[System]
Age: 25
Gender: Male
Appearance: As a Gadotian by lineage, Selim's skin tone is a warm beige color that goes through phases of deeper brown colors when he spends more time wandering through the desert, with a variety of stark white imperfections (scars) or red abrasions from sandstorms. When he stands up straight, Selim is just over 6 feet. He has solid muscle tone from his time training for the Clash of Iron.

Selim tends to wear a modern take of classic Relinic and Gadotian apparel. He generally wears a trimmed, light colored, high collared jacket made of a tough material. It was designed to have freedom of movement, so some points are a bit less form fitting to also allow it to provide some protection from glancing attacks. His pants are fairly standard men's legwear design. Most of his stuff is kept in a small bag on his back, which straps across his chest diagonally. Shoes are an old worn pair of black boots, with a high ankle and newly replaced soles for grip.
Hometown: Gadot/Relin, previously Orin
Personality: Selim is naturally empathetic and has a unique, genuine charisma - once you get past some of the initial stumbling blocks. Selim can quickly be caught off guard if one of his practiced introductions are not applicable. Because of the programmed responses to seem civil, not too entirely uncommon in Orani culture, Selim can come across as serious - which he is. There is also an unshakable sadness and frustration that can be picked up on, especially by those who knew him years ago.
Relic Description: Selim's relic is a half-dollar sized metal bobble with a purple stained glass ring, about an inch thick. It has an etched relief design of his home in Relin on it. His creatures are added either to the etching or to a small inscription on the back.
Starting Natrelmon: Crowire & Kohitsuji
Starting Spell Schools: Abjuration/Invocation
History:  Gadotian by lineage and birth, the early years of his life were spent in Orin with his parents, who had moved to Orin to serve the upper echelon's of Orani society with their craftwork. It was a mixed success venture, just enough to give Selim a taste of some of the finer things and enough access to an education to keep him interested in learning. It also gave him enough of a talent of blending in, or at least socializing with, those with unlimited access to the world.

After a few rough years, the family moved to Relin to work with the craftspeople there to refine their designs into something unique. They settled happily there for awhile, but were forced to move with Selim's mother fell ill and could not handle the tough Relinic winters any longer. They moved back to Gadot and purchased a sizable portion of land on the mountainside with enough space for a flock of sheep and Hitsuji, along with a contingent of messenger Hawklines which were traditional in Gadot.

Selim had a penchant after moving back to Gadot of wandering deep into the desert. He had enough experience with Invocation to be able to tell mirage from Uaine magic. He had a number of choice encounters with the desert folk, who only really tolerated his presence due to his ability to communicate telepathically as well.

While the Orani almost exclusively practiced the art of fencing for combat, which Selim learned from his time there, the Gadotians preferred a wider variety of spice in combat. Selim opted to learn from the Gadotian weapon schools as a part of training for the Clash of Iron, which is a combination smithing and swordsmanship combination run by the people of Ilsver and Gadot, almost always with one of their residents being named the victory (despite being open to all participants). Selim has participated, but has not ever won. It did, however, earn him a few nice contracts as a bodyguard for some wealthy clientele passing through Gadot, usually forcing him to travel to Lifan.

During the war, Selim aided in crafting weapons for the East's military. Following the War he delayed undergoing his Rites to continue his education and help care for his ailing mother. It was after she passed that Selim decided it was time to undertake his journey alone. He chose to take one of the new Kohitsuji from their family farm, along with a Crowire he had for a number of years as a companion.

Professions: Herbalist and Breeder
Noteworthy Skills:  Selim's experience required he be able to help care for others as well as be able to care for his own minor scrapes and bruises. He has knowledge of blacksmithing from the family craft business and has undergone formal training in the ways of weapons. The experience in Orin and interactions with the Uaine have given him a continued interest, and access to, in the history and knowledge of the world.

Magic:

Abjuration - Rank III - 21600

Rank I - Chant of Mending
Rank II - Effulgent Burst
Rank III - Blinding Radiance

Invocation - Rank III - 21600

Rank I - Shimmering Bolt
Rank II - Inundate
Rank III - Celestial Curtain

Gifts: Telepathy, Lucky

ITEMS:
- Spear
- 1 D Relics

Currency: 7000 N

Natrelmon:
- Crowire - M - 15
- Kohitsuji - M - 10
- Veolu - F - 15
- Olena - F - 9
- Soelbe - F - 15
- Narashi - F - 20
- Ocalia - F - 13
- Kaigara - F - 13
- Veolu - M - 15
- Albion - M - 15
- Mythin - F - 1

[User]
Cities have secrets. It was a simple fact that seemed to elude most people, but it was something that was very much abused by those with the necessary knowledge - be it thieves, thrill-seekers, bureaucrats or even the leaders of cities. Cities were almost like people in that regard - once you knew their secrets, they could be manipulated - and this was not a fact that was lost on the second member of the Elite Triumvirate, Yugaku Hayake. Her trips to cities were always very interesting, for she saw the secrets that most people took to their graves effortlessly. Within a few minutes of being within the city of Toran, she could tell all of its hidden nooks and crannies, and the secrets of those within it. Secrets were a beautiful thing, and though she saw them all, it was through a voyeur's eye--not an interrogator's. She looked over the sun-kissed streets with their spicy noodle stands, the Arena with its secrets of yore and glitter of promise, and the colourful flags fluttering gently along an invisible breeze. The festivities were well under way, and the new blood would be gathering any time now in order to start their Rites together. She smiled to herself, just briefly, before walking away from the central plaza.

A place in Toran that few knew about was the Peak of the Gods, an ancient track of gates that extended out over a grassy cline towards the sunset in the evenings. Those who knew of the location knew nothing of its significance, but Yugaku had long-since discovered the area's secrets. It had historically been used as a beacon for power, with each gate imparting a little power into those that walked through it, until the culmination was the infusion of enough power to commune with the "gods", but that was a truth from a time that had long since passed. If the Lord of the South still heard the prayers of those at the Peak of the Gods, he showed no inclination to answer them. That was, if anyone still knew enough to pray there.

Yugaku took a steady stroll through the first of the gates, admiring the architectural integrity as she lightly ran her hand across the old stone foundations that kept it standing. Despite being obviously ancient, it had weathered the test of time, and its features looked no different to how they had hundreds of years ago. The stone bases of the gates were thick cuboids, bridged together at the top with vermillion red tiles, and decorated with kanji that had lovingly been carved into the slates and painted over with red. Prayer beads were strewn across the gates, in some cases underneath them, and in some cases in front of them, or attached to the walls. Despite their age, the aura of reverence had not yet left, and walking through the gates gave Yugaku a feeling of serenity and hope. It was brief, but she managed to enjoy it while it lasted, and after ten minutes of walking, she had reached the end of the string of gates, and was overlooking the sun as it began to dip below the horizon, reflected across the water like a painting upon a canvas.

"If you still hear our prayers, O Suzaku, I ask that you listen well. The darkness that has been foreseen will be upon this new blood soon, and we three cannot protect them all. You know that our duties will keep us elsewhere. There will be casualties before the upcoming storm - give them your blessing, Lord of the South, and watch over them where we mortals cannot. I fear they will need your assistance soon enough." She began, looking out towards the sunset before it dipped below the waves for the day, and the time of prayer was no longer correct. It was cathartic to speak out loud the worries that she had felt for some time - while the other members of the Triumvirate might understand, there was little that any of them could do, and speaking to them about the upcoming darkness was hardly necessary - they had all come to the same conclusion, in some manner or another.

For now, she would wait by the shore before visiting Toran and returning to Lifan - she would check up on the new trainers before they challenged Anastasia, but beyond that there was little assistance that she could offer.

[Assistant]
Cold and wet from the rain, Axel trudges along. The densely packed trees in the forest outside of Toran did little to stop the water from soaking him through. His clothes became heavy and made it harder to move stealthily. Careful not to disturb the foliage, Axel continues on his hunt. The Omutiel he had been tracking was close, and he couldn't afford to spook it now as it was almost 5am and quite dark out still and he might not be able to find it again.

"I should have waited till morning to do this." grumbles Axel to himself.

Having been traveling for 5 days since receiving the letter from his father, Axel was just outside of his destination but had decided to make a slight detour once he noticed the telltale signs of an Omutiel. Catching an Omutiel would fetch him a pretty penny as breeders greatly desired them for their benefits later on. The money, while not necessary for a minor lordling such as himself, would allow him to live in luxury slightly longer while completing his rites.

Axel had been expecting the letter for some time now, and as it happens, he had been almost home to Ward when he received it. His father demanded that he take a sabbatical from his work with the Byakko's Fangs, the mercenary band he had been with since the war, to finally complete his Rites which were long overdue. Usually the Rites are begun when children reach adulthood, sometimes slightly earlier. In Axel's case though, he had already begun work and had fought in a war, so he didn't place much importance in the Rites, but he would not disobey his father.

Suddenly a rustle in the branches ahead of him caught his attention.

"Shit, it sensed me." Axel thought.

"Chu, use your Kusarigama to chain it down now!" He shouted!

From the darkness came a whirling sound as Chu broke through the brush beside him in a charge towards the tree in front of him. Chu had been tailing in case Axel needed assistance during his hunt. With dexterity much greater than his own, Chu leapt and released the Kusarigama towards the treetop. A loud and frustrated "Caw" sounded as a now bound Omutiel fell to the forest floor. The chains had trapped its left wing to its body and it now could no longer fly. Giving Chu and Axel a glare, it succumbed to its binding and just stared at them both, refusing to struggle.

"Thanks for making it easier little guy. Don't worry, I won't be hurting you." Axel announces. "I'm merely going to be giving you a new home. Who knows? Maybe you'll enjoy it more."

