[System]
Gender:
 Male
Appearance:
 Sporting the physique from his college football days, Donovan stands at 6'2" and weighs 220lbs (other features are as the picture shows.)
Goals:
 To build a new world for his fellow man before finally joining his wife in the afterlife.
Past Life:
 The old man took another sip of his coffee as he walked the dimly lit Philidelphia streets. For the last five years he'd been making this trek nightly, ever since Beatrice had last her battle with cancer. It helped him keep going, despite the loneliness he felt without her; reminded him of why he got out of bed in the morning despite the protests of his aging body. He passed by a diner; closed by now of course. Between the peeling paint and dirt-stained windows, it's age and level of disrepair were apparent. But past the moldering wood and crumbling plaster, the old man saw something else-- a memory. A tired-eyed young man was seated at one of the booths. Across from him was a scrawny, elderly fellow, wearing a well-ironed white shirt. The waitress was the most beautiful thing the young fellow had ever seen. Her name was Beatrice.

 Continuing down the road, the old man continued to reminisce. The streets around him were important to him. They were where he'd walked Bea home every night from work. Where he'd taught all seven of their children to drive. Before he'd even realized; he was once again where his life took a turn for the better. A bridge. A small, dainty little thing. Not to mention ugly as sin. It'd been his first design after graduating from his civil engineering courses back so many years ago. He'd just about been ready to jump off the damn thing to his death. Just the thought of it made him chuckle. To give up on life over such a silly little thing? What a fool he'd been back then. If Reverend Stuart hadn't pulled him away from the ledge that day, and treated him to lunch-- it all would've ended there. Donovan smiled at the moon overhead, it'd been nearly 60 years since that life changing day. And in that time he'd built much more than bridges, and skyscrapers; he built a family, a legacy-- a life. One he was truly grateful for.

Donovan yawned as he bundled himself up tight in his jacket and sat down on the sidewalk of the bridge. Was it just him, or was the air a wee bit chillier than usual tonight. Maybe he was just tired. A few minutes of sleep wouldn't bring an end to his nightly stroll, would it?

Abilities:
 [Physical Conditioning: Peak human]
 Your body is naturally tough, durable, and strong. The pinnacle of human physical strength, endurance, and agility. Keep training, and surely you can surpass even stronger beings.
 [Soul Flare]
 The ability to turn ones soul into a weapon itself. Needed for most basic magical feats. Channel the mana present in the air through your body to achieve great feats. Allows one to interact with supernatural things, and perceive things others may not.
 [Foreman]
 Because of your past lifes accomplishments, you have been granted the ability to summon your own personal army of construction workers. They take an ethereal appearance and number from 5-20 depending on how many are needed for the job. These people do not tire, do not require rest or breaks and could theoretically stay active 24/7. However, they run on your own personal physical stamina and Magic ability. With proper planning, timing, and personal training, they could finish building a project that would have taken a month, in little over a week or so. All you have to do is give them direction and make sure you have your plans in hand. They are incapable of fighting, and may be disrupted with certain magical skills.
 [Whispers of Suthainn]
 Though this God was once known by a different name, you have given it another. What is a name, aside from how one is recognized? Oft, Gods go by many names. Perhaps this is no different. Its agelessness and ancient fury remain but a distant, fleeting, feeling.
You have made contact with a currently nameless God. You know little about them, save for the iconography of the Serpent and Star. The only thing you know, is that when you invoke its abilities you sense an ageless, unfathomable, yet comforting and fleeting presence. Underneath however, lies an ancient, furious anger silently watching and judging you. Whatever the case, you seem to be able to channel small divine miracles related to purification with some effort. [Stealth (lesser)]
 You've managed to acquire some knowhow for moving unseen and unheard. While its not going to fool any particularly vigilant person or animal, you could easily slip by unnoticed by unaware or those distracted by something else. Less agile acrobatics, and more simply being able to use your surroundings to slip around unseen.
 [Point Fracture]
 An ability to 'fracture' the flow of time on a space. A rather dangerous ability in theory but weak in practice, since it causes time in the affected small area to become twisted and knotted, merging time into a brief single point before it explodes outwards with rainbow colored shards. Weak, but effective in dealing minor injuries or disrupting singular targets or objects. This is an ability your patron has gifted, or you have learned through them in some manner. Can reasonably be expanded or modified to be stronger or divergent abilities with proper practice or use. Does not cause lasting Time Wounds in an area, and is clearly divine in nature which other divinities will recognize in some manner, even if not the specific god.

Inventory:
* Serpent Star Necklace
* Ancient Shield
* Ancient War-Hammer
* Illu Gem
* Gambeson {Equipped}

[User]
The Journey Begins

~ Kyrnith's Grove ~

Interacted with: @Rune_Alchemist, @PKMNB0Y, @VitaVitaAR

"I'd say that making a trail would be easier than constructing another shrine, but since your grove is just a couple of stone slabs sitting atop each other then I suppose making a new one's definitely the easier option." Nick agreed with the Elder Beast's idea. "We should probably include, like, a board with a list of directions on how to meet you and all."

"...That's reassuring." Nick sarcastically replied. "I'll try to go as soon as I can, but I'm going to stick around and help take down this God Of Knowledge guy as well as build your shrine for the village of Dawn. I mean, fair's fair, right?"

Nick then looked toward Nobunaga and Misaki. "So bottom line, we starve out the God Of Knowledge by essentially replacing him with Kyrnith, right?" He then sighed. "I doubt the Knowledge God's followers will just roll over and let us do this, though, so we'll have to watch out. Say, since we'll be working together, mind blessing me with your names? I heard that people work together better if they know each others' names."

[Assistant]
Malphas
Delivery!@Rune_Alchemist
Malphas looked down at the flower, then back at the foxy merchant once more. He simply needed to hand over the flowers to the merchant, but given the circumstances, perhaps he could use these as leverage? There were more things he needed to ask her, after all, especially given this turn of events. An explanation of the flower's effects could be lovely, but he was pressed on time, so he instead went to make a different proclamation: Insurance. Malphas revealed the flower to Lady Mie, but kept it just out of reach as he cleared his throat.

"Before I hand you this flower, I'd like to add to our agreement. Make this transaction sweeter for the both of us, if you will." Malphas grinned, stroking an imaginary beard. He would stroke his own chin if not for fear of the flower's residue ending up on his hands. "I actually had a much easier time retrieving these herbs than I had initially surmised. Perhaps I can get more for you before you leave? In exchange, I wish for your protection. More specifically, I wish to continue to be under your management, and hopefully under your protection. I may not look it, but I am blessed with quite a few talents you may find useful, just believe me! It'd be nice to be out of this village and in the hands of a group who knows the world much better than I... So, what do you say?"

Malphas offered the flower to Lady Mie with a grin. As much as he pondered about becoming a leader of these cultists and mused about his new role as Torchbearer, Malphas was not as pleased to learn he was surrounded by more potential enemies than allies in this village. The Illuminated's clandestine nature also did not seem to have much good outcomes as far as longevity was concerned. He did not want to be landlocked to such a primitive place, after all. If his fate is to be stuck in such a fantastical world where he is destined to rule, then he shall choose a much more lively and exotic place to rule over!

All that aside, while Malphas wished to assure his safety in this arrangement, what he really wants is a way to get a more refined version of these poisoned flowers for his own use. Such opportunities were worth him being employed by someone else. One cannot make it to the top without first starting at the bottom. Malphas learned this lesson in his past life. While he may have had a head start due to his inborn advantages in the past, would this not be the same thing here with all these gifts given to him by the Goddess?

[User]
Despite her apparent silence as she continued to pet the deer at her side, Misaki almost instantly snapped to attention the moment she heard Lazirha's name mentioned by the Kyrinth. Rather than worrying about any diplomatic relationships between the two groups in question, the fact that she had been called out by name emphasized that there was more to her than she had initially thought. Of course, it had been Lazirha who had set them down this path in the first place, so a relationship between the two was already possible, but that didn't make it any less noteworthy.

"I thank you for your time in speaking with us," she finally said as the conversation concluded, standing up and bowing towards the Kyrinth before giving the younger deer one last scratch under the chin. As much as it seemed to have taken to her, bringing it back and away from the forest it called home didn't feel like the right thing to do. If it followed her on its own accord when they returned to the village then by all means she would keep it as a companion, but ultimately it was still a wild animal.

Or, well, 'wild' by a modern definition of the term, at least.

The foxgirl's move to start leaving with Nobunaga was paused by the person who had abruptly entered the conversation in the first place, and Misaki had no desire to deal with him after seeing how he had acted thus far. She could not deny the intent he seemed to have, but the way he carried himself and spoke...

It just rubbed her the wrong way, and that dislike only seemed to intensify once he attempted to sidle up to them. As much as she would have preferred returning to town and speaking with the other team that had left with Lazirha (because this was most certainly relevant to them), not speaking up about the way he was acting now would be difficult at best.

"What do you mean, 'we'?" she finally asked, breaking the awkward silence that had come about as a result of the young man's assertion. "Our goals may be similar, and I cannot speak for my companion, but I have no intent of working with someone so flippant as you."

There was a variety of reasons for leaving things at that, but speaking bluntly about all the reasons why she didn't wish to associate with him wasn't something she would do unless pressed for that information.

