[System]
Title: Professor
Moniker: Inquisitive Researcher
Age: 32
Race: Human

Appearance:

We were asked to provide the written statement as the above photograph was taken when the professor was younger and not indicative of his current look, mustache withstanding.
Professor Benjamin Babbage is as stuffy as his name would imply. Of average height, the professor doesn't cut a striking silhouette among his peers and colleagues. He does sport a rather dashing mustache that is tended to with the utmost care and consideration. His black hair is a bit shaggy but above the collar, parted on the side and paired with short sideburns—a bit of a departure from what is considered stylish, but, as many speculate, is due to the considerable effort he puts into his mustache. He might be silvering on the sides, rather young for it actually, but the temples of his glasses and tendency for hats makes it hard to tell. The professor has dim gray eyes and a noble nose, meaning that it's a prominent feature on his face.

He dresses well, and while it is mostly utilitarian he does enjoy his odd splashes of color. Usually, he adorns himself in a black or gray sack coat, top button fastened while a bright waistcoat—complete with a pocket watch—shows itself. And this choice might come from years of scholarly endeavors where he sat more than he walked. Those choices showing themselves in the roundness of his middle. Though the professor had taken to sports at a younger age, so he's not entirely without musculature—so says the professor, but we've seen him, and he's failry rotund. From there, his outfit doesn't take any more consideration to be unique.

The professor enjoys standing with his feet apart and his lips set in an inquisitive twist. He usually is touching whatever he's researching. But when his hands are by his person, they cross over his broad chest, gently stroke his mustache, or fiddle with his spectacles. In social situations, he talks with his hands if he's enjoying himself, and if he's not, he places them on his hips. He has very telling body language.

Primary Attribute: Watchful
Secondary Attribute: Persuasive

Connections:
The Masters: "I wouldn't be a scholar if I didn't exhaust all my possible resources, and the Masters are a rare and grand one. I don't overstay my welcome, neither do I prod where one does not need prodding. But I have spoken in long berths with Mr. Wine and Mr. Pages."
Bohemians: "They think of themselves as the forward innovators of our time when they're actually petulant children living off the money of their parents." He adjusts his bowtie. "Do not give me that look, I'm not being hypocritical. I've established my own income, and I've actually contributed to society."
Constables: "If you ask me, they could do a better job of keeping the urchins from swarming me like the dirty pestilence they are. But I have no qualm with them."
Criminals: "I am a man of importance and intellect. I gather my information from reputable sources."
Hell: "I may have gotten drunk a few times and gladly tittered along with them, but I don't deal much with Devils. I like my soul where it is." He pauses and strokes his mustache. "Wherever that is."
Revolutionaries: "A group of unorganized heathen gyrating in agonizing ineptitude. The Masters are an infinite fount of information. Would you so readily scrape away knowledge and wisdom?"
Rubbery Men: Benjamin considers it for a moment but doesn't say anything. When asked about it again, he shrugs. "I have no quarrel with them. Though, from a scholar's standpoint, I have so many questions. Unfortunately, they don't have the means to answer."
High Society: "I was born into low nobility. While I tend just fine in Society, High Society is not somewhere I shine from a noble's standpoint. Though, I have been called to many intellectual parlors to discuss the Fourth City as a professor." He looks proud and gives a sly smirk.
Church: "My eldest brother is a clergyman, and I attend regular service." Benjamin looks like he has something else to say about the subject, but he remains quiet.
Docks: "I've taken a few trips across the zee for research purposes. That being said, I do not have a jovial rapport with the docks men and zailors."
The Great Game: "I do not participate or have interest in the Great Game. But I'm not so daft as to not know that I've not been silently maneuvered within it."
Tomb Colonies: Benjamin leans back, apparently having many a tale to regale about them. Unfortunately, he's been asked to condense it. "I've used them as many a source in my research. They're wise, intelligent, and a great resource. I respect them, and I don't quite understand the vitriol set against them. Then again, if we based our interest and fondness upon appearances, I'm afraid we'd be led by daft lunatics."
Urchins: "They've stolen my pocket watch five times. Jokes on them, after the second one was fenced, I've only purchased ones that are barely worth a penny."

Background:
Benjamin Babbage was a child born with an unfortunate alliteration, that polite society nodded and accepted, and everyone else—with a thinking head on their shoulders—snorted at. He was born into nobility, but nothing of note. His family the social equivalent of that cousin you know nothing about, and so you buy gloves for them on their birthday. So, as such, his family does not just get by on being noble, they have careers and positions within society. Though, these positions are ones of clout. Many of the Babbages have taken to be clergymen. Benjamin's eldest brother among them. Benjamin, on the other hand, was gifted with a great and grand need to be smarter than everyone else.

As such his fascination for the Fourth City, and not moving for long periods of time, bloomed at a young age, leading him to attend University—Summerset College of course, as he is not learning alongside upstarts and radicals. He's participated in numerous archeological digs, but only ever funded three as his pockets are not infinite and sometimes half full of candies. From that he produced fine literature about the architecture and layout of the city, and from conversations with Tomb Colonists and zailors that have seen Khanate, he also wrote of their culture. Those immense books, possibly too dense to be door stops as one would never get their door closed again, never brought up anything groundbreaking but they did become a resource for many researchers to cite. And if one stacked the volumes up chronologically, they'd have a nice footrest. Though, the one thing they do offer is intricate drawings of places, things, and people. Benjamin, in another life, would have made quite the artist. In this one, he's a stuffy intellectual that teaches and sometimes gets charcoal on his favorite white waistcoat.

As someone who usually tosses letters for various noble galas, Benjamin paused at one. He opened it up only to discover he'd been invited to a masquerade ball. With his parents leaning on him harder for marriage, as his brother wasn't about to take up a wife and a family name, he accepted. Anything to get them be silent. Knowledge was his only lover, a thought he had in quiet and chuckled about.

---

[User]
Yes, that had to confirm it. Lady Monica tilted her head to the side with an amused smile when the man, who now was wearing spectacles on his mask to boot, suggested that he didn't have the power to make his words real. Few had, but if something confirmed the fact that this gentleperson had no idea of what had been spoken between the lines just a bit earlier, this was it. The poet turned continued to judge the movement of the two new arrivals, but just as he followed the brief moment where a constable brought a platter of assorted food to Wines, a name was given and asked for.

To be fair, when she took a half-step back this time, it was genuine. Monica was well and truly surprised, flabbergasted, baffled, astonished and at a loss in general when it came to this request. "You truly are singling a lady out, aren't you?" she asked after a second with a tone that was a mixture of sheer confusion and the barest hint of the teasing her voice had carried when she had put up her act just a moment ago. She stepped closer, tapping the man's mask with her forefinger and bringing her face a bit closer, just to see if it would provoke a reaction. "Well Arthur...", she began, withdrawing and flicking her wrist once after a couple seconds, "you may call me... Isolde." Really now, could he have made the reference to literature any more obvious? It was almost insulting in a way.

She turned about a bit, taking a brief look around. Why, yes, Renee had found herself something to do just as well, though her dance partner had quite probably seen better years. He was no octogenarian at the very least, though speaking of which she couldn't tell right away if there were any of the sort around. It was rather close to none if not that exactly, as far as she could tell. Well, Mr Wines didn't often invite that sort in any case. Well, if she was busy then Monica needn't go looking after her at least!

Returning to following the movements of the Masters proved to show that the one who was expecting less of the party itself had sat down at a hookah. Wait, had that pipe always been there? She hadn't noted it earlier. Mr Wines was being its joyous self and indulging in what the masquerade had to offer. But with that identity clear as day, she couldn't help but wonder who this remaining one was. "But penny for your thoughts Arthur... who do we have the honour of seeing before us? Mr Wines is a given. But the other?" She had her own suspicions of course. But given the man was more eager to share his opinion openly, she wanted to try her luck.

Fancy

[Assistant]
Ro watched the two humans exchange further words, though he was amused that Ray could not tell the man was a native French speaker. Perhaps she didn't have the ear to determine such things. His gaze drifted about the room, coming to rest briefly on another bird showing particular interest in their little trio. The Frenchman noticed the observer as well, and commented. The cat decided to do more.

"A dance is better enjoyed in pairs. If you will excuse me, Ray~"

With that he gathered himself and leapt from her shoulder, vanishing past a swirl of skirts to resurface on a convenient ledge near the fellow with the tricorn hat. "Another raven, and just as black as the first. And as curious about our hosts as everyone else here, if a bit rougher in his manner." Schroedinger ducked his head to hold back a sneeze as the sharp scent of salt filled his nostrils -- yes, very definitely a zailor, this one. As if the voice hadn't been indication enough. But perhaps he could be lured into spilling a few tidbits of what he knew.

Ro took in the confident manner, the clothing, and made an educated guess. The party did not seem to have anyone that was merely incidental: most likely this man owned a ship. And if he was wrong, he could pass it off as a convenient nickname. "So, Captain. You wonder who has brought all these people together? Would you care to hazard a guess? I'll say that this is not quite like Society's usual games. Perhaps it is a new one, or perhaps something else altogether. What do you think?"

[User]
It wasn't his intention to be so bold, as Benjamin was not a bold man. Yet, the laughing lady before him kept, again and again, calling him out on it. Truly he didn't think he was this bad with courtly mannerisms. She dubbed herself Isolde. He was not so knowledgeable in old topside British Folktales as to dig deep for his name, and he found it rather soothing that hers wasn't at all very cryptic. Though, it was very tragic.

Yet, his thought process was immediately interrupted by her proximity. Her finger tapped his mask, and he pulled his chin down and in, wreathing it in the softness of his weight, which really didn't curve around his face except in moments like this. It was almost as if trying to escape her, but at the same time not to show he was disgusted. He very intrigued, but he was also very well aware of how she'd entered his personal space with the grace of a—well—dancer? Honestly, could his mind not think of a better comparison? He was smarter than this. When she pulled away, he straightened up, attempting to jut his chin out and draw his shoulders back. Did it look as if he was trying to seem a little less paunchy? My, my, what an effect a brief conversation, and an even briefer moment of contact, had on him. Good thing his mask hid a slight blush.

