[System]
Appearance:
Considering the fact that Lexi barely reaches 4'2" and that she weighs a measly 60 lbs, it's relatively clear that she's not going to be able to throw her weight around effectively in any kind of combat situation. It's also quite clear from her lack of any sort of defined musculature that she's certainly not going to have any kind of natural power to anything she tries to do to hurt someone.

Afflicted with albinism, Lexi's appearance can be quite... disconcerting at first, what with her bright red eyes, ghostly pale skin, and her snow white, shoulder-length hair. She usually leaves her hair down, as she just can't really be bothered to do more than just run a brush/comb through it when she gets up. Lexi's typical attire consists of denim jeans or shorts and regular t-shirts without graphics, as she finds them to be rather irritating on her skin. Additionally, she typically just wears regular sneakers.
Age: 14
Sex: Female
Power: Telekinesis - Currently at the ability to move small objects (i.e. less than 50 lbs tops) in linear paths, or poke someone kind of hard.
Short bio: Lexi was born on February 29th as the youngest of four to the locally-renowned Kinsley family. Despite the fact that her family was quite well-off, growing up was rather difficult for Lexi. This difficulty was essentially due to the fact that Lexi always felt like the black sheep of the family due to the fact that her siblings were triplets born a whole six years ahead of her and the fact that she was freakishly intelligent, which became apparent very early on in her childhood because she and her siblings were home-schooled, allowing her to graduate at the tender age of twelve.

The feeling of isolation she felt was only compounded by the fact that Lexi has synesthesia, or confusion of the senses, which is a condition in which certain stimuli can trigger other senses, like a musical note corresponding to a specific color. Even though she knows it's not normal, she's rather grateful for the condition, as the sensations are virtually always pleasant and helpful in her music and art.

As Lexi grew up, she became better able to accept the fact that she was different than her family. She was even able to accept it as more or less a part of herself when her powers manifested the year before when she was trying to reach something on the counter and it just moved into her hand, practicing with them occasionally since.

Unfortunately, the confidence that she had developed in her identity was shaken a bit when she began taking classes at the community college, as most of the other students weren't too thrilled to know that a middle-schooler was taking the same classes that they were and excelling with no difficulty. Because of this, they had a tendency to be rude and hurtful to the young girl every time she tried to socialize with them, the end result being a decreased willingness to take the initiative to try and get to know others.

Though it was only six in the morning on a Saturday, Lexi was wide awake at the easel in the basement of her house, which just so happened to be her room as well. Incidentally, it had been her choice to move into the basement, which had been used primarily as a playroom when she and her siblings were younger, as it offered more room and solitude than her previous room had. It was also just an all-around better arrangement, as it meant that her three older brothers could each have their own room instead of being divided among two as they had been. That had ultimately been the argument that won her parents over to the idea. She had even been able to convince them to let her sell all of the old toys that had been collecting dust to raise up some of the money to redecorate the two rooms.

Tom, the brother that had gotten her old room, had decorated it in the same vein as her other two brothers' rooms were, though with a greater emphasis on sports paraphernalia and the color green. Lexi had chosen to have the walls painted purple with pink flower and heart decals dispersed periodically, emphasized by the fluffy pink carpet that was currently peeking between her toes. The furniture, having been touched up with a fresh coat of paint upon being moved into her new room, tied things together nicely, being primarily white in color with pink and/or purple accents.

Currently, Lexi was painting a new landscape based on a photo of their family vacation the year before as a way of practicing strokes, shading, and other painting techniques. Classical music played softly on her laptop across the room, helping her to focus on the task at hand while enjoying the gentle swirls of color and the sensations that rippled across her skin that, at least to her senses, accompanied the melody. Interestingly enough, the colors and touches that Lexi experienced when listening to music didn't actually make it any harder for her to paint, though she wouldn't be able to explain why for the life of her. The way she processed things had become something upon which Lexi tried not to dwell too much.

When the piece of music playing on her laptop at the time ended, Lexi decided that would be a good time to take a break, setting her palette and brush aside as she stood and stretched. Confident that she was alone, and that she would be undisturbed for several more hours, Lexi extended her hand towards the mug of hot tea on the stand near the easel and focused. As the cup lifted into the air and shakily made its way toward her, Lexi allowed herself to smile at the progress she had made with her… ability.

Needless to say, it had terrified her when it first manifested, but she had since grown to enjoy it and made liberal use of it, at least in private. There was no telling what would happen to her if anyone found out about it, and she wasn't really willing to take that risk by using it in public. She'd probably end up in a government lab somewhere where she'd be dissected and studied. Shuddering at the thought of being near any kind of sharp medical instrument, Lexi took a sip of her tea, enjoying the warmth that radiated from her tummy.

Allowing the mug to drift back to the stand it had come from, Lexi sat back down at her easel and got back to painting, her tongue sticking out slightly as she compared what she had made thus far with the photograph clipped to the top of the canvas, making a few minor adjustments here and there to make the two match up better as she went, and occasionally humming along with the music that was still playing on her laptop.

[User]
All Star Children and Hunters Except Cedric

Slowly but surely, the various teenagers and young adults would see things...changing around them. An extra shadow here, a few new faces there, and the feeling of being watched, obviously. While people such as Emma wouldn't care, others, such as Lexi, might. There were also unmarked cars roaming around; nothing flashy, but, to the Star Children's minds, unsettling precisely because they were so ordinary.

And if Emma had actually noticed, her roommate was watching the windows and doors, and all points of entry, with a steely gaze that belied her supposed 19/20 years of age. She would also notice, if she weren't so lazy, the flash of guns hidden inside a drawer; a pistol as well as an assault rifle; the latter which could not be smuggled into the place without the connivance of the guards.

West, meanwhile, would notice several new faces in Emma's current Academy, new teachers, janitors, IT people, all of them with the muscles of trained martial artists and trying to hide them. If he didn't act fast, the school would become a fortress...

Lotus, meanwhile, would be directed to kidnap Kimberly Juno and Connor Flynnagan; the Government would give her a van, as well as four people well-versed in CIA Black Site operations. She would be instructed to leave the kids unharmed. Should she protest, the Government Agent assigned to handle her would say:

"Things aren't what they appear, what you think they are. You should know that by now as a criminologist. If you succeed in this, you'll have enough clearance to know what I mean."

Lexi, once her brothers took her home, would find two people, a man and a woman, in suits conversing with her parents; if she asked what they were doing there, her Mother would say:

"Isn't this great? These people want to take you to a special school for the best of the best!"

@RedXCross@Diggerton@TaliPaendrag@BreakingMe@Mass City

[Assistant]
West paused right before the gates. He kept walking past, just for a moment as he saw someone walking down the main path.

 And was that a wire in their ear? When he saw fingers move towards it, he figured that was the case. Shit, it looks like his attempt at a pre-emptive strike was a little too late. No matter, there were always contingencies. You didn't get to West's position without numerous back-up plans and other ways of dealing with a problem.

 So, distractions would be necessary. That was fine. He could handle that.

He followed the sidewalk, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opened an app of his own devising that connected directly to one of the labs in the main lab building. He'd been setting things up for the past few weeks to make this procedure a success.

 He would get his success.

 With a press of few buttons on the app, the receiver in the lab got the message.

