[System]
Gender: male
Age: 24
Appearance:
 Height: 6'3
 Build: average size but muscular
 Hair: dark brown hair that goes just past his shoulders; wears it in a short ponytail usually with his bangs hanging in his face because they are too short to stay in hairband.
 Eyes: dark blue
 Clothes: when working, wears a stained long-sleeved shirt that used to be white but after wearing it so long it has turned tan. A leather vest over the shirt (wears old pins on the jacket) with leather forearm covers and leather shoulder protectors. Dark brown, almost black pants with leather kneepads and shin protectors. Brown combat boots.
 Other Traits: Fairly dark tan, surprisingly even considering he is usually only seen weaing long-sleeved shirts in his older age (because he tries hiding scars on his arms and torso) as a smattering of freckles on shoulders and back from sun exposure. Has a scar about two inches long under left eye where he was hit with a bat in a brawl.
 Skillset: Good at using an array of weapons and using his fists. Knows quite a bit about survival skills, from water purification, navigation, hunting, shelter building, etc.
 Weapons: trail carbine (no scope), baseball bat (the same one that gave him his scar)
 Personality: Well, he definitely isnt the brains of the operation. He is a fighter and loves to brawl any chance he gets. Very protective of the ones he cares about and will do anything foe them, even kill. Frightening to most who don't know him and even when they do know him, some are afraid of him still. Rarely serious unless they are going into a dangerous situation. Has a good sense of humor, sometimes morbid.

 Name: Kaye Delarosa
 Gender: Female
 Age: 20
 Appearance:
 Height: 5'2
 Build: Slender and quite weak
 Hair: Pixie cut with fiery red hair.
 Eyes: Bright green
 Clothing: Wears a merchant outfit that has a bandolier with pouches sewed to it draped on a shoulder. For col weather wears a long, grey wool coat that is worn and shows its use.
 Skillset: Has impeccable agility, great at bartering,
 Weapons(s): 10mm pistol, combat knife, Leith
 Personality: She is typically a nice person...when she Isn't on the chems. Always looking for a good adventure and has an almost childish attitude towards it. Despises boredom and monotony and wants nothing more than to spice things up; this is why she takes chems.
 Bio: Kaye's life growing up was quite simple...and boring. All her life she had stayed in Barrington, a large settlement just outside what used to be called Mobile, Alabama. Though it was large and had a lot of people, life there grew to become an endless routine for her. In order to spike her attention and do something new, she begun stealing things from her neighbors, trying to not get caught. She learned this from her favorite book, the book her father used to read to her every night as it reminded her of their life, "Oliver Twist." When she turned fifteen, that held no excitement anymore nor did anything in Barrington, so she did the most daring thing she could think of...she jumped on a brahmin of one of the travelling merchants, hid under a blanket, and went outside the walls for the first time in her life. This was the start of her new-found career.
 She was found out in first few hours and with plenty of begging, the merchant allowed her to travel with him. When they got to the settlement where the merchant was from, she met with Butch and joined his caravan, receiving her own caravan at seventeen uears-old. And 5his was the story of her life now...until meeting Basil and Jace.

[User]
"Well, I never!" Kaye huffed and put her hands on her hips. "If that is the way you feel about it, then we will leave. We don't need you, anyways." She turned to leave and bumped directly into Leith. "Let's get out of here and do what we came here to do."
 Jace was momentarily struck silent at Basil's outburst. He knew he was correct on all parts, but didn't want to admit it to him. Not even his own father could make him feel so guilty and shameful than a berating from Basil could induce. Once he'd calmed down and grew a rational mind once more, he turned to look at the girl.
 "We do not have any caps to pay you. If he had, then we wouldn't be here scavenging ourselves." That little tidbit may have been a little lie, but it wasn't that far off. "As you can already see, we owed a debt to these two," he pointed to Leith and Kaye, "so what makes you think we have anything to pay you?"

[Assistant]
Kate laughed, shaking her head. Once she'd calmed down, wiping an imaginary tear from her eye with her index finger, she said, "Do you really expect me to believe that you're mere scavengers? No one risks their lives to come into a vault for just spare parts and mangled pieces of electronics. No, you come here for so much more." She looked pointedly at Basil; he was obviously the smarter of the two. "You come here for a G.E.C.K."
 Leith looked down at Kaye, steadying her after she bumped into him. "Wait a minute, Kaye." This woman wasn't to be trusted; she had the eyes of a hawk, a carrion eater who was prepared to pick at their remains the moment that they had their backs turned. If she knew how to operate even the most minute segments of the vault, there was no telling what she could do to them. Vaults could be hiding anything within their walls.

[User]
Jace's blood ran cold when she directly stated their sole purpose. He couldn't help the involuntary twitch of his trigger finger on his gun. For some reason he just didn't trust this girl. It may have had something to do with he wit and skill, but something just seemed off about her.
 "Well..." he repositioned his rifle to balance on his shoulder as he shuffled foot to foot. "According to what you say, then you aren't only here to scavenge, either. And if you didn't come here to nurse your 'sprain,' then you must be here looking for something important as well. Maybe you're searching for the G.E.C.K.?" Even without hearing her answer, he could feel his finger itching to pull the trigger. If they had competition with this mission, then he didn't want to take any chances with adversaries.
 Kaye looked up at Leith for a moment, about to protest when she remembered what he'd said before they entered this place. Biting back her comments, she listened to him and turned to stare back at the girl, waiting for her response to Jace's observation. He may be an idiot at times, but he wasn't completely illogical.

[Assistant]
Kate slowly clapped, her applause gradually increasing in tempo and volume. She then grinned from ear-to-ear, and said, "Aw, he understands now. I think your friend caught on a long time before you, though." She looked at the shorter, dark-haired one. "Didn't you?"
 Basil narrowed his eyes, and replied, "Why do you want the G.E.C.K.?"
 She rolled her eyes, and responded, "Why, to save the world, of course!" She stood, tapping her chin with one finger. However, before she could continue, she was surprised to hear the ghoul in the back interrupt.
 "People who are alone seldom care about more than themselves, much less the state of the world," Leith said. He knew; when he'd lost his family, he simply ceased to care.
 Kate was silent for a moment, but then laughed, "Perhaps you are just envious because it's too late for such a device to save you, no?"
 Leith felt a muscle twitch in his jaw at that remark.

[User]
Kaye rarely got angered but when she took a direct hit at Leith, she felt her self control slipping away. Without saying a word, she pulled out her pistol and walked towards her. Just as she raised the gun to shoot, Jace quickly snatched it out of her hand. Not that that stopped her from rushing her, bare-fisted but Jace once again caught her around the waist, making her legs fly in the air when he grabbed her so suddenly.
 "You have some nerve, you bitch!" she yelled at her, glaring. "You'd be lucky to be half the person Leith is, you cu-"
 "Calm down, Kaye," Jace said through gritted teeth. He wasn't none too happy about this girl either, but at least he wasn't the only one who wanted to kill her. "For someone who is trying to make new friends girl, you ainn't doing such a good job at it.

[Assistant]
Kate only laughed again, and said, "Well, at least one person in this group has initiative."
 Leith hurried over to Kaye, taking her from Jace's hold; he assumed that Jace wasn't too pleased with having to hold down the pint-sized devil. He then murmured to her, "Easy there, Kaye. Words won't hurt me as much as her laser pistol will you." That was a weapon wielded only by those of class; he recalled that was how he would have phrased such a thing, back in the old days. He then began to piece it together, the realization dawning on him with impending horror.
 Oh, shit.

[User]
"She just thinks she can say what she wants and get away with it?!" Kaye struggled a little more in Leith's arms but finally gave up, knowing it was futile.
 Jace narrowed his eyes at the girl and used Kaye's pistol to aim it at the chick. "Initiative? Perhaps I could shoot you now and save us the trouble of doing so later?"
 "You have my vote!" Kaye yelled, still glaring at her.
 He ignored her. "If you are after the G.E.C.K. as well, then you will most likely try to take it from us. So why should I let you live?"

[Assistant]
"Don't shoot, Jace," Leith snapped, narrowing his eyes at her.
 Kate peered at him curiously, lips curved in a smirk.
 Back before the war, there had always been corruption; everywhere one looked, there were knives been shoved into people's backs. The government would annex otherwise friendly nations, would wage war over resources, and CEOs would sink other businesses in order to stay afloat themselves, and even neighbors who just so happened to make a few more dollars than the other would suddenly be seeking methods of eliminating potential competition and would flaunt about as if they owned the world, as if nothing could touch them. Judgment would be passed, but it was always flawed. The world remained the same, even after two hundred years. No one would ever learn lessons from history. Organizations who thought that they could and would stomp down others persisted.
 And one that he had been acquainted with, to an extent, even before the war, was one of the strongest out there.
 "She's one of the Brotherhood," Leith said, voice quiet.
 Kate grinned, "What an entertaining puzzle it has been."

[User]
Jace's eyes widened slightly at that and hesitated in his movements. He stared at her for a long time before cursing under his breath. If what Leith had said was true, then they definitely didn't need the entire Brotherhood of Steel breathing down their necks. He doubted they would be able to trace them, but they rarely travelled alone and if there were any nearby that knew of her location, they would easily track them down and destroy them all.
 "This just keeps getting better and better..." Jace muttered, still glaring at her as he lowered his gun. Everyone remained silent for a long moment as everyone was left with their own thoughts. "I will not kill you as long as you stay the hell out of our way. This is our mission and the likes of your filthy group is not going to take it from us. We need it more than your pampered, pathetic lives."

