. Aoi was a bit puzzled by this, though; shouldn't everyone know this extremely basic fact?

However, there were things to attend to. She needed to be free of her shackles, and her position didn't allow her enough leverage to break free with brute strength. That left using her rifle, and she had just the thing for the job. Aoi twisted a part of the handle to change bullet types to a weakly explosive mortar round she'd made for training with gravity-affected shots. She pulled the trigger, and...

PEW!

A blazing red laser-type bullet shot upwards, crashing through the ceiling and continuing out of the building before dispersing three football fields above. Missed it by that much. Aoi adjusted the knob one click back and fired again, this time managing to free herself from her shackles.

Aoi found her bag at her feet, still stuffed with O-Ampules. She began to reach for one to replenish her ammo, then thought better of it and slung the bag over her shoulder. Instead, she eyed the two perfectly good sources of energy on the floor. There was no sense in wasting an item in limited supply when there was a viable alternative right there, waiting to be used, after all.

The door to the office swung open, letting Aoi step into the hallway. Through the door, the camera could see that there was now a crater in the floor where the arm and leg had been and that the desk was now in pieces. Aoi's Arc was quite the messy eater.

"I wonder if I'll find anyone else here?"

[Assistant]
"You know, I've found that the cardinal sin of horror movies is they tip their hands too early and show you the whole monster. Oh, uh, but you didn't call us for writing advice."

The giant bipedal capybara at the door bowed, holding out a business card for Mr. Reynolds and his Associate. He had a briefcase under his shoulder.

"Hello there, my name is Barapy! I'm with Shocker+, the company you contracted for additional monsters. While our negotiations for providing your monsters haven't quite been finalized, I've gone ahead and included the latest printing of the Monsters Monthly, Shocker+'s catalog publication, for no charge. I've also taken the liberty of bringing profiles for some of our monsters which might be particularly well-suited to your horror movie."

With that, Barapy gave the employee file and bowed once again.

"Please, take your time looking them over!"

Swamp Hominid
"GROOOOOAAAAGH!"
Previous Employer: The Lost Empire of the Mu Hominids
Good Point: Punctuality
Bad Point: Old Age, Not allowed within 500 feet of a minor
Likes: Long walks on the beach, swimming
Dislikes: droughts, fishing season, tigers

The Swamp Hominid is a Brazilian monster. Distantly related to the Creature of the Black Lagoon, Swamp Hominid was deployed millenia ago (and again in 1973) by the Mu Empire in an attempt to conquer Earth. Though he may be old, his skill in aquatic combat ability to vanish in water makes him a valuable asset in any tropical or maritime engagement.

Mummy Hominid
"UNGAAAAAAH"
Previous Employer: The Lost Empire of the Mu Hominids
Good Point: Experience
Bad Point: Old Age
Likes: Triangles, deserts, bandages
Dislikes: Ethiopians, tigers, the number 7

The Mummy Hominid was sealed within the Temple of Mu for millenia before being unsealed in 1973. Able to drain the moisture from a human body with a touch, its vocal chords have decayed to the point it can no longer speak. However, this can be said to add a certain level of intimidation as it grinds out its ghastly calls. Usually masquerades as a more mundane mummy before striking.

Lightning Hominid
"GOARAAAAA"
Previous Employer: The Lost Empire of the Mu Hominids
Good Point: Electric Personality
Bad Point: Old Age
Likes: Copper, thunderstorms
Dislikes: Rubber, tigers, motorcycles

Unlike his compatriots, Lightning Hominid is perfectly capable of speech. He just prefers the shouting. With control over electricity, it's hard not to find a use for the Lightning Hominid- just be warned about his eccentricities. A real mystery monster.

Ganma
"All eyes on me!"
Previous Employer: Currently employed by unnamed individual with poor dental hygeine
Good Point: Spooky, can't really tell them apart except by clothing
Bad Point: Perhaps TOO Spooky
Likes: Halloween, Eyes, Wreaking Havoc
Dislikes: Proton Packs, Historical Figures

The Ganma are the newest, freshest mooks to come out of the worlds of the Kamen Riders. Being ghosts, they are invisible to most mortals- though the effects of their rampages are readily apparent. Due to their currently-active villainy, however, we can not guarantee a large supply.

Chain Shadow
"I've got this lovely coffin..."
Previous Employer: Shadow Line
Good Point: Lovely Singing Voice, Good With Children, Piano Skills
Bad Point: Gloomy Personality
Likes: Dark spots, basements, dusty catacombs
Dislikes: Rainbows

Chain Shadow is the chosen representative of the Shinotani (Death Valley, formerly Inotani) branch of the Shadow Line's railways. By striking the fear of death into the hearts of children, he seeks to gather enough darkness to create an eternally dark catacomb in which to hang out. Enjoys scenic train rides aboard the Shadow Line. He's never seen without his Cross Coffin, in which he imprisons those who stand in his way. Fights using long, rusty chains.