Holding his left arm out, the stones on his arm band begin to glow. With a few practiced words, the stones flash brightly and then begin to dull. A new stone had been added to it and the Omutiel was no longer there. The new stones colors were a swirl of green and grey, complimenting the other 5 he had of varying designs and colors.

"Alright, finally time to head into town. I wonder where I can get a good meal?"

[User]
Selim had opted to take a less traditional route to Toran.

The mountains that divided the East from the West were really only practically accessible through Ward. However, that did not make it impossible to cross elsewhere on the range. Especially for someone who had time in Relin, and time in Gadot, the mountains, the elements, and their perils were no strangers to Selim. With his Kohitsuji and Crowire, it made the journey slow, but with very little risk. Crowire was easily capable of scouting for dangers ahead, while Selim's Kohitsuji's Psychic Aura helped ensure the path was sure.

Selim's choice of the crossing the mountain was to give him some alone time. He knew the likelyhood of encountering any other person out there would be slim to none. Plus, the added benefit was that some of the forested areas between the mountains were noted to be home to creatures that were tested against the harshest elements and had shown perseverance - a trait Selim deeply respected. His choice was rewarded with an encounter with a Veolu. Being from the desert side of the mountains, it was a creature he had not seen before.

Clasping the bauble that held his relic, he let a bit of his magic bleed into the purple stained glass ring, which began to spin around before flooding the area with multiple arcs of purple light. They quickly surrounded the Veolu before it had time to process what was going on, enveloping it before it vanished with a snap. Now etched onto the back of his relic was an inscription for the Veolu in the tiniest of ornamental scripts. He gave a small smile to himself before marching onwards and over the final mountain giving him a view of Toran from above.


[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Female
DNA: Ascension Frigatebird (Fregata aquila)

Personality: Mal, in an interesting twist, didn't entirely name herself. In fact, she based her name off of what the scientists at Chimera used to call her; malcontent, malicious, maladjusted. This speaks to her personality pretty strongly. She's...well, you could call her prickly. She's not one for staying quiet and not speaking her mind, and she makes it very clear to everyone exactly what she thinks of them. For the Flock especially. For them, it's her own little way of showing that she cares deeply about them, and wants them to be all that they can. For everyone else? That's how she takes out her anger. Or, well, tries to. It doesn't always work, and that has resulted in her being...pretty violent if someone sets her off. She's the principal hair-trigger of the group, always ready to go off on anybody that might get in her way, or her family's. And she does consider the Flock her family. She cares for them immensely, and despite being the youngest (tied with Dizzy), is fiercely protective of all of them. Just, well, that protection can manifest as "stop being such a baby and deal with it" a good majority of the time.

Appearance: Mal is on the shorter side for someone in the Flock. That being said, 'on the shorter side for someone in the Flock' still means she cracks six feet, ending up just a fraction of an inch under 6'1". Her skin is fair and spattered with freckles, and she sports a pair of stormy gray eyes framed by blonde hair that falls a little ways past her shoulders. She refuses to tie it up, insisting that it be hanging free at all times. Her height conspires with her light build (and massive caloric intake) to make her extremely slender. She's very flexible. As a general rule, she wears a white hoodie (though whether or not it's white anymore is debatable, since it doesn't get washed as often as it should) and tough denim jeans, as well as a pair of beaten-up boots shoplifted from a military surplus store when nobody was looking.

She bears a pair of huge gunmetal-gray wings. True to the nature of the frigatebird, her wings are enormous compared to her body, easily stretching over eighteen feet from tip to tip. Due to this, she's a master at gliding. She can go for miles upon miles without so much as a few flaps. Thus, once she's in the air—as long as there's no hurry—she can fly for a very long time. You'll notice I mentioned 'in a hurry.' That's because these wings, while fantastic for gliding, are fairly cumbersome to actually flap. She's quite a slow midair sprinter, and she needs a good long time to get into the air, relative to others; she definitely can't snap up there quick. Once she's up, though, she's not coming down.

Wing shape profile:

Other: It's worth mentioning that though she's never been to the ocean, she desperately wants to.

History: Mal was always a fighter. Back in Chimera, when she was taken for experiments, her poor, twig-thin undernourished self would fight tooth and nail to get away from the scientists, even breaking her own less-developed hollow bones on a few occasions. Because of his characteristic, despite looking quite a bit older than she really was, she was never sent off like Flick was; it was deemed too risky. She was insubordinate, and that made her dangerous. Makes her dangerous. On the whole, she hasn't changed much.

[User]
Rook rubbed his forehead, managing a smile at Crash. "I'm fine...I just need to stop getting lost in thought." He was going to ask about hunting, until Mal interjected. He listened to her in silence, then watched her fly off.

He stood there for a bit, processing what she said. She has a point, he thought to himself. Flick did say they needed to get to the city early, before everyone woke up. But Crash was right, too-there was no guarantee they could find food in the city, and they knew how to find food here. He looked between Crash and towards Mal in the sky, before opening his mouth. "She...has a point. If we are going to go into the city today, we need to go now." He paused, before looking at Crash. "I'm going to make sure she doesn't do anything rash, foolish. We will hunt soon, unless there is food in the city, as she says."

Looking up, he took a deep breath, spread his wings, and flew. "Join me, if you want to! He yelled down at Crash and the rest of the group, before taking off in Mal's direction, intent on making sure she didn't get herself killed.

[Assistant]
Flick was going over game plans in his head. Get to the city limits and find a restaurant. His time out of the facility had taught him that cities produced a lot of waste, and restaurants produced food waste. He wasn't above eating out of the trash, and he doubted anyone else was at this point. Then, find clothes. He remembered there being these...bins that people would drop clothes off in to be given to others in need. Well, they were certainly in need. Then they could-

The others' bickering started to break his train of thought. Mal was threatening to run off on her own, and Crash, Dizzy, and Rook wanted to go hunting. Why did Rook want to go hunting? Flick took in a deep breath when he heard wings beating air, and sighed it out to channel his patience. He look up at Mal, hovering above them.

"Mal, don't start this early. Crash, Dizzy, Rook, hunting is not priority right now. We don't know this area well enough, and it'll take too long. We need to get going if we don't want to be seen."

Keeping these kids together was like herding cats sometimes. The irony of the statement was completely lost on Flick.

[User]
Rook flew upwards with as much strength as he could muster, trying to close the distance quickly. This is not what we need right now..., he thought to himself. This whole situation was falling apart, everyone wanted to do something else. His priority now was to make sure Mal didn't fly off to the city by herself, as that could end horribly in many ways. They needed to work together, to co-ordinate. Finally, he flew up close to Mal, and paused, hovering.

"Mal...wait up..." He said in between deep breaths. "I know you want to go to the city-I do, too-but you can't run off alone. If you're going, then I'm going." He looked at her, folding his arms. He meant it- if she was going to run off to the city, he couldn't sit there as she put herself into a dangerous situation. Everyone here needed each other safe and alive, simple as that.

[Assistant]
---

---

This course of action was lame, and not at all what Dizzy had in mind. He wanted more space, a moment to breathe without the Flock's issues weighing him down. He grumbled, stomach growling, and flapped his wings in irritation. Human cities were made of glass anyway right? They'd be seen either way! He sighed and rolled his eyes as he internally argued the merits of listening to Flick and ignoring him. The city would probably be interesting, but he'd rather explore it on a full stomach. Then again, splitting up would mean the others would be annoyed and maybe even leave him behind. He wouldn't put it past them either...

He eyed Crash speculatively. He could always go with plan B and take a chunk out of Crash if thing's got dicey.

Ooooooor he could go with plan A and go hunting like he wanted. "Maybe we can catch something on the way?" He wondered aloud, stroking his non-existent beard thoughtfully. If so then Flick could shove it while he made a fire and cooked it. Or just cook Flick.

He snickered, amused gaze sliding from Crash to Flick, and he tilted his head. Fine, he thought, but if I starve you're donating a pint to my stomach.

Then he grimaced as he realized his half baked plan to find a river to wash his wings in was never going to come to pass. "Ugh," he scoffed, "whatever, let's just be quick." Food was more active during the day anyway, if the city turned out to be a bore or a death trap then he'd go hunting later and the rest could go and suck on their glass towers or whatever it was they were doing.

What did they need from the city again? And how big was it? It wouldn't take long to look through right?

He mumbled something unintelligibly annoyed under his breath and leaped into the air, catching himself with a flutter of his wings before mulishly deciding not to wait for the rest to join him, vaguely aligning to follow the direction Mal and Rook had gone.

---

[User]
---

---

 "Like I care if I get seen, I'm not afraid of any those Chimera goons, let 'em try and take me back, I'll show 'em how much I learned in training."  Crash muttered, mostly to himself, but in response to Flick's warning. As much as he wanted food and to hunt, if Rook and Dizzy weren't staying then he would follow the others. Technically he had wanted to explore the city anyway but being told not to hunt first, not getting his way, made him want to rebel against the idea. He didn't want to be alone or left behind though, if he stayed by himself he might not find the others again, and then he'd be all alone. He spent more than enough time alone in his cage and he hated it. Everything in the outside world was new and unfamiliar and to have face it all alone was scary, not that Crash would ever admit that to anyone.

Crash's wings flapped, lifting him up towards Mal, Rook, and now Dizzy as well. He took off as fast as his wings would allow in an attempt to show off. He was annoyed about following Flick's orders and that they were all now doing what Mal wanted. He soared past Mal and let out a dramatic raspy screech, the cry of a hawk, before circling around them and sticking closer to the group. Spending your entire eighteen years in a cage learning to be soldier did not teach a lot of emotional maturity.