 An electrical signal pulsed through the room, and an EMP wave distorted the computers, the lights; basically every piece of technology in that lab either frizzled with loud noises or sent the lights haywire.

 Step two was the dorm building itself. Some sneaking around and careful hand movements on a residence tour gave him access to a private office on the main floor of the building.

 That was a little trickier. Planting explosives was usually a bad idea, but a little reassembling got him to put a very tiny explosive in the back of the computer. Not enough to damage anything but the device itself, but it would be enough to get the fire alarm to set off.

 Phase one: kite away some of the guards. Phase two: get the building to evacuate.

 Phase three: get into the crowd, grab Emma, knock her out, and sneak away before he gets noticed by anyone else. There were many things that
could go wrong, but he still had numerous contingencies to get him out of it. As well as a few methods to take out an Elite agent if they got in his way.

 Including a strange device sent to him by the organization he was hired for.

 "Use it in a pinch." They said. Hopefully he wouldn't get there. Using anything he didn't understand made him dreadfully uncomfortable.

 Right now he had his two buttons pressed. A fire in the main building, and a laboratory going haywire. When the time was right, he could move without any other issues. He stepped through the gates, pulling out the ID card the school gave him so that people knew he was a visiting grad student and walked passed the school towards the main gate.

[User]
As it turned out, today was one of those days where her brothers seemed to forget about her, which was only made worse by the fact that her phone had died on her shortly after she sat down, leaving her with nothing to occupy herself until they showed up. Sighing, she returned to watching the cars pass by at the edge of the parking lot, absently moving some small stones near her left hand with her telekinesis, something that was rather easy to do consistently due to the amount of time she'd spent practicing in her room at home.

What had drawn her attention to the cars in the first place, apart from sheer boredom, had been the fact that there were an awful lot of them driving down this particular road, which was too far out of the way to be a popular route. Secondly, Lexi could have sworn that there was at least one vehicle, a blue mini-van, that appeared to be going up the road every few minutes, though it was hard to be certain due to being unable to see the driver due to glare and being unable to read the license plate from the distance she was at.

Before she could contemplate the mystery too much further, her brothers showed up, digging at one another and laughing uproariously as they usually did. Once they were situated in the vehicle, Sam started it up and drove to the entrance of the parking lot, pulling out right behind the blue van, which very promptly took a right turn. Regardless, it seemed that they were in the clear, as her brother had a tendency to drive pretty fast, leaving the blue van with virtually no time to circle around again. Finding comfort in that knowledge, Lexi relaxed a bit, watching the trees go by as she waited for them to arrive home.

When her house came into view, Lexi was a bit surprised to see a white car sitting in the driveway, though Lexi just assumed that her mother had invited over another client to discuss how they wanted her to decorate the interior of their house. Upon entering the house, however, her mother surprised her by ushering her into the living room before she could even toss her backpack on the bench by the door, explaining, rather enthusiastically, that the individuals in suits seated on her parents' couch were there to offer her a spot in a prestigious school of some sort.

"May I see a some information about the school?' Lexi asked, sitting down on the loveseat on the other side of the coffee table in front of the couch and beginning the interview, for that's sort of what it was. Several hours later, the representatives were thanking her parents for their hospitality and announcing that they hoped to receive a call soon, having been convinced that Lexi would think about their offer and call them with her answer.

And the duo certainly had given Lexi a lot to think about. For one, she would have to check and make sure that the school actually existed, as neither of those two had behaved at all like the HR representatives she had encountered thus far. If it was actually a real academic institution, she would have to contemplate if she was okay with moving across the country to go to school, albeit a supposedly great one.

Shortly after they left, Lexi went downstairs into her room and grabbed her laptop to begin doing some research. Very quickly, she realized that the place probably wasn't real, as, though they had a website and working phone number, the address she had been given put her in the middle of nowhere regardless of the software she used to look it up (i.e. Google Maps). It was a shame that such a place didn't actually appear to exist, as it had seemed perfect, but it did have the upside of making her choice a lot easier.

With that laid to rest, she spent the rest of the evening painting and practicing her powers, like she usually did, before showering and heading off to bed in the warm embrace of the numerous stuffed animals and blankets..


[System]
Nicknames:
"Puppet Queen"
Age:
27
Gender:
Female
Master of:
Rider
Command Seal Location:
Right side
Origin:
Connection
Appearance:

-
Personality:
Teresa Brannigan is prideful in her work and tends to ignore those who look down on her. Despite this tendency she at least knows how to work with others and can sympathize with those the mage's association dislikes. She can get quite cranky if someone stats dissing her creations and may lash out if infuriated.

Teresa can be somewhat socially awkward as her her magecraft has put her in the company of lifeless objects most of her life. Sometimes she can catch herself talking to her puppets which can only makes things more awkward to anyone catching her in the act. This awkwardness translates over to her relationship with her servant as working with a personality filled familiar that thinks for itself. Since servants often act on their own this can be quite disconcerting to a mage that is used to things obeying her every command.

Despite her awkwardness, she knows how to be calm and collected on the field and has a sharp mind. With her skill set she is naturally tries to stay away from the front lines as she supports with her puppets from afar, which makes her able to analyze situations quickly and decisively. If she finds her life in direct peril it will be harder for her to concentrate effectively however.

Biography:
Teresa Brannigan was born into a unique lineage. A mage family based in Ireland that were adept Alchemists, their unique talents were nothing extraordinary but they had a connection to a somewhat declining art, that of automaton creation. These hybrids of machinery and magecraft are often considered somewhat crude and unrefined, over the years falling out of favor with modern mages. Still the Brannigan family stubbornly stuck to their craftmanship and continued the tradition.

When Teresa was born it was discovered that she had somewhat stronger magic circuits than her ancestors. With a decent capacity for magic, her father rigorously trained her from birth to become a splendid puppet master. After a few years it was found out her strength revolved around consciousness transference magic, which worked quite well with her souless creations for use in the field.

Despite her talents, her family was still considered one of the weaker mage families and their puppetry magic was not held in high esteem. Soon a way to change that perception became the Brannigan goal and Teresa devoted herself to creating stronger and better automata. One day she hoped to reach a level of craftmanship that would make even the biggest skeptic have to acknowledge her family's skill.

Her big break came when one of the top mages in the association saw her work and decided to become a major sponsor. His name was Frederick Isilebaun and he was well known for trying to keep the ancient crafts alive while updating them for the modern mage. Thanks to his tutelage and the added resources, especially of some of the more exotic materials, her work improved by leaps and bounds and members of the association acknowledged her work as being useful in the field.

Some of her automata and puppets were even used by the scouts that went to Poland to find the enemy mages and while they obviously failed to kill the enemy, some data was still able to be recovered through their reconnaissance. Chosen to be one of the masters for the upcoming war, Teresa considers this her chance to solidify her position in the mage's association as the modern day puppet master and to create an automata worthy of being called a masterpiece.

She is under no illusions however that the association still considers her creations more as just scouting tools than as battle instruments. She hopes that by winning the war she will be able to solidify her craftmenship as viable and essential part of magecraft even in the modern world.