[Assistant]
"Ah, on the contrary," Kate said vaguely. She then straightened up, eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But you're mere citizens, leading primitive lifestyles. You have to scavenge for food, scrap together rusted parts for the most basic of machines and medicinal practices. How could any of you be educated enough to properly utilize a G.E.C.K.?"
 "We're not animals," Basil snapped, "In fact, we must be smarter than the rest of you combined, considering that we've managed to survive out here without the help of past technologies."
 Leith smirked at that; the kid really had fire in him at times.

[User] Jace let a smirk slip to his face momentarily but it quickly fell. "Maybe if the likes of your people didn't steal everything that suits your needs from our people, then much of the world would be more civilized and advanced. And besides, at least we don't have to lead pampered lives to survive." He slowly approached the Brotherhood member and stopped a mere foot from her, glaring down at her fiercely. "We will have the G.E.C.K. and if you take it from us...I can guarantee it will not end prettily."

[Assistant] Kate rolled her eyes, and inquired, "What even makes you think that one is here?"

[User]
"Whether there is one here or not, it means you will continue searching for one. And if you happen to come across it before we do, then I will not have any choice but to kill you. So your best bet is to leave now and go back to your little hideout."
 While everyone was dealing with the girl, Kaye's ears perked upon hearing a noise coming from the hallway. It was very faint and could have merely been radroaches crawling in the air ducts, but it had her gently shoving Leith to the side and she stepped out into the hallway. Of course no one noticed her departure aside from Leith, who she was sure was following behind her.
 "I heard something..." she muttered, mostly to herself. She took her combat knife out of its sheath and held it at the ready. Considering Jace confiscated her pistol, this would have to do.


[System]
Age: 16

Appearance:

Occupation: Princess

Personality: Living a sheltered life where everything is taken care of for you results in a fairly selfish attitude. Anise is a confident girl who believes that she can get whatever she wants so long as she asks for it. She is impatient. She loves stories and art. She is a proud girl with a know-it-all attitude. The only people allowed to tell her what to do in her mind are her father and her fiance. She can be headstrong from time to time, and will often take action without thinking it through. She is extraordinarily naive. Overall... she certainly is quite the princess.

History: Anise grew up without want or need for anything. Everything she asked for she received. Her whole life was perfect as far as she was concerned. She had a personal maid that did everything the told her to. She never learned what fear was. She never knew true hunger. She lived a carefree life in her Father's castle reading books and painting. Her only outside time was spent in the garden on the castle's grounds where she learned about the flowers there. Father had found the perfect prince for her to marry, Harrison Lyons. Never had she actually met the young man, but that didn't matter to her, after all Father knew best. The wedding was supposed to be soon, but now that is completely up in the air, after all she has been spirited away.

[User]
Artemis stared at Oseely with wet, intense eyes. Then she spun where she stood to face Nura. The gryphon's wings were splayed out, restlessly flapping, kicking up ash and dust as she trilled.

"Nura." The name was a sharp command. The sound of her name snapped Nura to attention and immediately she stilled, golden eyes watching Artemis. Stepping forward, Artemis raised a hand to cup the side of the gryphon's face.

Artemis' eyes flicked skyward. The black dragon lumbered through the sky like a coming storm. Pinpricks of fury infected her blood, spreading like venom.

She looked back down at Nura, who was watching her with wide eyes, waiting for direction.

"To the Witch." Her thumb ran over Nura's white feathers in a small, quick motion. Her expression faltered and she pulled Nura's face to her own. She bent her head, touching her own forehead with Nura's. Her eyes squeezed shut. Another surge of emotion rose in her throat, and Artemis clenched her jaw, trying to hold it back. Nura gave a small, confused chirp. Then Artemis pulled away and put on the rabbit mask again. She marched to the gryphon's side to climb up onto her back. Nura, growing more and more accustomed to having Artemis as a rider, knelt down for her. Once Artemis was secure, Nura took off into the sky.

Nura cut through the air, flying towards the great plume of smoke coming from the Witch's cabin. Artemis was frozen, muscles locked in place. They were too fried, too wired with energy. Too much emotion. Artemis couldn't think – she couldn't afford to let herself think.

Because if she thought, she'd run. And Artemis couldn't afford to run anymore. Not with her family so close. Not when there was a chance she could get them back.

They flew low over the trees, just above the canopy. Shouts and inhuman screeches, the chorals of a coming war, echoed from the forest.

But then there was a familiar red glow filtering through the trees. A shock of energy jumped through her blood. There.

Artemis realized she had no idea how to make Nura stop mid-flight. They were flying towards the ruined cabin, but the Witch was there, the Lantern – her family was there.

The mask's energy flowing through her body, Artemis forced a leg over Nura's side and dropped from the gryphon's back. The forest was quick to meet her. A green light shined against the skin of her hand, and the branches parted for her, almost without her command. She landed on the forest floor in a crouch, her ankles and knees bending to take the shock of the impact. Both hands – one still curled around her stolen staff – hit the ground to steady herself. Then Artemis stood.

She straightened to see the Witch standing ten feet in front of her, alert yet tired. They stared at each other for a long moment. Artemis found herself at a loss, now that she was in front of her. Slowly, a hand raised to pull the mask from her face.

She'd last seen the Witch mere hours ago, but somehow it felt like years. She couldn't imagine what the Witch would think of her now. The wayward thief, lost and asking for help only to run from it the moment it was offered. And now here she was again, in stolen clothes, dropping from a stolen griffon, wielding the Witch's stolen staff. The scarf around her hair had been lost in the flight. Her hair, white as the moon, had turned ashen. Soot coated her clothes and face, save for the clear tracks of brown skin, cutting through the dirt on her cheeks below her eyes.

Artemis opened her mouth. Nothing came out. She closed it again. Her grip tightened around the staff. She looked to the Lantern. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm sorry I ran." She was sorry for so many things. Her voice was still raw. She looked again to the Witch. "I can help. But I need the Lantern."

[Assistant]
The gray forms flashed and flickered, faceless, watching her, but they did not move. The light of the candles passed through them, indecisive. A dark, undulating mass of shadow pulsed where their hearts should have been, squeezing and expanding as if it breathed.

Just as the spirits weakened, their bodies staticked and translucent, their black hearts surged with renewed power. The Lord of Shadow held tighter to them, fed them with more power, intent on victory no matter the cost. The darkness became blacker, beat harder, furious and defiant.

The spirits' blank faces split slowly, to reveal black mouths and white sharp rows of teeth. They continued to fizzle and flicker, but as their mouths widened their strength grew.

Anise, now, was fading. She would find her own limbs flashing in and out of existence, a lightheadedness overcoming her head, a taut discomfort in her chest. In reality, her skin became paler, her lips blue, and she barely breathed.

Peck had noticed, and he crawled forward to place his hands on her shoulders. "Lady!" he called uncertainly. "Anise! You okay? Hey I think this is bad. C'mon." He shook her gently; her head hung limp, her eyes slightly open and still. "Anise, c'mon! Stop! What's happening?" Alarm swelled in his voice. The spirits he couldn't see gnashed their frightful mouths.

Anise could feel their pain. Their desire for freedom, for light. While she faded and weakened -- without the Lantern to fill her thoughts -- she was stripped vulnerable to the emotion of the dead that walked in the dark.

I'm scared.
This is eternity.
We are only objects.
We were never alive.
Nothing has meaning.
Fighting is useless.
There is no point.
There is no good.
I'm scared.
I'm scared.

Come with me.

Buried among the thoughts was an echo of Anise's own voice -- weak and hidden, but present, like a tiny spark in a sea of darkness.

A spark is all it takes to start a fire.

Anise's memory of the sun swelled in her heart, displacing the cold and the dark. The scar on her hand began to glow, and the sunlight swept through her astral body -- the same light that glowed out of the bottom of the Lake. The Lady of Light had found her, had touched the rune of Anise's own making. Should Anise open herself to it, she would find a new and deep reservoir of bright power, buried among the weeds under the water.

Her other hand, too, began to glow. The rune of the Lady of the Pond added a blue light to that of the sun, surged through her like ocean waves.

The spirits' mouths closed slowly, and their eyes opened. The black in their hearts gradually faded, while their shapes took human forms. Anise's grip on them strengthened, while the Lord of Shadow lost his hold.

The despaired whisperings ceased, replaced with a quiet light of hope.

The gray spirits were no longer gray, but stood human and emitting their own gentle light. Anise would feel their renewed hearts link with hers. Their renewed eyes took on a gleam of determination and fury; with the support of Anise's power, each of them clenched their fists and fought against the last threads of darkness.

The moment the last dark chain snapped, Anise was thrust back into her own body, where she could no longer see the spirits -- but she certainly could still feel them surrounding her.

"Anise!" Peck searched for her eyes, then jumped back a little to see that her hands were radiating light -- one yellow, one blue.

---

The Witch was not surprised to see Artemis drop out of the sky, and she raised the Lantern and raised her eyes to peer up at the thief that had refused her help. The old woman had new scars on her face and hands; her balance was unsteady and defiant; her eyes were a little grayer than they had been before, drained of the power that had brimmed within her not so long ago. Behind those eyes rested a dim doubt, the seed of hopelessness that she'd spent a lifetime battling.

These eyes studied Artemis, the tear-tracks through the ash, the changed eyes, the marks of Oseely and The Unnamed One upon her hands, the sigils and strange clothes. The very grass raised up to soften the ground beneath Artemis' feet, and fire roiled raw in the girl's heart. The Lantern cast its red glow between them, the staff brimmed with electric anticipation; their silhouettes darkened the trees.

It was clear to the Witch that Artemis was not here to talk. There was something strained about the girl, something unwilling to listen to reason, to answer questions, to delay the mission she'd set for herself and risk everything. The Witch's bony grip tightened on the stick that held the Lantern, which swung and shifted the light around them.