With that, Misaki nodded towards Nobunaga before starting down the path back to the village, come what may.

@PaulHaynek@Rune_Alchemist

[Assistant]
"Excellent, o Kyrinth," Nobunaga bowed her head, "Your wisdom has exceeded my already high expectations."

It wasn't empty flattery. The elder beast's apparent wisdom and understanding of her intent made everything about this negotiation far easier then it could otherwise have been. It was natural to expect an ancient creature of nature such as this to have wisdom born from age, and the fact that the Kyrinth understood her intentions quite well confirmed that. Nobunaga had no doubt she could mend the relationship between the Elder Beast and the villagers, but it was the matter of destroying the worship of that fool god of knowledge that would be most complex.

"I expect you shall soon hear word from the village chief. For now, farewell."

With that, the petite girl turned to depart... only to be stopped by the boy who had intruded on them. He came close to outright insulting their host, and on top of that acted as if he spoke for them...

"... I am disinclined to work alongside one who assumes they speak for others without asking," Nobunaga said, without facing the boy, "Nor do I care much for one who clearly runs their mouth without a single moment of consideration towards their words. Spare some thought before you speak next time, or don't speak at all."

With that, she departed for the village alonside Misaki.

@PKMNB0Y@PaulHaynek

[User]
"Think Lass!" Donovan hissed as the beast crashed against his shield; his stance (though holding fast) tearing up topsoil as the sheer force of impact forced him back, "Herbs, spices, furs, fruit-- nuthin? Are yah sure???"

Snapping jaws forced Donovan to retreat lower behind his shield, the creature's forward weight leaning almost entirely on the shield arm. Don grunted forcefully, his eyes darting about the surrounding area as he quickly assessing the situation. The Dwarf seemed clueless about what may be aggravating the beast, and the damn thing's claws and teeth were likely to rip him to bits before the Oni workers could do anything to aid him if he didnt do something quick. If he used his hammer, he'd likely kill or cripple the creature. If he used his magic, that'd draw too much attention-- and folk would start asking questions, while tipping off the hunters that he may be a threat.

In a sudden motion, Don stuffed the sack of fruit he'd been given into the open jaws of the massive rodent. Gritting his teeth, Don crouched low, his back foot pivoting as he would wrench his shield out from between himself and the animal. "Arright Beastie--" he bellowed as every muscle in his body; from the tips of his toes, up his calves and into his thighs, hips core and arms, all fired in a synchronized motion-- all leading into a devastating superhuman uppercut!

"Time tah learn yeh some manners!"


[System]
Release Command: Sculpt

Shikai Ability: Upon release Gin no kessaku releases a large black plume of smoke that hovers in the air a moment before taking the form of a large, grey humanoid, which Ririsu is capable of controlling with vocal commands or hand gestures. Gin no Kassaku possesses a great deal of physical strength and resilience. The activation of Gin no kessaku's shikai leaves the physical sword unchanged with the exception of the black blade turning gunmetal grey.
Techniques:

[User]
Iwakuni Shiroko

 With her white hair only half pulled back into a pony tail and the rest of it simply laying as it may she half jogs through the crowd trying to make it on time. Bumping into people she stops to bow and apologize under her breath and rinse and repeat till she gets to her destination. Arriving with a bit of anxiety but mostly excitement she takes a gulp and enters the area where all of the seats are located. Knowing that she will start living full time in the Seireitei elated her but the thought of actually getting to join the Ghotei 13 even more so.

 Fumbling through the crowd she spots several classmates at the front row. Internal conflict insures. She would much prefer to sit at the back or maybe somewhere in the middle rather than at the front but she also would like to sit with people she knows. After a moments hesitation she decides she will sit with her classmates. Besides she needs to get over this aversion to others sooner rather than later. Yeah and this is her graduation isn't it? You are gonna go over there, sit down and congratulate them on graduating!

 With newfound confidence she walks up to the front row with the intent to sit in the front row only to see @Champion give a bone-chilling glare to some people already sitting there. They get up and move and Shiroko chickens out and decides last minute to slither into the second row and sit directly behind @Yorutenchi. She also see's @Crimson Lion and hears his protest to Savaris's heavy handed glare. All three were amazing students she had classes with.

 Savaris was in her hand to hand combat class. That wasn't super fun. He was easily the best. She herself was rather good at jujitsu and managed to pin him a small handful of times. However she wasn't completely sure if that was because he let her or not. The majority of time he knocked her down or out immediately. He seemed to be from some big important family and a lot of people fell in line with whatever it was that he wanted. He had never been mean to her so she didn't think he was a bad person but he still intimidated her. His reiatsu felt like gunpowder. It was aggressive, powerful and always seem to be in control.

 Takuya shared a class with her in the kidou program. Why she was in the same class as him is still a mystery to her. Kaido is her absolute weakest skill. Even her zanjutsu is better than her kaido. She was the worst in the class and he was by far the best. He even offered to help her with it but his pointers didn't really do her any good. He too was kind but a little hard to talk to. She didn't know that he was friends with Savaris. His Reiatsu had a frosty twinge to it. It was cold, distant and felt a little lonely. His aura seemed to be held within himself mostly. It didn't leak much compared to how much she was sure he had.

 Then there was Momoiro. They were all in advance courses but she perhaps was a step above in terms of being a prodigy. She joined 2 years after Shiroko but yet they were graduating at the same time. She had a few classes with her briefly but since she was skipping years she moved around some. She had a few kidou courses with her and she was lucky enough to see her zanjutsu. She kept calling it kenjutsu but she was pretty sure that was a human martial art. Momoiro was a little perplexing in that regard. Shiroko herself was weak physically and could never match Momoiro's speed. Being honest with herself Shiroko knew she was a little awestruck by Momoiro. Not just her skill but her blazing reiatsu was different than most others. It radiated off of her. She doesn't know if its because of her innate confidence or perhaps her confidence and headstrong nature was because of her reiatsu.

 Shiroko was a little sad that the graduating members here were all people that didn't have classes with her in bakudo. Her second best skill was hado and she shared that class with Savaris who was a step above her in that regard as well. With this though her thoughts began to swim with what company she will go with. She didn't fit in with 4th obviously because of her horrible healing. The 2nd squad was more for stealth fighters and she didn't exactly fit the bill there either. 11th would be equally unlikely as a choice. Crossing her arms she makes a frustrated expression while looking up at the ceiling/sky.

[Assistant]
Kariya woke up early in the morning, while he would have been training at this hour he was coerced into going to a graduation party by one of his underclassmen. He had gained some admirers for his ability at Hakuda, who asked to spar and train with him whenever he had some free time. He remembered being asked the usual question of what squad he wanted to be assigned to. Unlike most of his classmates, he wasn't really worried about what squad he would be assigned. While he wants to join the ninth squad to be in charge of the security of the Seireitei, using his abilities for the protection of Soul Society would be fine for him. Looking around he carefully sneaked around the room to grab his Zanpakuto, said a quiet goodbye to those that were already starting to wake up and went to the ceremony.

Since he had a bit of time, Kariya decided to not to use Hoho and instead walk. On the way there, Kariya began thinking of his time at the academy. Time had gone quick from the time he applied to enter the academy and today, he had trained hard to be able to get good grades in most subjects, even if his Zanpakuto's personality made him unable to practice with his shikai like everyone else. If he had any regrets it would be to learn more kido, since it could come in handy. Arriving at the location he found that people had already begun arriving, but seeing that there will be quite a while before the ceremony started, he decided to rest on a bench. He was never a fan of waiting, but there was little he could do.

Waking up as people had begun to arrive, he stood up from the bench and started looking for any familiar faces to sit with. Kariya saw Bakuto, not too far away from himself and decided to talk to him. While they weren't in many classes together Kariya really liked his competitive nature and he was one of the few people that could keep up with him when using Hakuda. Using Hoho "Yo! Ready for one last lecture before real work begins?" he closed the gap within then and greeted him

[User]
Momoiro

 Momoiro keeps her posture pristine as she greets those around her. Two of the others in the graduating sit next to her. They greet her by name but she doesn't actually remember their names. She is pretty sure she saw these NPC like characters at some point in the blur of the last four years but she couldn't place them. She simply smiles softly and goes along with the aimless small talk. It didn't last long because @Champion and @Crimson Lion walk up soon after and Savaris gives them a cold stare. The stare felt like it was ...bloodlust? No not quite. Either way the two boys make some weak excuse and nervously leave. Momoiro meets his gaze with her own. She glances at the now empty chairs.

 "Seems to me that they are open." Momo-chan? She motions with her hand to the seats next to her. She remembered Savaris. He was skilled. She wasn't sure if he was necessarily talented but his abilities spoke for themselves. He seem to have come from a powerful family. He was a little egotistical and rowdy. She knew his kind well during her time when she was alive. Her sense of justice tingled just a bit and considered returning Savaris's boldness but in secret she was a bit relived that those two left.

 Takuya interrupts her thoughts with an introduction. She had been wondering who he was. He seemed polite at the very least.

 "Pleasure to meet you Takuya. My name is Momoiro." She does a small bow while staying seated. She has seen Takuya around but she admits she doesn't know much about him. Having never met him formally nor hearing any rumors. Looking at him through she can tell at a glance that he isn't someone that she should forget. She couldn't put her finger on why yet.

