[System]
Age: 24
Position: Security? Cybersecurity? Neural Networking? Electronic Warfare man.
Appearance/Clothing:
- 1 tac-gray baseball cap made of kevlar with a spun titanium core, with holographic display and headset included
- 1 red No Piston Inside long-sleeve tshirt
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility jacket (plus a backup), includes a battery pack and a universal charger for drones (he has a drone)
- 1 chort-leather set of utility cargo pants (tan-colored pants shown)
- 1 tac-gray kevlar tactical utility cargo pants (gray colored pants shown)
- 1 worn Shia LaBeouf Just-Do-It brand tennis shoes (plus backup)

Skills:
Hacking,
shooting,
running,
more running,
running on things he shouldn't run on (parkour),
rudimentary skill at driving [and maybe crashing] anything with wheels or gravitronics (anti-grav stuff),
knows lockpicking and welding pretty well (sometimes you have to pick an actual lock, other times you gotta just cut through it),
Knows how to make a mean peach-cranberry cobbler.

Crimes Against The Alliance: He once hacked into a backdoor of an AI on one of the big cruisers, and got it to think that the entire crew were enemies. Another time, he hacked into some rich guy's (he had like this laser pistol or somethin, someone tried to steal it and everyone left one of the displays unattended) bank account and took nearly all his money, and then redistributed it to the Gay Power Association of the System (GPAS), and a whole bunch of other smaller-scale hacking stunts, like reprogramming an ad AI to display random videos of The-Earth-That-Was, such as a recovered "Actual Cannibal Shia Labeouf" video, which gave the Shia LaBeouf Clothing Manufacturer a jumpstart.

Additional Information:
- Paranoid about certain things
- Obsessive about other things
- Can get very, very deep in thought sometimes
- Absolutely horrid at making metaphors or similes

Weapons:
- Fists
- Feet
- Elbows
- Knee
- M34 Combat Sidearm
- SAT-K23 Combat Knife
- Charming personality

Possessions:
A small drone he affectionately calls "Garry"
Some ammunition for his handgun
Various computers, cords, and devices
A very worn but cared-for lockpicking kit
A bunch of electrical replacement parts
A blanket he occasionally wears over everything else, that was white with blue borders, quilt-style

Personality:
To be roleplayed? He's unique. Really.

History:
Ask him about it!

[User]
April scrambled out of the way of the (somewhat anticipated) wrench. "Hey, woah, grease monkey! Look, I know yall does dirty things to these engines when nobody's looking, but it don't mean nobody else can take a look at them. Maybe we'd actually get somewhere if you wasn't this ship's crazy, jealous ladyfriend!"

April put her hands to her hips, fully prepared to have another spat with the engineer, when the com box beside her crackled. "April, get your narrow behind out of there before Cyrek throws a wrench at you! Well, before he throws another one!" April rolled her eyes and spoke back to the box. "May be narrow, cap'n, but I can do great things with it." She turned and left the sputtering engine room and its fuming guardian.

Moving back to the cockpit, her eyes half dulled with boredom, she happened across the captain talking to a stranger. From the gist of it, it seemed like the man was asking for transport on the ship, and was prepared to pay for it with ordinance. Approaching as the man sealed the deal with the captain, April extended a hand, offering a confident smile. "You flying with us? My name's April Cooper, I'm the pilot. You're more'n welcome aboard as far as I'm concerned, but, uh..." She leaned in slightly and offered a mischievous grin, tapping him on the chest with two fingers. "When I say hold onto something? Hold onto something."

She turned and saw Chang'e, the companion, also speaking to the captain. "Oh, hey Dajie. You got another date? Want me to drive?"

[Assistant]
Hannah had been returning to the cargo hold when she heard her name in the buzz of conversation—she paused at the doors to the catwalk that led down into the hold, head cocked to one side as she listened further. A new passenger? She brightened, careening down the ramp past the Captain and finally skidding to a stop with her hands clasped behind her back. April had emerged from the bowels of the engines, apparently, and was talking with the Companion who had been onboard for a while now. Hannah always felt like a bumbling elephant around the elegant woman—she wished she had that kind of grace and charm. She gave a little wave to Preacher, too; she wasn't devout by any means, but she'd been raised on Christ and bourbon and she kept up both traditions.

"Hi!" she said brightly, holding out a hand to shake to the newcomer. "Hannah, that's me. I can show you your bunk and the mess and all that. You said you had ammo? What kinds? I'm always looking for more. Got any large calibers?"

[User]
The captain shouted back to her crew once again before accepting Silas as a passenger, explaining where he'd be staying, and dismissing him in the same breath, before returning to the ship to avoid the in coming preacher.

"Wènhòu," called the Shepard, bowing as he spoke.

"Hello," Silas answered, nodding in a return.

"My name is Iean, I look after this flock. If there is any type of spiritual needs that have gone unattended then please allow me the honor to guide you to the enlightenment of your choosing," Iean said kindly.

"I think my spiritual needs are all seen to. Thanks though," the gunsmith replied, clapping the other man on the shoulder for a moment. Like most folk from Dyton, Silas was technically Roman Catholic. The brunette usually didn't make it to Mass unless it was a holy obligation day and he confessed even less than that. "I'm Si--"

"You flying with us?" Called a small red haired girl as she trotted down the main ramp. When she got to the bottom she reached out and shook Silas's hand. "My name's April Cooper, I'm the pilot. You're more'n welcome aboard as far as I'm concerned, but, uh..." the pilot paused her a leaned in closer, dropping his hand to prod at his chest with a tiny finger while grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "When I say hold onto something? Hold onto something."

"...Right," Silas said, pulling his hand back from the red head. 'Well, that was ominous,' he thought as he watched the pilot prance off before he had a chance to tell her his name. 'She's the pilot? She doesn't look like she's even old enough to have her license.'

"Sorry father. Like I was saying earlier, I'm Silas," the gunsmith continued, glancing back over to where Iean was standing, before catching sight of another person barreling down the ramp. Silas was sure he was going to have to catch her to stop the newcomer from face planting, but she stopped short, holding her hands behind her back.

"Hannah, that's me. I can show you your bunk and the mess and all that. You said you had ammo? What kinds? I'm always looking for more. Got any large calibers?" She asked excitedly, extending a tan hand in offer of a handshake.

"Silas," he told her, gripping her hand in his own and chuckling at how excited she got about the prospect of new ammo. He instantly liked her. "I've got almost anything you could need for a traditional gun and the biggest thing I have are my 50 caliber sniper rifle slugs. I don't have anything for laser guns or rocket launchers," Silas said the last bit with a grimace, forcing himself not to glance in the direction of the goat farmer. "I'd appreciate you showing me what's what, but can you tell me where to stow my merch first? It'd make me a might jumpy to leave them outside."

[Assistant]
Captain stopped in her tracks, the cigarette nearly done she held tightly between her lips as Chang'e caught her attention. She inquired to when they were departing and Captain shrugged before she set the box down she had picked up to move into the cargo bay. "I have no gorram clue. I am waiting on Cryek to get this boat in the air. What? Some man on this dustball want some fun time with you?" she asked; taking the last pull from the smoke and tossing it to the ground and stomping it out with her boot before turning her head to the side and blowing the smoke away from her through clenched teeth. Seeing April come over she groaned slightly. "Yeah, you take her and keep the com open, if we get ready to leave high tail both your narrow behinds back here post haste. And bring me back something to eat," Captain said quickly before hefting the crate back up and tucking it under one arm and turning to walk off.

 "Hannah, get the boy settled in and stow the explosives. I don't want another whoops boom in the cargo bay!" she shouted as she walked off towards the cargo bay to stow the crate of food rations she had acquired earlier in the day. Once that was done she moved quickly through the ship to the engine room and stopped at the door, leaning against the frame as she crossed her arms over her chest.

 "When the hell you gonna have my ship ready Cyrek?" she asked as she took another cigarette out and lit it. "I want to break atmo by dusk. Oh and we have a new passenger, do don't throw any wrenches until we are in outer amto okay? Don't want the little bloke running before I get some type of payment," she said taking a pull from the cigarette and smirking, holding it out to him.

[User]
Benson sat outside on the ramp, ignoring pretty much everyone, while 'petting' Garry. He ignored everyone, ignored everything, ignored the stares of the goat farmer, ignored his goat which was also staring at him, and most importantly, ignored the urge to go introduce himself to the new person. It wouldn't be proper, after all- someone had to be different. The rest were all jumping over themselves to meet the new face- except the Grump, who was probably beating his head against the engine right now.

So eventually he finished rewriting part of the Heart of Gold's processing unit so that he could have a backdoor and exclusive access at the input of a password, and shut off the admin desk. Pocketing it, he took Garry up in one of his hands and then rubbed his thumb from his other hand across the shiny domed plate that made up the top of the small machine's central processing center. He wiped off the rubber-coated feet of the spider-like device, and then held it up in front of him, staring right into the bot's "eyes." Small plates attached to the front of Garry shifted and moved, some moving closer to each other, some farther. Garry had been programmed with a rudimentary artificial intelligence- one that manipulated the plates in accordance to pre-programmed 'emotions.' When they were tight against each other, it was because the situation was dire, he was running out of battery, or all odds suggested that he would fail. When spread as far apart as possible, he was relatively 'happy'- and the other emotions ranged between that. Right now, the plates were all stretched out from each other, expressing relative enjoyment and happiness.