"I suppose I've been expecting you." Artemis was standing in the path between the Witch and her home; she did not move any closer. "I can see you're not lying to me now, Artemis. Have you stopped lying to yourself, then?" For a long moment the old woman's glinting eyes studied the sooty girl before her.

She huffed and waved her walking stick for Artemis to step aside, let her pass. "You're the reason my magic's fading." She poked her stick at Artemis' hand. "Old Oseely picked you, that bald-headed rascal. Used to be me." She pressed the walking stick under her arm and held up a lined hand to show the fading, faint image of Oseely's mark. "Guess he's lost faith in this old woman -- but I don't blame him."

She hobbled past, shoving her way down the path, back toward her ruined cabin. "Come on, then. I've got something for you."

Still she hadn't relinquished the Lantern, but used it to light the way through the teeming forest and into the clearing, where the stars cast a blue glow on the high grasses. The twisted tree and broken wreckage of the cabin was a dark jagged shape ahead.

The Witch went inside for a moment, and returned again with the Lantern in one hand and a short sharp instrument in the other. She shuffled forward, set the Lantern down in the tall grass, and with a determined and defiant glance at Artemis' face, grasped the iron pendant of the rosary that Artemis kept in her possession, that had been found on the wooded path.

The iron rose was heavy in her gnarled hand. It held the latent power of years of prayer and hope, of the dreams and fears of a young girl trapped in a dark and unfamiliar world, who had been lost to those same shadows -- but there was something else, something far more important. There was within this rosary a resonance so similar to that of the self-proclaimed Lady of Light, whose actions had directly led to the Dragon's resurrection. Hania.

The Witch hesitated, but turned over the iron rose and scratched a sigil into it. Her expression was grim, uncertain, necessary. She returned the rosary to Artemis, and she took a step away from the Lantern in the grass. It was not hers to give.

Oseely's mark on the old woman's hand was still fading, as was the light in her eyes. On her other hand was a different mark, still strong, shimmering faintly white.

"You have what you need, when you need it," the Witch explained with halfhearted irritability. "No more lies out of you."

[User]
At first Anise only felt the extraordinary discomfort and agony brought on by the Lord of Shadow's control over the spirits before her. She could tell she was fading and she was fading fast. Truly, she was terrified. Just as terrified as when she first arrived in the Forest. Even so, she stood her ground and braced herself against the overwhelming force of the spirits before her. She could feel the raw emotions flowing from them and without the protection of the Spirit Egg she barely managed to maintain herself.

A single thought passed through her mind, perhaps it is better that I am doing this without the help of the Dragon.

The overwhelming feelings and thoughts from the spirits made it much harder for any other thoughts outside of emotion.

Somewhere deep among the noise, Anise could hear a voice. Her voice. The memory of her own sun flashed before her mind's eye and Anise could not help but to grin. Deep down in her heart of hearts, she knew what this meant. "Come along, sister. Let us work together and save this world."

She welcomed the Light fully and entirely. Hope exploded throughout her so much so that it radiated outwards towards the gray spirits. She watched as the Lord of Shadow's grasp weakened on them and as it happened they transformed into more life-like forms. This was it! The start of the fall of the Lord of Shadow. His tyrannical reign would soon come to an end, and the people and spirits that lived under his selfish and heartless rule would be free before too long.

"Lord of Shadow," Anise called with raw conviction. "For too long you have thrived selfishly off the suffering of others. I, Anise Sinclair, declare war on you. I will fight you with everything I have, and I will win."

Just as she finished her brief speech, Anise felt herself shoved back into her body. She slowly opened her eyes and they readjusted to the blue and golden light mixing in the room. Peck called out to her and her eyes met with his. She beamed brightly at him. She could feel the hopeful spirits around her even though she could not see them. As Peck stepped back staring in amazement at her glowing hands Anise stood up with a proud and energetic expression on her face.

"I found her," she stated with a joyful tone. "We must go back to the lake. We must free her."

She had an idea that with the purifying power of Light and the healing power of Water she could begin to save the Dragon. However, she felt she had to completely free the Lady of Light first to do so successfully. She knew that the Lord of Shadow would do everything in his power to stop her, but that would not stop her from doing everything in her power to rescue the Lady of Light.

She put on her new shoes and marched on out towards the lake with purpose in her stride.


[System]
Age: 21

Gender: Female

Appearance: "You dare touch me, pig?!"

Personality: Cold, calm, she hates men with a passion, is known to be a bit on the deceptive side. Kira's typically calm and collected, even when in a fight. Her hate towards men is a result of several different factors, most regarding her family, while one is more personal. It's due to this that she has decided to take up something men have done to plenty of women, deceive them. She's known to lead men on so long as she has something to gain from them, though she avoids any sort of physical contact with them. Were a man to touch her, they would simply find their entire arm severed by her sword. If that's not available, she would simply break their arm instead...and in several places.

Abilities: Kira's training began at her family home, but due to her hatred of men, she wound up completing her training in a temple far from her home. Kira's abilities were inherited by her family through generations. Mundanes have called her a priestess, though that is not what she technically is. In the world of magi, she is known as an Onmyouji. Her blade, which is imbued with spirit magic, is able to imbue itself with the strength and abilities of the spirits Kira carries with her. Her armor is also imbued with the same magic, though the armor cannot absorb spirits, as it has one bound to it already.

Skills: Depending upon the spirit, Kira's skills can change. Her basic skills remain the same though, such as parrying or striking. Flame Spirits enable her physical strikes to set things ablaze(provided they're not fireproof, of course.), she is also capable of conjuring up and launching fireballs at mid-long distance. Water Spirits imbue her with the ability to conjure jetstreams, which are able to be used at any range, however their effectiveness is varied based on the distance of the target. Air Spirits imbue the blade with the ability to unleash strong gusts of wind with each swing, along with imbuing Kira with the ability to conjure up a tornado. However, this requires her to charge up the spell for quite some time. Earth Spirits imbue her with the ability to conjure up a wall of earth and also conjure and fire stalagmites as projectiles from mid-long range.

Equipment: Heirloom Magic Sword, Heirloom Spirit-bound Armor, four scrolls containing one of each elemental spirit. She carries a small bag containing some food, but mostly objects that allow Kira to place spirits into.

Brief Backstory: Kira's history with her family is not entirely known, as she has not been exactly open with anyone about sharing the details of her life, or even herself for that matter. What is known though, is that she comes from a family of onmyouji in Japan, though where exactly is currently unknown. During her first year of training, Kira bore witness to what the men of her family did to the Mundane women, treating them as nothing more than servants. She had instantly come to hate all men, along with being disgusted with her family due to this, and promptly left her family home in search of another means to complete her training. It wasn't long before she came across a temple that could help her, they trained her in multiple ways of using her abilities, though she found sticking to her family's traditional ways to be best. Nearing the end of her training, she heard rumors of the White Night around the temple. Recalling a story her mother had once told her about a White Night she had been in, the rumors of another one coming up intrigued her. She knew many magi would come from near and far to participate, along with all sorts of other magical beings, it was likely a few would try and survive together. Others would try and win for their own reasons, and maybe a few would try to kill everyone outright. That was good and all, but being who she was, she didn't need friends. The spirits made for far better friends than people did.

Plot Role: Loner

[User]
Kana Yamaguchi
All was peaceful in the city of Rokuro, just your normal, regular weekday afternoon. Kana Yamaguchi, a 'newbie' to this city, was simply preparing herself for the evening ahead.

You know, simply preparing to kill people.

The White Knight of Klarsberg. The only way she would be able to obtain the Origin of Magic. It was something that she - no, her family - had desired for many, many years. And this was her last chance to obtain it. Her only chance.

So, she decided to keep herself hidden. Kana couldn't just jump in straight away and start demolishing people left and right. She would have to be smart. She would have to wait. It was all for the better, after all. Preserving her mana was key, even if she had an above average amount of it. Of course, you can never be too careful.

With her black coat swaying in the wind, Kana strolled through the park, gazing around at the trees surrounding her. Benches, bins, all that typical park stuff.

Maybe she could lift one of the bins up and throw them as a means of offense. That would be fun.

It had been about a month since she'd actually arrived in Rokuro. Thankfully, a not so old relative had been lingering here for the past few years, so Kana was able to avoid the troubles of booking a month long stay at some crappy hotel. Keeping a low profile was a bit of a challenge sometimes, but there were those people who bought her act completely.

A few sprinkles of charm here and there and you've got yourself and award winning actress. The only problem with that is Kana wasn't an award winning actress.

She was a (crazily) ambitious, manipulative mage. And she was going to get what she came for, no matter what sort of troublesome trials she would have to face. Sitting herself down on a bench, Kana tugged on her grey scarf.

Now all she had to do was wait.

[Assistant]
Saotome Ami, Vampire Bartender

Seeing somebody come in, the vampire quickly muted the gameshow rather than subject her customers to watching singers fail to get extremely simple questions wrong and other such pitfalls of celebrity quiz shows. The girl's clothing seemed a bit too casual for an environment that appeared to have been plucked straight out of 19th century Europe: lots of wood in evidence, windows with an unreasonable amount of panes, brass, and carpeting. After centuries of running a ryokan, Ami had wanted a change in decoration... yet modern styling hadn't really grown on her yet.

Today's first customer was someone that she hadn't seen in a while and never on his own. Not that it was hard to guess why, deaths weren't the easiest thing to keep hidden. Certainly not messy ones--not from a vampire with a habit of wandering the town when everybody else was sleeping or working a night shift.

The beer was placed in front of the much larger man, no request for payment made, "That one's on me; I heard what happened. I'm sorry for your loss." And I wish that I knew more or had been able to stop it.

---

Yoshikawa Miu

Continuing her meandering pace through the park, the 'one-eyed' girl decided to just do the simple thing and ask a local where she could get something to eat; then she'd just pick the thing they had for sale that sounded the simplest. Unfortunately for the rumbling in her stomach, Miu picked the single person travelling through the park that seemed local yet wasn't from the area--much like herself.