 She also notices the quiet yellow-eyed girl sitting behind her. She could have sworn that she was headed for the first row. She hoped Savaris didn't frighten her. Momoiro has talked with this girl only a few times in the past. Iwakuni was her name she thought. Iwakuni Shiroko didn't spend a lot of time with others and seemed shy.

 "And..." She turns back to Savaris. ".. I was part of your hand to hand combat class. That was almost 4 years ago now. I remember you beat everyone in sparing matches except for Iwakuni-san. She pinned you spectacularly much to your surprise. Did you ever pay her back for that?" Leaning back she looks Shiroko in the eye and gives her a smile. She wanted to test the waters and see how either of them did with a little teasing. She doesn't know Tatsuya well enough to tease yet.

[Assistant]
The day's light was harsh like a slap to the face after being caught with another woman. Mayuri narrowed his eyes at the day before him. Despite the fact his lab was well lit, at least as far as the areas he worked in, he still had a bit of trouble adjusting to natural light. "Oh dear. oh deary." He sighed as he shielded his eyes with his hand. "One of these days I will get around to doing something about these eyes of mine. Yes, they're always a bit of a bother to take out and put back in, but anything is better than dealing with all this trouble of reorienting myself with the outside world."

"Master Mayuri!" The young woman bounced. "The ceremony. We're going to miss the ceremony!" She wanted to be louder, more imploring with her words, but settle on biting her lip and

"Everything alright?" Shunsui smiled as he stopped a few feet out of the lab. "You look uncomfortable, Mayuri. Maybe all that time in the lab isn't good for you. Some more sunlight couldn't hurt."

The twelfth division captain opened his mouth to reply, but instead of a retort for the captain commander, came "Hmmm. It seems we've got ourselves a visitor." His eyes, along with those of the captain commander and his young assistant all shifted in the direction of a handful of individuals, each with their faces covered by long brown cloaks.

"Hello." Shunsui said, turning so that his entire body faced the newcomers. "Are you guys lost?"
In response, the cloaked figures all shook their heads in perfect unison.

****

Risiru wanted to sigh, but couldn't force anything out. Her foot bounced rapidly on the cold cement before she switched to using the other one. Her fingers danced on her knees. She wished, deep down that she knew more than just ballroom dancing, because that got old kind of quick. She also wished she brought a pen and paper so she could get something done. It didn't matter what it was. She'd be happy with the chance to make a list of things to do later, once she was freed from the hell surrounding her.

On the stage there was a single shinigami, or a single would be shinigami. She didn't know said soon to be Sinigami's name, but she knew of him. They'd been in a few classes together. The guy, whose hair was light blue and his eyes were red, didn't have a life. He lived for being a shinigami, and made sure his teachers could see that in his work. In his hands were several sheets of college ruled white paper. Risiru, from the middle section, was too far to be able to make out the individual words the would be shinigami had scrawled on the back. Which may or may not be a blessing. It all depended on the slim chance that anything had to say could be anything resembling a twist or not. She could, on the other hand, to her horror, make out that the words were small, very small, the kind of small that could only be achieved with special pencils. Which also brought on the fact that there was riding on the back of the pages at all.

"This is too much." Risiru mumbled to herself.
"Excuse me?" The soon to be Shinigami sitting next to her said, looking annoyed that she was being distracted during the speech.
"That's okay." Risiru said, getting up to make her way to the front. "You're excused. Just try not to make it a habit." She started moving down the row towards the front but stopped at the sound of an explosion off in the distance. Before she was able to react, every member of the would be shinigamis was on their feet, leaning forwards to try and get a better look. Some started to move, but were quickly stopped by their teachers.

"What was that?" Risiru said, not to anyone in particular in the first row. Her heart was racing. It was hard to tell if it was because there was danger and excitement near by, or if it was because of the fact that they wouldn't, in all likely hood, be made to sit down and listen to the rest of the speech.

There was a woosh as two figures in white appeared at the center of the stage. One was the captain Commander himself, Shunsui dressed in his usual pink komono. However, instead of its usual pristine condition, the fabric was ripped, nearly to shreds. It was hanging on by nothing more than wishes and prayers. In his arm was a young woman, the assistant to the 12th division's captain. She was bruised and cut up but didn't seem like she'd die any time soon. She was able to stand on her feet, all be it a bit wobbly, after the captain commander put her down. The other figure, who looked even worst for the wear was the captain of the 12th division He was missing an arm, all the way up to his shoulder. there was also a large hole in the other shoulder. There was blood coming on the side of his mouth, but his face was one of mild annoyance.

"We're sorry, everyone." Shunsui said, stepping forwards, in front of the red eyes shinigami who didn't look to pleased to be so unceremoniously cut off. "But it looks like we'll be having to cut the ceremony short. There's some issues that the captains need to attend to." He turned his attention to a group of shinigami, off to the side, all holding pouches with degrees inside them. "If you'll please. Pass those out."

"Now then." The captain commander continued. "You'll find directions on where to go with next, along with your diplomas. Please be quick as the captains will be calling meetings of their own shorts."

***
The young shinigami were quick to hand out the diplomas to their owners. It came with being members of the 6th division.

"Hmmm?" Risiru opened the note that came with her diploma and looked it over.

Prodigy 002
Division 14
Below those words was a map of the seritei. Over an area near the 12th division's barracks there was an X, which was a mark for the spot.

"Wait." Risiru arched an eyebrow and turned to the three closest soon to be shinigami sitting in the front row. "Is there a fourteenth division now?"


[System]
General Overview

---
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Hometown: Nacrene City, Unova
Life Goal: World renowned artist

---

Characterization

---

Appearance: Margo is average height for a girl, about 5'4", with a slender face and high cheekbones, freckles dappled around her nose and under her eyes. She boasts long, curly auburn hair that ends around the small of her back and is usually styled in a plethora of ways: ponytails, pigtails, braids, straight, etc. Margo has a nice sunkissed look to her skin most of the time from her outdoor activities, and rarely shows off her beautiful crooked smile. Bright green eyes are always alert and full of life, observing her surroundings more closely than most people, sometimes hidden under her thick eyebrows. She's usually seen wearing shorts or overalls with a breezy t-shirt when she's travelling, sometimes donning a large beach hat. Inside she's almost always wearing a grandmotherly-looking knit cardigan that's beginning to look ratty with age. Platform flip-flops are her best friend.

Biography: Margaret Mazarin was born to a family of Pokemon Breeders, famously known for their Pokemon Daycare, in Nacrene City. While their work place was on Route 3, Margaret's parents (Sabrina and Mackenzie) lived up the street in Nacrene City in one of the non-traditional warehouse homes. They made an honest living working at the daycare center and enjoyed their work more than most, taking pride in returning trainers their pokemon with a 'new and improved' speech. After Margaret was born, her mother and father would take turns watching her and running the daycare, until she was old enough to bring along with them and help her learn their work early on.

Margo had an uneventful life as she grew up and went to school. She was always a very smart student--especially with the library in her town a big resource for studying--and never made waves among her classes. Her favorite class had to be art, and as she began to realize her passion she started to drift slowly but surely from her parents. While never wishing to disrespect her parents, their constant comments about how much less time she was joining them at work was beginning to irk her. At 14, she finally had an outburst at dinner about how she didn't want to be a breeder like her parents and her grandparents and her great-grandparents. She wanted to become an artist that would influence people for years to come. Her mother cried at the sudden emotion her little girl expressed; the thought that her daughter didn't want to do what they did hadn't crossed her mind.

This outburst would introduce the next grudging year, the 15-year old becoming ever more rebellious towards her parents and their (gentle) pushing to help their daughter understand that being an artist wasn't easy and that becoming a pokemon breeder was just as respectable and influential. Margo would ignore their advances, closing her door and turning up her music while she worked instead. The inevitable happened eventually though--her parents sat her down and talked to her about what she planned to do with the rest of her life and how she was going to accomplish her dreams of becoming an artist. Surprisingly, they were supportive of their daughter and wished that she could see they wanted her to become a pokemon breeder to at least get her start in life when she was still practicing her art. Unsurprisingly, Margaret could not see her parent's points, clouded by teenage hormones and a rebellious feeling growing stronger by the minute in the pit of her stomach. Thus, she could only hear 'no,' 'no,' and 'no.'

So, she left. With a backpack of essentials and the money earned from her time at the daycare, Margaret fled Nacrene City with a letter left for her parents. Thankfully, Castelia City was a hop, skip, and a jump away and thus she was able to find a ship headed for Septoh and boarded it before her parents were able to piece together what their beloved only daughter had done. Her parents were left broken, while Margo felt renewed and alive as she sailed away to a brand new place with brand new people.

Personality: Margaret, to be blunt, is a typical teenage girl. She can be sweet and caring, annoying and smart-alecky, moody and irrational. The list only goes on and on. One of her most prominent traits would be how much of a pushover she can be, though. Her parents had ingrained in her from the very beginning that 'the customer is always right,' and that philosophy has become so burned into her brain that her actions revolve around the saying--except everyone is a customer in her brain. A classmate called her Meredith for an entire school year and she never bothered to correct them due to her polite restraint. While she's attempting to break this habit of never correcting someone, her progress is slow, but now that she's in a new place she's hoping it'll be easier.