Then he whistled, and Garry jumped off his shoulder and scurried off. Heaving a heavy sigh, he rolled himself to his feet, and walked back into the suffocating interior.

He passed people with only the simplest of his courtesy- to the 'Shepherd,' or whatever he called himself, he just said his usual, repeated many-a-times response to his attire, "Your clothing is ridiculous and outdated." To the Companion, he only said, "Garry likes your rabbit." To the captain, he reported, "Ship up to date and electronically sound." To the gunsmith, he said, "Welcome aboard. Don't go in my room." To the gunner, his face temporarily brightened- slightly- and said, "I bet I could break your safe."

Then he was walking past them all and was in his room, nice and quiet.

He dropped himself onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, feeling more apathetic than ever. Then he mentally waved it away, apathetic about his apathy, and started fiddling with the electronics in Garry's advanced little body.


[System]
Age: 34

Description:

Occupation: Let's go with "operative".

Branch of government worked for: A secret organization dubbed as Sierra not attached to any one branch of the U.S. Government. This organization has no ranks, only the agents in it serving under the pleasure of "Command", the person running the show. Those in Sierra answer to no one, not even the president himself. Command is the individual giving all orders or asking the agents to break them.

Location you were working in: Washington, D.C.

History: Elizabeth started out as a basic FBI employee years before she was personally recruited for Sierra. She was an interpreter in the FBI, being she was born and raised in New Jersey but is of Puerto Rican descent and thus is perfectly fluent in Spanish. Her ex-husband, Scott Kelton, was originally opposed to the idea of Elizabeth working for the government given the dangerous nature of the job, but she went on to follow her dreams regardless of what Scott said.

Over time, Elizabeth became more than just an interpreter. Because she swore an oath to the agency and was extremely loyal, Elizabeth became involved in some of the dirty work the FBI handles and from that point forward, she never went back to only worrying about her basic duties. She carried out "less-than-humane" methods of extracting information from subjects and she wasn't necessarily proud of it, but it was something that didn't phase her. That's when Command from Sierra noticed, and immediately recruited her to be trained in various methods of torture (lethal and non-lethal), close-quarters combat, weapons training, and computer training. Within months, Elizabeth was out on the field and loving every minute of it, particularly because Sierra allowed her the freedom to do the job as she needed, within some guidelines of course.

On a cold, January evening, Elizabeth got orders from Command to assassinate James Erick White. What stopped her heart was the fact that at the time, James was the leader of the free world, and someone whom she'd known during her childhood years. They were next-door neighbors at the time, and she was James' sister's best friend. When the White family moved away, Elizabeth was torn; Joanna and her were nearly inseparable and spent a lot of time talking on the phone before the relationship eventually faded into mere memories. With the document in hand, Elizabeth packed an overnight bag and left town, but Command found out almost immediately. Other agents caught up to her and even though she put up a decent fight, she was outnumbered and eventually got locked away in the hospital.

Personality: A bit shy at first around strangers, but over time she'll become a chatterbox. Doesn't like when people play emotional games with her as she abstains from doing the same, except when it has to do with work, of course.

Skills: Sharpshooter with pistols and rifles, hacker, evidence "clean-up" expert, can keep emotions in line (most of the time), and skilled in methods of torture.

Likes: Netflix and video games, when not at work. She also spends some weekend nights out in a bar or dancing with a friend or two.

Dislikes: Liars and people who don't own to their mistakes.

Extra: Divorced once husband found out how cold and heartless she was.

[User]
"Yeah, Xander, you ought to pay close attention," Elizabeth chimed in, giving him a playful nudge and a wink. "Obviously I'm in..." she continued, turning back to Nancy, "...as long as Dr. Greene can't find a reason to show up in the room and cut our little party short."

Elizabeth wasn't just trying to keep herself out of trouble, but she was looking out for Nancy as well. She knew the nurse was a good person, not allowing the likes of this place to influence her morals for the worse. If she could help just one person hold on to their humanity, then she would do everything in her power make it happen.

"Now all we need is a nice bottle of wine and this will be the best movie date I've had in years."

@Inda

[Assistant]
Xander gave a nice laugh at that accompanying it with a pat on Elizabeth's shoulder, "Well if you haven't hear around the campfire, old Nancy here is quite the swooner. I tell ya her 'wine and dine' game is above and beyond." Hearing Dr. Greene's name always made Xander shudder. The good Doc was the mad scientist of old black and white films, it would seem. Gives you all the wrong feelings at the right times when you think about him.

Giving a normal Xander grin he responded, "I am always good to learn a new thing or two in the comedy world. Help keep me up to date with all the people, ya know? So no one can say that I am getting "Bland" or "Annoying". Pff, what do they know right?"

[User]
"Well, I can't guarantee that Dr. Greene won't arrive, but I doubt he will. You two go to the recreation room and I'll be back with the movie and my laptop." She turned and started off down the hallway toward the staff wing. It felt like it took far too long to get there, but perhaps that was because she had had such a long day. When she finally reached her rooms, she wanted to lie down. Instead, she changed out of her scrubs and into lounge clothes- yoga pants and a baggy t-shirt from a concert she saw while in college. She didn't care if this was allowed or not. She was off duty, so she didn't need to be in the scrubs.

The staff rooms were minimal, but still far more than the patient rooms. Staff rooms included a small living area, a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Her kitchenette was filled with not-so-good-for-you foods (most meals were gotten from the main cafeteria), including microwave popcorn. Nancy popped a couple of bags, grabbed some water bottles, and a package of cookies. She would really need to go off the island to get supplies at some point. She hadn't left the island since she started, so she wasn't sure how this would work... but staff had to be able to go off the island sometimes. Right?

She started back, carrying her things in a bag. The smell of popcorn was strong to begin with, but she had popped it in her rooms so as not to attract to many other patients once she got back to the patient halls. She hoped it would work.

[Assistant]
He watched as Nancy left then turned to Lizzy. "Well I better go slip into something more comfortable myself." Xander said as he made a quick turn around spinning on his heels to face back at Liz. "What do you think of my lounge wear? I think it shows a bit of 'I'm very relaxed yet approachable'." Leaving his arms outstretched as if showing off the wonder that was his asylum outfit.

In all honesty he couldn't have been more excited to get some relaxation with two other sane people in this asylum. It was a real treat that Nancy was going out on a limb being this relaxed around us. He felt as though he didn't want to put her in harms way as he believed Elizabeth felt. No decent person would shake the limb of someone going outstretched for a fruit. Even if the person that would shake the hardest was the person who owned the whole forest.

[User]
"Hm, I'm not quite sure how I feel about it," Elizabeth replied, faking a British accent and narrowing her eyes to appear as if she was analyzing Xander's attire, "I mean, you're wearing last year's trend so if people think you don't care about yourself, then they might believe you don't care about them at all."

She couldn't help but chuckle at her own comment, the realization that she had to go to such great lengths to find a little entertainment in the hospital made her shake her head.

"Recreation room it is, then. Now if only we could get our hands on some alcohol..."

[Assistant]
Nancy made it to the recreation room with her popcorn, movie and laptop in tow, and somehow seemed to have escaped the notice of most of the other patients. She knocked on the room of Sasha as she passed, thinking it would be a nice way to thank him for him help earlier, but it looked like he was sleeping... she couldn't be sure. To be on the safe side she half whispered,

"Movie in the recreation room!", and then moved on. She was looking forward to spending some time with people, something she had really needed. She hadn't realized how much.

Once there, she saw Xander and Elizabeth waiting for her.

"Made it! And with some treats." She set the food down on the table and proceeded with getting her laptop set up.

"I hope it's ok, but I knocked on Sahsa's door to let him know. He helped me out earlier today and I felt like I should repay him. I'm not sure if he was asleep or not, though... so he may or may not show up." Nancy grabbed a handful of popcorn and plopped down in the center of the couch she had aimed the screen at.

"Ready, you two?" She asked with a smile, her fingering hovering over the 'Play' button.

[User]
Sasha lifted his head at the sound of someone knocking at his door. The plucky young nurse's voice came through from the other side. Sasha stared at the closed door in a bit of disbelief. A movie? Really? Those idiots were going to get busted so hard. He was pretty sure this sort of thing was frowned on here.

He dropped his head back down and stared at the ceiling for a few more minutes.

Then again, he didn't really have anything better to do, did he. Sasha sighed as he stood and strode towards his door. He had a feeling that he was going to regret this.

He walked down the hall to the recreation room and was met by the sight of a few other patients and Nancy nesting down to start a movie. He silently walked in and found a folding chair to pull up. He turned it around and sat in it backwards so that he could rest his arms and chin on the back.

[Assistant]
Xander plopped down, arms falling behind the couch, "I was born ready you wild and crazy kids." This was the life I tell ya. Locked behind prison bars at all times, now sitting next to the few people in this asylum that kept him sane. Xander truly felt comfortable for the first time in a while. His brain was just focused on the movie, nothing could shake him right now. To get lost in a story was the way to go now a days.

He thought about the random songs he would sing to help him remember the good times. Sitting at the mess hall while deployed for one. Sometimes days would be so bland that the only thing you could talk about was the other person's meal. That was enough though. Just to keep it as fresh as you could. Learning random instruments with friends, sounding awful, but having a "jam" session of sorts. The little things is what made the person, as it were.