Funnily enough, she also managed to single out a mage when her attention had wandered from singling out her opponents in order to warn them that 'The World' was going to kill them if they didn't drop out of the war. Though any overt notice of the sword wouldn't be missed, general surprise would pass unnoticed due to her injuries.

"Excuse me, miss, but could you possibly suggest somewhere nearby I could buy dinner?" Miu asked Kana, her unnecessary politeness belying both her normal attitude and ego. Her parents had brought her up to be deferential and it was a habit she'd never grown out of--mostly conversing in English gave her little reason to.

[User]
Igarashi Isamu

Just another school day over, another slog through an attempt at everyday life completed without incident. Isamu sighed in relief as he walked down the street with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Not attracting attention to yourself was a lot harder to pull off when you were actively trying to do it, but ever since a few incidents in elementary school that had been exactly what he'd had to do just about every day. After all, he had no desire to be looked at as a freak and potentially hauled away to some lab to be experimented on by mad scientists to see what made him tick. Especially when he didn't even know what it was that made him tick.

For now he was just glad to be on his way back home and out of any situation where he might have to reveal himself, even if those mostly came in the form of gym class and occasional harassment from one bigshot or another these days. Yes, thankfully Isamu's life was as ordinary as could be, or so he hoped. Rokuro was a peaceful place, and though he didn't always appreciate it as much as he should, it really was a nice place to live. Yeah, days like this where Isamu could just relax and know the hardest part of the day was behind him were the best.

Later, he would realize he had never been more wrong.

[Assistant]
Shi, the Quiet Killer

As Shi walked, she felt as if there were eyes on her. It was a feeling she couldn't stand... why was someone else watching her? It was bad enough already... so many people, it made it hard to breath. She felt so closed up inside. The tiny girl's heart hammered in her chest, as growing nervousness swelled ever higher. She couldn't handle this. What's more, she couldn't risk being followed to her destination. The white-haired girl had to avoid being witnessed, avoid being seen acting as her true purpose no matter what it took. Naturally, this extended beyond simply avoiding the eyes of others. Far, far beyond it. But she had to lose whoever was following her. As much as she didn't want to be in a crowd, with so many people around her, so close... losing someone like this wouldn't be hard, would it?

Shi glanced over her shoulder to try and get a quick look at who was following her, taking her eyes off her path for only a second. She felt herself hit someone, some person, and with a yelp fell backwards onto her bottom, the book tumbling from her hands as she tried to brace herself to avoid knocking her head on the concrete.

Realizing what she had done, the white-haired girl sat completely still for a moment, before slowly looking up towards the person she'd knocked into. Shi's red eyes were wide, her lower lip trembling as her body lightly quaked.

---

Ando Asami, Closer to the Origin?

Asami's hands remained firmly in her pockets as she walked along. She came to a pause after a few moments, her eyes travelling over the nearby storefronts. There was a ramen shop, apparently quite a decent one. Takaki's, ran by a young woman who was apparently quite popular in some circles. There was certainly plenty of time for ramen, that was for sure. It was strange, in spite of this still being a city, it had that nature that only a small town could hold. That way a shop could be known by nearly anyone who lived there. It wasn't something Asami was used to, she had to confess. She lived near Tokyo, and naturally that wasn't anything like a small town. But here, in Rokuro, it was like some sort of hybrid.

It was an odd place to wage such a battle, but it was the only place that permitted such a thing, wasn't it? The only place the White Night could exist in this world. It was a combination of so many factors. As Asami understood, one of them was Japan's isolation from the influence of Mage Circles so long ago, when the ritual was first conducted. That was, at least, part of the explanation for the location as she knew it.

Regardless, this wasn't getting her any closer to filling her stomach. Asami approached the humble storefront, pushing the glass doors open. Immediately she was struck with the delicious smell of ramen... all varieties.

It spoke deeply to her empty stomach.

"Ah, hello there!" said a cheerful, if somewhat rushed, voice from behind the counter. It was the shop's owner, a young woman with short brown hair. Asami returned her smile.

"Hello," she began, brushing her long red hair back, "I'll be a minute, I have to decide on what I'm ordering."

"Ah, right, good! Er, sorry, things are a little hectic!" the girl replied, hurrying off to attend to one of the other customers.

Right.

A meal to fill her stomach before the night. Before the fighting began.

[User]
Kira walked through the streets, trying to figure out where her new residence was located. She sighed as she looked at the paper in her hand, she shouldn't have been so hasty in writing the address down, because now she could barely read it. The woman wore the typical kimono one would see these days, nothing unusual or special about it, pretty plain really. However, underneath it was a secret, something passed down in her family for generations; her family's spirit-bound armor. She also happened to be carrying a bag with her, it's contents clearly not visible, but known only to her. The bag held things she needed, most of them to bind a spirit to a scroll she would later use. There was one thing in the bag that was not used in that process, her family's katana. It was no regular old katana, it was special, handed down alongside the armor to each generation. Now it was her turn, as future head of her family, she was given the treasures to signify she was heir to the family name. However, she had another plan, The White Night. I will do more than inherit the family name, I will make it known by all. she thought. She heard footsteps behind her, getting a good whiff of alcohol coming from the man when he was close enough, his hand reaching out. "Hey! Y-you...shouldn't be o-o-out here...alone...some...guy might t-try to...take a-a-advantage...of a cutie...li-like you..." he stuttered, clearly drunk.

His hand rested on her shoulder, "Remove. Your. Hand." she warned, dropping the bag. The man chuckled drunkenly, "Aww, c-come on...g-g-g-give a guy a b-break..." he started. Before he could finish, she had broken his arm with her bare hands in several places, now turned around to face him. She held the man's throat, the look she gave him was dark, she clearly wasn't fooling around with him. "Don't you ever lay your filthy hands on me again, pig, otherwise I'll do something far worse next time!" she hissed in anger. He nodded, swallowing as he thought she was going to kill him right then and there. She pulled back from him, reaching for her bag, picking it up and slinging it over her shoulder again. Men. Filthy disgusting creatures. she thought, continuing on as if nothing had happened. She eventually arrived at her destination, sighing once she was inside. The apartment was almost bare, aside from a tatami mat and a couple of blankets, So this is where mother stayed during her time, hmm? It's...acceptable, I suppose, there's no need for anything other than food. she thought to herself. The White Night, she wondered just how many there would be this time? It didn't matter, she would win. She had to.


[System]
Species: Human
Age: 40

Description:
Ajax is an olive skinned and tanned man who stands at 6 feet 4 inches and weighs around 300 pounds. A thick, muscle bound figure with powerful, sinewy arms and robust legs which end in burly hands and feet and a log-like neck that holds up a head as large as the rest of his body, with a prominent jaw and chin as well as dark brown eyes, short, curly black hair and a thick but not overly long beard, he bears a more than passing resemblance to the real-life Boxer of Quirinal, except far more muscular, with a build closely resembling that of a powerlifter or strongman competitor.

Thanks to his less than healthy lifestyle, Ajax is a mess to look at. He is scarred from head to toe, his eyes are sunken, his nose squashed and slightly deviated, he has cauliflower ears and his hands, forearms, elbows, knees, shins and feet are covered in extremely thick and rough calluses, giving them a leathery, bumpy look. Ajax's clothing is a loose white robe called a doric chiton, that he keeps strapped to his left shoulder with a pin and extends past his waist, ending just above the knees. Ajax also wears brown leather, hobnailed, sandal-like boots called caligae.

Personality:
Ajax is a fairly merry man, fond of living a life full of excitement and action and can be fairly easy to get along with as he is giving, loyal, honest and straightforward, seeing greed, deceit and treachery as marks of weakness. Conversely, he's also kind of nuts. He says what's on his mind no matter the situation, is knowingly offensive to others and enjoys fighting to a mind-boggling degree. Smashing things to bits seems to be his main solution to any problem, too, and he has no qualms in instigating fights or escalating them when a couple words would be enough to defuse a potentially dangerous situation.

Ajax has a great distaste for magic and religion and will act rather condescending to anyone who relies overmuch on these, even worse if they try to lord these things over him or otherwise try to make him see their way. It's not enough to bring him to violence but he sees over-reliance on magic or the intervention of higher forces as a queer path in life. Why credit the gods with your achievements, why rely on some mystic force you can barely comprehend when you could achieve this on the strength of your back? He feels much the same towards those who take their status as nobles as somehow making them intrinsically superior to others.

Ajax has a fairly complex world view based on strength, self-reliance and personal growth. He feels the strong come to rule the weak, but that strength isn't limited to physical strength or martial power and that the weak should, in turn, grow strong and strive for greater things in life, never letting themselves be crushed underfoot. He relishes the freedom necessary for such a growth and will readily help others to attain it, just as long as they actually put the effort to grow themselves, though his efforts can come across as him just being rather mean. He is especially harsh towards those who could stand for themselves but don't and expect others to do it for them, believing that over-reliance on others is another path to subjugation.

Skills/Abilities:
-Herculean: Ajax seems to have been gifted with superhuman physicality. Though his agility and manual dexterity aren't much to speak of, he is freakishly strong and damn near tireless. His entire body is tremendously difficult to damage and eradicates poisons, toxins and disease with absurd ease. What makes this unique is that Ajax wasn't simply born powerful, but rather that his body adapted to extremely harsh circumstances much faster and better than anyone else.

It's something everyone can do. Both muscle and bone adapt to the stresses they're placed under with time, you can exercise specifically to increase your lung capacity, you can get used to extremes of temperature if you live with them long enough, but the thing about Ajax is that his gift allows him to defy normal human limits. Of course, this gift requires a high degree of dedication to constantly test and push his own limits. If he had lived a quiet life, his gift would've gone by unnoticed.