Margo is also a very passionate soul, a fire burning underneath her skin at all times. She loves her art and finds inspiration in anything and everything, sometimes so overcome with emotions that she needs a moment to jot something down or make a mental note not to forget her muse for that day. This passion was probably the gasoline for the rebellion that had grown within her from her family never listening to her own wishes for her life--it was the enabler that finally told her to just do something about it. Margo would never admit it, but sometimes she's frightened of the things that she contemplates when the passion takes hold of her. This has also started to lead into other emotions, like her stubborn approach to most things nowadays and the way her patience grows very thin very quickly.

On top of everything else, like anyone, Margaret sometimes gets too caught up in her own endeavors. She takes on too many projects and hobbies that will eventually overwhelm her. While she'd repeatedly insist becoming an artist was her only ambition in life, it's just the most recent of her hobbies that she had centered her entire life on. The girl is like a lost soul, just trying to find her true calling like anyone else in the world.

Quirks: > > Margo spaces out in conversations, battles, almost anything really, more than she'd like to admit.
> > She is incredibly superstitious. She's also quite the believer in things like fate and luck.
> > She hates wearing socks, and thus loves sandals no matter the weather.

---

What's in my Bag?

---

Pokemon:
Wartortle -- 'Crowne' -- Male -- Lvl 26
> > Rash Nature < <

Wingull -- 'Oceana' -- Female -- Lvl 21
> > Sassy Nature < <

Alolan Rattata -- 'Julep' -- Male -- Lvl 19
> > Hasty Nature < <

Spewpa -- 'Poinsettia' -- Female -- Lvl 16
> > Timid Nature < <

Spearow -- 'Wulford' -- Male -- Lvl 21
> > Lonely Nature < <

Mankey -- '???' -- Male -- Lvl 25
> > Adamant Nature < <

Inventory: > An overdue library book from Nacrene City.
> Her parents phone number on a piece of paper that she had carefully written down but has yet to register to her Pokedex.
> A Pokedex that has already been dropped more times than it should have been.
> Pokeball x3
> ₽90

[User]
Zvi shrugged as he answered Margo's open ended question. "I don't know. He has been a while. Maybe we should go back for him. Besides, there's not much else to see here. We could wait for weeks and not see a rare Pokemon." Zvi then looked to Indy who agreed, and the three of them began their climb back down, along with all the Pokemon they let out of their Pokeballs.

When they reached the edge of the temple ruins, they found Old Man Nobu waiting for them. He wore a somber face and held a note in his hand. "Hello children." He said with a weak smile. "I have something for you." He held out and waited for any of them to take it. "It's from your friend. After you all left, he doubled back to find me and gave me this. He said he's sorry, but he couldn't tell you in person. Said he's going back home. I told him he should speak with you himself, but he wouldn't hear it. He'll be fine though. I asked Hermes to protect him till he leaves Septoh."

[Assistant]
Indigo was baffled, not even registering Old Man Nobu's words at first. "What?" He shook his head, feeling dazed. This was some kind of prank, wasn't it? It had to be.

"You're kidding," Indigo insisted. Nobu shook his head. He pointed above them at a Drampa in the sky, and the shadowy figure of someone sitting on the pokemon.

"Dan!" Indigo waved his arms.
"HEY! DAN!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and tried to shout as loud as he could.

"I'm sorry young man," Nobu said as gently as he could.

Still speechless, Indigo opted to look at the letter instead of attempting to say anything. He unfolded the paper and sure enough, Dan's scrawl was on the page.
This... Really is a letter from him.

Hey Indy and Margo,

I know this seems really sudden. But I really needed to leave. It's not really anybody's fault, and it's not an emergency or anything. I just needed to go.

For awhile now, I've felt really uncertain about my journey. It's not really something I can explain, it's just something I feel, you know? Maybe it was something in Pewter, or it could have been something before then, but it's just. There were some words after, but they had been scratched out and scribbled on.

Let me try this again. Damn, this is hard. I've never been real good with trying to explain this stuff. You guys would know, right?

I guess one thing I'm trying to do is build up my pokemon again. My friendship with them, I mean. I think I need to stop focusing on my journey for me, and really go back to them. They're the ones that brought me this far, after all. I think going back home and having us all just spend time together without getting worried about battles or winning... Well, I just think it'll be good for us.

Then, you know, there's my condition or illness or whatever you want to call it. I think I need a riding pokemon to help me get around, but like I said, I can't really get new team members when the ones I've got aren't happy, you know? So... that's another thing.

But I want to do this right. I want to make up for everything I've done. There's an orphanage in Lavender Town, just a train ride away from Cerulean. It's a little long of a ride, but I think I'll start working there for a bit. Maybe a few times a week? Haven't thought out the details too much, but I want to help pokemon more. I think volunteering's gonna help me out a lot.

I know it seems sudden, but like I said, this has all been on my mind for awhile now. I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys, it's just I know that I would have stayed if I did. But the point is, I couldn't stay. I just hope you guys can forgive me.

Sincerely,
Dan

Although Dan hadn't actually had anything terrible happen to him, Indigo still felt a sting in his chest. Damnit, I thought we said no more secrets last night. At the same time, he couldn't be too upset. Daniel was simply working on himself and that was to be admired, not scowled upon. The abruptness of it all, however, left an empty spot in Indigo. It was as if their potential adventures together had been whisked away from underneath him.

"I'm happy for him," Indigo said finally, breaking the silence.
"He's going after what's best for him. And that's... Great."

Nobu smiled. "It's not the end of anything, just so you know, it's really a new beginning for all of you."

[User]
Margo was as shocked as Indy at the hermit's words, looking at Crowne and furrowing her brow. "He... just left?" She quirked her mouth at the idea--he was always the most rambunctious of the three. How could he have just left them out here without saying goodbye? Was he really that upset about what happened with Twiggy in Kanto? The teenager felt bad as Indy attempted to grab the attention of his friend up in the sky, moving to his side and placing a hand gingerly on his arm.

She read the letter over his shoulder, every few sentences glancing at his face to see if she could read what he was thinking. Her pokemon gathered with Indy's behind their trainers, exchanging some curious looks among one another. Margo finished reading before Indy, taking the tiniest of steps back as she waited for him to finish.

She felt a swell of pride in her chest from reading the letter--it was good that Dan was putting himself first! He was doing what he needed to do for himself and his pokemon, even if that meant leaving Margo and Indy behind because they were hindering his own personal adventure. She was proud of him for realizing that just because it might hurt them, Dan was doing what he needed to do for himself. She felt an even bigger wave of happiness wash over her as Indy finally spoke, expressing his own opinions on what Dan was doing.

Hearing the slightest reluctance from his voice, Margo gave him a look that asked him if he was ok, arching a brow skeptically. Nobu seemed to put it more into perspective for the two of them and the teen was grateful for his kind words.

"It's like the new start to our own journey together. Dan will be here in spirit with us, cheering us along the way like he would have if he had stayed!" Margo beamed at Indy, hoping to cheer him up. She knew he was probably hurting right now, but Nobu was right, they could move past this and become even better friends to support one another.


[System]
Age: 29

Gender/Race: Male Fäldkrest

Role: External Conflict Resolver

Bio: Vanius hails from a small, ever moving village that has no name.He often lead the hunting parties after his father died. When he was 27 he was attacked after straying away from the party, the massive beast leaving Vanius with a mangled hand and shredded wings (not that they were ever that big to begin with). Despite this, he managed to drive his spear into the beast's soft underbelly and draged the beast back to his hunting party.Upon returning to his village his mother forced him to go to Isilum and seek medical treatment. He is currently serving on an airship in order to pay the debt that accumulated to the order in saving his hand and giving him the ability to glide again (explained later). Vanius was shocked when the doctors wouldn't accept gratitude and 3 goats as payment.

Personality: Adventurous, Proud, Highly aggressive, yet oddly smooth where other men would be rough, and hella naive.

Equipment: -Lightweight leather armor
-Longsword
-small obsidean kukri

This is just his basic equipment I guess, he has other things for more specialized gear when it's needed but nothing too spectacular, just simple things and a set of metal armor.

Skills: Great sword fighter, natural leader (although he shys away from leading the more civilized when there are better candidates)

Optional: Spends time with Craig Masters when not on duty.

Appearance: A tall, muscular specimen with dark red scales with light orange spots in some places. His left hand is a heavily scarred. Unlike other Faldkrests he has an odd glider like device on his back due to the injuries sustained when he was younger, but this performs slightly worse, if not on par with most other Faldkrest wings, when gliding.

[User]
Vanius walked towards the docks, the backpack he had been given chaffing his shoulders. The city was exploding with activity, which only distracted Vanius more. The docks were even more crowded than the street he just came from, making Vanius nervous and panicked. After breaking through the crowd he managed to get a break, and sat at a small park bench for a few minutes.

He took out a long, dark brown cigar and ran it under his nose before lighting it. "This may be the last cigar I ever enjoy" he thought before taking a deep puff. He sincerely doubted they'd let him smoke on the ship, and he might die on the ground before he got another smoke break. The duffle bag he'd been given had been making Vanius' shoulders ache, and he wanted to just leave it sitting on the ground. Maybe leave everything on the ground and just run back to his Tribe. Put the whole damn world behind him and go back to a simple life.

He laughed and shook the thought out of his head.