 "Hey Flick you coming or what, we don't have all day." Crash teased.  "Dizzy you can have whatever rabbit's you can catch, as long as you catch 'em before me." He added laughing a bit. His mood quickly shifted back to more relaxed state. It wasn't like he could stay mad at his flockmates for too long, they needed each other after all. He reminded himself that the city would be an interesting adventure, someplace new, something he'd never seen. Now he was excited to explore, he wondered what kind of food there was in the city. It seemed like sooner or later his thoughts always went back to food.

[Assistant]
Mal reached out to Rook midflight, ruffling his hair while still moving in a startling feat of coordination that she knew already she'd be unable to replicate ever again. "Thanks, Rook. Means a lot." She rolled her eyes. "'Course, if you hadn't decided that goin' hunting was a good idea, maybe Crash wouldn't'a gone off on me, but eh. Baby steps, I guess."

Speak of the winged young man, Mal's ears rang unpleasantly as Crash blew past her, screaming like a hawk. She narrowed her eyes, but didn't rise to the bait at first, instead giving two heavy beats of her wings and doing her best to draw level with him as he circled round, at which point she whapped him on the head with a downstroke of her heavy wing. Just on the edge feathers; not enough to really hurt, but enough to rebuke the older boy. Despite that, she couldn't help but grin a little bit. It was a shaky grin, to be sure; she hadn't used it too much before the past day and a half or so. But still, it was definitely there. And despite her belligerency, Mal wasn't above an apology

"Sorry about hijackin' your hunting, Crash. I'm just nervous, is all. I bet we'll stand out even with our wings tucked, so I'm just trying to get stuff done as fast as we can so we can maybe find somewhere to hide."

"And also," she added, almost as an afterthought, "I'm really sick of rabbit."

After the apology, she continued her broad, gliding circles, steadily catching thermals and climbing higher into the air until the trees were like toothpicks below her. Maybe a thousand, two thousand feet up. Her wings gleamed dully in the bright light of the sun, and in the distance, she could see the city. Her breath caught in her throat. It was...

"Huge," she breathed, finishing her own thought. There was no other way to describe it. She looked down at the Flock below her, calling to them with an uncharacteristically excited voice. "Hey, you can see the city from up here!"

With her acute vision, she could see that Flick was still on the ground, but Dizzy had taken off, quickly moving through the air towards those that she'd left behind her. She frowned. She was worried about Flick; after he'd come back from a 'live testing experiment,' as the scientists had put it—or, well, war, as Flick had put it—he'd been closed up and brooding. Sure, they'd butted heads before (at least when they had the opportunity to be anywhere near each other), but Mal had appreciated the competition. Now he was just...she paused for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what the word she was looking for was and failing.

Doing her best to put the thought out of her mind, she continued circling, this time scanning the horizon. She'd seen the helicopters at Chimera's facility going out every time they thought something had gone wrong. Now they had gone wrong, and it was only a matter of time.


[System]
Hexblade gladiator, outright worshiper of Hades. Long term goals might involve becoming a paladin for his god if he curries enough favor with the lord of the dead or a general for an army of evil. Otherwise, its best just to cut a swathe of dead men and satisfied women in his wake.
Physical Form: "I put the gore in gorgeous!"

6'6" and 300 of tight body tone. Unarmored, he has a score of scars running him over from a decade in the arenas. His eyes are a fine gray with a catlike shimmer of silver in the back.

Abilities:
Curse; The cornerstone of the hexblade, the ability to lay a witches malicious befuddlement upon intended targets. Not an attack in of itself, it is a go-to weakening of the enemy before engaging. He often pairs the curse with a memorized intimidation to follow up and bring most to cower before finishing them off in a single blow.

Resistance; Like a paladin, he can rely on his sheer strength of will to help shrug off attacks to mind body and soul.

Mettle: Those that he cannot avoid, he tries do bear down and endure, taking the lesser of the worlds woes when he has the chance.

Prestidigitation: Because of the hexblade's calling, Octavius' desire to know more about his arcane abilities manifests itself beyond the ability to curse and the he is able to cast minor prestidigitations at will.

(Item) familiar: Where most would bond to a creature from elsewhere for more power, he has strengthened the bond with his sword to a supernatural level.

Aura of unluck: Once per day Octavius can create a baleful aura of misfortune. Any melee or ranged attack made against the hexblade while this aura of unluck is active has a higher miss chance. Activating the aura is a free action, and the aura lasts for a full minute.

Spells: Like a sorcerer, he uses his sheer strength of will to manifest magic in the world. He just severely lacks the dedication most others would possess by this time.
0 Message
0 Dancing lights
0 Mage hand
0 Detect magic
0 Acid splash
0 Distupt undead
1 True strike
1 Shocking grasp
1 Color spray
1 Identify
2 Eagle splendor
2 Flaming sphere

Personality:
Truly Octavius' greatest strength is his overwhelming charisma, wielded as a weapon as much as his sword. He brings it to bear to cow the most stalwart of enemies and draw up the crowds to a screaming frenzy in the arena.
He is a patient man in combat, often letting the others go first before he devastates them.

He had devoted his life to death, Hades specifically, as a way to deal with the loss of his family. But one can only lash out for so long. In time the burn in his hearth grew cold and hollow so he turned to ways to fill the hole, most often drinking and tavern wenches. But in the end he still fell back to his oldest friend, death. Its more of a bad habit than an addiction, but every week he makes his way to some manner of arena to put himself in the ring.

He's smarter than he ever lets on, by no means is he a genius with lifetimes of knowledge. He's just more experienced that he'd like to be in the way the world works. The best thing he always reminds himself 'always assume they are better than you in every way and plan to fail'.
Relationships:
Since his arrival, he has taken a keen interest in Tinkerhel, She might be a nymphomaniac, but he thinks there is a whole lot more going on in her head.
Backstory:
Octavius' tale is not at twisted as many might think. His parents were simple farmers, his grandfather was a retired army officer who was too maimed to bear spear. When his chores were done for the day, his grandfather would train him in a longsword so big the boy needed both hands to wield it.

Suns rose and set for a decade until the boy on cusp of manhood could now wield the longsword in a single hand. But now he was starting to think with the dagger between his knees and had his eye on the girl across the creek. They were promised to each other and their parents agreed to the union. Sadly, the fates have more in mind than a happy farmer.

A merchant cart heavy with goods came to the farm, asking for a night in the barn for a few silver, all was well until the bandits climbed out of crate and pot to slaughter the family. The boy did well by all accounts, with no armor and only a sword older than him to keep himself safe as he killed the bandit leader while the others ran. As he burned the bodies, he was visited by a lady paladin of Hercule and her ancient wizard. One of his first life lessons about the bigger world would be that halflings and dwarves clearly age differently.

She could see he was strong, strong enough to carry her stuff as his squire as he had nothing left for him here, indeed, he had no other ways to go but with them or try his own. He tried to learn magic cantrips from the wizard but had no luck compared to the combat she refined from what his father gave him. She was teaching him how to fight in armor, a skill he lacked, when they came upon a wizard of the dead.

They made their way to the wizards workshop when they came to discover he was just finishing his ritual to litchdom. The paladin took the undead in a full body tackle while the other two destroyed the phylactery, the wizard found it while Octavius shattered the device but it was too late to save her from its evil magic. The magic of the ritual burned its way into him and changed him to his very core.

Other:
His hat he got from a pirate captain to whom he served upon a ship for a year before a monster afflicted her, her hats own bubble of air was her own undoing.

At one time, he came upon a princess tiara as part of his treasure pull from a successful kidnapping of royalty. In order to dispose of the royal artifact, he had the enchantment transfered to a single jewel worn as a third eye and let them keep the rest of the encrusted property one worn by a queen as payment.
While worn, a third eye conceal protects the wearer from view by all devices, powers, and spells that detect, influence, or read emotions or thoughts. This power protects against all mind-affecting powers and effects as well as information-gathering by clairsentience powers or effects.

Given his propensity for tavern wenches and the like, he was quick to acquire a trinket from the temple of Aphrodite The wearer of this blue gem on a silver chain is immune to disease, including supernatural diseases.
Collected from the skin of a displacer beast, he had its pelt fashioned into his sleeveless longcoat with its powers still within the folds.
Worn inside out to hide its value, he keeps a vest once worn by a pyromancer who was dumb enough to think his innerfire was more powerful than a white dragon. Octavius managed to convince the dragon that the vest would melt the beasts home so he would take it far away while the dragon ate the former wizard for lunch.
Collected from a gnome adventuring party, he managed to run three through on his blade but only kept the one treasure.

1) Mount
2) Slumber
3) Phantasmal Killer
A most useful glove he keeps on hand, it once belonged to an assassin who would use it to bring all manner of gear in a backpack hidden in the stitching. When not used to hide his sword from public eye, he is often known to put his hand into a bucket full (20 pints/2.5 gallons) of holy water and secure it away for dealing with fiery or unholy creatures.
Two small but simple rings in his line of work,

A dwarven ring warded to protect the wearer from evil is actually a good choice when traveling with evil on a daily basis.

As powerful as a ring of invisibility, but far better for him as it makes eight more of him appear rather than make him vanish.
Made from the hide of a Steel dragon parading around as a priestess to Athena, she was fought and slain on her monthly hunt while she was fat and full of a heard of sheep they had left for her as an ambush. When crafted into armor, he had the choice to make the leather immune to acid or protect the wearer from poison, he took the poison protection. In truth it protects him as a full suit of armor as strong as platemail but glamored to be debatable levels of leather and hide piecemeal to suit his ego.
A prize from the arenas, once worn by a master of unarmed combat, this rope belt keeps him far more flexible than he ever could be without it.