Not just that though, but the company you kept. What Xander brought to the table, or what he had hoped, was relief of sorts from the mundane. Relief from your mind at times. All he cared about was the insanity that was building up within most of us. Hell maybe even some of the staff started to get bitten by the fever. He tossed a couple of sweat treats in his mouth as he would gaze back at the door every now and again. He would be damned if someone would come in and ruin this much needed relaxation time for the group. He would be good and damned if someone did that.

[User]
Nancy smiled when she saw Sasha walk into the recreation room. He had been awake, after all. She waved, but didn't speak. He seemed to want to be silent and she wanted to respect that. When Xander settled onto the couch next to her, she hid a smile with a handful of popcorn.

A piece fell down her shirt... of course. She finished crunching the handful that hadn't tried to escape and reached in to retrieve the renegade kernel and tossed it onto the table. She hoped no one noticed.

The music was fantastic. She couldn't help but sing along when some of the songs started. When "Shake Your Tail Feathers" came on, she sang the whole song while doing a goofy dance akin to the dance being done on the cars in the movie. She wasn't loud, but she couldn't not sing to that song.

"Come on! You have to know the song!" She said to everyone when she saw them not singing to it.

[Assistant]
Elizabeth was enjoying the movie. Not one she would think about seeing if it were up to her, but since Nancy had brought it down, she was glad she had been given a chance to watch it. No one else was saying much, and for a good reason. Elizabeth would grab a handful of popcorn every so often, glad to have a snack past dinnertime that didn't require sneaking it around past the guards. Just then, Nancy decided to start singing one of the songs from the movie. Elizabeth stared at her for a moment, softly bobbing her head to the catchy tune until she couldn't help but laugh.

"Alright, you got me!" She kicked off her shoes, then stood on the table opposite to where the laptop had been placed. Undoing her ponytail, Elizabeth started dancing as if she was in some carnival and not the break room of a secluded hospital. She didn't show any restraint aside from the making sure she didn't take a wrong step and fell off the table. The broken bones wouldn't be fun to explain to anyone currently not in the room.

Once the song was over, Elizabeth took a bow with a smile. She went back to her seat to put her shoes on again, a bit of relief flowing through her that no one had walked in at the wrong moment.


[System]
ABSTRACT:
An unnaturally curious young Jorogumo.

INTENT:
Breaking out of the stigma of her species.

FIRST ADVENTURE:
Seclusive would explain Lila's species well. They did not go outside their caves much or interact with anything else that isn't trapped for food. That is except for Lila. She was gifted, or cursed, with a strong sense of curiosity. Her first adventure was nothing more than going into the light. The world outside that was bright, unknown, scary, and exhilarating.

HOW DO YOU KNOW KETTLE?
Their meeting was less than ideal. Even out and about a giant woman spider needs to catch some food. And Kettle would have been dinner had she not mentioned she was a fellow explorer. Old habits die hard. It would be in bad taste to eat a colleague, especially one much more well versed.

WHY DID KETTLE PICK YOU?
Beside her strong sense of adventure? Lila's unique physiology allows the ability to navigate difficult terrain. Her people primarily living in the dark she does not need much light to see.

HOW DO YOU KNOW Bishop Forthwind?
On her travels Lila has done her best to meet people. It doesn't always work out so well. Not everyone can deal with spiders, especially a giant one that has half a human torso. However the priest seemed to be different, on a mission. Turned out that he was more than willing to share knowledge and faith. While Lila was not quite sure about the whole faith thing she wasn't opposed to listening either.
@Mr_pink

[User]
Nel stared blankly at the unfinished painting, "I'm afraid I don't quite get it."

"What is there to get?" Came a reply from a gruff man, a man Nel simply referred to as 'Painter' after an elongated exchange in which she only learned that the man loved painting, waxing philosophical, and performing linguistic gymnastics. He was a curmudgeon; graying, grumpy, and he seemed to have a permanent scowl set upon his thin lips.

He was also the only person currently awake enough to speak to Nel.

The pair sat, along with several other people, in the enclosed back of a re-purposed merchant's coach headed for the border. The man who had been so kind as to pick Nel up was a coyote; one who smuggled citizens into and out of country's for a fee. The people here were criminals, political prisoners-- there were even a few people like her, poor people from any number of the villages dotting the country side who hadn't been accepted as they were. All interesting character, all sought asylum in the lands to the south. Nel wasn't planning on going that far, her stop was the bayou-- the coyote's coal-horses could push right through the swampy muck, making passage with him much more direct.

She'd reach the Blunderbuss Café before midday at this rate-- already, she'd covered more distance in a hours than she had in a whole moon!

Nel tilted her head, squinting in the poorly lit cab, trying to understand the composition of the Painter's brush strokes-- for the life of her, it looked like black butterflymoth droppings! She tried to understand his question-- What is there to get?

"I'm sorry?"

"What are you sorry for?"

Whispering, she parroted his question, "What am I sorry for?"

"That's what I asked wasn't it!" The cab bumped into something, the small oil lamp shook from where it hung, and with the bump, the painter made a harsh diagonal swipe, as if he wished to cut the canvas.

The coyote called back to apologize to everyone for the bumpy conditions of the swamp.

"I suppose you did..." Nel adjusted her sitting position to get a closer look at the black Rorschach mass, "Still. I'm afraid I can't answer your question if I don't very understand what it is you're asking!"

"Can't you?" the old Painter retorted.

"No? I think I'd need clarification to give a good answer."

"Do you know that?" He spoke with a tone an annoyed parent would speak to a child with.

"Sir?"

"Do you know that you need some form of clarification to give answers?" He grunted, another harsh stroke as the coach met more resistance from the swamp.

"If they're to be good answers, I should think so!"

"Do answers need to be good?"

"I'd certainly prefer it if they were."

"Why?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Why do you prefer good answers?"

"Uhm.."

"If you've got the clarification..." His speech slowed as he began to get into the fine details of his painting, "... to lead someone else..." Was that a face he was painting? "... to a good answer... then why not just find the answer yourself?"

Nel thought on the Painter's words for a moment, before an answer to his question shot to her mind, "A different perspective?"

He threw down his brush with a grunt at the answer, before turning to Nel in the cramped quarters, "Do you 'get' my painting?"

"I'm not quite sure there's anything to get, sir."

"Mmm." The Painter nodded.

"It probably means something different to everyone," This got another approving nod from the Painter, "I am a little curious what it means to you, if you don't mind my asking, sir."

"Oh! You don't get off that easy, miss." He gave a mixture of a grimace and a grin, "I asked you first."

Nel took in the black painting once more before answering with "A lover's embrace."

"That's an interesting take," The Painter, who signed his painting Barysheva, he rubbed a hand through his scraggly beard, covering the thing in black paint. No doubt he was contemplating his finished work, he seemed very satisfied. "I was actually just interpreting what I was seeing..."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm!" He clasped calloused hands together, "I was painting you."

---

---

Nel followed a path of glowing pleurotus ostreatushe to the café, muck had already began to coat the bottom of her floor-length dress before she'd entered the swamp, with each step, she became more acquainted with the mushy loam. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling to her-- in fact, if she closed her eyes as she moved forward, she could almost picture herself back on the farm, it was just another misty morning after a monsoon... the fertile mud would give rise to lovely greens...

Nel's eyes slowly opened, face to face with some horrid, draconic... thing!

Instinctively, Nel jumped back, wrapping herself around one of the wooden pillars of the suspended café.

The cameldragon yawned in response.

Nel, unconvinced that the creature wouldn't consume her if she got too close, remained with the pillar, several feet away from the door. Was this Kettle's? It couldn't possibly be! It looked like it'd just as soon suck out the bones of a woman her size as it would accompany her as a mount!

Or wait.

Was she thinking of vampirecows? Nel didn't take her eyes off the creature, but her gaze softened. Perhaps she was getting her creatures mixed up again?

Detecting movement, Nel looked to her feet. Climbing up her dress-- or rather, walking vertically, was a mushroom pixie. She didn't shoo it away, and instead watched as the small girl-like fungus confidentially walked up, sat down on her shoulder, and crossed it's legs. These things were considered good luck back home. Taking the presence of the mushroom pixie as a good sign, Nel tentatively walked past the Cameldragon and slowly opened the door into the café.

What she saw filled her with terror unspeakable.

The Skeleton Man.

With eyes wide and skin pale, Nel slammed the door shut and turned away. Whatever Kettle had wanted from her parents, it was not worth dealing with the Skeleton Man again. Mushroom pixie luck was only so strong, and that guy was... too spooky.

[Assistant]
Saira looked over the note again before tucking it into the crook between her vest and her shirt. She was quite surprised how the letter found her, after all, she was constantly on the move. But then again, Kettle had a strange way of knowing things, out of all people she'd be the one able to find her. Kettle spoke of some sort of discovery, and with her sort or enthusiasm, how could Saira say no? Besides, it wasn't like she had any better place to be, and she deserved some sort of excitement in her life. Saira stretched her arms high, sucking in a deep breath of air before swinging her lute onto her back and patting down her pockets to check her possessions. It would be a long journey, the Blunderbuss Café was quite a ways from where she was, if she was thinking of the right place. While never having visited such a place before, she was convinced she has heard its name come up once or twice in conversations. Well, no matter, Saira had traveled here and there and somehow managed to survive this far, she'd probably be able to make it to the meeting point as well.