[Assistant]
A man hurried through the crowd that surrounded the Tychon, the Order's newest airship. He was only twenty eight but despite his relative youth his hair was white and he had a way of walking with his head down in an incredibly hurry that often led people to believe he was a much older man. His skin was sort of papery and it was clear that he paid more attention to his work than his appearance. He carried a number of papers in his arms and a brown leather pack on his back. He was headed for the loading platform of the Tychon. His name was Armadaus McConally, he was a scholar of the Order of Progress and the handler of the Valkyrie, Avelina Callaghan. Armadaus spotted two men near the airship that he recognized.

"Lord Gearheart, Master Sonne!" Armadaus shouted over the crowd. "Are either of you privy to the location of the Tychon's Captain?" he said looking at the two men eagerly. "He must sign these before the airship leaves." Armadaus said motioning to some of the papers he held clutched to his chest. "Avelina Callaghan, one of the Orders assets has been assigned to this ship. I require that the Captain take responsibility for her before I can retire." Armadaus' eyes widened as he looked into the sky. "Speak of the devil." he murmured looking up into the air were a winged blob was gradually getting larger. "She's here."

Avelina was looking forward to this particular mission. The Shatter Zone had intrigued her ever since her unplanned trip into it's outer edges. She's been experimented upon by an unknown party and only barely escaped. The nature of that experiment had left Avelina with metal wings twelve feet across wired into her back. They functioned perfectly allowing her to soar through the air just as she was doing now.

Despite the constant painful ache that ran across Avelina's shoulder bones every time she took to the skies it was still her favorite way to travel. There was very little she'd ever experienced that compared to the thrill of shooting through the air at fifty miles an hour. Avelina dove downwards at an extreme angle, her stomach dropping off somewhere over the ocean before she pulled of sharply hovering in middle. While I say hovering Avelina was actually drifting up and down at regular intervals keeping her in relatively the same position.

Her augmented eyes spotted her handler Armadaus talking with two men on the port. Armadaus had been eager to study the Valkyrie Wings and how they functioned in conjunction with Avelina's neural implants ever since she'd been taken in by the Order. He'd been very interested in the technical aspect of her abilities and had spend hours calculating vectors, and velocities, telling her how much she had to slow down to avoid breaking her legs on landings and the safest altitude she could attain without using a special breather he'd designed for her. Avelina had preferred to just wing it so to say.

She did what felt right for the wings rather than trying to make sense of the calculations that covered every surface in Armadaus' study. Smiling slightly Avelina arched her wings diving down towards the peer. She came very close showering a number of people including her handler and his friends with a gust of winds before she turned in midair and bent her legs, she spun reversing her momentum. Avenlina curled her wings over her shoulders and out over her head causing them to lose velocity. She landed with grace in a crouch in front of the three men and straightened with a smile, her wings folded themselves up and slipped through the slits sown into her flight jacket, a substance called Velcro sealed the slits after her wings had come to rest against her back. The Valkyrie Wings in many ways were not a blessing but as long she had them Avelina couldn't help but show off just a little. "You miss me Doc?" She said cocking her head to the side like a bird with a flirtatious smile on her face. "Who are your friends?" She gave an exaggerated curtsy to the two officers. "Boys." she said inclining her head.

[User]
"Out of the way, out of the way!" Barsad shouted at the throngs of people milling about the Port Titanicus docks, who, though quick to vacate the path of the train of laborers carting his laboratory equipment to his quarters aboard the Tychon, could not move fast enough for his liking.

"Who dares impede the progress of science?!" He gesticulated wildly at an old woman crossing the procession, nearly bent double beneath the weight of a basket of salt fish on her back. "You! Decrepit crone! Get thee gone!"

Barely taking notice of her baleful glare, Barsad eyed the dirigibles resting serenely on the docks, like leviathans dreaming of flight. His mouth twisted in distaste at the multitudinous numbers of the robed members of the Order of Progress. Stuffy, officious fools, too enamored of their own traditions and hierarchy to ever fully give themselves over to their professed calling. Science, Sir Nero knew, demanded sacrifice and an empty heart, not fetishistic affectations and self-inflating titles. Watching them wield their Shatterzone gear like an adolescent wearing his father's armor, he was reminded, and not for the first time, of a tribe of nomadic humans he had encountered in the Pikelands during the first years of his journeys. Having separated themselves from the rest of society centuries ago, the tribe had devolved into a near-feral state, but still clung to the practices of their ancestors, imitating rituals and ceremonies of which they had no clue, no understanding, beyond the vaporous illusion of comfort in the familiar. He believed that the Order, peacocks preening about with salvaged Shatter Tech, was no different: scavengers who surrounded themselves in the trappings of a lost world, claiming dominion over legacies to which they had no right.

But what they did have was unparalleled access to the Shatterzone, that ancient place of things unremembered, the playground of all imagination and cold cradle of monsters. And Sir Nero Barsad would have to learn to play nicely if he was to have the same.

His spirits picked up slightly when he saw a pair of Setra ascending the Tychon's boarding ramp. In that strange and contemplative species Barsad saw the opportunity for intelligent discourse during the voyage, for he had not been reassured when he saw that most of the crew was comprised of humans: dull, squishy, and terribly predictable, with nary a tentacle or chitinous exoskeleton or hyper-evolved psionic glands among the lot of them. He had already resigned himself to spending much of the upcoming journey shut up in his ad hoc laboratory, for these humans, slaves to their primal apish genetics, would have little to offer him in the way of mental stimulation.

Nor was he at all encouraged by their youth. Most of the faces of the Tychon's crew were smooth and unlined. He guessed the majority of them to be in their late teens and early twenties, with even the grizzled veterans among them barely approaching the ripe pastures of thirty.

"Children," he muttered to himself, almost giggling in disbelief. "It's a damned children's crusade."

Vapid youth, creatures ruled entirely by instinct and brazen ambition, whose higher functions and capacities could be overridden with the simplest chemical changes. Raw emotion, barely removed from the wild rutting beasts of the field, choking the air with the scent of their sweat and energy and hormones.

Hormones. Ew.

He shuddered slightly in revulsion, then stood up straight and adjusted his white hat and tie. He spotted Sonne, the Senior Agent of the Order assigned to the Tychon, in conversation with his fellows in the Order.

"Let us get this farce over with," he said quietly. He directed the lead stevedore to deliver his equipment aboard, and turned to Sonne and the others, already dreading this simple requisite interaction. But the sooner he announced himself, the sooner he could board the airship and set up his laboratory.

But already others were approaching. Walking towards Sonne with the unmistakeable purpose of a career officer, was the captain, a Faldkrest named ver Niklos. But more interesting was the girl. Gliding in on metal wings as though she were born to them was the damned oddest halfling Barsad had ever seen.

His eyebrow twitched almost imperceptibly. Perhaps he had been too harsh in his earlier appraisals.

Sacrifices, he thought. This expedition was to be greater than himself. There could be no room for ego. The birth of science, he knew, came only at the death of the scientist. It would be the hardest lesson he'd have to teach himself yet.

And so, with mad visions of all the creatures hidden in the 'Zone spread upon his operating table, waiting for the smiling edge of his scalpel to bring their horrors into the light, Sir Nero Barsad made his way to Sonne and his new crewmates, doffing his hat to the future and all that was not yet known.

[Assistant]
Captain Vossef ver Niklös was not bothered by crowds.

As he strode across the dockyards, the crowds melted out of his path. Between his stern gaze, the confident, almost aggressive arch of his wings, and not least the thick gold braid on his shoulderboards, it was pretty clear that Sef wasn't an individual who could be expected to waste time slowly picking his way around revellers and onlookers. Sef did not like his time to be wasted in any capacity, in fact. A lifetime of military service and his own rigid self discipline made for a very punctual individual.

Therefore, he was more than a little bit annoyed to find himself on the edge of being late for his own airship launch. The day had begun smoothly for the most part - wake before dawn, breakfast, kit up in dress blues, say goodbye to Klothilda - until he reached the dockyards. Then his carefully prepared schedule had been neatly slashed down the middle by a series of minor emergencies involving quartermasters, the port authority, some sort of journalist, the quartermaster again.... Well. On the bright side, it seemed to be over.

A thick sheaf of papers held carefully at his side in one clawed hand, Sef approached a small grouping of gentlemen standing near one of the boarding ramps. Sonne, his senior order agent was there, along with Lord Gearheart and another order representative that Vossef had not been introduced to. He had nearly reached them when a young woman, dwarfed by her wide metal wings, landed with them in a page-fluttering backwash of wind. Sef tightened his grip on his papers. Ah, the Valkyrie. That explains the other Order man.

Another man arrived, not an Order man and not know to Sef, grumbling after one of the stevedores. The captain couldn't really blame him; he had not been particularly pleased with the dockyard staff so far today either. Working with civilians was not on the list of "Things That Make Vossef ver Niklös Happy and Comfortable."

"Good day Lord, gentlemen, and miss," he said in his resonant voice. The captain clicked his heels together and bowed formally. "I am Captain Vossef," he introduced himself. It wasn't necessary - surely his identity was made clear by his decorated uniform - but formalities were important. "I believe we have some business to attend to?"

[User]
Eventually the Cigar's flame was snuffed, and Vanius slipped the mostly remaining torpedo into his jacket. The bustle wasn't going to stop and so he knew he had to just make his way through it and get to the Tychus.