Acquired from a fellow raider, a barbarian far from home who could outrun almost anything but a cup of envenomed wine.
These boots let him move faster than normal for moments at a time, acting as a blur when speed was needed over power.

Tattoo:
Psychoactive skin:

Morningstar
An lesser weapon best put to use when three feet of steel isn't recommended. He really hopes to replace it with a mace of disruption soon enough.

Shield
There are times when running around half naked with a greatsword isn't the best plans. When he has to play the defensive position, he uses a heavy shield with a depiction of Gaia upon it as she is of the earth as is hades.

Throwing Axe
When he needs to reach out and touch someone. He is also known to take a moment for himself to relax with all manner of pungent herb or alchemical paste into the bowl on the back.

His gift from beyond. Once, when he was a much younger lad, he traveled as a squire under a paladin of Hercules and her elderly wizard friend into the keep of a vile necromancer. Unfortunately there is a big difference between necromancer and a newly formed litch! Thinking quickly, the paladin took her bag of holding and threw it over them both to pop it away into a pocket realm for just a few seconds as the squire smashed the Phylactery on the work table. The litch turned to dust within the bag and the paladin sacrificed herself for the greater good. Octavius had an idea. He had the wizard use his magic to transmute the holy cold-iron plate-mail of the paladin to the litch dust and he had a greatsword forged from the coldiron dust.

This weapon is a Bane of the undead both solid and ghostly. Its supernaturally keen edge can store the simplest of enchantments within its Damascus folds for release at his will.
Why would a worshiper of the god of death have such enmity to the undead? To KEEP them in Tartarus where they belong!

Recently, he came upon a Devil who had a gift for Octavius. It seems the litch he had defeated so long ago had tried to use the phylactery as a bypass from the devils due. If the litch had succeeded it would have been most embarrassing and bad for business. So out of gratitude he offered the man one gift on credit, not the usual freebie sort of thing but the 'finders fee' of a wayward soul.

Thinking about it, he could easily wish to be the most or the best or the richest... but he had seen how that can bite you in the ass with previous people so he chose to keep it smaller, something he could live without; an extra enchantment on his blade. The two bickered back and forth on the who or what to be done but Octavius was rather stringent on not asking for too much, lest he rely on it too far.

In the end he got an idea from an assassin he used to know and had a small ruby inset into the pommel of his sword. This ruby would trap the soul of every victim of his sword for later that he could bring back to the devil for more credit. So far, Octavius cant find a problem with the deal and that bothers him.

[User]
Sarin slid back, not knocked onto her back, but rather pushed by the sheer force of the kick. With a flourish, she bowed to the half-giant, a polite one, meant to convey respect for his abilities. The fire didn't blind her in the slightest, eyes accustomed to flames greater than such as his.

Sarin noted that he didn't tell her his name, but accepted his statement with a nod, and then, after thinking a bit, grinned. "So what about your other enemies? Are they not worthy of such respect?" Listening to his next statement carefully, Sarin shook her head, regret on her face. "Ahh, whilst I would be honored to duel you, under different circumstances, I must decline. I am honor-bound to stop your Master at all costs, and by association, you." She cocked her head, curiously, and asked, "Unless you'd like to change sides? Your past wouldn't matter." However, Sarin was sure he'd decline, so when he did, she shook her head and committed to fighting.

Running forward, Sarin readied her sword to parry a strike from the sword, holding it low, ready to fly in front of the half-giant's sword. If he loosed his fireball, she would dodge around the bolt of flame, and continue running, and preparing to parry. If he decided to forgo using his sword, Sarin would jump over the fireball, and attempt to knee the sorcerer in the face. With most armor, this would be impossible, but Sarin's shining plate was made of pure mithril, a light, incredibly strong metal that some cultures say came from fallen stars. Wherever it came from, however, it was impossibly light, and fantastically strong, allowing Sarin such acrobatic feats like what she was attempting.

[Assistant]
Balothiss slightly chuckled as he considered the offer but shook his head.

"Pardon my manners Sarin I am Balothiss"

He said with a slight bow and he stood still readying himself for her attack for he wanted his opponent to let her guard down so he may catch her off guard so he would make the strike and prevail.

"Other enemies are blithering soldiers and pilgrims who can't muster the will to speak in my presence you are different from them take those words as compliments!"

He said as he watched his opponent as she also stood waiting for him watching his form and prowess.

[User]
"Quickly, now. They have a head start!"

"Not for long!"

Was all the reply he offered as he swung into saddle and flew down the road with Tinkerhel flying on his heels. He watched the way the fire fiend flew and took the other path out of the village. Even with their head start, they could not out pace the summoned steed and perverted pixie. He cast a spell of silence in his radius, making the horse barely a whisper of the wind as he unsheathed his great-sword.

One by one the blade came down, ending lives by the swath while he saw electric arcs of the bondage brownie ending others struggles. More than he thought got free, but in the end the body count was a full score. The gem in the hilt of his sword shimmered with the trapped essence of villagers, he hoped to cash them in with the devil at next time they were in the hideout. He swept the countryside one more time with her above to scan with her otherworldly vision.

Successful, he returned to the ruins of the village with sword upon his back and grisly proof of twenty left arms taken at the shoulder to prove the efforts.


[System]
I R L
Age - 18
Place of Origin - Japan
Occupation - High School Student

A V A T A R

Character's Name - Kazuki
Pathos Affiliation - Queon
Role - Healer
Profession - Wandering Minstrel
Weapon of Choice - Book
Domains - Wind, Restoration + Protection

-

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Stoic
Good news, bad news, confusing news--Kazuki seems to have the emotional range of a teaspoon. He doesn't seem all that bothered with anything and doesn't react much. If it weren't for the lack of monotone, most people would probably assume he's a robot. One would think even his passion would get him to emote, but aside from a vague focused expression, he otherwise is the same as always.

Driven
He doesn't let anything get in the way of accomplishing his goals: everything in life is part of a problem that leads to a solution one way or another. He is relentless when it comes to accomplishing a goal, often pushing himself past what's healthy. For a majority of his life it's been seen as a virtue of sorts and he hasn't had any reason to slow down.

Observant
Despite having little care for the people he engages with, he finds it useful to pick up on a few cues to keep in mind for later if need be.

B E N C H M A R K S

Piano Man
By far and away Kazuki's most cultivated skill, to the point he has gotten several server first records on unlocking the next tier with thousands of hours put into piano playing. Of course, aside from entertainment value and unlocking a few other skills, it doesn't have much use otherwise.

Healing Touch
His second best and probably most relevant skill. Originally toting around without a weapon, Kazuki's healing can be strengthened if he makes contact with whoever needs healing; best used for greater injuries at the risk of putting himself in action.

Song of the Wind
The ability to have his music gain effects depending on the song he's playing. Different songs have different effects, ranging from a variety of buffs and healing over time. Some come at the conclusion of a song, others are persisting so long as the melody is continuously played.

With Hammer in Hand
Smithery has become a great side hobby to Kazuki, who genuinely enjoys making armor and weapons whenever he gets his hands on materials. While he has made a few commissions, it became clear that making and selling instruments quickly became his specialty and source of income--that said, he can make a majority of weapons and armor if need be.
 | Physical Description
Standing at five feet ten inches, Kazuki is a lanky young man that usually towers over his classmates. At a first glance there isn't much home to write about, his face still plenty boyish and more youthful looking than he'd like. The most notable feature he has is probably his green eyes, usually hidden under the mess of brown hair he sports. His expressions are often heavily muted or outright nonexistent, making it difficult to know if he's paying attention or not. Whenever he does look at people, it's noted that it seems more like he's looking through them, not at them.
Character Conceptualization
Kazuki Hoshizawa is a serious kid who takes his passions to their fullest at the expense of most of his social skills. After taking the emotional brunt of his parents' divorce, for all intents and purposes he has shut down. While it's hardly noticeable due to stellar grades and his talent at music, his social life is nonexistent for the most part. As a result, he has a tendency to be overly blunt and cold with little care about the effects of what he says. His personality seems to be the inverse of most healers in media and makes it clear he helps people out of expectation, not out of obligation.

As a noob who doesn't really play games, he was hesitant to even join Pariah Online. He doesn't know much of RPGs in general but has enjoyed the nonsensical side of the game; aside from the appeal of getting to play and learn several instruments, he doesn't really find adventuring appealing. He ended up choosing healing as it seemed easier to stay in the back and support his younger brother. While he doesn't discern himself from who he is outside of the game, he outright refuses to speak of personal matters, with Kazuma barely being an exception and only because Kazuki keeps slipping up and calling him by his real name.

Other Information
* Has regularly placed in several national competitions
* Big fan of strawberries
* Toolkit
* Theme
 |

[User]
Location: City Sewers -- The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

A somber moment between friends ended abruptly as Graves jerked away. His attention shifted fully toward the tumultuous waters beneath them. Something was moving under there. It wasn't visible to the naked eye, but he could feel it: the hairs on his arms stood on end, his vision filled with black dots, and the rhythm of his heart beat louder and louder until everything else was drowned out. Three people, harrowed but alive. One of them was dragging the other two along on a mad dash toward the surface. It boggled his mind that someone would even attempt that sort of rescue, let alone get this far. He shoved his hands into the water, grabbing the lead swimmer, and hauled them up onto the stony surface.

"Rael?!" Graves asked, bewildered, even as he helped her and then Kalie and Valena find their footing. They were all positively disgusting, yet alive. He couldn't ask for more than that.

A rush of conflicting emotions hit him like a wall of sewage. Glad to see them safe. Angry as hell that Rael had nearly killed herself saving those two. Guilt at not having tried to do the same. Alja had shaken herself out of her pained stupor and gotten to work rallying everyone, trying to make sense of their situation and find a way out of it. A good idea, but he said nothing. He couldn't get himself to focus on practicality at the moment.