She didn't have the money on her to rent any sort of noble steed, but she did hitchhike for quite a way there. The locals were always so nice, save for the few that didn't really appreciate her presence, but luckily that was few and far in between. Walking the entire way, while possible, wasn't her favorite choice. Ever she had injured her leg in the "accident", she avoided walking prolonged distances if she could. The rides she took were never "free", per say, she always insisted in strumming some sort of tune to liven up the ride at least a little. One of the travelers was even transporting a magnificent harp for a noble in a distant land. It was quite gorgeous, really, supposedly made of solid silver with string woven with the fires of the rare chimera. While Saira was fairly certain that was all but true, the harp created a beautifully haunting melody as she plucked idly at the strings.

However, her companions came and went like the wind, it seemed, everywhere had somewhere else to be, and speaking of, she did too. It was just her luck that some merchant also happened to travel through the Desert of Glass, but they parted soon enough. The desert really reminded her of home, what with the searing heat and sand, it was practically the same thing! The desert was the easy part, but the Marshes were another story. Every step seemed to soak her boots in mud and drag her deeper and deeper down into the ground. It took her a while to reach her destination, mostly because of the last leg of her journey, but she did indeed make it. And she knew it for certain when she spotted that large, unmissable cameldragon (and a few other animal companions) tethered right outside the door. Saira won't lie, she shrieked with joy and sprinted the rest of the way. Flinging off mud at the doorstep, she ran a quick hand through her hair to tame it again before yanking the door wide open to let herself in.

It was pleasantly packed, and it seemed Kettle had invited people from far and wide. And, not to mention, people she had encountered before. Only once or twice, but the coincidence was still amazing. But all that could wait until later. Saira made a beeline for the tables packed with food, marveling over the treats that she both did and did not recognize. This. This made it almost worth it.

[User]
This was truly a special occasion. Lila had never received a letter before. Firstly because few know her and second because there never arose a reason to send for her. But there one was, from a fellow explorer no less. Kettle and she had the opportunity to meet and trade stories of their adventures. Of course the more experienced woman had far more to tell. But it gave Lila something to aspire to.

Apparently she was being called to accompany the adventurer to discover something far grander than she ever imagined. While riches were not of much consequence it was hard to deny the draw of the unknown. Speaking of, this cafe was well past lands Lila explored. But Kettle was someone that was worth trekking across the wilderness for. While there were others that she had come across in her travels none seemed as well versed.

Most of the way was not very difficult to navigate. Her legs made travel quick and climbing over terrain easy. Well, most of the time. The wetland proved to be more difficult than most. Her legs coming to a point didn't leave much for surface tension. Might as well have been planting a stake in the mud. Sticking to some of the more dry patches her route was not as straight forward, but manageable. Thus are the problems when one passes the existing path. Perhaps procuring a proper map would have helped.

"Finally. This place was so much harder to find than I imagined." Then again, she usually just wandered rather than try to actually go anywhere specific. Climbing up the rock wall she spotted Grom. It was yet one of the many unexpected surprises of travel. She quite liked the cameldragon, another mixed creature like herself. Petting it briefly she turned to see Nel backing away from the door. Curious she moved closer but announced her presence. Not doing so had a way of frightening other. "Hello there. Are you alright?" Having moved to the door she opened it cautiously and saw a great variety to beings. Four of which she had encountered in the past, they being the Forthwind, Sarant, Leon, and of course Kettle herself. Quite interesting. There was supposed to be some secrecy involved but apparently she was not the only one selected for this trip. She looked back to the woman behind her.


[System]
Description:
Cassius is of Gallic descent and thus has pale skin. He stands a few inches taller than most Romans at 5'9'', with a slim build, one of working indoors and not in the fields. This type of work has left Cassius's skin pretty blemish free save a scar on his left hand from cutting himself accidentally while cooking as a child. Another thing that makes Cassius stand out is his bright red hair. While the color is unusual, he keeps it in a short cut like most men in the city. His face is quite plain, with a round shape, a defined nose, and blue eyes like the sea. His wardrobe is provided by his owner, which is usually a simple robe and shirt, often in plain colors.

Age:
23

Gender:
Male

Social Class:
Servi (Slave)

Nationality:
Gallic

Personality:
Cassius is a very complacent person. He doesn't really look forward to anything, as he lives in the moment. And that means serving his owner. As he's never really been treated badly, Cassius sees no reason to complain. In fact he takes pride in his work as he does consider himself a very skilled cook and servant.
Cassius tends to have a positive view of the Empire, seeing it as a perfectly working machine, one that shall last forever. Cassius is so sure of this that he does not fret at mentions of foreign wars, or rumors of a plague. Cassius does believe that everything has a status quo and will keep it.
When talking to others, Cassius always goes for respect and understanding. He quite often will do what he can to help others and will never speak negatively of them. This helps Cassius to blend in into society, as the helpful guy who does nothing of note.

Brief Back Story:
Cassius's family can be traced back to Gaul, just west of the Rhine in what would become Germany. His family was opposed to working with Julius Caesar when he invaded Gaul in 58 BC, refusing to fight the migrating Helvetii people. This stance was not unnoticed by Rome who held it against the clan when they took over Gaul. Cassius's family would be pariahs, cut off from the benefits of the Empire. This treatment led to a small revolt against the Romans, one that the other Gallic tribes did not support. The legions of Rome quickly put down this riot, slaying all the adults who participated. The surviving children then were taken to Rome as slaves. One of these children was Cassius's grandmother.
Cassius's grandmother would serve as a maid for a prominent noble family, eventually becoming involved with another slave from Gaul. They would have several children, who by Roman law were born slaves. One of these girls would inherit her mother's position as the house maid. She would become involved with a field slave, having children with him, including Cassius.
Born without a name, he would be sent to serve a senator in Rome itself. The senator would give him the single name of Cassius. The young Gaul would be raised without an education, instead learning to clean house and to cook. Cassius would quickly find himself a great cook, especially when using spices from far off lands. This quickly led to him becoming one of the preferred slaves in the household.
Cassius would maintain a good relationship with his senator owner, up until he took ill. Deciding to retire for his health, the senator moved away from the city, hoping that the countryside would be good for him. The senator's first born son would move into the residence. The younger man would have many ambitions to become a senator like his father.
Cassius and the other slaves would no longer be treated as well, as the son looked down on non-Romans. But Cassius still performed his duties, not knowing any other kind of life. Cassius would quickly become one of the oldest slaves at the home as most couldn't last under the son, being sold off to other nobles. Eventually, Cassius figured that his cooking skills was the only reason he was kept around.

Equipment:
Besides the clothing he wears, Cassius doesn't really own anything. Any tool he uses is owned by his master.

Skills:
Cassius is trained as a house servant. He is adept at cleaning things, chopping wood, and doing whatever he is ordered to. His one true passion is cooking, as he is recognized as a master in the kitchen. He loves to use foreign goods in his cooking as he does experiment with dishes, to which his masters have never complained.

[User]
It started off like a plague. Terrible and indiscriminate, it swept through the city of Rome, bringing many of it's people to the gates of Dis. For days, the smoke from the funeral pyres could be seen billowing into the air from all seven of Rome's hills. Yet there were always more bodies to burn, and a few always fell through the cracks of the Vigiles who organized the burnings.

Then, without any warning, the dead began to rise.

First it was a handful, but soon walking corpses began to spread throughout the city. Those they caught eaten. Those who escaped with wounds soon became like their killers.

The Senate scrambled, forcing every living citizen to the Palatine Hill at the heart of the city. Once secured, the Praetorians and and armed militias closed the gates to the rest of Rome.

Lucius Casca, a former centurion turned militia commander, knew in his bones that his people were now in a deathtrap. Standing atop the quickly thrown up palisade, he could see the mass of bodies pushing and shambling their way towards his defenses.

With his one good hand, he put a whistle to his mouth and blew, signaling to his assembled militiamen and whoever was standing near by that the Mortui were making another push.

[Assistant]
Junia Phillipa Maxima

---

 Truth be told, Junia was exhausted. Her journey back to Rome has been a harrowing one. They liked to say that all roads led there. Yet, it had seemed as if all led from the great city. She could've sworn she'd been the only soul heading towards it - a profoundly unsettling feeling to be sure. It had been nearly a week's worth of stealth, sudden terror, and fighting. In her head, she'd told herself that it was just like those games of hide-and-seek she'd played with her brothers and sisters as a child, but the stakes were life or death and there was no missing that. Then, after she'd made it back to the Palatine against staggering odds, hoping to find dear Fabius and Quintus alive, an overenthusiastic sentry had nearly skewered her with a spear. She vaguely remembered her boastful jest at the the time that she knew that she looked half-dead and surely felt it but, just as surely, was not yet ready to be counted among the mortui.

She'd had a day to search and recover, but it had hardly been restful. Her dear ones were yet missing and she felt aches in parts of her body that she had not previously known even existed. Already, she had been engaged as a scout and skirmisher, her almost-preternatural quickness and stealth an asset, yet she felt the skepticism of these men on the front lines - so many of them ex-legionnaires, so many rugged and brawny, gruff and hardened. They were not unkind. They simply had not yet accepted her as one of them and might never do so. That was no matter. Junia had her part to do even if, in her heart of hearts, she had begun to suspect she had made herself into a trapped rat in the name of a lost cause. Best to burn the city, the dead, and everybody in it at this point, she thought. Flee to the countryside in small groups, and hunt down the mortui gradually. Her personal feelings on the matter weren't of much consequence, though. She would spend some days here and perhaps longer if the situation improved but, if not, she would risk herself again. Better to die trying to live than holed up and waiting to die. She'd make a break for it. She'd done so once and could do it again or so she tried to convince herself.