"Isolde it is then," he said. He wanted to thank her for taking it easy on him, but she'd already pointed out how easily he showed his hand. He had to ask himself who she was. Had she also taken the name because she was not fond of reaching literature? Was she parrying his overly-simplified name with her own? Or was she a romantic? Honestly, it could be any of those or none of them. Considering it made his head hurt.

It was then her attention turned back to the cloaked figures. Right. They were terribly more entrancing than stuffy ole him. She pried for his thoughts on this one. This one was obviously—tougher. Honestly, Mr. Wines had been a terribly easy guess. A party. The type of crowd. The nature of the ambiance. This one seemed less fluid in this setting and not at all preening at the attention. Benjamin shook his head. "I haven't the faintest. It's obvious, though, that social graces are not their strong suit. As if I have room to talk," he said that last little bit under his breath. "But someone not at odds with Mr. Wines. Dangerous, perhaps?" Her brow knitted. "My, what have we—I mean I, I shan't speak for you—gotten myself into?"

He cleared his throat. "Though I haven't seen much of the other patronage here, I did catch glimpses of a few masks. They were not… well produced. A mixed crowd, perhaps? Meaning… mixed purpose?"


[System]
Age: 19

Gender: undefined

Species: Gargoyle

World of origin:
Munimis is a portmanteau that has been comprised of the latin phrase mundus nimis, translated "dreadful world". It is the name its inhabitants have given to their parallel earth. Up to the 9th century A.D., it was in virtually every aspect a perfect clone of the 'standard' earth - and then there was magic. Not the type of magic one can learn and then actively use, but the type of supernatural, inborn magic, that makes the difference between vampire, werewolf and the ordinary human being. Noone, including those benefiting from it, knows what really happened, but the subsequent developments have left the world stuck in the middle ages for more than half a thousand years. There's a dramatically reduced interest in advances on the fields of mathematics or physics as the ordinary population has fallen victim to an ongoing war between either the new inhabitants the anomaly has selected from their own ranks or their descendants. For them, an ordinary villager is either a toy, a resource or another case of collateral damage. However the constant pressure has resulted in ordinary people forgetting about old rivalries, and hardly anyone is eager to start a new one because of a littleness. There is still a very large and stable number of ordinary humans left on Munimis, but it's a constant struggle against nature and creatures to survive and go on.

Are you a member of TRIDENT? No.

Appearance:
One can clearly see that he is a creature whose outer appearance has been designed to be imposing even when being looked at from many yards below. From feet to horns, he stands at 6'10 and his frame is the very far opposite of slender. There are some features that don't really make sense from a biological standpoint, such as the sharp bone extensions protruding backwards from his elbows that are in danger of punching his own wings if not used properly, the short and coiled horns or the small tusks, but that's likely due to the chiseller focusing rather on appearance. There's a faint glow in his seemingly pupilles eyes that can be seen when it's really dark. His stature, additional limbs and other features make him very heavy.
He is somewhat used to roam among the ordinary people of his world of origin, but as he doesn't fit in ordinary pants or shirts, his style of clothing is basically a huge piece of cloth stitched together from multiple parts that he uses as a cloak when he folds his wings really tightly to his back.
Source: lucio7lopez @ DeviantArt

Abilities and skills: Beginning with his fighting abilities, he is not the person you have to guess what he might be capable of. He is very much 'what you see is what you can expect': Crushing blows and an untamed talent for burrowing into things and ripping them apart. If you have a really bad day he'll do this while landing on you. However that's it: Even the most primitive of firearms have not been available to him, same goes for training in things like swords, bows or other weaponry outdated on 'standard' earth. Running an ordinary household is something he has never done for obvious reasons, but he knows something about preparing basic meals, wood cutting, tailoring and other things - he's a creature that doesn't fall behind in intelligence and being surrounded by ordinary villagers, he has learned a few things over the years.

Strengths and Weaknesses:
(+) Incredibly strong and very durable, at least at night (see below).
(+) Capable of flying. He can take another person on his back with him in the air. Weight limit is about 250 lbs / 113 kg. Normal flying speed is about 20-25 mph, with very wide turns that consume a lot of free airspace. So: no dogfighting.
(+) Very good eyesight: Can see in the dark and very sharply.

(-) The rift has severed his link to the supernatural properties of Munimis' solar system. It does save him from turning to stone each sunrise, but during daytime he's like a sick man: Exhausted quickly when asked to do things like running fast, weaker than normal, poor reflexes and reaction times. Basically he's starved of a chunk of urgently needed sleep. The transient between day and night is not a sudden jump from one extreme to the other, but a continuous slope that stretches along the hours around dusk/dawn.
(-) His eyesight is a two sided coin on 'standard' earth: Recent technology makes very heavy use of spacial and temporal discretization and the incapability of the human eye to follow such quick and tiny things, be it pixels and framerates on computer displays or dimming lights by applying a pulse-width modulated supply. This is merely an annoyance, the more important issue is that there's just too much of it. He can be blinded much easier and more effectively than an ordinary human by using a flashlight, the camera light of a smartphone etc. Of course there are sunglasses and he probably needs them during daytime outside, but these accessoires just have a tendency to fall off or be destroyed in a fight, especially with the 'style' he uses.
(-) Movement is very loud and he is quickly impeded by tight spaces.

Equipment Requests: none.

History: The birth or gargoyles is probably one of the least understood processes on Munimis. It is like they aren't really 'born' at all. Chisellers carve stone like they did on standard earth in order to create decorating figures that were believed to repel evil entities. Most of them never get to know that, when and which of their creations has started to demonstrate an independent existence. It was the same with Vaughtar, so he doesn't have any real parents and has been living on his own for his entire life. However some inevitable day he started making contact with the other beings of Munimis. His experiences with vampires and wolves aren't exactly pleasureable and so were his first contacts with ordinary humans. As time passed he managed to prove to the small community he was surrounded by that he's not just evil as most of the other supernatural beings, though many still stepped back when he was approaching. He has never actually seen the rift itself - it had opened right above the pillar he was resting on and the next thing he knows is that there was a celestial body high above the horizon he had never seen before himself and the sky was blue instead of black.

Personality: He might look extremely intimidating, but the ones who know can calm down: It can be considered a major achievement to get him mad at oneself. However his sense of humor is a big gap because he just doesn't understand many jokes - it'll leave him behind confused. He is capable of steep learning curves, but needs to be picked up where he is. He tends to quick action instead of preparing plans well in advance - where he comes from there are just more variables that can change.

[User]
XIII chuckled bitterly when the ball of light asked if the first group that found him gave him his powers. "That would be something," he started before glancing at the sprite. "Sorry. No, I don't think those people gave me this ability. The place I came from have people who are born with abilities. Some have control over specific elements, others can move from one place to another in an instant. All of these abilities have drawbacks. The moment I get cold, I have no control over fire." XIII absentmindedly ran a hand over the burnt side of his head as he spoke.

"The people that found me believe that people like me are a danger to the world, and they want to get rid of us, one way or another. They tried to turn me into a weapon against others like me. They took my memories and tried to break me." XIII stopped talking as he recalled his time as a prisoner. He shook himself out of his thoughts and looked at the creature in front of him. "But that's enough of my sob story. I guess I should introduce myself, You can call me XIII. We should probably make our way back to the meeting, don't you think?"

[Assistant]
Herbert

"How long does that usually take?"

He watched the creature scurry away, and then stared off into space, not looking at Twain. It was unspoken that Twain understood what he was going through, and that it had truly been him in that vivid dream, if one could call that experience of shared consciousness so. He feared the innumerable alternatives that didn't bear thinking about.

A stiffness pervaded Herbert, and his vision was pulsating, the darkness at the edge of his vision ebbing and flowing, so that at times he could not see more than a few inches in front of his nose. In those instances, he was blessed; it hid apparitions, creatures made from floating spider silk and barely-fogged glass. They resembled human forms, in most cases, and faded in and out of the world, sometimes phasing through the room and the people in it, and sometimes they just stood. Their faces were indiscrete; Herbert could not tell if they were looking at or away from him. Whispers hung like cobwebs in the air, too faint and tangled to understand. He shivered.

"I am not overly fond of this." He whispered on the barest of breaths, his own voice joining the hush, mixing with it, and forming an amalgam of sorts.

Louder voices, real voices, shattered the whispers, and chased them away until Herbert might find silence again. Dimitri's and Twain's. Herbert was beginning to accept the arcane and secret world unveiled to him, and he was not sure what that meant for his sanity. The recent experiences were irrefutable and too vivid, and had made his mind more open and plastic; clearly there were forces greater than science. That realisation seemed dully familiar, and reminded his of a dark-bound tome…

A hand on his shoulder and deafening clamour. It was Dimitri, but then his face warped, and his clothes melted and reshaped, and copper tufts spread in clumps until a ragged mop was covering his head. A fervent and angry face filled his vision, all frown lines and shining eyes.

"We're so close Herbert, why do you want to give up now?"

"It's… it's inhumane."  That was his voice. He remembered.

"So is what we aim to achieve; above man, above even God. Do not worry for your humanity, you've already sacrificed it coming this far, turning back now would mean all has been in vain."

Air! Herbert sucked it in, in a shallow gasp, and then bigger, steadier breaths.

He remembered. A little at least, and it rattled him.

Dimitri was there still, and the parts of Herbert's brain that had been in reality related what had been said to his consciousness. He realised he should say something, or they'd think him psychotic.

"Then you have my deepest gratitude."

Herbert thought he was dealing with this all rather well. Perhaps it was the incentive; Herbert was a smart man, and not blind to the possibilities that has presented themselves. Or perhaps it was that part of him had been changed, corrupted maybe.

The monk left.