After hesitating a beat, he decided to cross over to where Rael was standing, still recovering from her misadventure. "Hey," he whispered harshly, trying to contain his volume as to not interrupt the other conversation. "What the hell was that, you goddamned moron? You tryin' to die playin' hero? I thought you were-" He caught himself before continuing, swallowing the worst of his impulses. He didn't meant to berate. Didn't mean to lecture. It was hard to communicate what he did mean- maybe he didn't know what he meant at all. "I'm...glad you're okay. Stay okay."

[Assistant]
Location: City Sewers, The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Why was he yelling? What was he yelling?

Rael's palms pressed against the cold stone of the sewer floor as the tall American screeched at her about her playing hero. What? Did he prefer Kalie drown in the depths of the sewer because she had been about as caught off guard as most of them had been and didn't stick the landing for once in her life? Did he want the healer, who Alja apparently knew to some inherent level? It didn't make sense. Then it did.

Nobody cares about you. He's yelling because you acted stupid again. Like with the bat.

A familiar whisper in the back of her mind. But her own anxieties, her own inner self didn't make sense with what she was hearing. It confused her and she was still coughing up a good deal of water. Admittedly, it was a pretty stupid thing but he was glad she was okay? I mean, if she drowned the guy would be up Mt. Fuji without a parachute, or as the American expression went—up shit creek without a paddle. This group of theirs relied on her and it felt good. Seele tried to impart that she was a good person in the tavern in their conversation, a hero, but all she had done is dismiss it. What was heroism in a game of survival? If she was out there alone who knows how many people who didn't like her would string a rope around a tree just for a little revenge? Sometimes Hanako didn't even know how her own mind worked.

"What's wrong? Jealous that I made sure this party didn't drown?" She smirked, deflecting her own internal thoughts as she pushed herself to her feet.

"The elevator, huh?" She repeated as she channeled her magic as a gust of wind dried out her clothes and hair before she spat out some water from her mouth onto the ground before retying her hair into a loose ponytail.

"Shouldn't be too hard to find." She commented though as she went to say another remark a distant, distorted shriek could be heard in the likely direction they would be heading. Her brows narrowed as she looked to Valena. "With our luck, we got another dire rat at..."

Valena nodded. "The élévateur."

[User]
Location: City Sewers -- The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

"What's wrong? Jealous that I made sure this party didn't drown?"

Rael gave a clever little retort just before walking away. She was good at deflecting. Good at hiding what was going on inside that thick skull of hers. It made Graves' blood boil. He could spill his guts to her and it could wash off her back like nothing at all. What was he supposed to get out of that? How was he supposed to interpret it? Maybe he hadn't expressed himself well. Maybe he didn't know how to turn the mayhem in his mind into words others could understand. What he'd actually said was almost cruel in its incoherence. Aggressive, contradictory, more a vomit of raw emotion than a conversation starter. But he meant it. He meant it, even if he didn't know how to say what he meant.

'Like you really know what you were even gettin' at,' he sneered. All he'd accomplished was pulling her closer with one hand while pushing her away with the other. It was like he'd forgotten how to be sincere. Like he'd woken up from a years long, narcissism-fueled haze that had stripped him of all memory of how to be a decent human being. Things were easier when he was on his own. Life was simple. Hard, perhaps, yet uncomplicated. Then he met seven idiots in a video game and everything went to hell. Graves had hoped things would be easier after that first week's...events...were behind them. They knew he cared about them, right? Maybe he hadn't said it to all of them, but he shouldn't have to. Not to her. Did his actions not make it clear enough?

"Fine," Graves drew Alja's knife from his belt and started toward the tunnel entrance, desperate for some way to blow off steam. "Let's go kill ourselves more rats."

[Assistant]
Despite the unproductive conversation, Kazuki decided he would take a little time to better organize his thoughts. He hadn't considered the impact on the environment the players would have, let alone the fact that the world would start to push back against them. It was a problem that was only going to escalate the more time went on. He almost regretted his vote, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, his first instinct was to shove that thought deep down--he was too much of a coward to properly address that at the moment.

Placing down the box of supplies, he let out a long sigh. It didn't look like Kazuma had come back just yet, though he might've been worried if he had locked himself in his room again. Wait a minute, if he was receiving the notice here, what about his other homes? He couldn't speak for any of them except for the one he loaned out to Hammer, but he figured she was kind enough to take care of it until he could show up over there. Most of his wealth was over there, too, now that he thought about it. All he needed to do was pay...whatever they wanted him to pay here to secure his home here and he could pay Hammer back since he had been planning on compensating her.

Unfortunately, he would have to consider his other homes a loss. They were all furnished, but he only made one Grand Piano here and that was easily the most valuable item he made. Now that he thought about it, what was he going to do about income? He mostly performed for tips, but if the NPCs were negative about adventurers, then that money was probably going to dwindle. He did have a good amount here, but until he got back out there, he knew it wouldn't last more than a few months if he supported everyone, maybe more if he really started to pinch yen. He could definitely go back to crafting, but without Hammer's guild, he was probably going to have to start from the bottom.

Staring down at the potions with contempt, Kazuki rolled his eyes. "This is actually stressing me out," He grumbled, his hand shaking his hair as he tried to get his thoughts together. No, this was something he was going to have to speak to everyone about at some point. He set about putting everything in place, stowing the box away just in case. The extra potions would eventually come in handy if he would stop being such a coward.

Stepping out of his home, he made sure to lock the door before looking around, trying to decide where to go. He supposed he may as well try to find someone.


[System]
Alias: Ghost
Age: 32
Sex: Male
Hair: Platinum-Blonde, stick straight, and thick. He keeps it tied up behind his head in a loop with whatever suitable material he can find. If let down, it reaches well past his shoulders.
Eye: Grey-Blue

Family: Unknown. He has no memory of who his biological family are.
Affiliations: Hunter with the Bloodhounds.
Home: None - he goes where the Bloodhounds send him rather than put down roots.

Magic: N/A
Inventory: Johannes carries a long pistol that has been repaired and reassembled repeatedly and keeps it holstered at his side, hidden under his vest. His backup weapon is a knife with a handle made like a pair of brass knuckles.

Combat: Johannes' favored fighting style is from a short distance and behind cover while using his pistol. Since his pistol is not accurate at very long distances, he is adept at hand-to-hand fighting out of necessity. Up close, his combat style employs lots of dirty tricks - sand to the eyes, biting, kicks to the groin, anything to gain an edge so that he can get in a good stab.

History: Johannes was raised by an elderly Bloodhound hunter that retired due to injury. Johannes joined the Bloodhounds himself at age 18 and trained to be a hunter. He has been working as a hunter ever since.

Other: Johannes is a gunsmith, skilled at repairing firearms. He also knows how to reload his own ammunition, given the proper materials. He's good at moving quietly without being seen or heard behind/under cover. He also likes explosives when sneaking isn't an option.

Below are some references/inspiration for Johannes' clothing and appearance.

[User]
There was a rumble of thunder in the distance. Morwen gripped her coin purse tightly. "O-Oh. Right...Sorry. I'll...I'll be quick." She returned the squeeze of her hand.

She bit her lower lips, the flower dress was beautiful. There was a matching shirt as well. She reached up and felt the fabric, it was a light airy material. The dress and shirt were cool to the touch and felt soft. It felt expensive, unnecessary. Morgen wouldn't be able to see it anyways. There were matching pants and shirts near by. These were colorless, unflattering, but sturdy garments. Meant for those that work outdoors. The man grumbled, "Are you going to stare all day, or pick something?" He snarled.

"Sorry..." Morwen moved and picked the sturdier outfits. They would last longer and be more useful in the long run. She paid quickly, having more then enough for food at the inn. She placed the outfits in Morgen's bag. "We can just take a bath and such tomorrow, at home. Lets...Lets get some food." She led Morgen away, "Besides, we can even give the rest to Mom and Dad!"

There was a crack of lightening. Morwen sped up to get to the inn in time. Shoppers and storekeepers alike hurried away to the safety of their own homes. Morwen kept her head up this time. Their parents sold wood, they would be in a market like this to sell their goods. Yet, she didn't recognize one. Maybe they had a good day and packed up early! Morwen grinned, tomorrow, tomorrow this journey will be over.

Rain fell heavy right as the twins got into the inn. Morwen sat her brother down. "We'll get dressed tomorrow, we can eat food now." She looked around, "Smell anything good?"

[Assistant]
The door to the tavern banged shut behind Johannes, bouncing off the rickety doorframe twice before settling shut. The old tavern-keeper hollered something out at the noise, but he ignored it. His cores were good and she was in no position to turn away business. Belly full of hard bread and a stew of questionable contents, he was satisfied enough to go about his business. He hated most outpost food, but not as much as he hated anything he could scrub up out of the Wasteland. He didn't trust the water at the tavern – he'd have to boil some up on his own before refilling his canteens.

"Damn nosey broad." Johannes muttered under his breath as he adjusted his backpack and trudged toward the market. A replenishing of supplies was in order. First aid supplies, sturdy sewing thread, more rope, boot laces, tarp, socks, ammo reloading supplies….

He ticked off the long list in his head as he approached the stalls, eyes narrowed against sun and stranger alike. Whenever he was in outposts like this, he kept his hood down and coat buttoned half-closed. No good could come out of some Wasteland mutant getting the jitters – or worse, some pickpocketing scumbag reaching where he shouldn't and pulling out surprises that weren't his.

After some wandering, Johannes found a stall with a box of mismatched boot laces. He started picking through them, matching up length and width while disregarding color, when he heard a nearby merchant snarl out:

"Are you going to stare all day, or pick something?"