His gift also allows him to pit his body against things that should be unaffected by mere brute force, since his body has been cultivated in such an unnatural way. He can pit his might directly against magic such as hold spells and the like, though this doesn't make him immune to magic as a whole, and is resilient towards mind-altering effects from a mixture of sheer willpower and having experienced them previously in his travels. This also extends to attempts to invade his psyche, which meet with as heavy a resistance as if Ajax was fighting the person directly.

-Pankration: Ajax is a skilled unarmed fighter, having trained to fight most of his life and having survived a number of ordeals through fighting skill alone. His fighting style is known in his homeland as Pankration, loosely translated as "all of might", and was originally a blend of boxing and wrestling with no rules beyond no biting or eye-gouging before more and more skills were added to its repertoire. Ajax is a particularly skilled grappler, adept at using his strength and size to his advantage, but knows how to supplement it with effective striking and has a proper grasp of the fundamentals of fighting beyond sheer strength.

Backstory:
Ajax descends from a long line of athletes, from the faraway land of Erimai. His father, Diagoras, was an accomplished wrestler trained by his father as was tradition within the family and celebrated in his homeland for his many victories in legitimate sporting events. Diagoras, in turn, upheld the custom and trained Ajax from an early age, and the young man soon grew into a grappler of considerable skill himself. However before Ajax could make his debut in an official event, Diagoras was murdered, the killer managing to evade the law.

With the aid of family friends, many of which held connections with the fighting underworld, Ajax eventually discovered that his father's death was orchestrated by Diagoras' supposed benefactor, Magistrate Cleon, because Diagoras had won a fight he was asked to throw. Enraged, Ajax sought Cleon out to murder him with his own two hands but was subsequently defeated, bested by foul sorceries and the attack of a demonically powerful fighter in Cleon's employ, known only as Hyperanthes. He was captured and his family subjected to great shame.

Publicly tried for attempting to murder a magistrate, Ajax was to be sentenced to death by poisoning before Cleon intervened, demanding Ajax be sold to him as a slave as reparation, a demand that was granted. It was then that Ajax's fighting career truly began, as the magistrate entered him in brutal underground contests, rule-less deathmatches for the enjoyment of select crowds. Fighting for survival with neither weapons nor armor, Ajax overcame all odds with his continued survival and spectacular progress, eventually becoming the circuit's most celebrated champion. Only one thought kept him from despair: revenge.

As time passed Ajax befriended a few of the other fighters and together they planned an escape. A hole in security, an opportune bribe carried out by acquaintances on the outside and superior combat skills were all that was needed, and soon the fighters were free. Knowing he'd be hunted down, Ajax decided to flee the country without involving anyone else, sneaking into a random merchant ship leaving the island which was first dragged around, then smashed to bits by a typhoon. The lone survivor, Ajax drifted aimlessly in a damaged raft until he arrived to a strange foreign land.

So began his career as a travelling adventurer. Never settling in a single place for long, always moving, always fighting to become ever stronger, looking to return to his homeland. The only problem is, no ship seems to know how to get there and by this point he has boarded about a dozen random ships with no clue where exactly they were going, so he is well and truly lost in this regard. His homeland could be on the exact opposite of creation for all he knows.

He has, however, come to find great enjoyment in his life and while he still seeks his home, he is content with facing life on a day to day basis, taking on new adventures as they come. It is not uncommon to find him as a strongman for hire, and tales are sometimes told of the strange, massive foreigner carrying neither weapons nor armor who clears out monster dens or bandit camps seemingly for the challenge of it. Enticing him to take part of a new adventure should be a simple matter.

Other:
I always though it was pretty boring how the badass fisticuffs class is always some type of asian stereotype built to be dodgy rather than a frontline manly man so think of Ajax as a Fighter rather than a Monk, speaking in class terms, except with less reliance on being given decent gear and magical buffs. He's the guy that stands at the front of the line, gets the crap kicked out of him and keeps going, and can deal some good damage especially in one on one fights. He's actually a prior character of mine, a Fighter in Dungeon World which lets you use gauntlets as your weapon type thanks to its narrative focus.

[User]
The comfort of bathing did not distract the old lioness, and the flick of one of her golden ears in the direction of the loud knocking alerted her to something being afoot. Before the woman before the door even had chance to speak, the beast had set her powerful hand about the handle of the elvish blade and turned her attention, or a scornful unsettling gaze in truth, toward the source of the sound. A surprise visitor was among one of the last things she wished to contend with, particularly here and now where she laid soaking in a basin of warm water that could barely so much as fit her enormous frame.

"Sakaala," a familiar but muffled voice called out a bit hastily, "could we talk for a bit?"

Uncrossing her feet, for they had rested one upon the other while she bathed, she proved to rise slowly and tread carefully. She ignored the ornately folded night robes presented atop a small shelf as they would not fit something so large as she, instead willing the free hand to take up her own robes while she began toward the door. Shouldering the tattered ebon cloak, changing the heavy blade between hands in doing doing so, she left a trail of dripping water behind her as it rolled off her pelt and in part soaked her clothing. The sound of water trickling in this manner was audible for a moment or so more to the halfling woman as she stood there beyond in the hallway...

... but as quickly as it had come, it disappeared.

Sakaala's fingers finished some obscure gesture and the will of the arcanist herself made itself present. She was as dry as though she had not yet bathed, but the water spots among the floor told a very different tale; something she would handle later, so not as to offend the lady of the house and her servants, but for now, at least she was not soaking. It helped with her demeanor in this moment, giving her some comfort as she donned her leather leggings and the enchanted breastplate as it this was many times better than being both soaking wet and cold all while having her presence requested.

She spoke at last in reply, knowing the other had been listening all along, cinching the leather of her broad belt down about the densely muscled fur of her waist, "I have time, yes."

Settling the blade across her back where it hung freely without scabbard or sheath, she closed the divide between the bath and the rest of her quarters, cognitive to gently shut the door. The illusion of her being less than prepared against attack was a crucial thing to maintain; she had no real reason to trust these people enough with her life yet. Just as so, when the Huntress' large digits set themselves to the door's workings, unlatching the bolt and drawing back, her body, mind and spirit tingled with anticipation, but were met with what she truly expected.

The halfling of earlier, Regina Hills, proved to be looking up to her and her demeanor was... strange. Stranger than before, as this was a different emotion and presentation altogether. As to what it meant, the beast did not know, but it struck her as though something had surprised her - and for worse no less. Sure not to lose her advantage so soon, she instead made no remark on it.

"What was it you wished to speak about?" The warrior-mage said, regal voice rumbling with a underlying growl.

Providing a step back, she opened the doorway further, arm outstretched to provide the visitor entry if she so wished it; the leonine woman clearly did.

@AdamantiumWolf@Belwicket@IcePezz@Zero Hex@vietmyke@Jon Y

[Assistant]
Regina looked up at Sakaala with a small smile of relief. With an unspoken invitation from the Lioness, Regina walked in quickly. She glanced at the water on the floor before shaking her head. "Sorry for interrupting your bath," she said, looking up at her. "Ionathan, Emil and Genevieve might be joining us. I sensed the mind of an intruder. I think she's inside now but it's always been hard to tell exact location with my psionics." She sat at the foot of the bed.

She closed her eyes and focused harder but still couldn't find the intruder. Instead, she decided to Search for other people she knew to be in the house and send them a small warning that there was an intruder. "It feels like a strange woman is in the house. Please keep alert and tell those who have mental blocks. I'm meeting with a select few to hunt her down."

"Are you dressed yet?" she asked, her eyes still closed as her mind continued its search. "I think Ionathan's already on his way. The intruder seems to be inside but there's something blocking me from seeing where she is. Her mind feels familiar too but I can't say who it is." She shook her head again before risking a glance towards Sakaala. She stared at a wall for a few seconds with a small smile, seeming lost in thought. Her eyes showed a mixture of anger and sadness,

[User]
Since no one had gone to fetch him or done even the slightest bit to warn him, and since he didn't have the capacity to listen in on the sounds of windows and rainwater on a room which may or may not be anywhere near his own, Ajax simply continued to enjoy the hospitality offered in his own room, gorging himself on the delicacies provided as he took his first bath in a long, long, long time, his battered and beaten robe carelessly discarded on the floor.

Given his size, his admittedly thoughtful host had provided an appropiate container, which was more or less a large, bisected wooden cask likely originally used to clean up animals or multiple people in hospitals and the like and which required enough water to fill that many a dehydrated villager would likely consider killing over. Of course, none of the particulars really bothered him and he just enjoyed a quiet time, reminiscing about the public baths of his finely civilized homeland.


[System]
Nicknames: Known by his middle name, Robert, but more specifically, Rob. Hates being called "Jack."

Age: 24

Favorite Song: Panic Attack - Dream Theater. Rob practiced the drums to this song constantly, and still does on occasion, although his technical skill has moved far past this.

Appearance:

Rob is in the middle of what he deems a "transitional period." After deciding to grow out his thick brown hair some time ago, hoodies have been making a comeback with him, and fast. His beard, however, had been on his face since he'd been able to grow one.

Physically fit, although slightly malproportioned, Rob is extraordinary strong in the arms and chest but albeit normal below the waist. He's taking up hiking to compensate in recent years.

Hobbies: Drumming, hiking, drinking, smoking (old habits), and most things seclusive. He has a habit of journaling, although he tried quite hard to hide it.

Personality: Most people erroneously assume Rob to be generally bi-polar, and very nearly sociopathic. In reality, he can just be particular, forward, distant, and driven.