Casca, the ex-centurion with the bad hand, put that whistle in his mouth that she'd heard before. She knew what it meant when he blew it. Junia hopped up onto the barricade, gladius in hand, nerves on fire, scanning the burgeoning wave of mortui and trying not to project a sense of courage and belief that she did not truly feel.

[User]
Auxilio Mauritanius

He had always wanted to see Rome, ever since he heard his masters praise the city during his earlier life as a slave in Africa. But that was a life Auxilio rarely permitted himself to think about, and now was not a good time to start. And alas, Rome had been a complete disappointment. Maybe it was unfair to judge the city on the impression it made during a plague of undeath, but still - what a shithole.

Auxilio had arrived during the early days of the plague. The people of Rome were dying of illness, their scouts and guards included. Times came when able-bodied men became scarcer by the day, and the Senate had sent for the best men from all the colonies and vassal-states as reinforcements. Auxilio was among these men, and at first he felt great pride in this. When the boat docked at Rome's harbor and he smelled the smoke, the panic and the miasma, the pride shrivelled back into nothing. What was he going to do here? How was he going to help? The only way he knew how - following orders.

The nature of the new sickness of the Romans was surprising, and even Auxilio could not help but be afraid. The dead walking, growling and eating flesh was the most unnatural thing he could imagine. And so, as the others did, he fled to the Palatine Hill, as they were told. And now, Auxilio found himself within the ranks of the remaining Romans, in the very center of this city of wonder, which had turned out to be a city of death and decay.

A whistle rang in Auxilio's ear. He turned to face where the sound came from, it was one of the few military veterans among them, a natural leader in these times of strife. The horse at Auxilio's side, a young mare, tall and elegant with a black hide, found the noise alarming and was obviously stressed. Auxilio put a hand on her forehead and shushed carefully, soothing her. Most people hadn't even questioned the fact that Auxilio brought a horse with him to the bastion during the escape, probably because of the color of his skin and the curls of his hair. The Mauri and their steeds belonged together, everyone knew that. And if Auxilio was to be of use against the undead, he better have his horse.

[Assistant]
The red haired slave walked alongside the buildings of Palantine Hill, passing many a shaking man. Like those men, Cassius had been decimated emotionally by the rise of undeath. How had these Mortui captured most of Rome so fast? This city was supposed to be a jewel of these lands, a city that would stand forever. And yet this plague had brought it to its knees, the gods seemingly forsaking all of Rome.

It had started slow, a new disease spreading across the Empire. Cassius was aware of it as a few fellow slaves died, and some neighbors of his master. But Cassius assumed that this disease was like all others he had heard of. It would cull the weak and lead to a stronger population. But then the plague got worse. Vast swaths of Rome were filled with corpses, as there was not enough fires to deal with the dead. But then these unburned dead began to rise, feeding on the flesh of the living.

Cassius's master immediately fled his home, taking only a few select slaves with him, Cassius included. They had left for a better defended part of the city, taking refuge behind legions of soldiers. But even the blades of these centurions could not keep back the dead, so the survivors were pushed back and back, until now when all that was left was Palantine Hill.

Against the Mortui, Cassius was mostly useless. His only relevant skill that could help the survivors was his culinary skills. Cassius had become the de facto head chef for the survivors. He figured that he could raise spirits with a good meal, but that was becoming harder as he ran out of ingredients. The assembled living had very quickly gone through all the spices from the east, with most other ingredients following suit. As of this morning they were almost out of meat.

As Cassius wondered what kind of dish he could make tonight, he heard a familiar whistle, one he dreaded. That was the commander stating that the undead were attacking again. A cold sweat immediately engulfed Cassius as he knew that this could be it, his death. Like all of the men assembled, Cassius was expected to defend this position. Hell, he had even seen some women defending the hill.

Since he wasn't trained in combat before this, he had been assigned a simple weapon, a spear. As Cassius ran toward the barricade, he picked up a spear resting against a wall. With how many men they were losing on each attack, it was quickly becoming that they had more weapons than warriors to use them.

Cassius ground his teeth as he reached the barricade. With spear in hand he pressed up against the makeshift barrier. In the distance he could hear the unnatural call of the Mortui, causing him to shiver. Cassius also saw other defenders shaking. It seemed that they had far too few actual soldiers, as Cassius was surrounded by merchants, politicians, and farmers.


[System]
Nickname(s): Nate or, if you want to annoy him, "J. J." "Fixit Felix" and "Mr. Fixit" were a couple he gained in high school, and some people still use them every once-in-a-while, though he's still on the fence about those.

Mystery Inc. Relation: Fred's third cousin.

Age: 25

Appearance: Nate is quite the looker, from his slightly curled, brownish-blond hair that's always fashionably messy no matter what he tries to do with it, to his pale blue eyes. Though usually clean-shaven, he has been slacking with shaving lately, so has stubble growing on his face, giving him a handsomely-rugged sort of look that he finds he rather likes. Though not very muscular, he is by no means scrawny, and stands at about 5'10."

Distinguishing Marks: His hands are rough, and he has various scars and healing scrapes on them and his arms from his work, various outdoorsy activities, and DIY projects gone awry. His nose is also slightly dented in the bridge, as if it was once broken, but you have to know what you're looking for to really notice it. Lastly, he has a small, pale scar on his right temple from when he was a teenager and an invention of his broke down and a scrap of metal from it assaulted him.

Clothes Wear: Outside work or other more messy projects, he's never seen without a denim jacket, even in the dead of summer. During those summer months, or working on something, he usually keeps the sleeves rolled up. Usually he wears a simple t-shirt under his jacket, a pair of jeans, and either leather cowboy boots or some sort of hiking boots.

Accessories/Items: He keeps a Swiss army knife in his pocket, a loaded toolbox in the back of his truck, and has learned to keep a fair-sized first-aid kit in his glove compartment.

Occupation: Mechanic and handyman, with a tad bit of a side in plumbing.

Abilities and Weaknesses: Abilities: The man can fix just about anything. It's just something he's always been capable of doing, even before he started studying for it, and breezed through various certifications on the matter. He knows how to handle himself in a fight, having encountered a fair amount of them. Weaknesses: Computers. He's pretty sure the things are against him, and go out of their way to make his life miserable. Especially since they've been getting installed in cars as of late. He's quite horrible at first impressions, awkward around girls, and quite the klutz when he's not fixing or building something.

Personality: Though he grew up being more of a loner, rarely venturing outside his own little shell, he eventually became a bit more social toward the end of high school. Now, he always speaks his mind, which has gotten him into his fair share of fights and arguments. He's quite confident in what he can do, but is still pretty bad at talking to women as anything more than "one of the guys." Regardless, he still tries to be fairly chivalrous. Despite all that, he tends to be extremely laid-back, light-hearted, and rarely takes things too seriously, and is an expert procrastinator who is quite frequently late to, well, everything. The only thing that's kept him from being fired because of that are his mad skills. He is a bit messy, tends to go into things outside his expertise half-cocked, and is quite the go-getter, even to a fault.

Ticks and Tags: Ticks: He tends to roll up the sleeves of his jacket when he's thinking. Often fingers the stubble on his chin. Tags: Always gives people odd nicknames, sometimes even multiples to a single person until he settles on the perfect one. Interesting and rather unusual exclamations of surprise.

Short Bio: With his parents frequently out of town on various business trips, he often ended up spending time with Fred, who was only a couple years older than him. Nate and Fred attended school together for as long as he can remember. When his parents died in a car crash when he was about twelve, he went to live with Fred and his family.
 He discovered his talent for fixing and building things early on, building impossibly impressive structures with Lincoln Logs, Tinker Toys, and anything else he could get his hands on to create some new contraption or another. This skill only grew, and he would often use it to ease work just as much to cause trouble… or both, when his invention to make something easier went wrong.
 Though not one for reading, he did start to look more into various building manuals, wanting to expand his abilities that much further. Though he inherited a large fortune from his rather successful parents, even when he came of age, he paid it little stock, letting it grow and remain mostly untouched. Ignoring it, it seemed only natural for him to take on some sort of mechanic's job, cars being one of his favorite things to take apart and put back together. So, not wanting to stay in Coolsville, as soon as he was able, he found himself a job a couple states away and made himself a new home in a small town where he quickly made a reputation for himself, and, if you ever need anything fixed, it was well known you go to him. However, he still kept in frequent touch with Fred, who was a brother to him.
 When he first received news that the members of Mystery Inc. had vanished, for the first time in his life, he tossed his normal procrastinating self aside for a short while and set things up to take a couple months off to investigate everything himself. Alas, it took him nearly a month to get everything settled to be capable of returning to Coolsville, by which time the news headlines were flooded with the prison break.

[User]
Maggie turned around, so she was walking backwards when she heard Nate speak to her on what she was expected to do next. In truth, she didn't like to be bossed around, but due to the situation, she will have to be the follower. Between her and Shaggy, she was the dominant-head of the two: having to remind him at times, put him back on task, and ironically, having to be the youngest, she would drag him like a dog.

Funny it may sound, but it's like the roles have been switched these past years: she was the "oldest" now. Giving Nate a confused, dubious expression at his words, she rolled her hazel-colored eyes before walking away to the gang's quarters upstairs. Moving the flashlight side to side, Maggie cautiously shines a light of each door, quietly debating on which one would be her brother. It's easy to track his whereabouts at home, so she did the basics: look at their belongings. If it was Shaggy's, then all she would see is a messy room.