"I wouldn't mind some tea," Herbert said, mainly to Twain. He turned to face the man, and noticed for the first time, thing wisps of complete and utter darkness burning off him, licks of black flame. The corner of Herbert's mouth twitch and his eyes flitted ever so quickly to look Twain up and down.

"Then after the meeting, perhaps we can talk?"

[User]
Vata sat quietly at the table while the meeting went on, trying to take in everything that was going on so then he could try and better understand the situation in this strange place. There were a number of unfamiliar people and strange things that came and went, most notably the bizarre wolf-like creature, which reacted strangely to a couple of objects shown by the even more bizarre device that seemed to project three dimensional images into the air. The wolf-like thing also made some strange gestures that Vata couldn't quite make sense of, but a few others at the table seemed to understand it. A moment later it left the room, and then a strangely dressed woman took its place. To Vata, it seemed like the longer he stayed here, the stranger things got.

Among the objects shown by the seemingly magical device was Vata's own bag that he kept some of his books and writing tools in. Unfortunately, it had seen much better days, and it was likely that some of his belongings inside had been ruined. He figured that it may be best to bring it up after the meeting, so then he could assess what had been lost or made unusable. However, despite the thought of some of his precious belongings in the bag being damaged, it comforted him somewhat seeing that he had something from his own world that hadn't been lost, something that made this world feel just a little bit less alien to him.

With all the talk of things they didn't know about the event, Vata began to wonder if there was something he could do to help. Then, he caught wind of the conversation regarding the arcane symbols the group found at the grisly site of the ritual. It seemed like the monk knew a bit about them, but he didn't seem to be entirely certain about what he was looking at. Vata felt the Spirit of Inspiration stir inside of him at this, realizing that this could be his chance to help with the investigation of the event, albiet indirectly. Despite the potential dangers involved in going back to that horrible castle that he would much rather forget about, he felt strangely calm, and more surprisingly, confident. Putting his nearly empty mug of coffee aside, he finally spoke up, brushing his jitters and nervousness aside.

"I think I may be able to help decipher those symbols. I don't know anything about them, but there's something I can do which can help anyone that has any experience with arcane symbols like them. It's...difficult to explain, and would require some time for me to explain how it works, so I'll leave it until after the meeting."

Then, Vata heard a creaking noise, and an odd, unfamiliar voice said "Hi." When he turned to look at who said that, the confidence he felt just a moment ago was replaced by a mixture of disgust and surprise as he laid eyes upon the massive, grotesque creature that just appeared at the conference table. Shocked, he blurted out something that he probably would regret saying later.

"Spirits preserve, what is that...thing that just appeared at the table?"

[Assistant]
Speaking of someone who was actually present and could hear one's words in third person was impolite, and resorting to the word 'thing' as a designation for that very someone was straightforwardly rude. He had already demonstrated being sentient and communicative, even if it had just been a single word! And since that guy was, for some mysterious conincidence that just added itself to the heap of things yet to be investigated, speaking the same language, the gargoyle had some reason to assume that this rather dark-skinned man should have some sort of apprehension for this.

On the other hand, Vaughtar wasn't the one to become infuriated just because of this. He was flabbergasted, but the slow pace he lifted himself off the crate and started walking around the table towards Vata indicated that he wasn't angry. However he left another trail of small scratches behind him as he forgot about his claws again. This just had not been an issue on Munimis' dirt roads and wilderness. And there was so much drag induced by his folded wings that a noticable, short-lived breeze filled one half of the room.

He didn't come closer to the other man that about two yards and squatted down, taking two or three seconds to examine his face before speaking.
"Please feel free to touch me. I'm breathing, talking, am emitting body warmth and I even eat. What makes you think I'm a 'thing' ?"


[System]
Age: 24

Bending Element: Fire

[User]
Kasai was relieved to hear a voice answer from the other side of the sac, but her moment of relief was soon squashed by the fact that Mio answered coldly and plain. A simple "no" sent all of Kasai's hopes fleeting out of her chest.

When Mio dug through the lining of the sac and appeared, Kasai had a natural reaction to gasp and cover her mouth with her hands. The stonewall way that the airbender spoke sent a shiver down her spine, and she held back losing the small breakfast they had in sight of a decomposing, yet still living, human being.

"Avani? Yeah she's fine, she's down there and we're gonna-" Her thought was cut off by the reacting sac wall and Mio's last words. "No, no, don't you worry. I'm gonna get you out of here and-" Kasai had to step back as the moving skin tried to stretch towards her, but before she could stretch her arms out to grab Mio, a blast of air sent her reeling off the top of the tree.

Hot tears could be felt wetting her face as she fell, her eyes were shut tight until Avani stopped her from plummeting to the roots below and instead lowered her to safety. When her feet hit the base of the tree, she nearly collapsed. Quickly wiping her face, she looked at Avani and shook her head, knowing that her expression was probably enough to get the message across.

"They're... gone." There was little time to say much more as a screech came from above, and winged spirits swooped down towards them. Kasai turned and tried to assure her footing on the slick tangle of roots. As several creatures dove at them, she sent her foot across her body in an arc and sent a wall of flame that expanded above the two women, scorching the incoming attack.

The defensive move did little as a barrage of spirits was headed in a bee-line straight for the two. Flapping wings and screams filled the air while the spirits circled them, swooping in and out as they tried to peck and claw at Kasai and Avani.

Bursts of flames shot from Kasai's palms and feet as she combined attacks to fend off the incoming flyers, but they were outrageously outnumbered for the time being.

"Avani, try the mud!" Kasai had no idea if earthbenders could bend the sediment from water, but stuck on an island in the middle of a lake didn't offer much more of a choice.

It was probably quite the sight from the lake shore, what would appear to be a flock of birds circling their prey as they struggled to survive. However, from within the mask of winged spirits, it was chaos. A spirit swooped down at Kasai from behind, and when she saw it from her peripheral, she attempted to dodge the attack.

Unfortunately, she lost her footing and her left leg slipped down between two roots. The spirit was coming in hot, but when she fell its attack was skewed, but not enough so. The talons of the spirits claws sliced Kasai's face, leaving a gash that formed a diagonal across her cheek and over her lips.

A scream escaped her and a metallic taste filled her mouth as blood streamed down her face. When she looked back up from the first attack, another spirit was now diving at her from the front. She shot a flame with one of her hands, but the creature was too close to be diverted and it hit her, sending her back.

A crack was heard as her body was sent back with force, but her leg still wedged between the roots. She screamed out even louder this time. The only partially beneficial aspect to the situation was that firebending was fueled by emotion, and right now her emotions were screaming at her with pain and rage.

Within seconds, a spark was twinkling between her fingers. White lightning had been channeled from her inner chi and now exited her being, arcing through the sky and shocking many of the spirits before she fell exhausted, at which point all she could do was try to free herself from the roots that were trapping her.

"Avani, get out of here. There's too many of them, we don't both need to die!"

[Assistant]
Kasai's simple statement that their friends were gone was devastating. Avani steeled herself though. There would be time to grieve them later, but only if they survived the mess they were currently in. Kasai did her best to fight off the spirits, while Avani attempted to bend the mud nearby.

It was a fairly inefficient way of fighting, as throwing rocks and boulders actually hurt the ones hit, but mud just seemed to make the spirits angrier. She aimed for what she thought were their heads, trying to blind them. However, it gave her an idea for how they may be able to escape to the shore much faster than swimming.

Avani covered herself in the mud, using it as armour instead of projectile weapon. She punched and kicked at the spirits that came for her. Avani heard Kasai scream, but was occupied with fighting off the spirits that were currently attacking her. She dodged instinctively when Kasai shot lightning at the spirits. She hadn't expected that, and it was a bit too close for comfort.

When Kasai told her to leave her, Avani turned to look at the firebender who was beaten, bleeding and stuck with her leg in the roots. She didn't want to be the reason someone else perished, but it wouldn't really be her fault either if Kasai died here like this. She figured what she said was true too, better one returned than no one at all.

Avani turned her back towards Kasai, and took a couple of steps towards the water while the spirits clawed at her mud armour. She had a strong feeling of regret and loss, a sort of premonition of events she would miss out on if she took another step. A choice between two different futures, one where she may be the sole survivor, and one that may include Kasai, but there were no guarantees and either path could lead to her dying today.

"I apologize, Kasai." Avani said. "I'd like to say this will hurt me more than it will hurt you, but it really won't."

She dried the mud on her right leg as much as possible, standing still and seemingly hesitating, but then she turned back around to face Kasai. Avani had a faked version of her sly smile plastered on her face. She took the steps over to Kasai, aimed carefully with her leg raised and then slammed it down with all the force she possessed, both the physical prowess and the earth bending. There was a crushing sound as she broke Kasai's leg and the roots, sending splinters flying.

Avani bent down and picked up Kasai, throwing her over her shoulder. She would have carried her in her arms if one of them weren't in such bad shape. The winged spirits kept coming, but she began to enclose Kasai within the mud armour as well.

She patted Kasai's behind with her hand. "This is mine, not yours, so back off." Avani said to the spirits.

She went back to the water and was about to jump in when the sun blinded her. One of the spirits noticed the light reflecting in Avani's eyes and dove for it with precision. Its claws penetrated her left eye, and she felt a sudden temporary blindness combined with a sharp pain when the claw was retracted. When she saw the eye in the claws of the winged spirit she realized what had happened, the blindness wouldn't be so temporary.

"Take a deep breath, Kasai." Avani said before plunging into the water.

She made them heavier, and sank towards the bottom. Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to end up on the bottom of the lake where mud and earth was plentiful. Avani used her favourite trick to quickly get them out of the lake and away from the tree. She made earth cling onto her feet, then surfed toward the shore.

Avani was finding it harder and harder to continue without any air, but they surfed up onto the shore and into the fresh air. She took a couple of deep breaths, then looked in the direction of the tree. The winged spirits were clearly confused about where their prey had disappeared too, but she doubted they would be for long, so she dropped the mud armour and created a rock as large as the one she had used to steal the cache with yesterday.