-

Magecraft Section:

School of Magecraft:
Alchemy with emphasis on Puppet Mastery and Soul Transference

Skills/Spells List:
Transference of Consciousness - 6 Times
Puppet Creation - 4 Times
Automata Enhancing - 2 Times
Grandr - 20 Times
Rock Wall - 2 Times

Amount of Magecraft Mana:
B

Other:
Because she likes to make her automata look good, Teresa learned how to sew so she could make outfits for her humanoid creations. Her skills got so good that sometimes mages even order outfits from her.
~
Class Name:
Rider

Nicknames:
The Green Knight

Alignment:
Chaotic Good

Servant of:
Teresa Brannigan

Weapon(s):
A Large Battle Axe
Plate Mail Warhorse

Wish:
To test and find out who is 'worthy' in the world.

Abilities:

Skills:
At The Boundary C:
Bravery A:
Natural Body B:
Mana Burst B:

Class Abilities:
Magic Resistance C
Riding Skill A

Base Parameters:

Strength: B+
Endurance: C
Agility: B
Magical Power: C+
Good luck: D
Noble Phantasm: A-

Noble Phantasms:
Name: Bough of Joy
Quote: "May the Joy of our Lord bring peace to your soul."
Rank: A
Type: Anti-Gate
Range: 15 meters long, 3 meters wide
Description: A magnificent axe with dragon designs embedded in its steel; however the true worth is in the bough of holly that is entangled around the entire weapon. While the axe itself is strong enough to stand against high class weapons, the holly has been bestowed with the gifts of nature. When the Noble Phantasm is activated, earth magic pours though the bough of holly, causing rapid growth in the space of a single second.

Massive branches shoot out from the bough, smashing everything in its way. The sudden growth is strong enough to strike through stone and even if something does survive, it will completely surrounded in tough, mana filled branches. Because the Noble Phantasm is a forced growth of nature, the new 'tree' stands in existence and then cuts itself off from the axe, allowing the user to walk away without trouble.

While incredibly powerful the range is rather short though the area it can cover is decently wide. Being a rider class makes the Noble Phantasm easier to use as he can get into position much quicker than normal. After a single use, it will take a long time for the Bough of Joy to be able to be used again however.

True Name:
Bertilak de Hautdesert
Appearance:

[User]
"Even though pride is a sin I feel the need to inform you Mister Thane. There are no men like me. I hope it stays that way no one should be in my shoes." commented Anderson as he straightened his jacket. He looked over to the new Executor and frowned, We as humans are flawed beings. Creatures that are bound to this world to do the work of jesus, and god. We are not so easily able to put aside our weakness. I forgive you for your impertinence in this circumstance since you're willing to see fault. However please keep in mind to walk in god's grace, and treat others as you wish to be treated. As the Lord wills it so it must be especially for us who have dedicated our lives to his divine justice. These mages around us live a different life than us. Be it for the better, or worse do not fault them and accept them as they are. No one ever said they liked it when the Jesuits came knockin' on their door after all." Anderson told the younger Executor with a calm, and fatherly patience as he nodded he turned to Orson.

 "I apologize please continue Director." commented Anderson to his colleague who looked at his watch and nodded in return. "It is time I got started now listen up, all of you; As you all may, or may not know this is a time of dire circumstances. The Family Grey led by their patriarch have taken control of at least several servants. How they managed to do this is unknown since the location of the Greater Grail is unknown, and presumed destroyed, we have the possibility that they altered the current grail in some way in order to summon their current servants. There is precedent as 'fake' grails have started wars in the past." Orson said as he pointed out some of the starting key points. "The war we find ourselves on the precipice of is a Great Grail War of only there have been less than a handful. We can assume that there is a director chosen by the Grail, and thus the Throne of Heroes itself, known as 'Ruler' has likely been summoned somewhere. Great Grail Wars start when a group control multiple servants all under the same banner usually more than four." commented Orson as he brought up some dark photos of what was presumed to be the Grey's Manor. It was surrounded by a forest in one picture, and another was clearly just the mansion itself. "They have withdrawn any representation they had with us here, and have moved their place of residence to a more secure location. When our scouts, and allies got near it they found themselves hounded by some sort of curse magic that made them wander around aimlessly. No doubt the forest has been enchanted. However a few of them were actually killed by unknown assailants. Mauled to death. We can assume this is a declaration of defiance from the Greys. Whatever they intend to do has no place negotiating with us. As such we can also assume further that they have prepared themselves for war. Is there any questions before I continue on? I do not wish to lose everyone." commented Orson calmly as he looked around the group. His professional tone did not waver.

Leon did not say anything sitting still and remaining quiet as he had little to add. The circumstances at hand were going to be difficult but he felt if they summoned strong servants they would win the day. A magical forest would just mean that they would need a specialist to aid them in the matter. Leon figured whoever was being sent with them meant that they would be covered in most areas. He could hold his own...but against a 'servant'? He was unsure.

[Assistant]
August Thane
Headmaster's Office, The Clock Tower

August listened intently as the Director began to explain the situation. The idea of Mage supremacists reassembling such a powerful artifact troubled him, and questions peppered his mind as more details unfolded. Once Orson paused for questions, August spoke up, "This mansion the Greys have moved into... is there a town or other useable location nearby to it but outside of the radius of this forest's misleading curse? Somewhere we could base ourselves that would be effective for combat?" August disliked the idea of attacking the enemy without a place to retreat to and defend if things went wrong, and if their faction's Caster-class Servant worked the way they were supposed to in the stories of past Grail Wars they would need a place to set up territory. "Speaking of the effects of the forest, does this misleading curse and mauling sound like the sort of magic the Greys are known to practice, or is there any chance it's something caused by one of their Servants? In either case, do we have a way to break through or resist it, beyond the powers our Servants might or might not have?" Each question was asked with a methodical seriousness that seemed to imply August had much experience in dealing with issues of breaching locations and bypassing traps and deterrents.

As he waited for the Director to address the issues he had brought up, August looked over his fellow Faction members. His eyes lingered on the odd boy with hair covering his face, but most of all he was still bothered by the absence of one Master. "Apologies, Director, but if I may ask an additional question, who else is it that was meant to be joining us today?"

[User] "There's a small town with no airports, and about a thousand, or so people residing there. I would hesitate to call it a city. If you need to you can use that city as a staging point however remember that the rules of the grail wars would apply there. If you chose to accept my offer this day you will be sent there by plane, and make a car ride there. It shouldn't take too long a few hours. I expect the Grey Family to have eyes there. If not sending one of their cronies out to make sure any new comers are found. The Grey Family want a secure area. Even if it means a death match. Which is why Father Anderson is here. Expect him to do most of the heavy lifting. He insisted on it." commented Orson as he pointed to the Father who gave a rather sadistic grin. "Oh it'd be my pleasure Director. Spilling the blood of traitorous heathens is my business. And I've gotten good at it." Anderson stated calmly. Orson further explained himself as he went along, "The Grey Family is specialized in many arts. I heard their children are especially talented with the mystic art of illusion. It could be their handy work. The father of them, Alistair Grey, is a master of all sorts of magics. One could say he was a prodigy here are the clocktower. Expect powerful magic from him. As for Servants...berserkers....and maybe Casters could be responsible for the maulings. I'm afraid I have no details on the matter further. And as for the rest of our faction. There will be others but you're all here because I want you to be, and they are't here because I asked them not to come. There's a fellow student of mine she will be joining you soon. I already explained much of this none the less she will be instrumental in your ability to take out the Grey's defense." Orson told the group as Anderson spoke up, "When I was referring to a second colleague of mine earlier I meant a partner of mine. They'll be helping us but don't expect them to show their face until they're needed. Unlike me they're not a people person." Anderson said before anyone asked about his previous statement.