She indeed found it; clothes scattered all over the place, it looks like someone turned it upside down. Pictures on the wall weren't out of place with his family inside each one, except one with a piece of, what seems to be, paper sticking out from the side. Weird enough? It was sticking out of a picture with a younger version of her and Shaggy, along with a puppy cutting in between them: Scooby. Carefully lifting up the frame, Maggie scanned the design with her flashlight; a stub with a label of 'SPOOKY ISLAND'. It now snapped her mind! "Nate?", she called the young man before running out of the dark room, with the stub in hand, nearly slipping on the clothes on the way out.

[Assistant]
Finally, Nate opened a door to a bedroom that undoubtedly belonged to Fred. It was like stepping into a time machine and coming out in a world mixed between the seventies and the modern day. A few lava lamps scattered the room. A large, round shag carpet sat at the center of the otherwise wooden flooring, depicting the Monster Inc. logo. A few pictures of family members Nate recognized, including a couple with him, hung on the walls, plenty of them singles with Fred. A large mirror took up one wall, holes in part of it where a mirrored closet door waited.
 Nate shone his flashlight at the base of the mirror, careful to keep from blinding himself by flashing it directly on it. It always amazed him how tidy Fred was, and his skills at keeping mirrors smudge-free. Nate swore if he so much as glanced at one, it smudged it.
 Nate went around a couple beanbags and "futuristic" chairs toward a desk in the corner. He rummaged through a few papers scattered on it, and stumbled on what looked like the work of a sequel to Fred on Fred: The Many Faces of Me shoved at the bottom of a drawer.
 Nate rolled his eyes and shoved the drawer shut. He sighed, then turned to search through the closet.
 Predictably, Fred's closet was dominated by various shades of blue and white. Even a tuxedo he found near the front matched his usual color scheme.
 "Would it kill you to get a little verity?" he muttered into the closet, the garments muffling his voice. Not that he had much of that himself in his own closet.
 He heaved a sigh, then glanced over to the wall to the right where an array of orange ascots hung on hooks. Closing the closet, he stepped toward the wall. As his flashlight glinted over a part of the mirror, he stumbled to a partial stop, and stepped back.
 Just visible in the way the light had reflected off the mirror, was a series of smudges.
 "Hel-lo," he said, bending slightly to get a better look at the smudges. He shone the light over it carefully, trying to reveal them in their entirety. Slowly, he made out a name written on the otherwise pristine mirror:
 Jacobo.
 "Ah, ha!" Nate exclaimed as he stood, slapping a triumphant hand to his knee. "I knew it was linked!"
 His attention turned to the door when he heard Maggie call his name. He hurried to the door frame and leaned out, shining his flashlight down the hall until it fell on the woman.
 "What's up, Sassafras?" He glanced behind her, searching for any sign she had run into trouble.

[User]
Seeing Nate appear, Maggie was already skidding to a stop before him, her flashlight's beam swinging around. "Tell me: would you think, by any means, that my brother would still hold onto this?", she asked, almost in a sarcastic way before revealing the stub to him, her hand flicking out to him. "It's Spooky Island", she said in disbelief. "I have known Shaggy since birth. He has said, in his words, that he wouldn't go to any place "spooky, forbidden, haunted, or creepy, in the name". I know he and the gang have been there, but why why would he still hold onto this?", Maggie was now confused and skeptical.

It was true: Norville Rogers was an (occasional) coward; he was prone to terror-struck panic attacks, every time he feels frightened, or nervous. Hypnotherapy worked a little for his panic attacks during his teenage years, but it certainly didn't cure him. So, why would he still onto such a trinket? Of course, Shaggy has been slacking off in responsibility, and his messy room was evident. He won't put things away, but still, it wasn't right to hold onto. "What do you think?"

[Assistant]
With the intensity of his flashlight drowning out Maggie's, Nate let the light dip to the floor's corner to avoid blinding her. His eyes shifted to the woman's hand when she held out a small rectangle of stock paper.
 He raised an eyebrow. "Depends on what it is." He reached out and took the plane ticket stub, shining his light on it as she spoke again. His chin raised slightly as he looked over the information the stub provided.
 "Look at the date." He handed it back to her, his thumb resting beneath the date. "I think," he answered her question, "unless he had a change of heart and went back of his own volition just before they disappeared, I doubt it's his. My turn." He nodded toward Fred's room, then strode inside, not bothering to look back to be sure Maggie followed him.
 "You've heard about the prison breakout a couple weeks ago, right?" He went to the part of the mirror-wall where he had found his own oddity. "Check this out."
 Nate shone his flashlight once more on the mirror just right to make the name smudging the mirror visible.
 "I'd recognize Fred's handwriting anywhere." He looked to Maggie, whether she had followed or not. "Told you the police are incompetent baboons."

[User]
Maggie had her hazel eyes trained on him, but was occasionally flicking them back to the plane ticket stub, when he spoke about Shaggy having a change to revisit something on his own violation. Even as Nate was voicing his own opinion, her thoughts concluded that Shaggy still shouldn't be holding onto such a trinket. It was completely unlike him. Looking at the date, it was recent; a not-too-long-ago indication. Three months ago on the current year, implying that the stub was new. The gang has been missing for two months; why would they go back to the place they were at years before? The timing just wasn't right.

The question was hovering within Maggie's mind for a while. She was flipping it around in her hand, her flashlight's beam trained on it, as if looking for another indication on it that she missed. Noticing that Nate has left, she hurried herself to catch him in Fred's room (which was way cleaner than her brother's own). Pointing her flashlight on the mirror, the word written made it as if her mind was blown. Maggie heard about the prison break, but this couldn't be him, could it? "Missing gang? Spooky Island? Prison break?", she asked rhetorically, adding to his statement. "Like, Zoinks", she softly spoke, looking at him with wide eyes. "We got a mystery on our hands. At Spooky Island".

[Assistant]
Nate's brows rose at Maggie's reiteration of the recent happenings. He looked back to the mirror for a moment, then tugged at one of the rolled up sleeves of his denim jacket, still debating whether or not he should fully trust her.
 "Well, Sassafras, you're not wrong." He turned back toward the door. "Hope you've got your passport handy; we have a mystery to solve!" He tossed his flashlight in the air, letting it spin a couple times, then tried to grab it. The heavy metal casing landed wrong and bounced off part of his fingers. It spun once more as he frantically made to grab it, then landed with a heavy, clattering thud on the floor. The bottom of it popped off, and one of the batteries slid onto the floor despite the annoyed frown on his face, causing the light to snuff out.
 Nate cleared his throat. "I meant to do that."
 He knelt down and quickly reassembled the flashlight in the dim illumination of Maggie's light, sure he could have put it back together blindfolded.
 "There's a 24-hour diner not far from here." Nate got to his feet and clicked his flashlight on. It hesitated at first, but the bulb managed to flicker to life with its familiar white light. "Decent wi-fi, and a good cup of joe, if I remember right. What do you say we get a cup and figure out our next move?"


[System]
Image
Age:
15

Ability:
Kinetikinesis - the ability to create,shape and manipulate kinetic energy. She can transfer kinetic energy from one object to another, increasing its force. With direct contact, she can turn an object's potential energy into kinetic energy, making it explosive. Alternatively, she can make a target immobile or unable to stop if in motion.

Personality:
Naturally caring but possessing excellent analytical abilities. Cecilia is very much an introvert. Despite this she has well developed people skills, making relationships come fairly easily to her. She takes each new day and event as they come, excited at the new possibilities they present. Though enthusiastic, she can be a bit of a perfectionist at times, often taking her responsibilities personally.

Bio:
Cecilia's mother disappeared when she was still a baby, her powers developing when she was in elementary school. She would live many of the following years on the road with her father, traveling via RV from one school to another, not staying in one place very long. Her mother was the subject of many arguments (Cecilia being unconvinced that he's telling her everything). Despite this, she trusts him and is eager to take life one day at a time.

color=b22222

Little Stargazer - roleplayerguild.com/posts/4071846

[User] "That sounds Amazing!" Max says as he gets up to throw away the apple core. Once Max came back to the table he ask "So why didn't you want to come to lunch anyway?" as he sat back down. Max thought To him self 'I wonder if they will have them tomorrow too?".

[Assistant] His attempt to follow her seemed fruitless. But he didn't know where to go, so he trudged along. Following her as her focus changed again, and again, and again... "Do you actually know where you're going?" He asked.

[User]
"Oh, I just got uh, a little nervous is all. It happens." Kaeden finished his 'lunch' and tossed the paper plate into the nearby trash can.

"It just... kind of went away on it's own." he swallowed a lump in his throat; he's not use to lying. He idly tapped his fingers on the table, covering his mouth as he yawned. "I wonder what we'll be doing next. I've only ever been to camp once during my childhood. Of course I had to hide my odd features, haha."

He couldn't hold back a second yawn as he rested his head in his arms on the table. "You'll have to forgive me. I get really tired after eating a lot... I think it's called a food coma haha. Not sure how accurate that is."

[Assistant] Kyle had been distracted by lunch but it didn't take him long to realize that Ivy had wondered away again. If it wouldn't catch on fire he would by here a leash. He left the lunch room in search of his sister. Luckily she hadn't gone far. Unfortunately she had another new arrival following her. He hurried over to them. He grabbed his sister. "Yes. She knows where she's going but Ivy never does things the simple way. I apologize for my sister. I'll show you to the lunch room. The counselors and everyone else is there."