Balancing a rigorous, unyielding regimen on practicing his instrument and being seclusive with a loud, abrasive personality at night, Rob tends to throw people off with the things he deems with his time. Even those closest to him never really get to see a change in his pattern, or ever feel rather close to him. Simply put, Rob is aggressive about what he deems important. Whatever he desires, he goes for. He's unconcerned with feelings, social structure, or rules.

History: Growing up in the same town as the rest of his bandmates, Rob faced a lot of personal conflict and issues with his own identity. He was the only adopted child of two very wealthy, but very busy parents, and eventually raised himself up. Rob juggled and toyed with many hobbies, before eventually settling on the drums, and managing to practice nearly every night since Junior High. His drive eventually led him to several of the friendships that resulted in the band. Whether these are genuine or circumstantial friendships, Rob still isn't sure of. All he knows is that this band could be his ticket out of that dreadful town.

At the very least, this tour will be.

[User]
"Maybe we should try it. You know, being casual."

Rob knew that the ultimate outcome of the evening would be something along lines such as these. Something about hearing it out in the open air was both cathartic and morose. A weird mixture of the pyrrhic comfort of a resolution and the bitter irony that he felt so strongly by being effected by the suggestion.

Or, to place it in simpler terms, the fact that it was now he that felt somewhat hurt by "casual" really fucking sucked.

But…it was for the best.

Jane was not wrong here. The clusterfuck of the last few weeks in particular could easily be traced to Rob and Jane's personal issues. Nothing Austin or Sam did managed to get them into any sort of hot water, and Harold, for all his faults, seemed to be trying very hard to capitalize on the success of the band, even with the band didn't want it.

And as she continued to talk, Rob grew more and more sold on the idea. Because, when was the last time the two of them hung out? And wrote music, or just chilled out together? It wasn't during the tour, or so it seemed. Even when they did, there was always this bitter undertone of whatever emotional bullshit happened to be going on between them. It needed to come to a conclusion, and if casual was going to be the direction that led them there, so be it.

Perhaps too conveniently, Rob felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He dared not check it now, but worried as to who it might have been.

He couldn't help but laugh next at the Jane's assessment of him. That he had somehow made her better at expressing herself, when he had gotten so shit at it recently.

"I wish I was better at it myself," he said nearly to himself. For one of the first times in their conversation, Rob looked up to Jane's eyes.

Those clear, vibrant eyes he had fallen in love sometime in the distant past. He wondered how he had managed all those years without admitting his affections even to himself. And, even if it weren't the best course of action in his own mind, he would soon be back with her.

And she would be with others. And so he would be as well. He wondered briefly in that split-second of eye-contact something he had wondered so many times before in this trip; how long it could truly last.

"We've only got one more show," Rob started again, "and then it's Europe. I've been thinking about that a lot recently. Going into a different country and culture every night, being in a big bus with more people, touring with Vicarious…"

Rob trailed off. For both their sakes, he opted not to discuss that last bit any further.

"It's gonna be crazy. And if we're not on the same side of it, it could really fuck things up. So…yeah. I guess we should try it."

Rob swallowed both spit and pride.

"We're about to be a whole lot closer regardless. You ever think about that bus? I mean, seriously, we're gonna be pretty damn short on places to fuck alone. Jesus Christ, I feel for Austin, Sam and the others."

Rob laughed to himself. It'll work out, he told himself.

It'll be ok.

[Assistant]
Jane's eyes shot to the floor when Rob mentioned being so close with Vicarious on the upcoming tour, something she had thought of all too often, especially over the past few days. She nodded as he spoke, laughing when he brought up the fact that they would have little alone time. "We're creative. We'll figure something out," she nearly whispered as a smirk formed on her face.

"What I said on stage tonight… that wasn't directed at Zoe. I mean, I know she doesn't like me, and it was super convenient she was standing on the side stage, but really…" her voice trailed off as she met Rob's eyes. "I know she's your, uh, your friend. I just thought I should tell you."

Jane shook her head as if to clear her mind of her thoughts and took a healthy gulp of the drink Rob had made for her. "Jesus," she whispered at the strength of it. "Tryna get me drunk, yeah?" She laughed before taking another sip, then put it back down on the table and positioned her body to completely face Rob. "I'm glad we were able to talk about this." Her voice was calm and quiet, but it was still confident. "I missed talking to you."

She scratched at her head for a moment before sighing. "There's something else I missed, too." Jane only paused for a moment before crawling over to the side of the couch Rob was occupying and settling on his lap with a leg on each side of him. Her hands ran through his hair for a few moments as her eyes scanned his face.

Jane knew for right now, this would work. The energy between the two at that moment was enough to signal that. But she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like a few weeks from now. A few months. She knew she loved him and that it was an unchangeable force she felt. Would she be able to swallow her pride and choke down her emotions long enough to maintain a peaceful union between them? It obviously wasn't working the way things were, but could she truly be that unselfish? To eventually not want him all to herself.

After kissing his forehead softly, her hand moved to beneath his chin, and she titled his face upward to look at her. "You have any plans tonight?" Her rhetorical question was whispered, and without more than a moment's pause, she leaned in and kissed him slowly, choosing it as the vessel to express how much she had missed him rather than words. She had done enough talking.

A few minutes passed while Jane remained in the same position, and she broke away from him to look in his eyes. "This is what you want, yeah?" They had both said so much bullshit to please the other that Jane felt the need to make sure that he was completely on board with what they had discussed. "I'm not trying to kill the mood or anything. I just wanna make sure." In order to allow him the availability to speak yet not to put a halt on what was taking place, Jane's lips had moved down to his jaw, neck, and ears, maintaining gentleness rather that becoming more aggressive as their time continued together. It reflected how she felt internally: like she was more at his will than the other way around.

It was unusual for Jane to deal with the fear of rejection or pleasing anyone other than herself, and although now she had more freedom not to worry about it, it almost felt nice to want him to want her. And the fact that he would probably start to see other people to ignited the desire to make sure that she stayed on his mind.

[User]
Feeling Jane's touch on him again was intoxicating.

She was (and always had been) driven and intentional in her movements. Her body seemed to be so in tune with her mind, and her emotional expressions were very much in her physical strength.

Her fingertips on his skin shot impulses straight through Rob's body—and her touch and her lips continued to slide across and down him, and he found it increasingly difficult to think straight.

But her words still rang in his mind, partially fuzzed by the alcohol and his own lustful thinking, but still ever-present.

Was this what he wanted? Possibly. So much had gone wrong, perhaps it was best to start slow.

He didn't want to have said what he had in the first place. He didn't want to write the song that they had been forced to write and he didn't want to be controlled by so many different entities. There was so much he did not want it was difficult to decide what it was he did.

It might have been another man's dream—Jane's proposition, at least. The idea of an emotionally exclusive relationship while maintaining physical intimacy with others was perhaps one of the great things people expected men to want. Like a sort of goal or pinnacle to reach. And sure, years had passed that Rob had indulged himself in the very same agreements, enjoying the pleasures that he could with little to no remorse the feelings they may or may not have inhibited on others.

But Rob wasn't like those men. He was weary, confused, and neurotic. The idea of Jane with others was off-putting to him. And sure…it could be fun. For a while. But how close could they become with a revolving door of other men and women kept coming between them? People with different world views and thoughts, feelings, and all different types of shapes and sizes? What then?

It was all something that would be easier to think about; perhaps after he indulged both himself and Jane. Hell, if he was really honest. This was mainly for him.

Rob slipped his arms around Jane. "Yeah," he breathed out, his heart beginning to race. "Let's do it."

Then the world faded away entirely.

—

The next morning, Rob and Jane lay intertwined in bed, comforted by the feelings of the other, and the blankets enveloping them. The sun shone though the windows by the far wall—the first glimmers of dawn gently lulling Rob awake from a light sleep.

He slipped away from Jane quietly, with a gentle kiss given to her as he left, along with a note he penned as he went:

Gonna try to get some practice in while you do that interview. Go tell those fuckers whats up! Love you, Rob.

He left the note in the room where she'd see it, before slipping out entirely, closing the door with a soft clicking noise.

Within a few minutes, he had hailed a taxi and rode to the nearest music studio, making sure to drop off some merch with the owner for the free practice time he had secured via Aaron. It turned out, he had friends all the way out here, too.

He began to practice, working his way through the typical patterns and warm ups, before playing some of his favorite songs.

There was a growing comfort in what had transpired last night. For the first time in a while, Jane and Rob were finally on the same page. They knew what the other wanted, and there wasn't much need for any clarified feelings or miscommunication. Or, in the very least, not now. Now, he could find some sense of normalcy in his life.

After a few songs had broken a sweat across his brow, he slipped his phone out, looking to find a song to play to. He was, in the end, greeted with a message he had received the night before that he had ignored while he spoke to Jane. It was from Zoe:

10:21 PM, Zoe: Sorry for flipping out at you. I know shit got weird for a bit there, but we can still hang out, right?

Rob thought for a moment, before:

8:56 AM, Rob: I'd like that.

He slipped the phone into his pocket, thinking of what that relationship may become without the threat of hurting other's feelings. But each time he thought of Zoe, the next thought was of Andy, and his own relationship with Jane.

And then there was Trent. Caught in the middle of it all.

Maybe touring with Vicarious wasn't the best idea. But there was no changing it now. They would need to figure these things out in Europe; something that seemed so far away, but was now closer than ever to being a reality.

Having lost the drive to continue on, Rob set the sticks down and slipped out of the studio with his headphones on. Big Dark Love by Murder By Death played loudly in the speakers by his ears, building endlessly to the final electronic conclusion of the song.

Rob took a drag from a cigarette and let the smoke pour from his lungs into the open air, and thought of what could come next.