She laid Kasai down on it, feeling her own adrenaline beginning to fade. The wound in her eye socket began to hurt more with each passing second as the adrenaline faded. She made the rock beneath them move in the direction of the portal, and removed her crop top to tear it in half. One half she put against the wound Kasai had across her cheek and lips, the other she pushed carefully into her own eye.

"I got you." Avani said, and the tears began to flow at the thought of those she had lost. "I got you." She repeated, leaned on Kasai and kissed her lips gently, tasting blood, which was at least a sign they were both alive.

They moved faster across open areas with Avani's rock, but there weren't many of those in the forest. The longer she had to move the rock at the same speed, the more exhausted she got, but she tried to get as far as she could move them both, even if it meant collapsing.

[User]
Kasai saw Avani turning away to escape in the water, and her heart sank a little. True, it was what she herself had told the other woman to do, but another part of her wished she were escaping with her instead of watching her leave. Kasai closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back down at her leg and continued to struggle to free it from the tangled mess it was trapped in.

Much to her surprise, Avani froze in her footsteps and uttered another sentence. Kasai assumed it was a last-ditch effort before she took off to escape the attacks, one last sarcastic remark before the spirits clawed Kasai to bits. It didn't surprise her much, what did surprise her was the sight of a earth-ridden leg that came crashing down on her own.

Cries of pain blurted out as a resounding crack echoed from the splintering wood and bone. Which splitting sound was her own leg breaking? Who knew. All she could feel now was an intense pain pulsing up her leg and throughout her entire body. She felt like every nerve in her body was on fire, igniting the pain that coursed through her veins.

A sense of weightlessness was felt when Avani picked her up, but she had little strength to aid in her transportation. She felt a pat on her rear and a trademark snarky comment from Avani. Kasai smiled weakly and tried to help defend against the incoming spirits before the mud encased her, preventing her from bending anymore.

At Avani's command, Kasai drew in as much air as she could. The water slipped around them and they sank to the bottom of the lake, where they started pressing towards the shore. A burning sensation was developing in her lungs, and she released half of the air she held to relieve some of the pressure. By the time they surfaced on the other side of the lake, Kasai was coughing out water and gasping for air.

The earth could be felt shifting beneath her, but at this point Kasai was on the verge of losing consciousness. Fabric was pressed to her face, and she looked up to see it was in fact Avani's shirt, sopping up the blood that had stained her face.

"Couldn't you take you clothes off at a time I could enjoy it a little more?" A weak laugh escaped her before she coughed again. The last thing she experienced before slipping into unconsciousness was Avani's voice and lips pressed against her own.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wrapped in the sterile white sheets of a bed that occupied an equally white room, the young firebender lay sleeping off the round of pain medication that the doctor had injected into her system. A nurse opened the door to her room and brought in a clipboard that held information on her release from the hospital, left on a table at her bedside for when she woke.

Sleepily, Kasai's eyes fluttered open and she inhaled deeply. The drugs still lingered in her system, but she woke at the sound of the door closing. Her eyes fell to her leg, which was wrapped in a cast and propped up on a pillow. Stitches pulled the skin of her cheek and lips back together, which was starting to scar over now.

It had been nearly a week since she and Avani had managed to escape through the spirit portal. Both beaten and bruised to no end. Kasai had spent the first 3 days in the hospital in an unconscious state, but several days ago she woke. Turning her head to the clipboard on the table, she grabbed it and read. She would be released that afternoon after the doctor gave her one last check.

A pair of crutches leaned against the wall to her right, and a simple display of flowers sat on the nightstand, a get-well gift from the police department. She sighed and stared at a clock that hung on the wall, waiting for the time when she could leave this dreaded place and go back to her own home, where she could rest and recover. Though that wouldn't last too long, because the police department was holding the funeral for their fallen brother, Barron, in just two days.

Tears welled up in Kasai's eyes for the thousandth time since waking up in the hospital, without either of her best friends to comfort her. Visitors had come and gone, all telling her that they were sorry for her loss and that she was strong enough to recover physically and emotionally. They were all attempts at consoling her, but they didn't work. She grieved in her own ways, and she hoped that the funeral service would provide her with some closure of the events.

The only thing she held on to from the whole experience was Avani. She had risked her own skin to stay behind and save Kasai, and managed to get them both back to safety. How? Kasai still didn't know. But, she was grateful. The last scene that she could remember was burned into her mind, and she played it in her head over and over to hold on to that memory.

The door to her room opened again, and the doctor entered to evaluate her for release. She greeted him with a hopeful smile, praying that she would be able to leave this place and go somewhere with a little more color.


[System]
Age: 44

Sex: Male

Position within The Imperium of Man: Imperial Navy

Armor:
- Salvaged Carapace/Flak Mix: With a scavenged and repainted Carapace breastplate, Stukov's piecemeal mix of Navy issue Flak armor and the harder, less flexible carapace over his core is as best a compromise that he can get his hands on between ease of maintenance, protection, and maneuverability.

Weapons:
- Accatran Pattern, Mark XI Combat Shotgun: Standard issue shotgun for Armsman in the Imperial Navy, fine tuned over a life serving on Naval craft. Personally altered and tweaked, mostly in performance and handling, it has seen everything that Stukov has, and carried him through it all. Notably, he can load and fire various specialized munitions that can be loaded into any other standard model of shotgun, though outside keeping a handful of slugs and specially blessed buckshot, he doesn't normally carry unique ammo.
- Naval Pistol: A heavy, large caliber auto pistol unique to the Imperial Navy. Despite attempts by Guard forces to acquire their own as a souvenir, Stukov kept his hands on his own issued pistol. Sturdy enough for use in melee, and often paired with chain-cutlass it serves well, though not as openly as the shotgun or chain-cutlass.
- Chain-Cutlass: Formally known as a Hydraphur-Pattern Chainsword, the Chain-Cutlass was a more recent addition to Stukov's kit, coming with his appointment to Senior Armsman, a position also known as a Sergeant at Arms, and replaced his combat knife. While not as long as a standard Imperial Chainsword, having a shorter curved blade, the weapon's more compact size in comparison is highly prized in tight quarters.
- Concussion Grenades: Keeping several handy, these grenades rely on the shockwave from the detonation, which is coupled with deafening noise, instead of fragmentation of sheer shattering power alone. The lack of damage to hulls or other vital components, but continuing to be able to leave typical foes dead or disorientated to the point of being easy pickings. Proper armor could protect against such things, but the shockwave and audible damage made an alternate approach to typical armor.

Equipment:
- Micro-bead
- Data-slate
- Re-breather
- Grapnel Launcher

Personality:
 Stukov remains a rather steady figure in near any sort of situation, though his attitude is not exactly what one would consider professional. Always having nicknames for anyone he works alongside, sometimes several at a time depending on the person, he tends to be fairly blunt on matters, covering what needs to be covered without wasting time or mincing words. He doesn't brook trouble from other allies, having survived some of absolute worst nightmares a Voidsman can have, and has a special place of sheer hate for the forces of Chaos in his heart, more so than typical of loyal Imperial servants. Beyond this, he tends to carry himself with the kind of confidence that comes from far too much experience and surviving to see such experiences forged into senior combat abilities. He doesn't talk much about his time serving on board Naval vessels, given the rather unfortunate series of experiences, but that doesn't make him any less proud of his survival and service, even if he isn't ever going to be quite comfortable planetside, not completely.

Characters Theme Song:

Characters Voice:

Specifically the Cat.

[User]
"Handling dangerous warp artifacts directly is a job better suited for a Ministorum Priests." Adrianne whined, and she knew that her complaint was at least halfway justified.

While a trained psyker like her knew far more about how relics touched by the warp functioned, she also knew for a fact that daemons found the souls of grumpy old ecclesiarchs far less palatable than that of a psyker. If anything, while a psyker might be compared to daemon lure, a priest was the opposite.

Yet despite any misgivings she might have had about the idea, it seemed that their part time techno heretek was actually doing a good job with making the box!

"I've prepared THE BOX!"

Adrianne looked it over. She wanted to point out a flaw with it, but it was actually a reasonable build!

"This might work, in case things go awry!" She muttered with a faint tone of disbelief in the back of her voice. She turned towards the tome. Holding up her gloved hand, she formed her fingers into an intricate, arcane gesture. Then, she muttered a low chant, and for a moment it was as if the breath of everyone in the room was stolen from their lungs for a moment as a faint, barely visible barrier of air or some warp addled sorcery surrounded the tome; flickering in and out of existence at random.

Then one of her servo skulls snaked down from the air above; its spine-like metallic tail curling around the tome before carrying it through the room and depositing it into the waiting box prepared by Medaira. Adrianne then cautiously applied the faintest bit of her telekinetic power to close the lid from a distance and depress the buttons to activate the sealing process with a hiss of escaping air from the makeshift container.

"It should be sealed, but I recommend people keeping as great of a distance as practical from the box during transport." Adrianne started to explain, as her second servo skull floated towards the box; the two servo skulls locking their spine like tails onto the box and using their gravitational repulsors to carefully lift it off the table.
"In fact, with the way items touched by the warp may work, it would be best if you refrain from even looking or thinking about the box or what's within as much as possible. Emotions and thoughts can be as much vectors for chaos corruption as physical touch."

For a moment, the ashen haired psyker paused; before smiling encouragingly at the group as she held up a finger.

"But don't worry, that's just to be safe. Emperor willing, I suspect this tome is only a threat if anyone tries to use it." She added, before nodding towards Andromedai.
"It has been secured. Just make sure no one shoots down my skulls."