[User] "Oh, Okay. I'm Toby." He said, registering the newer face. He guessed that this was the ice guy that Ivy mentioned. He knew that it was only going to get weirder from here on out, but he was excited.

[Assistant]
Cecilia carried Ivory's picture to the ladybug cabin where her own belongings were, the floorboards still letting out their welcoming creaks under her feet as she moved to the wooden nightstand next to her bed. If she could frame her latest gift, she surely would. But on top of the nightstand would have to do for now. Cecilia took one long and wistful look at the drawing, including the well handwritten signature, before digging into the drawer under it for one of her spare notebooks, picking out a modestly small one along with a pencil.

Before she left the cabin, Cecilia wanted to check up on the bruise she got from rock-climbing earlier. But as she warily put her hand to her back where it had been, she couldn't feel any trace of it, not even any kind of lingering pain. And upon inspecting the area through the mirror, there wasn't any sign of it, as though it had never happened. She hadn't the slightest idea of what to make of it, but didn't want to waste any more time. For now, she wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, opting to head for the door.

Practically hopping down the steps, Cecilia couldn't shake the strange feeling that she was being watched, her smile dissipating slightly as she again stopped feet away from her cabin and looked to the trees behind her lodging, finding nothing, unsurprisingly to her.

The sensation wouldn't last and Cecilia continued on her way, seeing how crowded the cafeteria was getting and seriously wondering how she'll find anyone among the crowd. Believing the workshop a good place to start, Cecilia was delighted but also kinda surprised to find Ivory sketching by herself. "Ivory? You're... still here? I thought you would be having lunch by now. I'm sorry I'm late..." Cecilia apologized, her expression sincere and contrite.

[User]
Ivory was surprised when she heard Cecilia. She jumped when hearing her voice, only to relax, seeing it was her friend. She listened to her before looking down. Of course, she was too shy and scared to eat. There were just so many people there and it made Ivory worry and hide away. "H-Hey Cecilia... I-I was t-too scared to go t-to the cafeteria..."

Ivory looked down at her sketchbook in her lap, quietly. She seemed to stare at the sketched lines and curves she had made. She knew how stupid of a reason it was to not eat lunch but it was true. There were so many people in there, and she didn't feel like having an attack right there on her first day.

"J-James said he wanted t-to eat with you and me, but I-I ran off here w-when I saw the crowded room." Ivory explained, hoping it made sense to Cecilia. She remembered James talking about her. He seemed so excited to eat with her. She could see it in his eyes. She frowned, realising Cecilia should just go to lunch. "Y-You can go eat, I-I'll just stay over h-here." Ivory told Cecilia.

[Assistant] "Oh ok, at least you feel better now." Max said smiling as he thought to himself '[i][color=00aeef]I wonder what made him nervous. Wait Oh no did I make him nervous some how?![/i][/color]'. While Max was internally panicking he said "I never got the chance to go, what odd features?" Max hadn't seen Kaeden's wings or tail yet so he was curious. Max nodded as he said "Yeah it happens, although it normally only happens to me at thanksgiving."

[User] Kyle nodded. "My name is Kyle. Sorry about Ivy. She means well." He assured the other boy as he lead them back to the lunch room. Everyone was already eating and talking when they entered. He let go of Ivy once they were inside. He knew she would head for the food. Ivy needed alot of food to fuel her energy. He followed his sister. His pace was much slower than hers. He looked around debating where to sit.

[Assistant] He followed the into the Lunch room and then swiftly got lost... "Oh boy." He said in a whisper to himself as he found a seat amidst the sea of people. He had no idea who he sat next to, but managed to say something. "Um... Hi."

[User] Cecilia listened to Ivory, lowering her eyes wistfully. "Oh... right. I guess you don't like large crowds. I understand..." she said before looking up and smiling meagerly. "B-But are you going to stay here the whole time? I don't want you to skip lunch just because the cafeteria's too crowded..." she stated, her hands coming together pensively as she thought to herself. "Well, will it be alright if I make a plate for you? I could bring it to you, if you want?" Cecilia's offer was genuine and she was interested in Ivory's answer. She wouldn't mind bringing her food, and it felt like a better solution than pushing her to do something that she really didn't want to do.

[Assistant] Ivory was surprised at her answer. Her mother always thought she was stupid when she said she didn't want to go because of the crowd. "R-Really? I-I mean, I-I don't want t-to be a burden, C-CC." Ivory rushed quietly. She really didn't want to be a burden. She felt like too much of a burden to Cecilia. "I-I can last without food, I-I'll just take some t-tylenol afterwards." She quietly told Cecilia.

[User] "But you're really not a burden though. I'd be happy to bring you something. And you would have done the same for me..." Cecilia said warmly, though she was starting to wonder if there was anything she could really say to change Ivory's mind. There was a tinge of worry in her eyes. Was letting Ivory go hungry really an option? "Ivory, I can see you'd like me to go ahead, so I will..." Cecilia relented, though her tone changed with a smile. "But James is going to ask where you are and I'll tell him the truth. So if he suggests bringing you something to eat, I'm not going to say no," she stated gladly, hoping the idea came across. "We'll come back for you, so don't go too far, okay Ivory?" Cecilia hoped Ivory wouldn't be too hard on herself nor think she was overstepping some boundaries by doing this.

[Assistant]
Ivory nodded quietly. "O-Okay, C-CC." Ivory responded quietly. She could see the worry in Cecilia's eyes. She really didn't want her to worry for her, after all, she was just a friend to her. How was she so kind to her? Ivory only known her for an hour or more and Cecilia was already treating her so nicely. She didn't even do a lot to earn or deserve it, either.

"I-I understand, but o-only if he suggests it, o-okay?" She told Cecilia, looking up at her. She would hate to have to waste James' time just to get food. She was sure he would have friends who would be annoyed that he was taken for second. Maybe if he did, he wouldn't come with Cecilia to get food. She hoped.

"G-go have fun, o-okay? I-I'll be fine." Ivory still quietly reassured Cecilia. She didn't want to be a burden to Cecilia, the way she was to her mother. No matter how many times Cecilia would reassure her, she would still feel like a burden. She was already feeling like one because of her stupid anxiety, that made her do this. But she just couldn't bring herself to enter the room. There were so many people. It would feel like they were watching her, staring at her for any reason they could think of. The mere thought of it made Ivory feel like crying and hiding.

[User]
Kaeden shook his head trying to stay awake. Finding the smell of food was a little too intense now, he stood up from his seat and walked over to the window behind Max.

"Besides my tail and horns?" he smiled. He unlatched the window and pushed it open, a light breeze blowing in that lightly ruffled his white hair. The scent of pine and flowering plants from the nearby forest was more welcoming to him than the tangy smell of sauces.

"I do have serrated canine teeth, honestly you'd have to really look at them though to notice that. And surprisingly enough not many point out my odd pupils that are slit like a cat's eyes, maybe it's the blue that makes it difficult to notice?" He stepped around the table to seat back into his chair, the creak making him mentally question the durability of anything in this place. "I suppose I never told you what I could even do, huh?" he chuckled, feeling a bit guilty for not sharing his own abilities after Max shared his without a second thought.

He rested his hands on the table, drawing attention to them as something shiny and metallic seemed to grow over them. It engulfed his hands, forming off ridges, stopping a little beyond his wrist and ending in pointed tips at the end of his fingers. He was now wearing what appeared to be medieval gauntlets with claws.

"I can summon what I like to call Soul-Bound Items. Objects, or just general things attached to my soul. I only own two things right now, these gauntlets which I use as weapons, and a pair of wings for flight. You'll have to see those another time though, I'm much too tired to even think of ushering up the focus to bring those out, haha." he tapped the claws against the worn table, etching little scratches into it with ease to display their sharpness. He met Max's gaze again. "I would very much like to see your smoke ability. Uh, if... if you don't mind that is."

[Assistant] Cecilia nodded, feeling like more should be said aside from the simple "Alright, catch you later Ivory" she ultimately left with, starting to depart from the workshop. She would turn to quietly look at the girl from the doorway to see if she was looking her way. If Ivory was, she would reassuringly nod once more. But if she wasn't, Cecilia would sigh quietly to herself. Cecilia wanted to be friendly sure, but there was more to it than that. As she left for the dining hall, she recalled what she said at the spur of the moment earlier. Upon reflection, she should have phrased it as '... you would do the same for me'. At any rate, she wouldn't rest easy if she didn't do what she could for her, even if she did insist against it. Her destination looked just as packed as when she first saw it, but entered to take her place at the end of the line. Progress was slow, but her eyes brightened at the sight of the varied and in some cases exotic (to her at least) dishes available. Her plate would be modestly arranged, and during its preparation she would look over every option again, keeping in mind that she may be making another plate soon. Perhaps choices that are simple and proven delicious, just to be safe. She would look for a place to sit when she was ready, keeping an eye out for James and Neric if they were still around and not minding how late she was.


[System]
Height: 6' 1" not counting ears
Weight: 143 pounds

Personality: Scheming practical jokester

Biography: Merchant, smuggler, scavenger, tinkerer. Twombly is many things, but as far as organized crime goes, if there's something wrong or missing from your kit: Twombly can either fix it or find a replacement for it, for the right price of course.

Inventory:

295 gr AP, 9.3x53R, 20 rds

recoil spring stiffened to provide a smoother constant-recoil, and a greater rate of fire of 900 rds/min

Shovel, gas mask, gloves, boots, pack, duct tape, other tools, etc..