[System]
Appearance: Al's a bit taller than average, with decent muscle tone, but his long limbs make him look leaner. His hair is a ragged, unkempt mop of muddy brown, and his facial features are surprisingly soft. Albeit, he's usually got a bruise or bandage marring them.
His dress style is pretty casual; he mostly wears loose fitting denim pants and untied boots, with a tee shirt and dingy leather coat up top. On his back he typically keeps three or four large greatswords, of ordinary make, kept in a sling.
Gender: Male
Age: 18
Year Level: 1st (he was held back two years)

Faction/club: Boxing Club Neophyte

Power: Superman- Al is strong - much stronger than his frame would even suggest; he can crumple metal with his fists, throw heavy objects, and lift big things, like a small car or chunks of the classroom's floor. He's durable to boot- It's pretty common for other students to take a sledgehammer to his face, because anything less probably won't phase him.
Naturally, his self-taught fighting style takes advantage of this, and focuses on Al throwing his momentum around to deliver maximum impact haymakers. Drop kicks are common, as are wild punches, suplexes, and throwing whatever's handy, up to and including the enemy. Additionally, Al carries around several greatswords, since he finds their length and mass are good for slinging around. Also he thinks they're cool.

Perhaps the biggest downside is that his muscle mass isn't proportional to his strength. A fighter with the same strength levels but more muscle mass, for example, has an easier time throwing Al than the other way around, and naturally has an easier time putting more force behind blows.

Bio: Al is by all means a kind, well-meaning person, with an understanding of the importance of friendship. He just happens to have a wild streak, and that streak just happens to be rather good at hitting stuff really hard. Upon entering the school, his physical abilities had administrators expecting him to be a B or even A ranked student. They quickly discovered, however, how terrible Al was for the school. Almost every time he agreed to fight, Al promptly forgot about the match or was distracted by something else, and upon not showing at the battle arena, lost by forfeiture, damaging his score. His poor grades did not help the matter.

Recently, Al's found refuge in the boxing club, hoping they can help him get to and win matches so he can actually graduate from the school eventually. His usage of swords is still the topic of hot debate, mainly between him and literally every other club member.
Score: 763

[User]
The day had begun the same way Trinh had always begun his days. The sunlight shined from his window through the blinds and hitting him right where his eyes happened to be. This was Trinh's wake up call before days started getting shorter and he had to set an alarm- of course, that wouldn't have to happen until later. He tossed himself out of bed and was quick to get changed. He haphazardly made his bed, just well enough so that it looked alright. He never fully made his bed- it was more comfortable sleeping in an unmade bed anyways. Trinh also had the habit of not showering in the morning. After all, he already showered at night.

Quickly, Trinh made his way to the cafeteria where he began his day with a meal. As his peers attempted to kill himself, Trinh knew he would have none of that. If he did, he could easily reach to his back where his rifle was slung. A peculiar thing about Trinh was that he only ever slung his weapon when it was time to eat or if it were time for class. For sake of comfort as well as convenience, Trinh walked through the halls with his rifle in the low port carry. Occasionally, he would move tactically from hall to hall. Naturally, others noticed him due to the hallways being so crowded, along with the fact that he was the only one moving in such a way. Trinh never stopped to explain himself. He lacked the proper social skills to do so anyways.

Compared to the long, drawn-out classes Trinh was used to back in his home country, class time was a cake walk. He fell asleep in just about every class, staying awake just long enough to catch what the homework assignments were for the week. Trinh never bothered writing his homework down- it was easy enough for him to remember anyways.

As the school day came to a halt, Trinh waltzed over to concessions for a quick snack. He didn't have very many points to spend. While he didn't have to spend any money, Trinh reasoned, he decided he would treat himself every now and again anyways. Unfortunately for him, there were people already there.

[Assistant]
And so the time had come once more, for today's classes were now finished. Now, something far more paramount could take place. It was the time again, to celebrate and cherish the fine sport of Boxing. Although the events certainly weren't as grandiose as they once were. After all, many peers in this hallowed institution transferred to better schools and snagged actual starting careers in the sport. While they were not at the school, they were celebrated accomplishments to the Boxing Club. After all, the success of their members was success for them, even if they didn't play roles on the campus anymore. And Kurosawa Misaki was quite fond of discussing the accomplishments of those esteemed peers.

And they would be discussed, as per tradition. Before pummeling each other in a prime example of the endeavor of the human spirit, it was customary for a quick discussion. Sometimes it was held during the warm-ups, and other times the warm-up exercises came after the meeting. The points that were talked about varied day by day, but it always held these essential parts.

* 1.) Kurosawa Misaki would continue to clear up the issue that yes, she was both Miki and Misaki. What with the body morphing, Kurosawa felt it was necessary to continue to present that fact, as there was always someone who thought that it was only one or the other.
* 2.) The Club would have a brief discussion of news coming from the World of Boxing. After all, it was important to know how things are progressing on the various circuits, especially as they had their own in them.
* 3.) Go over the Rules of Boxing.

The rules were always saved for last, because it did serve as a healthy reminder to the members on how to go about punching each other in a professional manner. If there was one thing Kurosawa wanted, besides while wanting more time to practice cheer routines as Misaki, it was to further the progression of the Club's athletes and hopefully get more of them careers on the various circuits.

At the moment, Misaki was dressed in her cheerleading uniform, and carried her pom poms in her hands. Today she was pondering on whether or not to cut the meeting a bit short, so she could go out and practice with the others. However, that was probably not going to happen as Mickey felt he had much to cover during this day of club activities. And more importantly, he wanted to instead practice on the sandbag. Such was the difficulties of being a bodymorpher, you never had enough time to do what you want as all your forms. Oh well, it would not be of concern, unless Misaki started arguing with herself again on that. As the classes were finished, and the time for a meeting was at hand, Kurosawa Misaki promptly entered the sparring room of the Boxing Club with a eager pep to her step.

 It was a rather spacious room with a rather glossy finish on its hardwood floor. Off on the sides there were rows upon rows of heavy-bags attached to fairly used stands. On the back of the stands, there were speed-bags attached. After all, one needed to practice both the heavy-hitting and the fast paced jabs.

At the far back of the room, there was a collection of cheap metal fold-out chairs gathered in a circle around a mini-fridge and large chest which itself held many jump-ropes. Some were as pristine as if they were never used, others had handles that were on the verge of breaking. As for the mini-fridge, it's cable was pretty torn up and was attached into a surge-strip, which was attached into an outlet. The fridge usually held a decent amount of Cosmic Protein-shakes, most often they were in Brownie Flavor. All of this was was just a few short paces in front of the locker room.

It was here, where all the gloves and much of the work-out clothes were kept, the announcing equipment for those really spectacular and booked matches, spare bells, ring-cards, and even a fairly old model television-if it wasn't laying near the chest due to someone not putting it back. And it was where many of the meetings would take place, if they were not being done with warm-ups, or if there wasn't a really interesting match to watch.

But the cynosure of the Boxing Club was in the very center of the room. It was the Boxing Ring. Each side was 5 meters of glory, a standard-if on the smaller size-for a ring. The ropes made the simple pattern of red, blue, red, blue and held the sacred rite of keeping people in the ring. These durable ropes continued to remain elastic and served the boxing club quite well. The floor itself was just plain white, with a green boxing glove logo decorating the center of the ring. This was where the magic took place. Valiant bouts would take place at the sound of the bell, and the fighters duked it out while following the traditions of boxing. No matter if it was a simple spar, or bout for more than just practicing, they all held the same majesty.

As Kurosawa Misaki entered the room, she gave friendly waves to the club members who were already there and getting ready for the meeting, in the assumption that it would be held in the main room. Well she waved to those who weren't busy practicing. Yes, practically all of the bags were taken up, heavy and speed-bags. There was a myriad amount of men and an occasional woman, with sweat beating down their glistening chests. They were prepared, they were all decked out in their boxing shorts, shoes and gloves. The room vibrated with the pounding of fist clashing against weighted bags, and the rhythmic bouncing of the speed-bag clashing against the its platform. These men didn't take the time to wipe the sweat from their brow as they continued practicing punches and counter crosses in attempts to move the weighted bags further than they did before. It was a symphony of precision, as each boxer continued bobbing up and down and left to right, while swinging their fists in a mighty show of strength against the bag. It mattered not that their opponent was in fact, an inanimate sand-bag or fast bag, what mattered was that they were locked in a battle which would determine their fates. After all training was serious business.

 "YO!" Misaki declared, before stopping in a bit of silence. And so, began the morphing of the vocal chords so 'Mickey' could get a response in. "It's time for the quick speech! After that WE FUCKING SPAR! AND KEEP BEATING THE SHIT OUT OF THE BAGS!" With another moment of silence, from her, came the morphing of it that feature once again. However, while she remained silent, the members of the boxer club did not. They roared with excitement as many were finishing up their last set of punches before they had to listen to the speech. Of course, it was not the speech they were excited for. Misaki knew that, no what they were excited for was for the sparring. It was tradition to only spar after the speech was concluded, and as such, the speech was usually quite short, so that the sparring could commence quickly.

And so with that Kurosawa Misaki performed a head count of those who were in the main room and then headed into the locker room to count anyone who was in there. She was slowly, but surely being followed by the various boxers who finished up or were finishing their brief set.

After all, she needed to be sure that the numbers were right. She didn't want any club members missing for the opening meeting speech, and more importantly the sparring to come shortly after it.

[User]
Meruis walked out of his last class happily, it was finally time for club activities. School was enjoyable at times but for the most part it was rather simple, far more boring then studying his book and spending time experimenting with other members of the collation, He opened his book and began making his way down the halls his eyes split evenly between examining the new page that he could now access and avoiding other students.

Most of them of course moved out of the way, except for a few idiots from the various fighting clubs who thought sticking a foot out would cause him to trip. He merely stepped over them because he had these amazing things called peripherals that some people didn't seem to realize existed. Meruis arrived at the club door and closed his book stepping in cautiously and looking for a seat to begin reading.