Johannes glanced over his shoulder, trying to keep his attention on the scene on the down-low. The merchant's attention seemed to be focused on two ratty looking kids – and by the way the young boy hung his head and stood there unresponsive, he was torn between suspecting retardation or foul play.

Tossing the merchant a core for a handful of boot laces that were quickly stuffed away in his pack, Johannes kept his eyes on the children as he continued to shop, just in case they tried stealing something. In all his years of experience, he had quickly learned to not give anyone any pity due to their age – a child is just as likely to rip you off as an adult.

Johannes frowned as the children scurried off toward the tavern like rats fleeing water. That was where he was sleeping tonight, damn it, and he didn't want to share it with ragtag rugrats. He took his time getting the rest of his supplies from the market. He couldn't find a decent tarp – a waterproof one – so he skipped out on that. His was starting to fray on one edge but it would hold out for a while longer. Getting gunpowder proved to be the most difficult and he ended up haggling the price down to prevent getting ripped off. That particular merchant – a short, fat man with a bad case of eczema on his arms and face – earned himself a scowl once his back was turned.

Raindrops had started to fall as Johannes slipped into the tavern, his entrance much more quiet than his exit. He hated staying here, but he was waiting to meet up with his new partner. He'd been given a name and a vague description, but that was it. Narrowing his eyes as they adjusted to the dim lighting, he scanned the tavern common room for the scribe.

[User]
Tapping his fingers lightly on the table Ezra could not fight off the bored expression that overtook his young face. Tied up dark hair still managed to hang messily in his face and give him an overall look of someone who really had no cares at that moment.

Though the expression he wore was far from honest. He was just glad to be out of that stuffy academy and the city. He'd take lawless wastes over the stifling atmosphere of Eden anyday. He dressed simply, in loose comfortable clothing, looking no part the prodigal scribe he was rumored to be. The only hint to that lay inside the beat-up looking satchel that rested at his hip.

 Light brown eyes scanned over the crowd as he tried to pick out the Hunter he was to be assigned to. Johnny.. Jagger… Hell he couldn't remember. Ruffles his hair further, thinking maybe he should have been paying attention.. But those instructors liked to hear themselves talk and all that he could recall was a faint hum in his ear as they went on and on. Drops his forehead to the table with a light thunk, drawing in looks from those around around him.

"Shit."

Ezra flopped back fully into his chair before he continued to look over the patrons, tossing a brief glance towards the ragtag twins that scurried in before looking towards the door as it once more admitted another patron. Tips to the side to get a better look, the man seemed to be scanning the tavern for something.. Or someone. He definitely seemed to stand out in comparison to those who seemed to be going in and out of this place.. He was likely exactly who Ezra was looking for. Yet he waited, not moving from his chair… He wanted to be sure.. Though how? Even he had no clue. Maybe the Hunter got a description of him as well.. Ezra hoped like hell at least he listened.

[Assistant]
Morgen stumbled a bit to keep up with his sister, even with their hands linked. He never liked running; there was always a chance to plow into some unforeseen obstacle, even if you were being led about. He chewed at his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut instinctual, hoping that Morwen wouldn't have him trip over some uneven surface in the hardpan road. Throughout their lives, she'd gotten good at leading him, but there were always those rare instances when she forgot that she had to pay attention to every aspect of the terrain, and got him tripped up.

Fortunately, this wasn't one of those times. They made it inside just before the rain began to pelt the roof. It became immediately evident that this inn was not waterproof. The old woman behind the bar snapped at one of her barmaids, who quickly ran to fetch a couple buckets. These were placed strategically in a few places of the common room to catch the rainwater that fell in.

Morgen sat where his sister placed him. He reached for the arms of the chair, only to discover he had none. He squirmed, shifting uncomfortably, and opted to rest his hands in his lap instead. "Nothin' ever really smells good in these places--" He began, unaware that the old woman was walking right behind him, bucket in hand.

"Then don't eat!" She snapped bitterly in his direction, causing the boy to grimace and sink down some in his chair. His face flushed with embarrassment. "Um..." He started again, quietly, so that only his sister would hear. "...Whatever they got is good, probably. I mean it can't be no worse than that snake we had to eat." He paused, then and added tentatively, even more quiet: "...Can we let Spot in tonight? It's raining..."

[User]
Morwen clamped her mouth shut as the inn keeper walked by, keeping her eyes down casted as well. Once the women was out of earshot, she gave a quick chuckle. "You're as red as a tomato." She muttered leaning forward, a grin on her face. "And yes, we can." Her voice was quiet as well, "Through the window."

Whatever grin Morwen had vanished when she looked to the newest patron. She paled visibly. Though the twins had never seen a Bloodhound, the way this man carried himself was intimidating none the less. Everything the Miraculum told them seemed to fit this man's description. That or he was an outlaw. A buddy of the men they killed earlier today? Morwen didn't know which one was better. She ducked her head low, her dress in her clutches again. "Do not. Open. Your eyes." She hissed softly, soft enough that only her twin could hear. "I'll get us food."

She slipped out of her chair. Her shoulders hunched again as she tried to make herself some small, nonsignificant. It seemed he was looking for something. Or someone. Did he find the bodies? The rune was destroyed, but the bodies still suffered from electrical burns. Was he looking for their killer. Morwen clutched her dress even harder, now at the counter. "T-Two of..um...whatever you have." She muttered, she avoided eye contact with the aging inn keeper again.

[Assistant]
Hearing the tavern-keeper snap at someone again, he glanced that direction. The rugrats were sharing a table, eyes downcast like they were in trouble. He wasn't surprised. He also wasn't interested. He had a scribe to find.

Thankfully the tavern wasn't busy, and he spotted the man right away. Much to his dismay, his scribe looked like less of a man and more like a boy. Was he even old enough to be on assignment out here, and out of the academy? There was a sinking feeling in his stomach. More kids. He didn't want to babysit, he wanted to finish this assignment.

Johannes strode over to Ezra's table like he owned the place. His thick soled boots, probably once black but now dusty from travel, clunked against the old wooden floor. Tall, broad-shouldered, and muscled, he no doubt stood out from the rest of the outpost's population simply because he didn't look sickly or starving. In the warmth of the tavern he unbuttoned his hooded brown jacket, revealing underneath a brown leather vest, and under that, a thin cotton shirt. The shirt seemed to have once been grey but now it was just the color of Wasteland dust and sweat.

Inviting himself, Johannes took a seat right next to the scribe. "Ezra." He leaned in close enough to the scribe that he could lower his voice. It was not so much of a question on his part as it was an answer to Ezra's lost look. "You're late. Do you have what you need?" As Johannes leaned close enough, Ezra would be able to see that there was a holster at Johannes' side, concealed by the vest and jacket. A metal-and-wood handle poked out of it - no doubt some kind of firearm.


[System]
Frost

"Why don't you take a chill pill?"

Vitals
Age: 29

Sex: Male

Date of birth: 22nd May, 1986

Lineage: -

Class/Major: Rogue

Class/Minor: Mage

Occupation: Detective

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Marital Status: Widower

Birthplace: New York, New York

Blood Type: B+

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'

Weight: 177 lbs

Hair Color/Style: Snow white, waist length hair tied into a long, thin ponytail.

General Appearance: Anthropomorphic wolf. Normally wears a thick hoodie over a shirt, a grey square cap on his head, jeans and sneakers. His hands are usually adorned with a pair of plain black fingerless gloves.

Skin Tone/Condition: Normal grey wolf fur colours.

Markings: Two sky blue arrows that start on his cheeks, pointing towards his eyes. The other ends of the arrows travels as stripes down his neck, shoulders and onto his arms, where they end as arrows again on the tops of his hands. These markings glow a pale blue.

Combat Stats

Dominant Hand: Right

Equipment:

-Upper Body: Nil

-Lower Body: Nil

Weapons* Black Blade - A standard length katana with a wholly black blade, the sword is Daniel's power focus. He can channel his ice energy into it to make it flash freeze anything he hits, and it is also bound to him; he can summon it anywhere he chooses to. Its blade is razor sharp, able to cut through most sturdy materials like wood or stone with ease, metal less so because of its strength against a cutting force, but with a substantial effort, yes he can cut blades with his sword.
* Eagles - Two IMI Desert Eagle pistols with engraved grips. These pistols, born from magical energy, do not run out of ammunition, instead shooting bullets of compressed magic. In turn, Daniel can channel his ice into the guns to make them shoot ice bullets that freeze their targets solid.

Abilities* Super Speed
* Enhanced Strength
* Enhanced Reflexes
* Heightened Senses

Magic* Ice Elemental - Daniel, once flesh and bone, is now a being wholly made of ice. His intensive training with the element has made him so in tune with it that he has become one with the cold. As such, basic physical attacks to his body cannot harm him, as he will simply refreeze any injuries he suffers. He is also highly skilled in the use of ice magicks. Magical attacks, however, will cut past the ice that once was his flesh and injure his inner being, making him bleed in that sense.
* Mark of the Rogue - Representing the Rogue, Daniel is able to travel at speeds faster than the naked eye can follow, along with being able to easily navigate terrain, staying out of sight and being a very fast attacker. All this emphasis on speed does reduce his ability to hit harder than he's normally able to.

Bio

Voice: Deep, raspy, compelling.

Personality: Cool and collected, cunning and lethal, Daniel makes it a point to let everyone know that he means business and that if you cross him, bad things will happen to you. That being said, he treats his friends with the utmost care and concern; if you are on his good side, you are a best friend to him. Acquaintances that have likewise earned his trust and respect are people whom he will also treat very well.