[User]
The Hole...

The place in a crime ridden town where all the criminals went. A haven for some of the worst scum there was. Mob bosses, hitmen, gangsters and crooked cops; anyone up to seedy business could probably be found at some point in The Hole. I ain't to different from all those scum. I'm angry, dangerous and certainly have a bodycount behind me. Biggest difference is the fact that I did all that on the right side of the law, even after I left the force. All these scum should be locked up in my opinion... but my opinion ain't worth much.

Even the outside looks seedy. Big Neon sign over the entrance proclaiming the dance clubs name, trash down the alleyways both living and inanimate. Most importantly one of the biggest people I'd ever seen outfront. Guy could lift a bus I'm sure. Luckily I ain't here to cause any trouble so we shouldn't have any troouble he and I. Tonight I was entering the hornets nest, the Lions den if your feeling ironic; either way somewhhere a private eye shouldn't go if he wants to hold on to his eyes... or any other part of his body for that matter. Luckily I'm incognito, and I need to be in there tonight. I'm meeting an informant... first challenge is getting past the bouncer. I walk straight up, he's looking down at me like he wants to kick my ass. A quick flash of the card I got though gets him to turn away. Damn it sure helps when a crook owes you one.

Its dark inside, a long hallway lit only by neon pink lights. The club proper is like it always his, filled with criminals watching girls dance, drinking, doing business or a combination of the three. Scanning the boothes I see my rat, ex-cop turned methhead informant Johnny Merrington. Tweaker sat in a boothe alone scratching nervously, his scales rapidly switching from camoflauge to bright nervous colors. I try to avoid drawing more than a couple angry glances, newcomers aren't well like around here. I saddle up across from the tweaker, my main was in a bun under my hat so it didn't draw to much attention. I growl to get his attention, poor bastard nearly jumped out of his scales., "So, what do you have for me Johnny?"

[Assistant]
Johnny was already nervous. Meeting in such a public place, regardless of the company that such 'public' kept, had him on edge in spite of how casual the environment viewed his type. Nobody would notice such a meeting as the thumping music and others having their own loud conversations about rules regarding a game of pool. Still, for a tweaker, all eyes were on him.
The guttural snarl caused the salamander to almost jump out of his skin, in the process of prematurely shedding due to how he scratched himself on a rolled up sleeve didn't help as his eyes panned across the venue.

"Hey! H-hey, yeah...how ya doin Freddy?" They started, chuckling with a bit of familiarity before quickly clearing his throat and launching into the next bit with little time to form a response. "Yeah! No...yeah, not much. Been sitting here for a while and- a while! Where- no, yeah, nevermind, sorry" He corrected himself, doing his best to focus on the lion whose presence comforted him only enough to bring himself to take a quick deep breath. "People chasing angels, that wreck on third? Heh, nawh...yeah, traffic is hell, ya see?" they tried to joke before awkwardly flourishing a series of mint greens and ambers across their skin before settling on their typical dull maroon. "S-so...Its kinda chaos here. It's been pretty understaffed, but otherwise it's same old same-old, ya know?" Johnny chirped, knocking his knuckles on the table for dramatic effect before taking a sip of his drink to steady himself. After a collected breath and another sip he looked back up at Fredrick. "The managers are twins or something. Must be some kind of family matter, since neither of them showed up, today. Not even a call, ah? The service here is shit. Not even a pretzel basket or anything, heh" the salamander chuckled, ear frills perking for a moment at the sound of the group at the pool table breaking.

"S-s-some associates of mine got...heh, axed politely to fuck off from that car wreck. Some rabbit or something. Those types for ya?" The salamander shakily joked, not so much nervously but mostly studdering as they reached up their sleeve to politely continue to scratch without subjecting Fredrick to their state.
On the force, the two may have worked together for a few weeks after Johnny was reassigned to the lion after his senior partner was gunned down during a simple small-time drug bust that turned out to be more than either of them thought.
Johnny was never the same and after being protected by Fredrick during their slip into their descent, the salamander resigned. The guilt and stress got the better of him.

[User]
After watching John drive away with Ylva, she went back to the SUV figuring she could just have Twombly drive to Luciel's place as she really wasn't in the mood to drive after the excitement of what just happened. "Alrighty, Twombly you're going to have to drive," she said as she opened the back door, only for a Twombluciel-pile to drop rather unceremoniously onto the ground, "Oh... uh... what exactly is going on here?" As she questioned the two males, she looked down at them, finding their scramble to untangle themselves from one another rather amusing in and of itself.

 "I wasn't aware you swung both ways Tommy-boy, why wouldn't you tell me something so important? Or is it that Luciel here is the only acception considering he can easily pass for a female if need be?" Aeron pressed, stepping back a bit as she crossed her arms over her chest, one ear perked up while the other tilted off to the side.

 "Actually, hugging him is quite theraputic and a great way to calm down." Twombly replied, picking-up the jackalope by the armpits and presenting it to the jackal, "Here, you try."

 "I'm pretty sure Luciel doesn't want to be manhandled like that," Aeron stated, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips for a brief moment before she simply shook her head, "I would like you to drive us to Luciel's apartment, we have some things we need to take care of while we are there and I'm pretty sure there are a couple things he would want to grab before I move him into one of the rooms at my home." Considering the Jackalope was already presented to her, and the Jackal had a really hard time saying no to anything adorable and fluffy, she let out a sigh and gave Luciel a hug, despite the fact that Twombly was holding him out for presentation.

Having not expected the door to open so suddenly, Luciel's foot dropped, throwing him off balance and resulting in dragging Twombly out the door with him. His first thought was of adjusting to the light to find John staring him down, though Aeron's voice convinced him otherwise. The second thought was a curiosity if he had broken anything from falling out of the SUV and having Twombly practically land on him. "It's- ngh... not what it looks like, Twombly-" he began to explain before the wolf spoke, explaining matters rather coldly though the jackalope was quickly distracted by being lifted off his feet.

"T-Twombly!" Luciel barked, ears folding back as he squirmed. "Put me down, this instant!" he continued, about to start prying at Twombly's hands before he found Aeron's arms around him. With a tiny growl of annoyance, he sighed and returned the hug since he had a hard time saying 'no' to her. After a moment, Luciel looked back at the wolf. "While you are at it, could you help me back into the car?" he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Well, since you two are asking nicely." Twombly observed with amusement, knowing that Luciel was still fully capable of standing up and limping the nine inches back into the SUV, he even knew that though the Jackalope wasn't ever going to admit it, probably was enjoying the attention. He picked him up, this time cradling him with a bit more support as he eased their guest back into the rear passenger seat. After he made sure he was buckled-in properly, he went over to the driver's seat and had his seat. All this provided plenty of time for Aeron to hop into the passenger-side front seat.

While his request to be helped back into the car hadn't included being picked up, the jackalope had to appreciate Twombly's strength. Luciel could have picked himself up and climbed back into the vehicle, though he shamefully enjoyed the attention, leaving him slightly conflicted with what he really wanted out of the request. Regardless, he shrugged off the situation with a small 'hrmph' as Twombly made the extra effort to buckle him in. The gesture was responded to with a lifted eyebrow to soften his very uncharacteristically cold glare that came with a flick of an ear. "Yeh, thanks" he chirped, the tone expertly forced to mirror the grateful expression he wore, night to day in contrast to the previous scowl.

With Aeron climbing into the seat next to him, they were off. As much as Luciel would have liked to recline, the initial shock of the crash was subsiding and relaxing had eased the sting of fresh injury to a dull ache. After a series of instructions on how to get to the apartment complex, the jackalope fell silent and gave no instructions to stop as he looked out the window at the two black cars parked outside as well as three people waiting around the entrance. The neighborhood was good enough to the point where the sight of the small collection of people concerned him...especially how one of them poorly hid a revolver on their hip.

"Pull up around the corner, I was not expecting company..." he mused with mild authority as he watched the people while they drove past. Ears perked for a moment as Luciel looked back to Twombly before politely correcting himself, "No offense, of course. If it were any other day I would...just love to entertain guests" and his voice gradually softened to an annoyed growl as he drew 'sandcastle' and began fixing the silencer to the end. It had miraculously remained undamaged, and the gesture was to quietly impress that he wasn't the best at 'entertaining guests' in the conventional sense.

Twombly pulled around the corner as instructed, and drove up a further way around the next corner before borrowing someone else's driveway. He also raised an eyebrow when he saw the glint of dark parkerized steel from Luciel's Sandcastle, and resisted the urge to hug the Jackalope once again; finally, a sidearm that wasn't chrome. The raised curiosity was also due to concern of whether or not Luciel would be able to handle the three plus up to five or seven more inside in his condition.

Patting his leg-holster as he got out of his seat, he quickly checked to make sure his custom-krinkov had its own silencer, and the gas-port adjusted to cope such an attachment. "Hope you don't mind if I play with them first for a bit." He had a slightly wicked grin on his face, since he knew John wasn't anywhere nearby, he had no reason to play nice with these perfect strangers. Besides, it helped to get word on why people wanted Luciel dead, directly from those trying to kill him.

He approached them in a bit of a cavalier manner, with his signature sidearm remaining quite visible on his hip as he greeted Luciel's house-guests by tipping his hat. "Morning fellas. Waiting for a lift to the bar, too?" He then gave a curious glance the lookout with his revolver very poorly concealed in his waistline, "Eh, didn't I see you flirting with that Kaite-girl last night?"