"No wait, that's not right" Vanius thought. He gazed at the great airships trying to remember the ships name. "The typhoon? Dammit what is that ships name?"

He'd been preparing for almost 2 months and he'd forgotten the ships bloody name! In a moment of what can only be described as 'temporary madness', Vanius began searching vehemently for his crew pass. His scaly fingers wrapping around the paper and pulling it to his eyes. And like a man dying of thirst reaching an oasis, his eyes soaked up the information on the card until he saw it

Tychon Crew Pass

He hurriedly moved towards the ship, his pack awkwardly shifting between being dragged along the ground and being ever so slightly raised. As Vanius moved to adjust it, he bumped into a human gazing, well gazing isn't quite the word. This man seemed to be hypnotized by whatever he was staring at. It was a human man in an exquisite suit, and he looked old. Old and important. Vanius cursed to himself and meekly apologized, before hurriedly resuming his journey to the entry way of the ship.


[System]
Race: Unicorn - Disguised as human
Apparent Age: Early 20's
Actual Age: Cannot remember
Appearance:
Profession: Lady of King Hagards Court
Possessions: None but her clothing
Skills/Magic/Talents: Healing, fearlessness when in danger, agility, elemental manipulation
Demeanour: The Lady Amalthea is a quiet and soft spoken woman wise beyond her years. She will be reserved and seemingly timid but more oft than not she is just being reserved and stand offish.
History: Amalthea remembers nothing of her life as a unicorn for she went into hiding long ago. She is plagued by dreams of her years before she touched by humanity that wake her in the night. Over the last year she has been a member of King Hagards court and though not a prisoner there she does not know where else to go other than wandering the near by village at the base of the castles standing upon the high cliff above the ocean below.

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

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

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

[Assistant]
Dune

---

---

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

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

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

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

 "Leann."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[User]
The Lady Amalthea stood at the edge of her overlook, thin fingers curling against the rough cold stone as she watched the sea. The sun was now setting, hanging heavy along the horizon; casting fiery rays of light over the dark waters and igniting the cresting foam of the waves. This is where she stood most days, saying nothing, moving not; just watching as if she was trying to remember something that had long since been forgotten.

 "You grow more forgetful each day," a deep raspy voice crawled in from behind her. Her head quickly turned as if she was startled as her hand came to her breast, pressing against the sudden rush that had broken her vigil.

 "M'Lord," she half stammered as she looked to the King. Hagard was an old man with worn harsh features; as rough and unpolished as the stone walls of his chiseled home.

 "I did not mean to startle you," he said as he stepped closer and brushed back the long snowy tendrils that had fallen over her shoulder. She nodded and turned back to the sea. He watched her, as he always did, marveling not at what she appeared to be but what she was beneath the façade of humanity. "You brought back with you guests this evening."

 "I did?" she questioned as she watched the waves crash below.

 "They will not take you from me," he warned as his eyes burned with jealously that another was within his walls, able to see her.

 "I do not understand what you mean M'Lord," the Lady Amalthea said confused. King Hagard grabbed her slender and bare shoulders, gripping tightly as he spun her to face him.

 "You are mine, if you remember one thing, you will remember that," he hissed from behind clenched and crooked teeth. The Lady Amaltheas eyes widened as she reeled back and twisted from his grip. A long scraggly finger pointed to her as it shook. "You may have forgotten what you are but I have not. I'll toss you to the sea myself before I let any take you from me!"

 "You're mad," she whined in a frightened voice before pushing past him, gathering the folds of her silken gown and running through her room and back into the heart of the castle.

[Assistant]
Amon having walked into the Kitchen with Molly and fletcher kept his sword trained on the thief, he didn't like how at ease he seemed. His comments clearly designed to unnerve or impress only made Amon all the more wary. Amon contemplated using his powers, if he chose he could utterly shut down Fletcher's nervous system, he could shut off the nerves in his legs at any rate, but if he did it would be rather obvious what had happened, and he still didn't know how magic was regarded by the present company.

Ahh well he thought, if push comes to shove. Amon positioned himself so that he was between Molly and Fletcher, he reached down with his free hand and clasped the case of his scrying glass. It was warm in his palm so he kept his sword ready.

He looked at the thief 'So' he began 'you are going to tell me why you are here, you're going to tell me now and you're going to tell me everything.' He paused for a moment before continuing 'See unlike Ser Carver here who is honour bound by chivalry, I am not. Do you know, what happens to a man who breaks into the house of a lord where I am from? We round up his family and he is forced to choose one of them, that individual is then killed in front of the thief. Following that we chop off the thief's hands and feet and then he is cast out in the desert. Personally I find all that to be rather melodramatic but I can't deny its effectiveness. Perhaps the lord would adopt such a punishment? What I can say is that unless you answer my questions things aren't going to be very pleasant for you.' Amon smiled at this point before adding 'Or we can act like adults, you tell me what I want to know, I talk to the Lord on your behalf and maybe you just get thrown in a cell for a very long time. Surely that's better than ending up dead hmm?'

[User]
Mira Mokosh

The evening at the tavern had been well spent, despite her earlier reluctance. Nearly her entire basket had been emptied, save a lonely pair of oysters. It had been a full one at that too, the sea had been very generous in the morning. Her hand went to the pouch at her side to make sure it and its contents were still there. It was rather heavy and Mira realized walking alone on the near empty streets with such a large sum of money wasn't very clever. The village was small and there were no active thieves she knew of but the house where she stayed was at the edge of the village, near the coast. Normally she would not be bothered by this but she had this strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was not right there was a chill in the air.

She wanted to avoid standing still for too long and draw attention to herself so she continued on her way with a wary eye on her surroundings. Every step followed the previous one in a faster pace and the young woman nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. It was if someone was following her. If she was right they were fell into step with her own footsteps perfectly. In a moment she would reach the village square and she planned to stop there to see who was after her.

Mira safely reached the village square and made her way over to the water fountain which stood at the centre of the square. It was made out of white marble with the statue of a mermaid in the center of it. Her tail was wrapped around the rock she was seated on and in her arms she held a clay jar from which the water was supposed to flow. The fountain had been out of use for a long time now and any water that it contained came from the clouds above. It was battered by wind and rain, the once white marble had dulled into a greyish green tone but despite of that it was one of the more beautiful sights in the dreary town. It always filled her with a sense of peace for some reason, but not tonight.

She reached for the small silver knife in her basket, holding it tightly to keep her hand from shaking. The young woman whipped her head around, the motion causing her braid to fall of her shoulder and hang down her back.
"Who's there?" She asked, her voice quivering ever so slightly. Mira tried not to let her fear sound through. She was not easily scared, having lived longer than most. Yet it was this feeling in the pit of her stomach that unnerved her greatly. It was something she couldn't remember feeling before, if she'd ever felt it at all.

[Assistant]
Molly smirked slightly as she went about tending to the meal and the rest of her duties within the kitchen. Amon and Ser Carver had very different out looks on how such things were handled.

 "I like Amons idea," she quipped as she prepared several bowls of stew. Placing one each in front of Ser Carver and Amon. The third was placed on a tray. Before their impetuous thief she placed a cracked plate with what looked to be several day old hardened bread and what may have been called a stew if it were a week younger.

 "There," she said as she turned her back on the situation to let them hash it out between themselves before she confronted the king about the break in and went back to preparing the tray of food.

 "Molly..." The Lady Amalthea whispered as stepped into view at the archway of the kitchen. Though she still held the same grace and poise she always did it was clear by her eyes that she was disturbed about something. Her fingers fidgetted with the folds of her gown as she took a step forward.

 "M'Lady, what happened?" Molly asked concerned as she hurried over to her.

 "He's mad..." was all she would say and Molly nodded, a look of understanding falling over her features as she took the ladys hand and squeezed gently.


[System]
Age: 27

Class Type: Mage/Archer (I hope this is okay, he will conjure his own bow, and have some other sneaky archer related spells)

Gear: Magical robes, stolen from an evil wizard deep in some mines. I mean, he wasn't gonna be needing it anymore, and it happened to fit him fine so... yeah. Bobo carries around a small silver dagger, to protect himself when he doesn't have the strength to conjure anything. He likes to have a variety of potions, scrolls and books on him that he puts in sack. He drags this sack around behind him... it's become a part of him. He always covers his head with the hood on his robes, and underneath the hood is a sack identical to the one he carries around, with two eyeholes in it. His facial privacy is very important to him.

Bio?: Bobo doesn't know much about his past. Well, anything really. He knows that he was born in a town without a name, his mother was disgusted by his looks and deformities and didn't want to be known as the mother with the ugly bosmer. So, she put him in an orphanage where he was made fun of for wearing some spiffy spectacles. Oh yeah, and also his face. Poor Bobo got upset, and angry, so he grabbed all his books, put them in a sack, and ran away from that horrible orphanage. He then traveled the world, hiding his face when he could until he got his bag. He studied to be an amazing wizard with his books all alone.

More Info?:

Bobo will use a spell to make you accept him.
Bobo has never seen his own face.
Bobo is very calm, collected, and monotone about everything. EVERYTHING!
Bobo doesn't know any mind control spells.