[Assistant]
"All of those countless years within the Mechanicus truly show with this superbly crafted containment box." responded Andromedai with a smirk spread across the features of her face. She still held onto the helmet of her armor with her left hand, but it had been heavily damaged from the prior battle, and would not function correctly even if she did have it equipped. "All joking aside, you did quite an impressive job with what resources and time you had, thank you." Andromedai gave a nod of her head in thanks before motioning for the retinue to move out and follow behind her. Once they had stepped back into the dome shaped room, the Sister of Battle would carefully step over the debris while responding to Adrianne. "You see the problem with saying that Adrianne, is that if you tell someone not to think about something, there is a good chance that they will do just that. Anyway, I trust you much more than the Ministorum Priests, just don't repeat that to anyone. Thank you for your assistance in securing the tome as well. Stukov, you are as vigilant as ever, but I think it's time to move out." said Andromedai with a bit more emotion in her voice than normal. By the time she had finished speaking, the retinue had walked back out of the cultist's hidden base, and into the open air. The night had fallen across the land and the cool, calming serenity had taken its place. While everything in the local area seemed to be under control, something still felt off. They could hear music, see lights, hear the sound of happy chatter.

"Does anyone know what ... oh you have to be kidding me." said Andromedai, actually placing the palm of her right hand over her face and sighing, "It is Sanguinalla, which would explain all of the energy I feel in the air, and the music, and the lights, and so on." The Celestian would place her helmet onto her head and then clap her hands together, "Alright then! Here is what we are going to do. There is a very fancy and expensive restaurant I like to go to on rare occasions such as this. We are going to go there and have dinner, feel free to order whatever you would like. Then we are going to walk around the city for the rest of the evening and enjoy the celebrations before heading to a specialty store that sells very rare goods from all across the Imperium of man. I will be covering everything you all wish to buy this evening, so please enjoy yourselves. Oh and Stukov, please don't shoot Maya, you will see why shortly." The ship was waiting exactly where they had left it thankfully, and Solares with onboard with Maya, who had removed her helmet and had it sitting upon her lap. From where she was sitting, no one would be able to view the woman without her helmet untill they walked past her.

"I forgot it was Sanguinalla, Solares and Maya, all of this Chaos bullshit is catching up with me it seems." said Andromedai as she moved to the pilots seat once more and motioned for Adrianne to take the co-pilots position. Arianne would be the first to see that Maya was something special, and most defiantly not a human. She was, in fact, an Aeldari Farseer. Maya merely kept herself occupied with a data-pad that was in her hands, going through pages of information. Solares had remained silent at Andromedai's comment, but Maya laughed softly before going back to what she was doing. Once everyone was strapped into their seats, Andromedai would engage the Typhons engines and the craft would swiftly take off into the air. Once Andromedai had decided they had reached a safe enough altitude, they could easily see that the city of Dalenarth had practically changed over the course of four hours, and was much more active and cheerful than before. The restaurant they would be eating at could easily been seen due to how lit up it was and the heavy amount of decorations that surrounded and covered it. Dark colors with hints of gold and red covered the exterior of the large, oddly shaped building. Upon the outside of it were the words [Saints Respite] in a glowing golden light that illuminated the night.

"That is where we will be having dinner." said Andromedai as she pointed at the impressive display below. There was an empty platform nearby that the ship was landed on, and once it had touched down, Andromedai quickly got up out of her seat and motioned for everyone to follow her out of the Typhon and into the building where already the intoxicating smell of exquisite food could be found. The two guards who were actually armed but wearing clean and fancy outfits opened the doors for them as they approached, welcoming the retinue to Saint's Respite, and hoping they had a very enjoyable evening.

[User]
"Understood, let's get the box back somewhere it can be safely disposed of." Stukov took point, checking corners and listening for the slightest problem, pending ambush, or even hazard that might risk the cargo being freed. He kept any thoughts pertaining to the current mission purely professional, mind shifting to combat mode naturally as they moved out of the building finally. The energy and sound in the air was strangely celebratory, and when Celeste suggested they spend the night out on the town he frowned. They had a...significant problem stored in a, albeit well made, scrap built box and she thought it was a good idea to go party instead of secure that first? Of course the last remark on not shooting the other Sister was confusing, and he raised an eyebrow at Celeste as he replied. "Celeste, all due respect, don't we have more important things to do than going and rubbing shoulders with the 'nobility' on this planet? And why would I..."

 The senior armsman's thought chain was broken when boarding the smaller ship they had arrived in, and he practically froze in place when he saw the xenos parading around in Sororitas power armor, shotgun slung as they boarded the ship. The quick movement of his arm reaching for the pistol holster given the close quarters was evident, though probably fortunately for all parties involved said Naval Pistol was destroyed earlier by the Spawn. Gritting his teeth he moved to get about as far away from the xeno as possible, glaring harshly at the Celestian as he secured himself into a seat. "We'll talk about this later Morgenstern. Throne preserve me..." He might just have to go and have a chat with Cogs later and have her replace his arm anyways, given it had been tainted by xenos trickery without his knowing. He knew something was off when a fully armored 'Sister of Battle' had gone using warp powers to mend his injuries. They just didn't go about doing that sort of thing, he had assumed that Celeste had gone and found some undetected psyker in a minor order, somehow given that they had to check for that sort of thing, but no, she had gone and given a set of power armor to a xeno, one of the knife eared ones no less that had cost the Imperium more than they ever even pretended to help. The fact Celeste was trusting her to any degree was extremely concerning, hence the discussion needed later.

 He redoubled his mental focus on principle, doubling down on the guarding against psychic probing. Did Stukov think that would stop a serious attempt from a xenos psyker or, hell, Smiles for that matter? No, but it helped, and keeping nonsense floating on the surface to throw off casual glance seemed to work. Still, it seemed Celeste was determined that they would try to enjoy these festivities instead of carrying out their Throne given duties, and he kept his silence as they were welcomed into the place. It was all far too upscale for him, he probably stood out like a sore thumb frankly, and even the name of the place didn't sit right with him. He kept his head on a swivel, expecting something to interrupt again while they were otherwise preoccupied and distracted. Given recent events, well, one could hardly blame him for his heightened nerves and tension. And that was without taking the xeno scum traipsing around as a member of the Sisters of Battle into account! To say his mood was dark would be an understatement, that much is certain, though right now he focused on not speaking, instead visually confirming likely escapes, entryways, and other points of concern if things got out of hand.

 Too many entryways, both for guests and staff, too many ways for approach, it was all begging for trouble to kick off. Given how it hounded them the way it did, well, if he was lucky a round would drop him for good before he knew what was happening. Not likely, given his apparent paranoia in comparison to the rest of the retinue's general demeanor and such, but one could hope. The fact the knife eared xeno was trusted to any degree bothered him, the only use xenos had was as enemies, not friends to be handing over Sororitas power armor to. Still, though he gritted his teeth again to keep from speaking, he had his orders for now. Do not shoot the xeno. Could go for his combat knife or chain cutlass, in a pinch, but he doubted he would have any sort of element of surprise against this xeno psyker, and those methods would rely on that far too much. So despite his protests against this being made, and then of course the xeno revealing itself, Stukov kept silent and would only really speak if necessary.


[System]
Age: 30
Sex: Male
Appearance: Cole
Position within The Imperium of Man: Imperial Guard
Armor: Mark XII Carapace Armour
Weapons: Accatran Pattern Mark IV Lasgun
Accatran Pattern Mark II Laspistol
Combat Knife
2 Frag Grenades
3 Smoke Grenades

Equipment: Photo-Visor
Micro-bead
Type 5 Pressure Helmet
Grapnel Launcher

Personality: Cole can be described as a man of few words. Generally speaking when need though he can be sociable when he wants to. Seems distant to people because of this but, when he makes a friend. Cole can be loyal and dependable to those he trusts. If that trust is broken then Cole basically hates and avoids if he can that person. It is hard to regain his trust after that. A stubborn man that can be unyielding when it comes to things he cares about. Making it very hard to dissuade from something once he sets his mind to it. The years spent as an Elysian Drop Troop have shown that he is cool under fire and quick on his feet. Being a veteran of several tours of duty, Cale is proud of his time as a drop troop and is willing to talk about his past if prompted.
Characters Theme Song: N/A
Characters Voice: N/A

[User]
Praise the Omnisiah! Medaira was smiling as she was pacing back and forth at one side of the room, tilting her head occasionally, making a thinking expression, mechadendrites twitching whenever she would suddenly resume moving. The techpriestess was in the process of the mythical brainstorming, a process so ancient and secret that about half the priesthood had forgotten it! Those were the hardline conservatives! The ones who had left the technology degrede and knowledge of crafting the great marvels of hte Omnisiah vanish into obscurity.

 "Mm Yes~" She had a plan, now only needed the plans. Her thought process suddenly froze however as the psyker of all people came to her to ask for apparetnly a tune up or at least check up on her good old plasma pistol.

 'This is new...' She thought, tilting her head innocently at the way taller woman, a servo head flying circles around them, taking photos and images for future refererences.' I usually have to PRY the things out of their twitching arms to give hte poor things a good maintenance and repair.' The tech priestess mused in her head, smiling innocently at the woman still, having fond memories of incapacitated fools who weren't taking good care of ther gear. Seems the woman earned herself some Don't Prank me points here! Good Medaira appreciated people who knew that their gear needed help! She'd ease up on the PSyker's pranks for a bit.' THUS IT'S BEEN DECIDED! Praise the OMNISIAH!' She giggled as she thought and nodded.

 "I will, give it a tune up and see where the problem lies~ So is my duty~!" She practically sang with chirpy childish glee in her voice as her arms were brought forward to grasp the weapon. Her fingers twitched, face filled with glee and very wide grin, eyes lookeing at the plasma weapon like a starving man at food.

 To her bad luck, the Celestian decided to bring them around for a last time and give them the free time to prepare. She prompty picked one of the rooms to leave what little luggage she carried on her and well she left her trusty Servo head to guard her base of pranking operations. The rest of the group were potential pranking rivals and enemies! She couldn't allow them free reign of her living space, thus she left it guarded." Come now, Psyker Friend! We've got plasma pistol to repair! We shall make use fo the tools that have been provided to us! Off the the Armory~!" Medaira proclaimed, removing the title of 'prank victim' from the woman for the time being, until the Don't Prank me Points are used up.