[Assistant]
Teresa scowled a bit when the girl revealed herself to be one of the church's attack dogs but refrained from saying anything as there would be no point. Soon, it seemed that most of the masters had arrived except for one which would not join their 'group'. They were a unique assortment of individuals but then again most mages were eccentrics, and members of the church. While they probably would not mesh well together, as long as everyone played their part they could no doubt be an effective team.

What brought Teresa into the conversation was when the director starting talking about the mission itself and the capabilities of the enemy forces as well as what could be their base. The Grey family seemed to be master illusionists which made her particular abilities rather valuable. As a mage who could transfer her consciousness into inanimate objects, because her true body would often be out of range she would be able to see through such trickery much more easily as her 'true' mind would be elsewhere. Her puppets and automatons would also be less effected but such magics as well.

The main problem that had popped up was that it seemed it might be difficult for a lot of her resources to be transported over there since they could only get so close by plane and then had travel by car. However, there was a chance a good number of her work was still stashed away in the area when the scouts had first been sent to take care of the problem.

"Director if I may, a few questions." Teresa started, "First, as you are no doubt aware of my magecraft, how much of my equipment will I be able to transport? Also, I believe some of my equipment from the previous operation may be stashed in the area, if there is indeed a stash still I would request it's location to be sent to me so that I may bolster our forces when we are sent in."

It would be best if both things were true but if neither answer proved to be very positive then she would have to be quite selective to what materials and automatons she could bring for the upcoming war.


[System]
Alias(s): Cosmos
Age: 19
Affiliations: N/A
Factions: Honestly just trying to get by
Description:

Small and lithe, Aya's 5' build is less than impressive. Her long hair falls down her back, dark brown and thick. She's never been one for doing much with it. Aside from the occasional ponytail or braid, she's content to just let it rest where it falls. Her eyes are a deep brown color, and fairly weak. She's supposed to wear glasses, but she often finds them too much of a hassle to put on, and dislikes the idea of contacts.

Powers: Astral Projection
Aya is capable of extending her consciousness outside of her body. Invisible to others, her spirit form is capable of passing through solid objects or going into dangerous situations or environments that she otherwise would avoid. She can also create projections of other people if she's touching them, separating their consciousness from their bodies. She has to be touching them to bring them back from the astral plane, however. If Aya snaps back to her body without touching the other person's projection, then the person will be stuck there until she snaps to the other side again to bring them back.
Aya also has the ability to glimpse into another person's soul when it leaves their body – that is to say, when they're dying. When on the astral plane, the soul materializes as a shimmering silver dust, floating from the body to the sky. If Aya touches this, she can get flashes of what they saw and thought in the moments before they died.
She's still in the process of figuring out how her powers work and there are likely still things that she doesn't know about them. In the past she actively tried to avoid using them because she was so nervous about the potential consequences she could face if they were discovered, but now it's more out of habit.

Strengths: Aya can keep up her projection indefinitely, and can hear and see everything around her, making her ideal for reconnaissance missions. So long as she keeps up her concentration, she can also sustain the projection up to three miles from her physical location. She also has a heightened awareness of the astral plane and everything on it, such as ghosts or other metas who might make use of it.
Weaknesses: When maintaining her projection, her physical body is more or less helpless. She's still conscious, and can talk to others, but it's difficult for her to move, and she is oblivious to her surroundings. Due to her projection's intangible nature, she's also unable to influence her spiritual environment or talk to anyone through it.

Skills: Fluent in English and Japanese, conversational in Spanish, intelligent, adaptable
Equipment: N/A
Ranking: C

Brief History: Aya was just a quiet girl from Oahu before all of this. The discovery of her power had been terrifying to say the least, but keeping it hidden was an easy task. It's not like her ability was particularly noteworthy anyway – she couldn't breathe fire or heal herself or anything like that… thus life went on as usual for her. Her parents separated when she was young, her mom moving back to Japan. Aya's relationship with her today is still strained, but she had a happy life with her father. That is, until her dad was diagnosed with cancer when she was sixteen. Then life got a bit harder.

They were well-off financially, so medical bills weren't much of an issue. But despite their best efforts, Mr. Germain continued to deteriorate. He passed away when Aya was 18, just before she graduated high school. The day that he died, Aya had been sitting at his hospital bed, holding his hand. He was asleep, and she'd already gone through the stages of grief, accepting that he was going to die. Then his heart monitor began to sputter. Aya snapped to attention gripping his hand and hoping for any way to make him better, or at peace, or something. Her hopes manifested in her powers activating on accident.

On the astral plane, Mr. Germain was as hearty and alert as he'd been before his diagnosis. They were both shocked at the turn of events… and then he realized what had happened. His daughter was a meta. It was no secret that the Germain house wasn't the most welcoming to metas, which was part of the reason why Aya kept it secret for so long. He didn't cry or shout or reject her as she feared he would… instead, he just sighed. Like he was disappointed. Aya thought that was probably worse. But he still loved his daughter and he smiled through the sadness and stroked her hair until he finally faded away. Aya hasn't used her powers since then.

After graduating from high school, Aya left "the rock" for college in LA. She's not exactly a big-city girl, but she gets along fine. She takes her classes, works part time at a local bookstore, and makes her way through tense, weekly phone calls with her mom. Thus far she's done a very good job of keeping out of meta politics, and to this day she remains unregistered and undiscovered.

[User]
Cain - Cain Enters the Fray!

"You know buddy you're just making this harder on yourself. I don't normally hurt other metas but you are awfully stubborn. How much pain do you think you can really endure?" The man in question was a meta George was his name he was able to control air currents and influence the weather. He was tied to a chair with a broken left hand and dislocated jaw.

Cain was smoking as he paced in front of George. "Now buddy, George wasn't it. I just want you to tell me where your wife is. All I'm going to do is go there and kill her, nice and quick no pain at all." Tipping the chair backwards onto the floor he looked at George in the eyes. "Oh sorry I forgot you're probably going to have trouble talking what with the whole mouth thing. But look here is a map of the city, you point to the place and I'll go there kill your wife and then come back set you free. If it turns out you were wrong I'll back here and see if I can't jog your memory with the same techniques that I've been using these past four hours."

To address his point he ground his foot on George's left hand. George's reply was a groan in pain, he had lost the energy to scream after Cain had infected him with his own blood. His ability was eating away at George's cells, a broken hand and a dislocated jaw were the least of his worries as his body was being destroyed from the inside.

Cain lifted the chair back upright placing the map in George's lap and untying his right hand. George looked at the map then back up at Cain a defiant look in his eyes. "So still gunna play that game? No matter I'm sure my gift to you will finish you off in a day. But until then we can enjoy ourselves. Right?"