[User]
Way stopped sharpening his twenty-second weapon - he was the resident new-born, despite him likely being as experienced as any of the other veteran Companions. He taken to sharpening their weaponry - since he knew how to handle any and all of them, like an experienced weapon-master.

"True. But the Harbinger, had showed Way - that a suprised or unprepared opponent, was as vunerable as a wounded or weak opponent," he replied, looking at Aela. "Was there anything else there?"

Way looked like he was calm and stoic - like most of the time, but in truth his eyes were focused at that. A tell-tale sign, when one Argonian was fearing or waiting an attack to happen. Nobody could take down the Harbinger in combat, atleast in truth - but suprised or betrayed was a different story.

[Assistant] Dar'Adhba merely frowned at this news rather than acting shocked. To most, he wouldn't seem all that surprised, but in fact he was very bothered by this news. "Dar'Adhba finds this news to be very troubling. This one wonders who would be foolish enough to kidnap someone who has so much influence." He looked over at Aela. "This one is curious. Who would be powerful enough to do that and get away with it without many others finding out who they are? Did the huntress find clues?"

[User]
Bobo looked over at Way and Dar'Adhba then adjusted his spectacles on the outside of his head sack.

"The chances of being kidnapped by a stranger are approximately 1 in 610,000." He spoke, with a furrowed brow hidden from view.

He put down his book, Of Crossed Daggers, one of his favorites. It tells the tale of how Riften fell from it's grace, or power. He stood, clumsily, tripping on his sack on the floor. As he knelt down onto the floor to straighten up his things, he looked at Aela and said,

"I concur with Way. The Harbinger was almost definitely attacked by one whom he trusts. Of course, nothing is impossible, just improbable. So, it could have been a surprise attack when he least expected it..." He sat back down silent for a moment, thinking hard. He murmured quietly, "Yes, yes, no... maybe... wha... n..." He popped his head back up and looked right at Aela,"It is entirely essential that we know about what was left behind."

Like the others, Bobo wan- no, NEEDED to know what clues and signs were at the scene of the crime.

[Assistant] Dar'Adhba looked at Bobo. "This one thinks that much is obvious. Those who trust you are the easiest targets. After all, Hilfe's money is used for this one's armor repairs." He said it so nonchalantly, that it was like using other peoples' money was an everyday thing for him. "Dar'Adhba also believes that prime suspects are the Blades, Stormcloaks, and the Greybeards. Even this one does not trust the Stormcloaks, the Blades may secretly plot against Harbinger for his dragon blood, and the Greybeards are not happy about the death of Paarthurnax."

[User]
"My money what?!"
 Hilfe shouted loud enough people outside the building could hear her. She would have surely drop kicked the cat,then skinned him alive and make him watch how she sewed a fur coat. However she didn't do it forone simple reason: Aela was there abd Hilfe didn't want to look bad in front if the Huntress.

"We can't forget about the Thalmor, Harbing always has Talos amulet around his neck"

 "The Blade can't be the culprit...There were over ten corpses of the Blades members on the ground...

[Assistant]
Ironvar was sitting at the back of the Table, isolated. he had been isolated for most of the time he was here, whenever it was his Drunk Shenanigans or his sour attitude. he didn't care though. as long as they gave him a Bed and Booze he was "happy".
He was halfway through his second bottle when he spat it out hearing the news. He felt a searing fury, he stood up and yelled Let's spend less time talking and more time helping our friend! he heard Dar'Adhba claim it was the Stormcloaks, if he was any drunker he'd yell at him for being a idiot. The Stormcloaks are all dead or cowering. I bet it was the damned Thalmor!. he told them his two cents.
Ironvar felt intense rage. He couldn't give less of a crap if someone else had taken his place. but he cared about The Dragonborn. he stopped him from drinking his life away and in return Ironvar felt he was in debt to help him.

@knockout709@NecroKnight

[User]
"That is strange. If no other corpses were there," spoke Way. "One might ask, if it couldn't be them. Or it could be Thalmor, trying to make the Blades take the fall."

"Thalmor are only known, individuals who are able to track and hunt Blades - best we start with them. Might mean, we have to raid Thalmor embassy," spoke Way, letting the idea set in.

[Assistant] "Isn't that suspicious in itself? The Blades are well known as powerful fighters. Even this one would be more cautious when attempting anything on them." Dar'Adhbar let out a small sigh. "They helped slay Paarthurnax, who is the brother of Alduin, and Harbinger would sooner allow himself to be captured to ensure his allies' safety." He looked at Aela. "Dar'Adhbar believes the Blades betrayed Harbinger, at high cost. Would not bother with Thalmor. They are cowards. Rely on unearned power. There would be other corpses than simply blades."

[User]
"Hmm..." muttered Way, walking over to the axe, which still had a coating of blood on it. He ran his finger over it, before tapping the blood against his tongue - letting the taste settle for a moment.

"Interesting this is. Doesn't have that Mer taste to it - and Way has had enough dealings with Altmer, during his time in Cyrodill to remember it well."

[Assistant] Dar'Adhbar nodded. "Smell is different as well. Definitely human. Not Thalmor. May be cowards but they know they cannot win against Harbinger. Not powerful enough."

[User] "I don't like, were this is going," spoke Way, looking the axe over, before returning to his seat. "Why would, this happen to Harbinger? Only strong humans left in Skyrim are Imperials and Blades. Either one could have attacked - reason would be why, and likely where could Harbinger be?"

[Assistant]
You have not seen the Thalmor like I have!. They spend every waking second of there life scheming, if the Thalmor were going to Kidnap the harbinger They wouldn't leave a thing behind. they'd pass the blame on to someone else like the bloody cowards they are! Ironvar yelled, he didn't have any evidence other than a intense desire to dig his axe into another Thalmor skull.
The Blades have no quarry with the Harbinger, he helped them. they have no reason to attack him!

[User] "Empire likes Harbinger. Wouldn't ambush him. Would take too many soldiers. More lost than won." Dar'Adhba then turned to Ironvar. "The Thalmor are even less powerful than the Empire is in Skyrim. They have magic, but Harbinger is highly resistant to magic due to dragon blood. This one believes that the Thalmor would not be foolish enough to make it look like their usual work when removing someone so important."

[Assistant]
"If you guys say the blood on the axe is human then I belive you. However, as some of you suggest it maybe some Thalmor plan...

"You mean like, making us focus on another suspect? Incrimnate someone else? If you ask ne that sounds much like what the Thalmor would do."

"Aaahh! This is getting on my nerves! Form pairs and spread out, search for any clue in all the holds!

 The Huntress shouted now quite mad, she took tbhe Wuuthard and cut a chair in two.

[User]
Way pointed at the Khajiit in the room - giving him an indication to follow Way. Since he was a great tracker of the Companions, not as good as Aela or some of the other veterans - but still better, than the average soldier or hunter.

"Lets go. Way, not liking where this might be heading to."

[Assistant]
Bobo studied the group, and was desperate not to be picked last. He needed to get someone to join his pair... and fast. It would make him forget about people hating him! So, he used someone's rage against them.

He waltzed over to Ironvar and spoke very soft and quiet,

"Ya know, I think it was those Thalmor too. What say you and I go check it out... maybe interrogate one or two. Possibly, torture?" Bobo grinned, hoping that got his attention.

[User] Dar'Adhbar got up, heading towards the door already, his footsteps perfectly silent. "This one believes we should search Dragon Bridge first. Look at the bodies. Must examine the wounds and check for elven scent. This one has met both Blades and Thalmor. Doesn't trust either one. Blades too obsessed with dragons. Fanatical dragonslayers. Suspect that they would attempt to gain the power of the Dragonborn somehow."

[Assistant]
Way merely looked at him, with his stoic expression. "You been drinking skooma again?" asked Way, shaking his head. "You say, a very strange idea. Best is not to assume. Assume, and you might get caught off-guard yourself."

Way had his doubts, but he wasn't quite convinced himself - that the Blades had kidnapped the Dragonborn. For Thalmor' sake, he had done most of what they asked of him and even more. Upto angering the Greybeards themselves - which wasn't a smart thing to do by Nords standards. And if somebody, living in his equal of a frozen tundra, said it was bad - then it was bad.

They soon reached Dragon' Bridge, seeing the bodies as well. "I'll bodies. You search for marks."

[User] Ironvar smiled Ah finally someone speaks my language. he joked to Bobo. he definitely had his attention And where shall we get said "witnesses" he didn't bother to whisper back, he didn't see the need in hiding things. he grabbed his two axes he signaled Bobo to follow him through the door, completely oblivious to the fact that he is being used.

[Assistant]
Bobo perked up and smiled from ear to ear (although nobody could see that through the sack on his head).

"Well, while Way and the khajiit investigate the crime scene, let's check around for any Thalmor that live in a property near by, or possibly one that just so happened to be traveling through."

[User] Good idea. let's go kick some Pansy elf ass! he chuckled like a hardened criminal, Let's head off, I cannot wait to hear them scream, let's Search the roads incase those bastards attempt to escape he wastes no time in running towards the nearest road with a bounce in his step. I am glad to know that we both share the same amount of Hatred for those knife-ears, If I was any dumber, I'd think that you were simply using me!

[Assistant]
"Don't be ridiculous. I would never take advantage of my favorite Thalmor killing friend for my own need."

Bobo pulled out a book listing the residents and trading routes of Dragon's Bridge.