 Medaira moved with glee as she rushed into the Armory with a wide childishly innocent grin on her face. WEAPONS! Sure she liked the vehicles, but weapons were good and she was to repair a misbehaving plasma pistol! Was it being possessed!? Was it... EVIL!? Maybe it was a prankster gun, that would explain everything as it's Machine Spirit was pranking it's user. She could understand such logic, but she had to confirm it wasn't dangerous to everybody involved first. Now that seh was in the Armory, she did a rare thing for techpriests and removed her hood, letting her gray hair fall free as she looked with her big expecting eyes at the tall psyker, arms reaching out expectingly, waiting for the weapon to be handed over like it was a precious treasure." I will make it work~! BETTER~!" She chirped happily, already wondering why stop at violet glow when you could have it glow in a rainbow colors! Raibow colors were better! Not as much as gold, but gold color glow pasma weapons, she felt were best suited to be developped and delivered to Terra!

[Assistant]
"As long as you aren't keeping a corridor of statues, I won't have any comments to make..."

"Some memories are best left buried, Stukov... " Adrianne muttered quietly, but not without a sly smile as she continued to look ahead; following along for the rest of the tour.

And she was impressed by what she saw. The rest of the safehouse was as ostentatious and as alien as she would have come to expect from it. Just what had driven the otherwise pious sister to desgin it in such a manner eluded the psyker, a fact she could not entirely wrap her head around.

Walking through the hallway of paintings, she found herself gazing each way; taking in the strange, almost bizarre sights.

They lacked the usual majestic splendor that was so common with most gothic paintings, with symbols and geometric patterns that often made no sense; whilst other pictures were more designed to assault the senses with a riot of colors and impressions.

"What even is this... "

Adrianne privately thought.

"I think they look kind of nice. The artists had quite some creative souls."

A familiar voice sang throughout the back of her head. But Adrianne would not be the only one to hear it. Nearby, Titus would also be able to hear the voice. It would move through his mind like a brief glimpse, touching the edges of his mind like a razor wire coated with narcotic drugs; both revolting and delightful. For a brief moment he was in the presence of some hungering entity; and then it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Adrianne noticed nothing out of the sorts. She continued the rest of the trip, noting the vast size of the armory. Just how the battle sister was ever going to crew all these weapons and vehicles she did not know. Did they have a contingent of battle sisters assigned as their strike force in case of emergency, perhaps? Either way, Adrianne found herself dragged along with the barely-sane tech priestess shortly afterwards.

" I will make it work~! BETTER~!"

"Uhm... I don't need it to be better. Just to work like normal, okay?" Adrianne said, raising her fingers in a gesture as if it could somehow calm the ranting tech-priestess. Somehow. She knew the dangers of tampering with plasma weaponry. Whilst this was by all accounts a tech-priest before her; part of the cult mechanicum; she knew it didn't make her immune to mistakes.
"Could you like... just make it work, and save any tech-heresy for the rest of the weapons we have in the armory? Pretty please.... ?"

[User]
Cole, unlike most of his companions, stayed quiet throughout the time they arrived at the safehouse. Barely saying a word or interacting with Andromedai or anyone else. Almost like he was not even there, and this suited him. Cole was not a man of many words, choosing to speak when he wanted to, and he did not feel the need. While this would surely make him seem distant to Andromedai and his companions. This is just who he is and Cole doubts that anyone could change that. Still, he is bound to make some form of chat with his fellows sooner or later.

Then it came time for Andromedai to give them a tour of the safehouse. Cole nodded and got up from his chair. Following her without making a sound and silently watched. Noting that the interior seemed to him like something that would be on a Free Trader ship. Not saying that is bad but looked like a nice change of pace from what he is used to. The art though that lined the walls was interesting. He was not a fan of art but found some that caught his eye. Though some of it well.. off is not the right word. Bizarre was the right word, and he cocked his head to the side while looking at one. When Andromedai said that it was artwork that she had collected. Cole could only think that Andromedai had some... peculiar tastes in that case.

The next stop was the medical wing. Cole found it reassuring that someone would be fixing up their wounds if harm came to them. He could not help to remember the last doc that worked on him after a particularly fierce engagement with Orks. Nearly sawed his arm off even though his arm was still fixable. Cole shuttered at the thought of convincing her not to saw off his arm. Sure he could get a new prosthetic and continue fighting unfazed, but he was not ready to give up on his flesh. Hopefully, this doc is not as saw-happy, and Cole will not have any problems with her.

Now they came to the armory and the other rooms. Everything seemed up to standard for him, and when it came to the last room. A pool with a bar and a garden. Cole was amazed by this, a pool with a bar? This is a welcome surprise though he was not sure that he would even dive into the pool. The bar probably when it came down to it and the garden. It could be a good place to relax in silence even though he would be more comfortable if it were not outside the safehouse. The point of a safehouse is to hide people, and having outdoor rooms seemed unwise. Even with Andromedai assured that the security system would still be effective here. However, it is not his place to judge Andromedai for this. She is his boss and an Inquisitor at that. Better to trust in her judgment, and if she thinks that this is safe, then it is safe.

Once the tour was over and Andromedai freed them to do whatever for three hours before being recalled to the living room. Cole headed straight to the armory. He needed to perform maintenance for his weapons for some time and now seem like the perfect time to do it. Finding that he was not alone and Stukov was in the armory doing his own business. Cole gave a friendly nod before finding a spare bench and putting down his lasgun. Here Cole would spend his time performing maintenance and making sure that his weapons worked well. Along with checking out what else the armory had. If Stukov wished to speak to Cole at all, he would not object to talking and, if not. Then that would suit Cole fine.


[System]
Age: 16

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Nationality: Japanese/American living in America.

Favorite Gundam Series: She's never actually sat down with any of the Anime or Manga. The actual lore of Gundam doesn't interest her. As such she tends to build completely divorced from any unintentional restrictions being lore savvy might put on her.

That said, she has a preference for U.C. Mobile Suits.

Personality:
Yuki tends to be rather quiet around new people. Common interests can and do mitigate this, and once she warms up to some one she opens people find a polite and friendly. 'Quiet' doesn't mean 'doormat' though, and she won't put up with some one trying to bully her.

History:
Yuki was born to a Japanese man and American woman, and her mother, was willing to play along and be a 'good wife' for a time. It wasn't until her father started telling Yuki that 'proper girls don't do such things' and forbidding her from pursuing things she was interested in that her mother dropped the act of the 'good wife' and the fighting started, and the fights quickly expanded to be about more then just the stiffing of Yuki's interests

Yuki was 13 when the fighting started to get real bad. So much so that she began to sneak out to get away from it. It was during one of these 'escapes' that she wandered into a hobby shop to get out of a sudden, heavy rain. Yuki had been aware of the Gunpla crazy, but hadn't really paid it much mind, she figured her father would just yell at her if she show any interest in it, but she there she was in a hobby shop, and away from him.

Yuki watched as a pair of fighters squared off in a rather intense dual that left both Gunpla totaled, after which the two combatants sat down and chatted about the fight like they'd been watching it on TV or something. Needless to say, it blew her mind, she was used how her parents fought after all. By the time her parents noticed she was and came looking for her, Yuki had already put a Zaku II together and was in the battle room learning how to make the thing move from one of the fighters she'd watched and approached with a battery of questions.

Her mother found her first, and instead of immediately taking Yuki home she let her finish what was very clearly a lesson. It'd been a long time since she'd seen Yuki genuinely happy anyway, she didn't want to spoil it. The fighting continued as per usual, and Yuki sneaking out during them became common, the search almost always ending at the hobby shop. Yuki coming home from school late also became common. In that Hobby shop she'd found sanctuary.

The Marriage last only another few months before her father made good on his threat to kick them both out, Yuki, like her mother, having become openly defiant, especially when if came to her new Gunpla hobby. The last straw coming from him breaking her Zaku II with a hammer and Yuki punching him in the face, breaking his nose, and when her mother refused to punish Yuki or let him punish her, he threw them both out, and true to the reply Yuki's mother had always made to the threat of being throw out, they where in America less then a week later.

Once they had settled in, and Yuki contacted her friends back in Japan to let them know she'd arrived safely and where settled in, Yuki began looking for a new 'sanctuary', and finding it in a fairly good sized independent hobby shop.

Now, a couple years later, her mother remarried, and her step father is an actual 'father' to her, and her new baby brother. She is a fixture at the hobby shop as well, and in the local tournament scene, and is know for some creative builds, even her 'straight builds' usually do, have one or two things they wouldn't normally do just to screw with people, earning her the nickname 'Sleeping Beauty' due to her leaning toward changing what the Gunpla does rather then changing how it looks.

But the fates would see her back in Japan, as an invitation to the Akihabara Academy made it's way to a very confused Yuki.

Gunpla Info
Hi Nu 'Noblesse'

Yuki's Hi Nu is based on a Gunpla she swears she's seen somewhere before, but can't seem to find proof of it existing leading her friends, and eventually Yuki her self to believe it was never real and she just dreamed it up, and they all agreed a Gunpla as awesome as the one she described shouldn't remain confined to Yuki's head.

Which was fine till she started building it and realized, out side how it looked, she knew nothing about it. Plus, she was also not a fan of White and Blue. With all that in mind she decided to keep how it looks, but paint it in her own colors and add her own systems.

Scale: 1/144

Based from: Hi Nu Gundam

Gundam Appearance

Weapons;
Head Vulcans
x1 Hi Beam Rifle
x2 Hi Beam Sabers
x1 Hyper Bazooka
x2 'Regality' Gunblades
x6 Fin Funnels
x1 Hyper Shield

Special features
Anti-NTD system;
It protects the Fin Funnels from the controlling effects of the NTD system of the Unicorn Gundam line, thus preventing them from being taken over and turned against her, again.