Cain had walked away from George to the table he had set up, on it were a selection of tool you might find in a tool kit. Picking up the pliers he turned round to George. "Let's see if we can't clip away that stubbornness of yours." As he walked over to Cain the wall where he had placed his tool blew inwards, standing there was his George's wife Hollie a meta blessed with super strength. "Well hello there Hollie just the woman i was looki-" Cain didn't finish what he was saying as Hollie had pounced onto him and clothes-lined him into the wall behind him. The wall cracked from the force. Cain struggle to stand several of his ribs were broken and his lungs were punctured.

His ability quickly began to heal him but Hollie gave him no time to catch his breath uppercutting him and then side kicking him in the kidneys. Coughing up blood he staggered up. Hollie looked at Cain anger in her eyes. "You're a monster Cain, preying on people like me and my husband you make me sick!" Hollie Grabbed Cain's head and pounded it into the ground, the concrete that made up the floor cracking with the force. Hollie released Cain's head. Cain hadn't planned to fight this woman on even grounds and now he was paying for it. Hollie left Cain on the floor untying her husband.

Cain's body quickly stitched itself back together faster then Hollie thought was possible for him. She was holding George in her arms giving Cain the advantage as he stood up. "Bad move sister, you have a choice; Drop your husband and I kill him or run away with your husband and I kill you both." Hollie jolted through the hole she had made and began to run away from him. Cain shook his head sadly, his feet became elongated and cheetah like allowing him to move faster then even an Olympic athlete. Chasing after Hollie and George, super strength is good but she wasn't super fast. He easily caught up to her his right arm became elongated and blade like bending backwards he zoomed past her his arm snapping forwards with enough force to crush concrete. He skidded to a halt in front of her. Turning around his body returned to normal as Hollies head fell at her feet. George fell with her he had missed Cain's blade by inches.

Looking down at Hollie and George he smiled. "Sorry George buddy it's nothing personal, your wife has caused problems for my employer and now well. She wont be causing problems for anyone. I'll do you a solid though." Cain grabbed George's broken hand and removed Cain's cells from George's body. "Now you should survive and live to fight another day. I do like it when people are out to get me, keeps me on my toes." Cain called the hospital telling them George's location. Tipping his imaginary hat to George who had fallen unconscious from shock he turned and left.

Leaving the area he phoned his employer who told him where the dead drop for the money was. Smiling he found the dead drop and collected his money. Turning around he heard the sound of a rifle bolt clicking. He reacted to late as his body was peppered with bullets from the fully automatic Assault Rifle. Looking at his chest he saw blood pouring from the holes made by the bullets. Falling to the floor he looked up, seeing the determined look on his assailants face he memorized it as he fell unconscious.

[Assistant]
Pixel

The ghost gave cries of frustration when Alex avoided them and went through a door that was too small for them to pass through and Pac-man had been knocked off course and wasn't able to devour Acacia before her brother rescued her. Sam cursed in frustration and made both the ghosts and Pac-man disappear. He then created a man-size version of Mario from the Donkey Kong arcade game that was wielding the hammer power-up.

"Go get those scumbags and give them a taste of old-school gaming!" he commanded the pixel plumber and Mario chased after the two metas with great speed swinging his hammer up and down continuously just like in the arcade game. Sam then created a pixel sword and followed after his creation. He wasn't going to let them get away, he had something to prove to himself and the others. He was going to be a real hero and save lives. Sam decided to stay close by Lizzie and Lucas in case the two enemy metas had something up their sleeves.

Mario was gaining on Alex and Acacia and unless they took evasive actions or defended themselves then otherwise they would get horribly whacked by the old arcade game character's hammer.

Bee@NarcissisticPotato

[User]
Aya
The force of the collision sent Aya tumbling a few feet back, falling to the ground. She heard a grunt and a clatter, no doubt coming from whomever she'd run into. Catching herself on her hand before her head could hit the ground, she was instead treated to a flash of pain shooting from her thumb and up to her shoulder that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She opened her eyes to inspect the damage, but before she could look down, bright red captured her attention. A man, one of the tallest she'd ever seen, and wearing a bizarre glowing mask was sprawled in front of her. A woman looking worse for wear was next to him. Both had crimson hair, the brightest she'd ever seen. Aya and the man looked at each other for a moment, as though still trying to process that they'd just knocked each other to the floor.

It was then the sound of footsteps crashing down the hallway that made them finally break eye-contact. Aya looked up to see a very colorful and irritated girl – one of the Reformists she remembered standing beside the mayor – come charging towards them. Right behind her was… Mario? Aya looked back at the red headed man in confusion when realization slammed into her: he was part of the Underground. He and this woman were the ones causing havoc. She remembered a flash of red on the corner of the screen before the smoke bomb went off. Then a glint of silver lying on the floor caught her attention, and her eyes fell on a gun. A gun, two Undergrounders, an anthropomorphic rainbow, and Mario the plumber. It was then that Aya began seriously questioning the choices in her life that had lead her to this moment.

But then reality snapped her back she saw everyone prepared for a brawl in the middle of the hallway. Aya's body reacted without her telling it to, and in the next instant she'd scrambled forward, ignoring her throbbing hand, and grabbed the two redheads by the naked skin of their wrists. There was a flash of instinct coiled inside her, some unknown reflex that snapped at her just before she pulled the two with her to the astral plane.

Don't.

When she opened her eyes to see the constellations that made up her world, she understood.

Aya had only brought other people to the astral plane twice before: her father, and the knight from the massacre. Both times, the men had more or less retained their physical appearances, though her dad's soul had looked healthier than his body. She supposed the Undergrounders looked roughly the same too, but there was something fundamentally wrong with how their souls had manifested.

The man was darker, more sinister, as though he was merely the shadow his body cast. The lines of his body were hazy, plumes of thick smoke – or floating, moving clouds of sand – flowing to make his form, like some sort of solid cloud. His image rippled, multiple currents fighting for domination. They ebbed and flowed back and forth, almost completely consuming each other, but in the next moment, the currents would push back the other way. Tendrils of mist floated away from his body, escaping the battle only to dissolve the moment the connection broke.

The woman was completely drained of color. She ranged from a pearly grey to a deep smoke color, and seemed fragile as rice paper, as though a single touch could shatter her image, revealing it for the illusion it was. The only color on her body was a series of crimson runes seared into the skin of her wrists, ankles, and neck, like chains shackling a prisoner.

Something between a gasp and a scream escaped her as she tried to scramble back from the two. There was something dark and tainted about them, and if Aya's instincts had snapped at her before, they were all but screaming at her now. This was wrong. She needed to get away from them. She needed to scrub her skin raw and red if it meant getting clean of them.

"What," Aya whispered, almost to herself, "did you do…"


[System]
Title Card
Title: The Fifth Apocalypse
Gender: Male
Alignment: Rudo
Height: 6'9"
Weight Class: Super Heavyweight
Wrestling Style: Saliendo Olvido

Theme: Lordi – The Devil Behind Her Smile

Description

-Mask

Rey de la Oscuridad wears a most unusual mask. While most lucha masks conform to the face of a man his contorts to that of a jaguar. Its mouth typically open and its fangs bared at the world, each one a sturdy white blade more than capable of punching through flesh and a predilection for doing just that. Frighteningly enough the mask seems to have a life of its own; though its mouth leads nowhere it reeks of blood and saliva, it is warm to the touch with a layer of soft fur over coarse black leather, and occasional deep throated growls escape from its throat. Purple dots line the scalp, cheeks, and everywhere else that isn't its maw and eyes like pulsating stars glowing against the midnight sky. In stark contrast two pert black ears are set on either side of its skull, they rotate to follow sounds and to express emotion where its face cannot. In short, save for the readjustment of its spinal column, it looks as though a jaguar were decapitated and its head was set upon the shoulders of a man.