Backstory: Born in New York City, Daniel Anderson took into his father's footsteps by enrolling in the NYPD and becoming an officer. With hard work and determination, he took up his late dad's desk as a detective and began a long, hard career in the service.

Near his fifth year in the office he was taken over by a powerful celestial force known as the Protectorate, and was transformed into a Protector; a powerful demigod whose sole purpose was to ensure the safety of the world. He trained with the best and made many friends around the world, demigods one and all. Together he and his Guardians went on many an adventure, with the safety of the planet often hanging in the balance.

After several decades, Earth began to decay. Society collapsed, the environment ran rampant and turned the world into a wasteland. Still he persevered, though the more years he spent on the earth, the more of his Guardians fell to the ravages of time, age and injury. It was then that he realised that the world didn't need him any more; it was dying, and soon it would be time for the demigod, now nearly a full god in terms of power, to leave for greener pastures. One of the remaining Guardians suggested that he venture into the multiverse; a plane where worlds and universes collided, an interdimensional highway, so to speak. An endless amount of possibilities lay within, and the promise of more power. So he went, leaving the ailing Earth to the care of the remaining Guardians, and entered the multiverse as a wanderer.

Now Daniel is no longer a god. He considers himself more of an elemental than anything else. His wanderings have brought him far and wide, though recognition is sparse. A run-in with a Dreamer ages ago was the closest he'd been to making a friend in the multiverse.

[User]
Xing Yi knew that his iron shirt technique would work against him in this situation he was missing his punches because his mobility was effected. Once he got moving he would have to 'deactivate' the technique to move again at full speed. But the werewolf had already thrown a counter punch, a hook with his fist covered in ice spikes. Xing yi wasnt fast enough to dodge the move, but a skilled enough martial artist to tuck his chin and block with a shoulder roll, a fairly western technique but these were competetive moments.

The punch smashed into his shoulder but because of the iron shirt and the robes resisting the magical ice Xing was able to block any injuries though the impact of the werewolfs strength still shook the monk to his core, this false god was frighteningly strong....but so was Xing Yi.

Western boxing? no god would ever use such a crude style.

Reeling off of the shoulder roll, Xing Yi bent his knees and sprung his tosro forward in an up diagonal position to strike with an elbow smash to the werewolf's jaw, and to follow up with a roaring spinning back kick with his rear foot (left). All while deactivating the iron shirt to make sure the attacks were at least twice as fast.

[Assistant]
Daniel saw the monk move as his fist flew. His icy punch impacted the monk's shoulder, obviously, and he felt his ice splinter and crack against his defenses. He drew his arm back and shook ice crystals from his fist.

Clever.

The monk said something about boxing being a crude style and he was actually inclined to agree, had the monk not then reared his body backwards with his right elbow extended. A blow easy enough to avoid, Daniel simply leaned backward and let the elbow sail right by his face with no issue.

The monk recovered from that quickly enough and he used his momentum to twist around on his right foot, spinning counterclockwise as his left leg shot up in what should be a backwards kick.

Daniel took a step back and waited in that split-second moment. The monk pivoted swiftly on his right foot, all pretense of defense gone, and swung around, his left leg chopping downward through the air as it swang a wide arc around him.

He gripped his sword tighter. That was his moment.

As the monk's kick reached its zenith, he angled his right arm into a right angle, sword gripped tightly. People in spinning kicks were stationary targets. He took a step forward, reared his arm back and, just as the monk's kick swung downward, he thrusted his arm forward in a stab, jabbing his sword right at the monk's gut.

Unless he was also made of elastic, this wasn't easily dodgeable.

[User]
Xing Yi was fairly shocked at the werewolf's martial arts, but it didn't matter, while fast he wasn't as graceful, not as disciplinced just a beast with unholy powers he was not a true martial arts expert like Xing Yi was, he was not prepared for the shaolin. However he did manage to dodge the elbow strike and use a back step counter to dodge the back kick as it came around, of course during the whole attack Xing Yi's mind was fully aware of where the werewolf was, even with his back turned to to him he could feel the postion of any living creature and it this range was able to feel more specific movements as they were happening, no attack would catch him totally off guard.

The Werewolf had opted to stab him as his leg came round, Xing Yi launched the kick with perfect form but it was not able to reach its target, however the monk was far from defenseless, the monk was as comfortable and stable as a spin kick as a normal man would be sitting in a hammock, the werewolf had not accounted for the monk's arms still wrapped in the magic phoenix material. Xing yi swung his left forearm down and to the side as he turned to parry the blade that was aimed for his stomach.

The collision of magical metal made a satisfying cling! It was a pleasant enough noise to help the monk forget about his fairly large yet surface wounds on his chest and leg as his skin was still leaking small amounts of blood. None of this mattered, the werewolf was directly inf front of him. With the sword out of the way and parried, Xing's foot landed next to the opponents right side after the kick, Xing used the stepping momentum to throw a a heavy and lightning fast karate punch from the hip his hand twisting as it shot towards the Wolf directly in front of him, all the while keeping his left forearm ready to guard again. Even a god would feel this.

[Assistant]
He felt the parry travel up his arm, the noise loud and frankly quite cool in the silence of the hallway.

The monk was real damn fast, he'd give him that, but no amount of training beat experience in situations like this.

His sword was parried away to the right, forward momentum changed into sideways momentum that he used to his advantage. As he let his body twist with the parry, he saw the monk's left fist rocket out from his hip, a lightning fast punch that he needed to counter quick.

With his momentum, he had a split second idea.

He used his sideways spin to his advantage. In a moment he'd switched the grip on his katana from forehand to backhand. He twisted around clockwise, lowering his body as low as he could go to avoid the straight punch. He felt it whizz over his back as he pivoted on his left foot. Once he made it most of the way around, he held up his sword, blade pointed at the monk's chest. Right hand gripped tightly round the hilt, left hand cupped round the hilt's base for leverage.

His left foot was replaced by his right during the spin as he turned to face away from his opponent. Then his left replaced his right again as his right side faced the monk.

His right foot took a step forward, inside the monk's guard. The second time of the fight.

Then he used the rest of his momentum to shove his blade sideways, using his left hand to push the sword quickly towards the monk, aiming the stab at the middle of his torso.

[User]
Xing was bleeding and in a fair amount of pain but inside his warrior spirit he was happy, he was at home. This is where Xing wanted the fight to be, up close and personal, this is what he trained 60 years for, he was an endless monk, there was no way he could be upset with a martial arts fight, even if he was now probably fighting for his own life. The karate punch missed, the werewolf span lowto pivot underneath the attack and countered with a backwards sword thrust. Xing Yi had probably seen this attack 1000 times during training at the temple, and this was why he kept his left hand ready to guard. He swung his left forearm in front of his own body and once again heard the blade clash with his magical gauntlets, it was a beautiful thing.

He then followed it up seamlessly now finding his rhythm with the beats who was ducked low in front of him to drive the elbow of his right arm that just threw the punch right into the werewolf's back, and to follow up that with a rising right knee, hopefully to catch the beast in his chest or his chin.

All thing's considered, I will admit I'm having fun.

[Assistant]
As the monk's bracer covered arm deflected his blade, he saw him raise up his right arm to bring it down hard against his back. There wasn't any avoiding this so he let the hit come. Besides, there was an advantage to being on the floor.

The elbow smacked right onto the meat of his back, sending him down towards the ground. However, as the monk foolishly swung his knee upward for what he presumed was to be a knee to the face, all he did to avoid it was to shift and turn over to the left slightly, since he was mostly on the floor at that point with his right side facing the monk.

A moment was all it took for Daniel to switch the grip on his katana from backhand to forehand, and he used the monk's raising knee as a point of weakness. With a flick of his wrist and a raise of his right arm, he brought his sword up between the monk's legs, the blade aimed for the bottom of his right thigh, near the back of the knee joint. The blow was angled slightly with a shift of his wrist so that the blade would cut perpendicular to the rising knee and, though light, had the momentum of his wrist flick behind it and would cut deep from how sharp the sword was.


[System]
Alias: Wetland Wanderer

Age: 24, give or take a few centuries

Gender: M

Race: Human

Primary Skills*: Guns, Unarmed, Barter

SPECIAL*: 33
Strength: 4
Perception: 7
Endurance: 6
Charisma: 5
Intelligence: 6
Agility: 7
Luck: 5

Gear/inventory:

* .44 Magnum (45)
* Lever Action Rifle (38)
* Combat Knife
* Drifter Outfit
* Radaway (x4)
* Nuka Cola
* Purified Water
* Stimpak (x3)

History: Carver was born in Jacksonville, Florida 23 years before the bombs fell to a family of mixed Celtic and Seminole heritage. His father worked in a steel mill and his mother worked as an attorney for the Mayor of the largest city in Florida. They never had the money to send him to college, and Carver had been working odd jobs since he was 15. The list includes bag boy, courier, zoo attendant, Karate instructor, deli worker, and now Everglades tour guide. For nearly 3 years, Carver was a freelance guide, being paid for the service of taking tourists out and viewing the Florida wilds up close. He came home for his vacation, spending a few weeks with his folks who had him sign up for the ridiculous 'Vault' idea. He was to head back to Brandon the next day when the bombs fell. He and his family made it in just in time. He was frozen in Vault 189.
Next thing he knew, his capsule opened and he fell out, coming face to face with an armed Ghoul who hid behind another capsule. Both seemed surprised to see one another, and after some convincing on the Ghouls part that he wasn't dreaming, he was given a gun. They both managed to dispatch the three raiders that had been chasing the Ghoul, which had led him inadvertently into the Vault, scrambling to find a button to close himself in, which instead opened up Carver's capsule. Unfortunately, the gunfire broke the opening mechanism, leaving his family frozen indefinitely.
He began to travel with his new companion, Chek, a heavily armored ghoul with a shotgun who almost never spoke. They traveled all along the gulf, and after a year of surviving fights against raiders, mutants, and even a super mutant or two, they found themselves back in North Florida.