"So, it appears Commander Maro of the Imperial Army took refuge here not long ago, and-"

Bobo trips over a broken down cart on the side of the road. There appears to be two dead travelers and a dead redguard inside the cart, as well as a dead horse.

"Hmm... what do you make of this mess?"


[System]
Basics
Alias: Black Jack
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Alliance: On nobody's side but his own
Power: Superhuman Durability and Elemental Transmutation (ability to change one object into another within reason)

Physical Description

Image:
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 145
Hair: White and kinda wavey
Eyes: Red
Typical Clothing/Equipment: Button up over black v-neck with regular black jeans and combat boots. Occasionally wears a black jumpsuit with red accents with a mask like this

Personality/Attributes

Personality/Attitude: Witty, arrogant, rarely angry, goofy, socially awkward
Skills/Talents: almost inhumanly fast in all aspects, skilled with most weapons
Favourites/Likes: killing, sadism, sex, alcohol, smoking, freedom, favorite weapon is a scimitar
Most Hated/Dislikes: the bastard who stole him from his parents as an infant and tortured him for years.
Goals/Ambitions: to kill all the others and the bastard who tortured him.
Strengths: fast, strong, skilled with most weapons, witty af
Weaknesses: reckless
Fears: dying before he gets his revenge

Additional Notes: Doesn't normally carry weapons on him, uses public transportation, could possibly have STDs, was tortured for 16 years before he escaped, doesn't know who the other victims are but meets them and takes them down on the streets when he finds them.

[User]
Everything was fuzzy. Jack couldn't hear much and couldn't see anything. He had his eyes squeezed shut and was only semi-conscious while everything was going on. Of course he wanted to say something, anything, to let Trick know he wasn't dead. But… Nothing would come out of his mouth. There was a searing pain in his chest. Was he going to die…? Was she going to let him die? She had at least taken him away from Shirley's place, so that was good. He had no idea where they were, all he knew was that he felt sick and that he was losing a lot of blood.
As he drifted in and out of consciousness Jack couldn't tell if he was alone. He had no idea where she had taken him. After a while he had lost consciousness. There was so much blood everywhere, his blood, he was going to die. Even if the bullet hadn't pierced through his heart, it was all over…

Jack didn't dream about what he normally dreamt about. There were no torture, no pain, no Shirley. This dream was different. There was a girl. It was Lexa. She was worried about him, almost painfully so. Lex was some distance away, yelling his name with her hands cupped at her mouth. Jack reached for her, but couldn't get up off of the ground. "Lex!!" He shouted back to her.

Time passed, the dream continued. But not much happened. She kept running toward him but never getting closer. A sharp pain shot through his chest. "Aghhh! What is this???" He raised his hand to clutch his chest. "What's going on?" By now it felt like he was falling, falling into nothingness with a light above him, Lex was gone. "Lex??"

His eyes eased open and it felt like he had just come back from the dead. Jack was weak and everything hurt. "L...Lex..." His voice was meager, he couldn't say much else. The bullet wound that he hardly remembered was pretty much healed up. He looked left, looked right. Where was he, what was going on? Who had saved him? Was he really alive?

[Assistant]
When Jack woke up, it was to a dirty, bloody, tired Lexa curled in a corner of the dark studio. It wasn't the furthest corner from him, but she'd squeezed herself as far as she could go into it, careful distance separating them. One knee was propped up, while the other rested on the side. An arm was thrown carelessly over the higher knee, and Lexa's head was bowed, face pressed into her thin shoulder as a makeshift pillow. She was tantalizingly close to sleep when she heard a sound.

Her head immediately shot up and her muscles tensed. Amber eyes flashed the briefest gold in the darkness. Then her gaze found Jack's body, so still it could've been dead. And she saw the slight rise of his chest. A feeling she wouldn't dare name washed over her, easing the tension she wore like armor. The brief flash of adrenaline was gone as quickly as it'd come, leaving an undeniable need to rest in its wake. But more than that, a curious willingness to rest. She closed her eyes for a long moment and then forced them open again to look at Jack, alive against all odds.

"You're like a damn cockroach," she said quietly, voice a broken rasp. Lexa honestly didn't think he'd make it. She knew she had to check on him, let him know he was safe for the time being, see about getting him some proper medical care. But Lexa couldn't move from her spot in the corner. Her body was frozen in time, refusing to close the distance.

[User]
There wasn't a part of his body that didn't ache. The beating the young man had taken before was now taking a large toll on him. But more than anything there was the sore kind of stinging pain of the bullet wound. Had he really called out for Lexa? He wasn't even sure himself. All was fuzzy. So many questions. Then he heard her voice, like solace in the darkness. He said not a word, which was unusual for him, but it was hard to focus with all the pain and such. Slowly but surely a smirk came onto his face when he was finally able to comprehend what she had said.

"Cockroach...huh? I-I always thought I was more like... some kind of sexy wild cat... you know...?" It was good to see his sense of humor hadn't died like he could have. That was no surprise, his sense of humor had lasted him through the worst tortures one could imagine. What did surprise him was that Lex was there. Not only was she there but she had seemed to have saved him. What an interesting turn of events. It was almost like... she cared about him.

But surely that was impossible. She had only saved him because it was her nature to do so. It was more likely that she was going to turn him in as soon as she could get rid of him. Jack let out a labored sigh at the thought. When at last it felt like someone actually cared if he lived or died, it was only to make sure he was to suffer some more.

[Assistant]
Lexa still couldn't force herself to move. Moving meant action. It meant decisions. And she wasn't ready for those. She scoffed and rolled her eyes at Jack's comment, but it wasn't much of a distraction from the messy cluster of thoughts buzzing in her head.

What was she going to do about Jack? She could've just let him die but instead she'd saved him (well, Tyrell had saved him… and that was a whole other mess to deal with now). And now, because of her, he'd be able to kill and hurt innocent people again. All of those lives, everything he did – it'd be on her shoulders, now. The logical option was to hand him over to the authorities, but what jail could possibly hold him with his powers?

And Ty knew about her. She'd brought him into this, used him and he deserved more than that. He deserved answers. He deserved safety. Lexa didn't know how to ensure that.

But the question that consumed her most of all: had Shirley been telling the truth about her powers? Was she part of the same twisted experiment that had made Jack all he was? A part of her knew it made sense. She remembered the piercing, searing pain from 9's power, how it'd felt too real to be an illusion. What if… what if it hadn't been? She remembered the feral intensity of her hate, her anger, her fear afterwards. Was that… was that who she would've been if she hadn't escaped? Was that who she was?

Lexa closed her eyes and wished she could just sleep through this nightmare.

"So that Shirley guy's a prick. I see why you want to kill him." Her conversational tone was at odds with how her broken voice rasped and tripped over the words.

[User]
Lex didn't move from her spot and neither did Jack. He kind of just stared at the ceiling of wherever they were and listened to her breathing. It was so silent that was pretty much all he could hear was both of them breathing in the quiet. He could tell something was up with her, just by listening. When she finally spoke, mentioning Shirley he couldn't help but laugh. Laughing made him wince but he couldn't help but do so. She finally knew why he wanted this man dead, why it was such a big deal to him. "Yea, he's kind of a dick. More so..." He coughed among his words. "More so a bag of really tiny dicks."

"So... You going to tell me what's up with you? Why you saved me? Why you're all freaking out over there?" With a short, painful breath he added. "I know it's not because I almost died."

Jack forced himself up into a sitting position. "AGHHH!!" He clutched his chest in pain. "The fuck." Oh yea... He had gotten shot. That was not fun. "What's the matter, Lexa?"

[Assistant]
Her mouth opened without her control, ready to tell him everything – about her fears, her guilt, what Shirley had revealed about her past. But… why? She froze, her lips parted but silent. She forced them closed again. Lexa was quiet for a long moment, eyes unfocused and down-turned.

"I saved you," she finally murmured, "because it felt like the right thing to do." That was the only answer he'd asked for that she was willing to give him. Her eyebrows scrunched together. She looked up to meet his eyes. "But I'm not sure it was." Lexa sighed in the darkness. "From now on, everyone you hurt… everyone you kill… it's on me. Because I couldn't let you die." Why couldn't she let him die?

"I know-" what he'd gone through, how he'd suffered, what made him like this "it's not really your fault. I mean – when you kill someone it's your fault. No matter what you went through, your actions are your own." Just like no matter how much she wished otherwise, she was responsible for killing 9… even if she hadn't been herself. "But… I can't blame you for being this person." She looked down again.

"So what am I supposed to do?"

[User]
"What am I supposed to do?"

"You know," He half-winced and half-smirked, "you could've just asked me to stop. I'm fucked up in the head, yes, but I'm not a complete, sadistic fuckwit like Shirley." Jack thought for a moment. "I owe ya my life. I take that at least a bit seriously. I know that stopping my careless murder spree won't change what I've done. But hey, there's gotta be a way to at tone for my sins, amirite?" He stuck his tongue out playfully trying to make light of the situation.

Jack REALLY liked Lexa, but she seemed like she'd never consider him anything but the enemy. "I hate this..." He wasn't sure if he was referring to the pain he felt when he breathed or spoke, or if he meant the fact that she'd never feel anything but disdain toward him. "Sorry, chica, I'm just rambling. Ignore me. How can I be of service, milady?"