Only Rey's eyes are visible behind the mask and even those do not seem human, their cut too predatory and their tone too yellow, not to mention the rage…

-Everything Else

A barrel chested monster of a man with long muscular limbs and yet oddly well-proportioned despite that. He wears a black bodysuit over his frame, obscuring his entire body in a cast of night that is only broke up the same purple pinions that adorn his head. While his gloves and boots are clearly separate from the bodysuit they are also black, with the purple padding around each shin and forearm that ends at the adjacent joint, that being his elbows and knees. The only other break in his outfit is a massive purple eye set in the center of his chest, wide and circular with a vertical slit running down the center, and a tendency to dart about to track the approach of his opponents, sometimes it even goes so far as to blink but it never remains shut for very long.

Outside of the ring he wears fine black business suits, usually with purple undershirts or ties to fit with his color scheme, and sometimes for additional flavor he will come to ring with a cape of jaguar fur drifting in his wake.

Repertoire

-Moves

- Solo el Fuerte: Rey's skinsuit doubles as a suit of armor, lightweight but stronger than any made by man, and capable of turning all but the mightiest attacks. Subversive magics, psionic incursions, area of effect attacks, mundane firearms and probing attacks are but a few of the things that simply cannot harm him. By and large only committed offense can ever cause him to pause, after all, only those who are willing to face the darkness head-on can truly turn fate.

- Poder Apocaliptico: Rey's strength is such that he can reduce armored tanks to pulp and shatter buildings with a single thrust. Rey seems to scale to face any challenge and thanks to his incredible size he is usually stronger than other humanoids. He can be equaled by those of exceptional strength, but the mighty are few and far between, and he has never been outright overpowered by anyone in the same size category. So powerful is he, that he could even grapple the titans themselves if they dared stand across from him in the ring.

- Sombra en la Noche: Though Rey may be a large man he is remarkably fast. More than capable of dodging bullets and leaving race cars in the dust, combined with an uncanny sixth sense it is all but impossible to catch him off guard, instead forcing enemies to rely on their wits if they're to fool him. Some say that he gains such speed by moving as a shadow flits across the wall and that he cannot be caught off guard because his eyes exist in every shadow, but surely those are just rumors?

- Que es un Hombre?: Even tanks take damage from time to time. But Rey's would not flinch even if he were to die again, legend has it that his body is not even alive and this second life is one part mockery and another part vengeance, whatever the case may be Rey does not feel pain. He can stop bleeding by willing it, command his flesh to move even with bones broken and tendons cut, bend at impossible angles and more.

- Garras de Jaguar: Rey is more than raw physical strength, more than a flesh fashioned into machine over a thousand years of training, he is a force of will. When he walks, there is an aura about him that induces a great chill, the lights darken and the weak cower, for without even realizing it even those without a sixth sense realize that the chosen of ferocious Tezcatlipoca stands in their wake. With the god's blessing Rey is the apocalypse made manifest and can freely project it upon all who stand in his ways, either in the form of heated energy blast or shadowy constructs, whatever suits his imagination so long as he has the time and reserves to fashion it. Just as his vicious god draws power from destruction, fear, and darkness; so too does Rey it to make himself into the jaguar's claws. Because this power is based upon his will it straddles the thin line between supernatural and outright magical, with it Rey is capable of striking across dimensions and dealing damage directly to the source of his foe, and in turn his power can only be snuffed out by a force of equal measure.

(tl;dr He's a big angry undead cat man with a lot of anti-cheese powers, who tries to force everyone to fight him in powered melee. Think Lucha Underground meets Dragon Ball Z, lace up your boots, and get ready for a fight.)

-Costume

- Trono de la Oscuridad: Rey does not approve of weapons as he feels that a true warrior should transform their entire body into a weapon. However, he does have one which he brings with him everywhere, a simple black folding chair which he calls the Throne of Darkness. His throne can in turn appear from any patch of darkness of appropriate size. Stronger and harder than any chair has the right to be, the Throne has been used to break everything from bodies to buildings, it is however not unbreakable. The Throne can warp and bend if it encounters a particular strong will, one powerful enough to resist the psychosomatic power that drives its master, and of course will fade away on command.

However, when it is summoned next it will be repaired, for can one truly break the night?

-Finishing Move

- Fin del Mundo: Rey swings his opponent up onto his shoulders, back down and belly up, clutching their throat in one hand and their thigh in the other. After a few seconds of painful back breaking, during which he gathers all of his hateful power, Rey proceeds to drop to his rear. During which he rotates the opponent and drives them head first into the mat below and then in one brutal move he proceeds to compress their bodies(or whatever the equivalent they substitute it with is), breaking them utterly, or at the very least putting them out of commission until the next show.

This move is accompanied by a deep psychological effect that often breaks those who suffer it. For luchadore there is a natural defense against its effects due to the masks they wear, but other fighters will need to find another way to defend against the encroaching madness. If they survive the impact that is...

Hype

It is said that Rey de la Infinita Oscuridad was once poised to conquer the world of wrestling, he'd stripped the greatest lucha of their masks and united the world titles, and even went so far as to defeat the mighty gringo Wrasslor in one on one combat. Nobody was willing to stand up to him, or so he thought, until an alliance of young lucha with nothing to lose confronted him in the eleventh hour. Though many were lost the heroes were able to defeat him with fearless hearts and astounding techniques, until they finally finished off Rey by way of decapitation, and thus the Interdimensional Lucha Libre Alliance was formed; otherwise known as the Luchalliance.

But lo' even decapitation was not enough to end Rey's life, the first members of the Luchalliance knew this and so they locked it away in the deepest vault, never to see the light of day again. Now, the last of the original Luchalliance has died, and with his passing the return of their greatest evil. Nobody knows how he was freed but the vault was empty and a most scared grave desecrated. It is said that Rey stole the body of the one who delivered the final blow, El Rey Macho, and the only reason he has not yet conquered the wrestling world is because that heroic spirit is fighting him. But it is a losing battle and with every passing day Rey grows stronger, and yet the leaders of the Luchalliance refuse to believe it is true. They have declared him an upstart and turn a blind eye to his antics.

Regardless of what the case may be; Rey de la Oscuridad II is a very dangerous man.

[Assistant]
The back pedal would have been almost without force as it was enacted; El Rey had already begun to shove Xavier by the time the back pedal began and Xavier simply managed to keep his feet from being dragged along. With his upper body moving ahead of his legs they would never have been able to strain against the awesome power that was El Rey. Xavier had known already that the tactic was sure to succeed and had instead set about enacting the other counters as his body was shoved at the fully intended speed. Xavier had made no effort to slow El Rey and so the pair would not have been slowed at all during El Rey's shove and thus he would be left unable to cross his and Xaviers arms before Xaviers was slammed into the turnbuckle.