[User]
Ezekiel nodded in response to the woman's final address and to the mutant taking his leave. Returning to the bar he grabbed a bottle of vodka, paid for by the woman of course, and left quietly to find a dark corner he could catch some sleep in. Dimming all of his equipment, he settled his armor in a more comfortable slouch and fell asleep within minutes.

The gentle sound of music bubbled up inside Ezekiel's helmet as it prodded him awake. After a short time, he bagan the rigorous field boot of his armor and dragged his armor out of the slouch he had slept in. After stretching out a little, he took stock of his surroundings and determining that he was alone, he decided to wash. Opening up his armor and peeling himself out the back of it took some effort after being inside of it for two days straight. He stripped off the bodysuit and began washing. A few minutes later after having done some extra stretching, he wiped out his suit and got back into the armor.

As he arrived at the meeting place, he heard the sound of a burst water valve and wondered what had happened. After a few moments he spotted the mutant next to some structure appearing to relieve himself and the puzzle was solved. Standing nearby he turned away and waited for the rest of the expedition to arrive.

[Assistant]
Carver couldn't hide his smile at Joshua's response. He was making a joke, but the Super Mutant seemed to think he wasn't. He was more intelligent than the rest of his kin that Carver had met and survived against. He stood back from then on, listening to the Paladin and the Super Mutant converse, only ever seeing a Paladin once before near the southern parts of Old Georgia and very curious as to why one was here. The most knowledge he had about their Order was from stories and what Chek would tell him if he ever deigned to give stories of his time up north.

He agreed to meet in the morning, and he did exactly that. Of course, after he and his armored companion shared a free drink thanks to their business patron. "Looks like this is just a kill mission for the most part." Carver said to Chek. The Ghoul nodded, taking a swig of his drink. They didn't need to speak more of it. Both knew this was their specialty and they were glad to get a paying job for it. In the back of his head however, Carver was glad that they were going deeper into his old homeland. Maybe it hadn't been fucked up too much.

The next morning, Carver met the rising sun with a cool reserve. Chek stood vigil by him, his shotgun in his hands already and giving the other party members a leveled gaze. He was tall and muscled for a Ghoul, and always had other refugees wary when he walked by. Carver kind of enjoyed the looks Chek would get.

[User]
Sam cocked an eyebrow at the three who had interfered in her negotiations. The first one, some lab experiment of a creature looking half ghoulish and half human seemed to decline the extra caps for no particular reason. The insane hunter from before, possibly crazed from radiation sickness, argued for the original expense with a series of mission expenses despite the fact that it had already been apart of the deal and thus demanded less money on the whole. The third was possibly the worst, Carver was wishy washy and could go either way on the price. Sam mentally noted the three of them as morons, making plans to stay as far away from them as she could until the mission was done with. Someone who was poor with their caps did not have the survival instinct in place to keep themselves alive and put those around them in danger. She nodded at Victoria at the acceptance of her barter, despite her weakened position from the three dullards. She had expected some sort of counter offer, despite what this woman said it seemed that she truly was in desperate need of assistance to hand over so many credits for one excursion. The super mutant known as Joshua gave her a nod of respect due to her bartering on his behalf. Sam returned the gesture in kind, the mutant seemed to be quite capable, intelligent, and had smashed the glowing ghoul which had done quite a lot to alleviate her concerns. Besides it always paid to be friendly with the hulking behemoth carrying a rocket launch in a dangerous situation... possibly many social ones as well now that she thought about it.

She chatted around some with the locals about some of the previous expeditions that had entered Florida both before and after the GECK activated, but to no surprise found nothing about her family. There was nothing more she wished to say to her fellow volunteers until morning so went back into her room to works on repairing a minor issue in her rifle. Even though it was a small issue, those small degrees of care and preparation were often the difference between a successful scavenger and a dead scavenger. When she was completed, she slept for the rest of the night before heading to the meeting place. She gave the group a collected nod and knelt down to ensure that the contents of her pockets and bag were all secure and ready for her to transport comfortably while she waited for Victoria.

[Assistant]
The old man after disappearing from the drinking establishment wakes up in his tent the next morning, which lies at the meeting place with three dead brahmin and one radscorpion husks decomposing outside of it, the old man sees the corpses after exiting the tent, almost tripping up over three sacks of brahmin and radscorpion meat next to a burnt out fire on the way to a stump.

"Was I drunk or having another episode?" Lewellyn groggily asks himself, just realising the others standing around the same area. "How long have you lot been there? We signed on to destroy a Gecko didn't we? Oh wait it was a GECK, found the place they tested those creation kits in five years ago... Utterly spectacular..." Lewellyn blurts out, taking a seat on the nearby stump while trying to remember what happened beyond the ghoul's head exploding. Ol' Com lies beside the stump, sleeping away with a teddy bear near him.

[User]
Eventually John made it to the area as well. He was certainly late, and his labcoat was covered in dried blood.

"What? You thought I wouldn't come?"

He had heard so much about these GECKs, the best of pre-war technology, and seeing the one device behind all these rumors and stories was something he couldn't leave behind.

[Assistant]
Victoria's eyebot shook itself side to side to indicate it was not the red witch. It then sent a package of data to Slag explaining that the Red witch was about to undertake a mission. As an enclave operative, Slag should come along. Details about the Geck and where to meet up were included. Slag was on his own until morning when the group departed. Then the eyebot turned and floated away cheerfully.

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

Victoria awoke with a start. The feeling of something being wrong woke her from a fairly pleasant dream. If she had not gain enough to realize she was dreaming she might have not realized something was wrong. She looked over from her bed at the prewar alarm clock across the room. Its gears were stuck showing 2:34 am, but the first rays of daylight could be seen breaking the horizon. She gets up and walks over to the broken device. Without warning she grabs a bat and smashes the alarm clock into a thousand pieces. "Worthless piece of junk." Victoria exclaimed. Her eyebot beeped a scared sounding series of beeps. Victoria turned to it and smiled, "Oh you are fine. Though you are once again on alarm clock duty. Now, lets go prepare."

Victoria did a light jog from her room to the meeting place by the city gates. There was already a decent crowd. Victoria cursed under her breath. Some leader she was to be late to such an important meeting. She may just have lost the respect she might have gained from her initial hiring speech. She made it to the group and said, "Sorry, I am late. I had business to attend to. Now, we have a good long march south along the I-75. I hope you all are ready. We will spend a night under the stars and if all goes well we reach the place that is to be our outpost by noon tomorrow."

[User]
Joshua largely ignored the others as they appeared at the meeting place. Just as Lewellyn emerged from his tent, the large mutant buttoned up his pants again and stepped aside from the old pre-war power line pole he had been using to relieve himself. A fair amount of time later and the old drunkard that offered to heal people had arrived. Joshua ignored the human's inquiry and took a seat an equal distance away from all the others. A couple minutes later and their employer arrived, a little late.

"Sorry, I am late. I had business to attend to. Now, we have a good long march south along the I-75. I hope you all are ready. We will spend a night under the stars and if all goes well we reach the place that is to be our outpost by noon tomorrow."

"It's good you showed up when you did. We were about to hold you to your word and leave late arrivals behind. It would have been an interesting adventure, having nobody pay us and no idea where to go." Joshua let out a hearty laugh and stood up, slinging his Red Glare rocket launcher over his shoulder and readjusting his oversized backpack. Everything about his body language said that he was ready to go.

[Assistant]
"Mutant, you ain't funny, I have heard a Protectron tell a better joke... then again I did see another one pleasure a man in the Commonwealth... How the hell he managed to smuggle it to the Commonwealth from New Vegas is a mystery better left a mystery." Lewellyn states, then dwells upon a weird day for him involving raiders, Fisto, a thief and the whole of Bunker Hill during a rad storm. "Anyway, no sense dwelling on a diplomatic disaster you are worse then Ol'Com here with waking up I bet Miss... Boss... Madame? What the hell do we call you again except Eyebot magnet?" Lewellyn asks, trying to focus on the present, then dwelling on what a Goodsprings resident had told a trader Lewellyn was having a pleasant conversation on over some scotch.

"Maybe witch instead? You managed to charm me into this from my own marvellous hunt... Read of a political figure called Mike Hunt in an advert now I'm reminded, he was up against a bloke called Dick Wraith and Wayne Kerr in old world politics..." Lewellyn drones on, going off in a tangent and just quietly going on about what he's read, heard and experienced.

[User]
"Sorry, I am late. I had business to attend to. Now, we have a good long march south along the I-75. I hope you all are ready. We will spend a night under the stars and if all goes well we reach the place that is to be our outpost by noon tomorrow." their employer said. Carver didn't blame her. He'd have slept in as well if he could. That was one of the few upsides to this crazy world he unfroze to. No real responsibilities other than surviving.

Unfortunately this time, surviving meant getting up at the crack of dawn. He did it however. Chek was right beside him, never seeming to get tired like always. Carver turned to his two fellows on this expedition, Lewellyn and the eloquent Super Mutant Joshua. They were bantering like always. It did him well to hear the geezer start spewing forth what must have been nonsense to everyone else. Well, it was half nonsense to him as well, but he recalled the names somewhat. Carver smiled to himself from the vague recollections his words brought forth. He'd take any nostalgia he could.

He unholstered his revolver and spun it expertly, clockwise, counter clockwise, sideways, clockwise, and then halted it mid spin to pull back and then release the hammer to its original position. "We ready to head on, or we got something to do here?"