Fin Funnels;
The Fin Funnels are pretty standard for the Nu line, they shoot, and can make an energy shield. The difference between hers and others is in the number of Fin Funnels needed to make an energy shield, she only needs 2 of her 6 to form a barrier. Naturally, more Funnels dedicated to the shield the stronger it'll be. They also are part of her Gunpla's 'finisher' that also involves the Hyper Shield.

Hyper Shield;
The Hyper Shield has been modified into an arm mounted triple beam cannon/booster when attached to the back. The three Beam Cannons are linked to fire all at once and the charge cycle prevents rapid fire (one burst every 30 seconds). When attached to the back, they act as three extra boosters to make the Gundam go faster when need be.

The Fin Funnels can also 'dock' on the shield, boosting it offensive power to that of a Twin Buster Rifle. Yuki hasn't quite got the bugs worked out of this yet, so after firing she loses the use of her Funnels and Beam Cannons.

Regality Gunblades;
A pair of swords with a Beam Rifle built into the guard. They can also be used as an extra pair of Funnels, called 'Sword Bits' if need be.

Gunpla Info
Skull Heart

Yuki's Skull Heart was a gift from her step father, though at the time he was still just her mothers boyfriend. He had found out about her hobby and at first, didn't get the appeal of playing with plastic models, but it made Yuki happy so he let her have her fun.

It wasn't till he went down to the hobby shop one day to pick her up on the way to the store to get something for dinner that he finally 'got it', walking into her mid battle, Yuki, running a Stark Jegan equipped with a pair of shoulder cannons and armor mounted beam gatlings in addition to the usual load out vs a custom Red Frame Gundam Astray decked out with a DRAGOON system and Beam Rifle from a Legend Gundam.

Yuki lost that fight, but just shrugged it off. The pair of them ended up talking about the fight, Gunpla Battle, and Building as the walked the store as they picked out something for dinner. He, along with Yuki's mother attended a few of her tournaments. He bought her the Skull Heart to cheer her up after a particularly hard fought loss to another girl running a Reborns Gundam, picking that one due to him remembering her mentioning she was planning on getting one at dinner.

Yuki has since used it as something of a 'test' suit for a few ideas she's had based on things she's encountered, like the I-Field the Beam Markers, that the Skull Heart thankfully came with. So while they work, she's not gotten the bugs 100% out of her ideas yet.

Scale: 1/144

Based from:
Crossbone X-1 Fullcloth Kai Kai 'Skull Heart'

Gundam Appearance

Weapons:
Head Vulcans
x2 Machine Cannons
x2 Beam Saber
x2 Heat Daggers
x1 Peacock Smasher
x1 Muramasa Blaster
x1 Beam Zanber
x1 Buster Gun
x2 Beam Markers
x2 Scissor Anchors

Special features:

Skull Head Reflectors;
The I-Field Generators on the X-1 FCs shoulder skulls have been modified to not only protect the suit from Beam attacks, but reflect them back at the person who fired them, like an I-Field though, it has no effect on ballistic weapons. It also can not be left on as the field it puts up will throw the suits own shots back at it.

Gunpla Info;
Sengoku Astray, Yuki Custom

Yuki's Astray came about purely at random, being not a huge fan of 'champion' kits and less so of the Astray line it self. But when she encountered the kit on a trip to a local hobby shop after transferring to the school, she had a sudden 'burst' of inspiration and picked the kit up, to build what she refers to as an 'in kit' custom, which is making a custom suit, with out using an extra parts from a different kit.

Weapons;
X 2 High Frequency Blades

Special Systems;

Reflector I-Field;
Taken from her Full Cloth, the Reflector field works in the exact same manner. It reflects energy based weapons fired from angle back at the source, and since the Astray has no ranged weapons, let alone energy based weapons, it is not prevented from attacking while the field is active.

High Frequency Blades;
A concept taken from other anime, and video games, and is something Yuki had been working on for a while now and works the same way as described in those other media. Plavisky Particles send a charge through the blade, giving it the appearance of being electrified and causing the blade to vibrate at an ultra high frequency to boost it cutting power well past the average Beam Saber. The blades have been treated and strengthened so they don't shatter from their own vibration.

Notes;
The Astray has no thrusters anywhere on it. Since the movement is controlled by the particles and the thrust is just special effects Yuki has designed it to not rely on thrusters for maneuvering.

Gunpla Info;
Burning Destiny Gundam

Despite the rather 'hype' sounding name, Yuki is pretty 'meh' about this build. It's a custom she built for a class, but it hasn't turned out quiet like she wanted looks wise due to time constraints and kit incompatibility leaving her feeling a little detached from the build as it's not the best she could have done, this has been made worse by the fact that she has to use it in the schools tournament.

Side Note;
All the shiny green are meant to be Particle Condensers

Weapons;
X 2 Beam Sabers

Special Systems;

Wings of Light;
The Wings of Light, taken from the Destiny Gundam, function as part of the Burning Destiny's main gimmick, something Yuki calls 'stance dancing', or switching between different modes for different situations.

The Wings of Light are the 'Speed' mode, and boost the Gunplas speed by a 6 times, double that of Trans-Am

Super Mode/Hyper Mode;
A system from the Burning/God Gundam, it functions as Burning Destiny's 'Offensive' mode, boosting the attack power of the Gunpla by once again, 6 times.

Hyper mode is achieved when both the Wings of Light and Super mode are active at the same time, Boosting the Attack, Speed and Defensive stats of the Gunpla by a factor of 10. The draw back to this is Hyper Mode forces whats know as 'Assimilation', meaning feed back from damage taken is relayed to Yuki. It also turned the Gunpla Gold, with the Green Condensers turning Red

'Ki Drive';
Orginally, the Destiny's Palma Fiocina Beam Cannons, Yuki has tweaked them making them compatible with the Burning/God Gundams more 'Ki' like attack style. Allowing her to fire off smaller 'Ki' blasts rapidly, or charge up a big blast Dragon Ball Z style.

Note worthy attacks are.

Spiral Wave;
Short range energy burst emitted from the palm and has the range of your average Beam Saber, and as the name implys, it spins. It should be noted that if using both hands that the energy from one hand will spin in the opposite direction of the other (one twists clock wise, the other counter clock wise).

Burning Knuckle/Tyrant Knuckle;
Yuki's Version of Burning/God Finger, and yes, she's aware of Terry Bogard. The primary difference between her's and Domon's (and Terrys) is the lack of wind up time, and the lack of 'omph' behind them, this isn't going to finish off an Gunpla in one shot (unless it's poorly built).

Tyrant Knuckle on the other hand, IS the finisher. It has all the same wind up time is Burning/God Finger, only with out the speech, and more using the other hand to set you up for it. What Yuki generally does here is upper cut to the gut hard enough to life the target off its feet, usually using Burning Knuckle, and while they're hanging, punch said target in the face or collar area with the Tyrant Knuckle that's been charging.

Tyrant Wave;
Sekiha Tenkiyoken, by way of a little girl, with a minimal tolerance level for BS. this is the 'ranged' finisher and easily on par with the Twin Buster Rifle at full strength, and well above it in Hyper Mode. However it's major draw back is the wind up for it, even in Hyper mode it takes a few moments to charge up, and unlike Tyrant Knuckle, which can be charged while in motion, Tyrant Wave can not, or rather, she can't be actively moving the Gunpla her self (IE drifting in space is fine, trying to charge it while flying or running is not)

[User] "Astray.0 Custom Civilian astray, my only suit as of right now." Kyo explained, looking between the two of them. The hoodied person held out the clear tube that held and protected the astray which was locked to a stand. "Guess i was doing something right with this fodder of a suit to get invited to the school." they said, waiting on the rest of the group to decide to find out their room.

[Assistant] "I see well now that its all been settled how about we go look for our dorm and at least settle down for a bit." Verdi stated as she got up and went towards the wall where they kept the listing. Not looking to see if they were following or not she headed towards the wall though it seemed that each team had a dorm and was set to live in while they attended the academy.

[User] Yuki closed her case followed the Italian girl to their dorm room. Yuki remained quiet on the way there, mostly her thoughts where on what lay ahead, she still questioned why she'd been invited to the school, but she was here now, and they thought enough of her to put her Hi Nu on display.


[System]
Race: Human
Age: 25

Appearence:

Personality Information: Sly and smooth, Dren is something of a wordsmith and could talk a man into selling him everything he owns. Something of a manipulator, Dren tends to use another person's words against him. This can make him somewhat obnoxious. He holds himself in high standing and is very prideful, often acting posh or upper class despite the truth being anything but.

Brief Backstory: Dren Rache was born in the slums of the town of Diremound, a seedy underbelly of crooks, cheats, liars and slaves. Dren's parents leeched off of the scraps of the city and Dren too was forced to live like them. However, as he grew up, he began to notice he had a keen eye for distinction, mostly in what he could steal from street vendors and other people. He began to grow knowledgeable in materials and herbs, even starting to combine them into chemical remedies and toxins for selling in Diremound. It earned him enough currency to finally make something of himself, when his parents passed away from disease.

Dren left Diremound and made for a richer city as fast as he could, using his knowledge and wares to earn enough coin to make himself look better, desperate to distance himself from his past in Diremound. To this end, he hired a tailor to create clothes for him, a long red cloak and matching top hat to make him appear far more regal and important than he truly was, hiding his rags underneath. He also donned a pair of white gloves to hide his gnarled hands from his work at the cauldron. He also took up sorcery, obtaining his cane in the process and practicing his work outside of the city. Soon he became a more well known figure, for both his resplendent appearance and his wares.

Current Events: Diremound has recently been overrun by monsters and Dren is simply seeking to sell his wares and ritz it up with some of the more important people in town.