This of course did nothing to stop El Rey in his attempts to elbow Xavier in his head nor were his movements slowed; putting Xavier Midway through his thrust attack as he felt El Reys hands moving through the air. The spikes tore forwards as Xavier's eyes shifted from the spike tips to the metallic gloves upon El Reys hands which were clearly intended to take the hit and again he knew he could do nothing to stop their advance; but he wouldn't need to.

The instant the impact occurred the spikes finished under going a structural change which took away the hard physical exterior that would have caused a blunt force reaction. Replacing it with a loosened structure of liquid metal which possessed a consistency similar to molasses, allowing the spikes to collapse under the force of meeting the metallic gloves on El Reys hands. The gloves fell in quick succession and added to the wave of metal which Xavier willed to stretch and engulf El Reys hands as Xavier pushed it forward.

 Just as quick as the metal had lost its solidity it regained it would regain it around El Reys hands in an effort to encase them in solid Dread Metal for even a moment to throw him for a quick loop. Quick as an action as this was if it we're allowed to sink home El Rey would have to exact immense force to free himself. Meanwhile Xaviers hands were left to palm this metallic mound in a thin liquid layer and free to detach from it at a moment's notice in a blur.

Xavier had to take action as though this mound was going to work and shifted his weight effortlessly to his left foot and began to extend it forward so as to lose the bare minimum of the forward momentum he had established ready. Meanwhile he bent his elbows and rotated his wrists so as to roll his hands with ease from the metal mound while making fists; positioning them back in line with El Reys chest. As Xavier's hands tightened into fists they squished out a thin layer of metal that Xavier had managed to maintain from the mound which quickly created metal spikes upon his knuckles. The spikes we're significantly smaller than his others but their premise would be the same in pinpointing his power.

 With a heave Xavier extended his elbows the instant his hands were clear and aligned so as to fire them at El Rey's abdomen once again. Propelled by his extending left leg so as to capitilze on his follow through so as to shove him back at the very least if this attack we're to hit home. Stopping him from having the time to fire out his ether based attack.

[User]
Had El Rey been the kind of man to offer advice, he would have warned Xavier against this course. This desperate attempt to fill every moment with peril would only leave him vulnerable. A warrior must be swift, but not so much so that he acts with haste, and his every movement must be clear in mind if not heart.

Such was the folly of youth...

He was not surprised when Xavier reshaped those metal gloves into metal orbs, trapping his hands within. Given Xavier's acute control over the bloody metal from whence he'd formed the pair, this been a distinct possibility from the very beginning. Seeing it come to fruition merely taught El Rey that much more about the enemy. However swift Xavier may have been, contact was made and his attack had been stopped, at least for a time. Meanwhile El Rey never bothered to initiate his attack, it was pointless to strike with his knee now, what with hands being trapped. But even with both attempts stalled this was far from a neutral position.

The Fifth Apocalypse merely took a step forward and thrust his captured arms into Xavier's abdomen, unleashing the same devastating attack as before, but this time in stereo.

Of positioning, it was perfect. No attempt had been made to stop El Rey from sliding his hands between Xavier's forearms, most likely because the other thought he wouldn't even bother, but that was far from the case. He was mere inches away from Xavier's core with a pair of working hands, if that, while the other was only halfway through his own rising strike and forced to circumnavigate El Rey's beastly limbs just to deliver a neutered version of his initial attack. The choice to cut Xavier off at the pass was much an act of mercy as violence.

Of the orbs, they were no problem. Though Xavier surmised that El Rey would have to produce an incredible amount of force to break them, he had forgotten that El Rey was force personified. The mere act of clenching his fingers into fists within those orbs was enough to send cracks flying across the surface. Inside, any metal that had been between his fingers and palms was ground to dust. Then, in that short distance he utilized every muscle in the body at once, gathering the full of their strength with only an inch of draw, just to pummel Xavier.

But just as before, physical force was merely a supporting actor to the real threat. Not one but two apocalyptic blasts tore out from his fists, evaporating what was left of the glove-orbs into nonexistence and then rampaging through Xavier's abdomen. Two turns had been spent stopping the attack from happening, no turns had been spent preparing a defense against it, and thus it was safe to assume that the attack would go off unmolested. The ring post tore off, the ropes and apron evaporated, a gaping hole would open in Xavier's chest born of energy that would flay the rest of his upper body and pelvis.

Then when it was all over El Rey stood in the ring alone, his arms spread out to either side of his body and a snarl in his throat, just as a fourth eye emerged from his costume.


[System]
Ignore the Digivice and the Hielorei.
Age: 15
Digivice color(s): Green & Yellow
Personality: (Completely optional)
Backstory: (Again optional)

---

Base Form: Hirschmon
Attacks: Swarm Attack, Deer Leg, Lightning Bullet
Digivolution Line: Leafmon--> Minomon--> Hirschmon--> Käfermon--> CannonBeemon--> TigerVespamon

[User]
When he saw Hirschmon get knocked back Danny rushed over to his partner, not wanting the beetle to get hurt any worse. Normally his feelings might have been enough to trigger Digivolution, but he was also completely sure that Dorugamon could handle another Champion on his own. Danny thought back to what happened to Kuwagamon after he was defeated and felt relieved that Hirschmon, despite leaking code, didn't start flickering. "You're gonna be fine, I think." If he had noticed the second attacker Danny would be even less sure of how Hirschmon was doing, especially since Cyclomon seemed to be after Digicores.

Thanks to Dorugamon yelling that Liollmon's core was still intact he picked up on the presence of the Dragonman at the back of Locomon. Danny's confidence that they were gonna be alright dropped significantly as he doubted that the Champion on their side could handle both opponents, and he wasn't too sure about Wolfy and Gilt defeating what he presumed a Champion on their own.

Ignoring the risk of causing further damage he dragged Hirschmon back inside. "What are you doing? I have to help them." At first Danny's thought was to tell the injured Digimon that he was in no condition to fight but he didn't think Hirschmon would take that too well, though he did stop pulling. "In that case stick to ranged attacks, you're not going to be much help otherwise right now."

[Assistant]
Kiba Wolfy

---

"No, no no no no no!!!" Kiba yelled as he saw the data leave Liollmons body. Kiba fell to his knees in shock I have captured your knight. A foreign voice said as Kiba looked at Liollmons core. My plan ... failed. My plan didn't work. I messed up. I got a piece killed. I'm gonna lose. IT'S CHECKMATE AND I'M GONNA LO-

"OI KIBA SNAP OUT OF IT!!!" Wolfys voice called out to him as a bright light began to cover Gilt. "Kiba, give me an order dammit." He said as he shook Kiba out of his thought.

"U-um yeah. UH, Wolfy, secure the digicore. We have to get that out of the way before Gilt and Cyclonemon fight."

Wolfy nodded before rushing forward, the liught from gilt stunning the cyclonemon providing him cover as he grabbed the digicore before running back to Kiba. "Got it." He said as the light around Gilt began to fade.

"Good, now provide long range support for Gilt. It looks like he's ready to fight." Kibas voice was shaky as he said that, the light dimming enough to reveal Gilt.

[User]
---

Partner Digimon: Zubaeagermon
Digimon Lvl: Champion (In-Training)
Location: Witchelny, Nyttliv
Tag: @Crimson Lion @Shiyonichi @Duthguy

---

"Zubaeagermon!"

 Phase stepped out from the light, abolishing its glow. He focused solely on Cyclomon, even as he instinctively walked in tandem with Gilt. His Digivice spoke clearly from his pocket.