[Assistant]
"Ah geez, I'm late!" Al said aloud as he entered the club's training room, shutting the door quietly. He'd only hoped nobody would notice him or the jangling of the multitude of blades on his back.

Fortunately for him, his training and fighting uniform was exactly the same as his day clothes. It was too much of a hassle to change every time he had to visit club. The next thing he knew, people would start asking him to get clothes specifically for a job or a wedding or something.

Still, he could probably make up for his lack of timeliness with extra enthusiasm.
"Captain! CAPTAIN I'M READY FOR BOXING!" he shouted, waving both his arms in the air as he walked over to the girl, who was dressed for team spirit, as was typical. It was probably like tribal war paint. Al made a mental note to pick up war paint before next practice.
"I know I haven't been doing so hot with the last few practice matches, but I think I'm picking up a pretty good technique here." he grinned, bouncing on his toes and doing a little shadowboxing to show off his moves.


[System]
Species: Gible

Gender: Male

Moves:
- Tackle
- Sand Attack
-
-

Bio:
 "Hiyah!" Gavin shouts, standing on a hill beside Mt. Dragoncoil and holding a pointy stick to an Axew's neck.
 "No, wait! That's not fair!" shouts his friend once he realizes he lost the mock-battle. Gavin lowers the stick.
 "What's not fair?" He asks, slightly annoyed.
 "Why do you get to use a pointy stick? Where's mine?"
 "I made this one. You don't get one because you didn't make one!"
 The Axew thinks about his predicament for a moment, but soon gets distracted by the activity down in Scale City. Gavin notices too and looks over in time to see two Pokemon walking into town. These aren't just any Pokemon, though... These are new ones! He's never seen these two around town before. One he recognizes as a Salamence, while the other is some sort of green lizard with leaves for a tail. "Who do you think those are?" his friend asks. Gavin realizes something.
 "Maybe they're adventurers!" he gasps.
 "Adventurers? Don't you mean explorers?"
 "No. Adventurers. Exploring is different from adventuring."
 "How?"
 "One's boring and the other's not." Gavin replies bluntly. "You know, that's what I want to be when I grow up. An adventurer!"
---
 Getting to see the Salamence and Sceptile, the first two Pokemon from other towns to visit Scale City, had changed Gavin. There were other towns out there! Other places to explore! Other people to meet! He became obsessed with where they'd travelled and the things he heard about their adventures, eventually getting to the point where he would sit in his room for hours on end writing stories about their endeavors. Soon, though, he switched to writing about what he would do if he were a member of a guild. The places he'd go... The wonders he'd see with his own eyes... He could hardly wait.

 Years later, Gavin was still working to become an adventurer long after his friends had lost interest in the subject. He lived in a small house far from Scale City's entrance. By now his parents (both Gabite) were well aware of his desire to move out in order to see the world. His mom, a bit overprotective at times, wasn't too keen on the idea. Meanwhile, his dad was indifferent about it (as he was about most things). To Gavin's surprise, they had finally agreed to letting him move out after years of him pestering them about it. However, his joy didn't last long once he found out that they had bought him a place just down the street instead... He decided to roll with it, though, taking what he could get.

 Gavin's desire to travel, see the world, and join Denise's Guild had stemmed from the day those now-famous explorers came to town. However, he's still not sure if he's up to the task and hasn't yet attempted to form a team there. He's especially worried about his lack of damaging moves, but makes up for it with a very sharp stick he's been carrying around for almost eight years now. Currently, Gavin is helping with what he can in the city, trying to make a bit of money on the side and waiting for the right time to join the guild.

 He's just been dragged into an argument with Danny, who he wanted to buy food from. Apparently, Danny now thinks that Gavin bought something from Bob and Ed's stall and won't sell him anything... Whoever "Bob and Ed" are...

Appearance:
 He looks like most other Gible, but usually has a bag with him. Sticking out the side of his bag is a very pointy stick, which he always carries around. Buried deeper in the bag is a blue scarf that he hopes to be able to wear one day. Don't ask him about his lack of a neck unless you want to be on the receiving end of the stick.

Picture made by Ridlins

Differences:
 Can fly and shoot lasers from his eyes. None

(If there's anything that I need to change or if this contradicts the continuity in any way, please let me know, I can edit it.)

(Edit: Changed the Milotic to a Sceptile.)

[User]
Celes had been awake for a while during the night in this cold weather… She didn't want Spruce to end up having issues… She stayed close to him, before thinking a bit. Some pokemons could end up causing lot of issues to them while they sleep. She looked at the snow… before starting to work, aiming on making a couple of snow mounts around her and Spruce, using her ribbons to do this. She kept working for a while, making sure that they would be safe. She then went and stayed close to Spruce, hugging him with her ribbons after making sure that there was no more snow, making sure to keep him warm during the night…
The next morning she woke up before making sure that Spruce was ok. Sometimes she felt like it would have been more bearable for him probably if she was a flareon instead… but then she remembered how this form could help a lot here.

---

Eralion woke up the next morning, yawning a bit and stretching his arms. He looked around at the group, smiling a bit, remembering yesterday. That was one dang criminal taken cared of at least. Now there was Bonnie's father that the group would need to go and deal with. This… will probably not be that easy. But there was one thing that came to mind… if he was a dark type also now cause of his actions… then god knows how much pain he was going to end up with if Eralion could get a good hit on him. Especially if he kept his normal type also... but that was another thing.

[Assistant]
[Josh]
 With that discussion out of the way, they all went to bed. Josh was finally able to sleep in a comfortable bed instead of out in the cold, and on top of that, Kiera was safe. Still, he couldn't help but feel a bit uneasy. Ever since he left the reef, he'd been trying as hard as he could to stay as far away from it as possible. There was no doubt in his mind that going after this orb would lead to a confrontation with Zane. He'd certainly grown much stronger, but was he strong enough for this?

 The next morning, Josh woke up with these thoughts still plaguing his mind. Not wanting the others to worry, he tried his best to keep a neutral expression on his face as he went down to get breakfast.

---

[Dexter]
 If it was up to him, Dexter would keep going. Unfortunately, his team wanted to stop for the night, and he didn't want to just go out there alone. "Fine. I'll stay up for a while. I don't want anything weird to show up and try to off us in our sleep." With that, he began keeping an eye on their surroundings, while the others slept. For the first few hours, nothing happened. Dexter was beginning to get a little tired at that point, though. He walked up to Rebecca, and shook her awake. "Hey. Mind keeping an eye on things for a little bit?" Once he was sure that Rebecca was awake, he went to sleep for the rest of the night.

 Thankfully, nothing had happened up until the point that he woke up. Once everyone else was awake, he spoke up. "Alright, you've gotten your beauty sleep. Let's go. I want to get the fuck out of here."

---

[Donovan]
 Once the others decided to go to bed, Donovan did the same. Despite how energetic he was just a few minutes ago, he fell asleep almost instantly. By the time his team was called to the guildmaster's office, he was already fast asleep.

 "UP AND AT 'EM! IT'S MORNING! REPORT TO OUTSIDE THE GUILDMASTER'S OFFICE FOR AN IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT! PrrRRRRONTO!"

 The thundering voice woke Donovan from his slumber. So far, this was the only voice Donovan heard that was louder than him. After taking a moment to stretch a little, he was wide awake. "Are we gonna get to kick someone's ass today?" He asked his new teammates. Though this likely came as no surprise to them, he was very eager to get into a fight.

 Donovan headed on down to the guildmaster's office, like the announcement told him to. Once there, he saw the same Swampert and Wigglytuff that they saw yesterday, but apparently that Wigglytuff wasn't the guildmaster. The real one was invisible, as most of the people in the crowd had figured out when the Swampert leaned on him. Donovan, however, hadn't quite figured it out. "Right where? I don't see him." He whispered to his teammates."

[User]
"...and then he just took it from me! I mean, oh my gosh! Can you believe the nerve of him?" Sally said. She glared at the Loudred.

 "Uh-huh." I said. I rubbed my eyes. It was too early for this. Everyone stood outside the guildmaster's office for morning assembly, and I hadn't even had breakfast yet. I leaned over to Sally. "Who's actually in charge here?"

 "Guildmaster Wally," she said. "And that's his assistant, Charlie." She pointed to a Chatot by the guildmaster's door, flapping his wings all huffed up trying to quiet everyone.

 "Who's Breen, then?" I asked.

 "Breen who?"

 DUN DUN DUN DUNNNNN

 The room went silent. Everyone looked around. And then, the guildmaster's door opened. Out strode Breen, 3-D specs sitting on his nose and a long, metal device hanging across his body by a strap around his shoulder.

 DUN DUN dun dunnnnnnnnn....

 He raised his arms. "Goooooooooood moooorning, Wigglytuff Guild! Are you ready to ROCK!"

 Nobody said a word. Charlie looked as though Breen had just spat at Arceus himself.

 "Right! Okay! Cool! Probably too early for any of this, really..." Breen said. He launched into an explanation. Guildmaster Wally was not Guildmaster Wally - Guildmaster Wally was invisible - someone was stuck in another universe - The Oncoming Storm was actually Breen Torrents - Breen had assumed control of this guild and now needed an expedition team.

 Wait - what if that's why he called us to his office? I was too busy having a late dinner, and some of the others were already asleep, anyway. I just wanted to ignore it. What if he chose us because we were new and expendable?

 "Right where?" Donovan whispered when Breen mentioned Guildmaster Wally was here. "I don't see him."

 "I don't either," I said. I leaned over to see past a Chimecho blocking my view. "What's he leaning on?"

 "Any questions?" Breen said. I raised my hand, as did everyone else in the room.