Skills: Dren is a skilled mage, having a firm grasp upon magic. He is not a professional, but he knows his way around most forms of a spell. His preferred element of choice is ice. Dren is also a skilled alchemist, having sold his own brews, tinctures, tonics and salves. Given enough time and the right ingredients he can whip up whatever is needed. Dren is also generally intelligent and uses this well in combat, as well as boasting a silver tongue to charm his way around certain individuals, though this has just as much chance to land him in hot water.
Gear:
Trice Majestos Cane: A black walking stick with a gold bottom and rounded orb at the top, emblazoned with three star symbols on the hilt. Whilst normally functioning as a walking stick, the cane also has potential as a magic catalyst and is Dren's primary form of defending himself. He supposedly made the cane himself and no-one has been able to prove him wrong yet. He also named it.

Item stock: Dren keeps a healthy supply of support items from his travels and a few he whipped up himself across the lands and makes use of them in tough situations. He also keeps a light supply of black powder bombs which he particularly enjoys the use of.

Anelace: A thin silver elongated dagger, a short sword more than anything else. Dren rarely ever used it due to being unskilled in swordplay, it is strictly a last resort.

Etc: Dren is petrified of his old poor life and will go to great lengths to ensure no-one ever knows he was once a lowly beggar, hence training himself to speak eloquently.

[User]
Chris

Christopher followed his companion to his different stops, chatting up shopkeepers he knew quite well. He was able to haggle with them a bit and get his horned friend some more spending money from his initial commission. Chris would mark down names and prices, then hand the shopkeepers a sort of receipt, which promised their agreed price with a little extra from the Prince himself. He didn't have access to the family treasury, but his Captain's salary and his brother really bolstered his private pocket. He could easily fund an army on the fly. The young man would smile at citizens who recognized him, greet the elderly, and occasionally help people solve disputes as he waited to move on to the next shop.

"I'll treat you to dinner, my friend," he offered to his lieutenant, "We just got to get back to the castle before it gets too dark. They have to close the gates at night now," he said firmly. He could still get in through the guardhouses but he wasn't about to lead a non-human through those passages without anyone really knowing the stranger. He was still a little unsure of the young non-human. He wondered what brought such a unique individual to Conra at such a time. People could accuse him of being involved in the Dark if he wasn't careful.

[Assistant]
Sven

As much as Azerus would love to just slip back into the nostalgic familiarity of high class castle society, that he has lived and known from behind the secluded hidden confines of closed doors and heavy shadows his whole life. He wasn't so sure he could just go waltzing back in so soon.

Not while there were still those that would recognise him, not while he still appeared the way he did, not while an unidentified royal murderer still ran free.

While most of the castle occupants wouldn't recognise him, having never laid eyes upon him even though he lived right under their noses, his appearance would still cause question and stir, so close to the queens tragic demise.
And then there were those that Azerus was running from. As much as he would love to flaunt his new found freedom in open sight he knew not of their intentions or how desperate and deep their desires ran. His ego and pride could jeopardise Christopher's mission and life. He couldn't risk that by good conscious.

-----

Azerus snapped back to reality only to realise he had been standing awkwardly in silence as Chris patiently awaited a reply. Caught in the throws of beginning a sentence with a face somewhere between a smile and frown Azerus only manages a stammer, failing to find words to rectify the situation. Finally after settled thoughts and a breath he speaks his reply.

"Ah you have already done much for me, now I must start fulfilling my role. If I am to be a lieutenant then I must be acting like one and get to know the, uh, troops. I will meet you in the morning."

With hesitation he unclips his shining new sword from its belt and delicately hands it over to Christopher.

"Just don't forget to bring that!" he adds in with a friendly smile and nod.

Already he had grown admiration for this man in the way he interacted with the people of the street. He was truly of his families blood, it appeared as though that blood lineage couldn't produce an ill human if it tried.
That thought was a sad reminder of the deceased queen, also an affirmation that a man was made by his heritage and blood, and Azerus couldn't deny his own was anything but righteous or clean.

The high hopes and uplifting confidence that was instilled simply by being around Christopher quickly faded as Azerus made his way back to the bar to see the others he would be travelling with.

[User]
Gun'tar took the small vial filled with the black liquid and looked at it. He wanted to smell it but quickly decided against it. Maybe the smell would make him go to sleep ? He didn't want to risk it.

"  Merchant. Wait. I'll buy from you now. But first. I want to know two things about your potions. First of all. Do you have anything that could stop someone's heart for a time and restart it after that ? To make him look dead I mean and the last thing. How can we be sure you don't want to sell us anything but what we ask ? How can we be sure you are not just a charlatan ?  ".

The Orc held his gaze , looking into his eyes. Waiting for anything to betray his true intentions.
His left hand slowly moving toward the hilt of Garam'Dora'Mala.

Sven@CadenGallic

[Assistant]
Dren Rache

"Merchant. Wait. I'll buy from you now." THERE was Dren's cue, a sly smile spreading upon his face as he curtly turned on his heels to face the speaker... though, his cool facade faltered a moment as he looked upon the person speaking to him. A large orc, an ice variety he'd have to guess by that unique skin pigmentation, towering size and clear strength, not someone Dren wanted to have to deal with in close proximity. He'd prefer to deal with this man from at least three towns away. Not to mention a questing hand was making its way toward that ugly length of metal at his side. No grace at all. But, if he insisted upon making a move, Dren could at least coax him out of it.

"Sleeping Death? Childs play." he boasted, slipping a hand into the folds of his coat and removing another tiny pyramid bottle, this one containing a bright pink liquid. "My friend, I carry a potion for almost every occasion, and if I do not know that occasion, I can prepare something for it when asked. As to disprove the charlatan accusation, I have offered your ally there a sample of my work. If you truly do not believe in my skills, simply try it out. If I am the charlatan you accuse me of being, the draught will be faulty. And then you can swing at me with that heap you're grasping for. I won't even dodge." Dren was sure this orc wouldn't back down from an offer like that. A display like this often verified to a buyer that Dren was more than willing to stake his life upon his work. Of course it could go the other way and this musclehead could just lunge at him. His free hand gripped the head of his cane tightly, just in case he would soon find need of it.

[User]
Gun'tar laughed when he heard the Merchant talk. He looked at him with a smile on his face.

"  Sorry for the "ruse" merchant. Most charlatans would back away as soon as they see my hand going to Garam'Dora'Mala. You speak the truth. So...this potion. What did you call it ? Sleeping Death ? Can it be applied on a sword ? So that when it cuts someone , the "poison" would enter his blood and if so...would 400 coins be enough for it ?  "

As soon as he stopped talking , he realized something was "off" on this merchant. Most merchants would run as he said. He decided to not say anything until he knew for certain what is what.

[Assistant]
Dren Rache

Dren offered a slight chuckle in return to the Orc's laughter. A simple test, it seemed. Perhaps he was simply trying to figure Dren out... lower class did so like to study their betters.

"A show of intimidation would indeed spook a charlatan. Luckily, I am no such thing." He assured him, tipping the brim of his hat slightly. "Yes, coating it on that hunk of metal you wield would indeed deliver the desired effect. It would be less potent than if it were ingested, but if that's a method you seek, Sleeping death can abide perfectly." he pontificated, swirling the pink liquid in the bottle.

"400 will do as a price. I can give you a second draught too for an extra 200. Call it a buyer's special." he tried to entice him to part with more money. Offering a second load for cheaper was a good tactic to reel in fickle customers, sometimes even create some loyalty in them when needed. This orc was playing right into Dren's gloved palms.

[User] "  Merchant...I don't need another one. I need just one...I'll give you 400 gold coins for this one and if you come with our party another 50 gold pieces everyday 'till we reach our destination. How does that sound ? I am sure the others will be more than happy to give you some gold for you company if you wish to come. The only condition is that you will make potions for us when we need them and in exchange we will pay you and protect you if you don't know how to protect yourself.  " said Gun'tar with a determined look.

[Assistant]
Dren Rache

Now this was a new one... he'd had offers of being paid further instalments for a constant supply of his tonics... but to actually go on this adventure's little quest. To the east, to boot. Dren had been thinking about it since he first overheard their conversation, even he knew it was a suicide mission that they were asking him to go on. They really must have been desperate for extra hands if they were asking him, the man they were calling a charlatan moments ago.

"My friend, your mission, to be frank, sounds like a suicide mission. I am fully capable of defending myself in harsh situations, but no potion I have can put a stopper in death." he spoke to the Orc with a slight frown upon his face. "As tempting as the offer of constant money is, it means nothing if I should perish. Unless you can give me a good reason to attend this trip with you, the answer is no."

[User] "  I could give you more that one reason but I want to be civil for now. I will raise the money you will receive to 80 gold coins per day and when I meet my people you can come with me and you will be payed another 1000 gold coins for delivering me to my tribe and maybe even more money for your potions. Plus , we can protect you merchant. You said it yourself , you can defend yourself and by the looks of my other companions they can too and me ? I was born a fighter as I think it can be seen merchant. There will be enough blades between you and any danger. Nothing will harm you. I can vow to protect you merchant if you wish. We orcs of the Molokai tribe ( the biggest Ice orc tribe ) always keep our vows.  ". This was the last chance for the merchant. If he didn't accept...it was over for him. Gun'tar would pay for the Sleeping Death potion and he would leave with his new companions.

[Assistant]
"Threats are not the most convincing of ways to attain a companion, my friend." Dren knew the orc probably wasn't kidding and would happily try to pummel him if he wanted to. He wasn't exactly scared of the large brute, but he also wasn't particularly in the mood to start a bar room brawl.

He could feel his pockets yawning at the opportunity for that amount of gold... Dren was not a greedy man, but an offer like that opened up a lot of doors regardless of a person's natural temperament. The promise of protection was enticing however... the opportunity to skirt danger behind the backs of these idiots was tempting. And if things ever got too harsh, Dren was more than able to leave them to their fate and return to civilisation with a clean conscience. He hated to admit it, but this promise was becoming more tempting with every word...

"...very well." He stood up straight. "I, Dren Rache, will accompany you... and if you double cross me regarding the pay, you'll find worse than sleeping death in your grog when you don't expect it." He tipped his hat slightly.