 Its voice was digitized and unisex. "Zubaeagermon! The champion level of Zubamon. It advances without stopping even on flat land or bad roads! It is a Weapon Digimon which can transform into a sword!!"

 "Sword Mode, Gilt."

 Zubaeagermon dashed off into a sprint before leaping up and taking off into the sky. It vanished beyond the clouds, where loud clinks and the sound of metal sliding off one another roamed. A golden gleam blinked into existence as a large sword impaled the earth.

 Phase stepped up to its golden, sleek hilt. Compared to him, it was more like bastard sword, but it would do. He pulled at it and found the weapon to be surprisingly light, as if made for him to wield. He yanked it out the earth and heaved it around to his left side. Its edge was bright with a cool whiteness.

 I'll control your arms, Phase. The legs are yours to move.

 Phase didn't argue instead he simply moved.

 He moved passed the hasty and heated blasts that Cyclomon was spewing. And once he got into range, he leapt onto the massive arm that had crashed down into the railway. His gritted his teeth as he swiftly traversed its length to his neck. The Digimon jerked back, trying to shake him off. But it was too late. Phase yanked his arms back, bringing Gilt's massive blade with him, and hacked its head off with forward arc.

 A stream of data slowly spewed from its severed head as it fell to the ground with a THUMMM!

 Lost. Yea, he felt lost. Angry mostly but lost too. Even as he held Gilt at his side, his foot planted firmly on the slowly fading corpse of Cyclomon. He had felt totally and completely lost.

* * * A * * *

 Liollmon was broken. The lower portion of his body had no feeling. However, he would convey something to Gabumon. A single wish, mentally told, through his leaking data. Yggdrasil... It came to me. Meld my data with, Nyaromon. A miracle will be set into action. His remaining eye fixed itself on the wailing, burned, Nyaromon. Then onto Gabumon. His mouth faintly smiled. Thank you.

 Then Liollmon released his final breath.

[Assistant]
"Doru let's finish this."

Doru and Robert landed on the ground with Robert giving the Drilmogemon a raised two finger come at me. Drilmogemon lowered itself grinding it's feet along the ground to charge and impale the Digimon and his human.

{Drill Crusher.}

The Drilmogemon charged at the two, but they held no more reason to fear it. They looked towards it, as their eyes narrowed focusing on the purple body of their foe. Doru opened his mouth and after a slight pause his voice echoed though the area.

{Cannonball!}

A massive iron sphere shot out from Dorugamon's mouth as it met with the charging Digimon's Drill, for a moment they clashed, but spiderweb like cracks formed on Drilmogemon's main weapon. The drill shattered into pieces which scattered shards of metal around. The Cannonball kept moving entering it, the after a moment exiting out the otherside.

The Drilmogemon broke into code revealing it's digicore as the code flowed around it reforming back into a red and white striped Digiegg. Robert stepped off of Doru and picked up the Digiegg. From the silence it seems that the other battle was over.

[User]
Hirschmon had to admit that Danny had a point with his suggestion to stick to only use ranged attacks, but he never got an opportunity. He was unable to get a good shot at Cyclomon, due to Liollmon's core and later Zubaeagermon and his Tamer who took their enemy out without issue. Just as he was about to see if he could do anything to help Dorugamon, Drimogemon got hit by a Cannonball and reverted to a Digiegg.

Hirschmon didn't really know how to feel when the battle was over. On the one hand none of the humans got seriously hurt, but he was absolutely useless even Wolfy, who also remained a Rookie did more than he did. As he had finally stopped leaking code he forced himself up and turned to the others. "Good job, guys. Just wish I could have helped."

[Assistant]
Kiba looked down at the Core of Liollmon and paused, "Why isn't an egg forming?!" He asked wolfy.

"L-liollmon told me to meld his data with Nyaromons." Wolfy responded as he came back to Kiba with a crying Nyaromon in his hands.

Nyaromon jumped down next to the core "L-Liollmonm, is he, is he really?" He cried as Kiba frowned, his eyes showing the emitomy of gloom.

"Yes I'm ... I'm sorry for your loss." He said as he took out his digivice. "I'll honor his last wish." He whispered as took out his digivice. [Program activating: Meld] The device said as the core, along with the residual data in the air began to fuse with Nyaromon.

Nyaromon began to glow as the lions data entered her. Nyaromon digivolve to ... Wanyamon! An echo said as the small yellow digimon evolved into a whole new digimon.

Kiba, not in the mood to talk, stood up and went back into the train to see Pabumon hiding in an overhead "Pabu?" It asked as it jumped onto his shoulder. Kiba then sat down, crestfallen.

"Good job, guys. Just wish I could have helped." He heard Hischmon say from nearby as his data began to stabalize.

"Huh, at least you didn't mess up." Kiba whispered to himself. The only thing he was good for was strategy. The only thing he's ever been good at was his ability to out do others. "If I had just made a better strategy, maybe ..." He whispered again.

Outside the train, the train tracks had begun to repair.

[User]
Doru still in Champion form, walked up to the rest with Robert right next to him, which was quite the size comparison as Doru was currently the size of a hummer. Robert had a digi egg under his arm as he walked up to them. Looking to the left he walked to pick up Cyclonemon's egg. Doru told the group. Both of them were not showing any sense of emotion or their trademark sarcasm.

"I don't exactly know if this guys were part of the army, but if they were that means that the army knows that we're going by train."

Robert picked up the Digiegg.

"If they were then they would be preparing more ambushes down the line, worst case scenario, is that we run into a field of anti Digimon mines along the track, but the only other alternative is going by foot, which would take more time."

Robert walked over next to Doru and continued for him.

"So, the million dollar question is do we go by foot or keep going on Locomon gambling that these guys were independent?"

[Assistant]
As Kiba sat inside the train cart, Wolfy had walked out to the two areas that the battles took place to look around at the damage. As Wolfy examined the holes that drimogemon had made he found something in the spot that he was deleted. "What the hell is this?" He asked as he picked up what seemed to be some strange black ring.

Just then, he felt himself lose himself. His conscious thought began to fade as his instinct to battle began to kick in. Everything around him looked like an enemy as a rush of power began to flow through the arm that held the ring. "W-what the hell?!" He yelled as a weird sense of paranoia washed over him before flooding all of his senses. He drops the ring in shock as the world around him came back to normal.

"Wolfy!!!" Kibas voice called to him as Kiba ran towards his partner. "Wolfy you ok? You screamed all of a sudden and then nothing." He told the wolf like digimon.

".. Kiba, this ring thing. I-I don't know what the hell it does but it's extremely dangerous."

Kibas eyebrow raised. "What, this thing?" He asked as he picked it up. A wave of nausea washed over him before he dropped it. "Woah, that was … weird."

"Yeah. When I picked it up my senses perked and my battle instinct went up to 11. If I hadn't dropped it … I probably would have attacked you." He said as he glared at the ring on the ground.

Kiba looked at the black ring, "Didn't that one eyed ogre have one of these around his neck?"

"Yeah but I think Phase cut it at the same time." Kiba and Wolfy both shared a look.

"Wolfy … You don't think-"

"Yeah, I do. Those guys probably began attacking whatever was the closest thing to them when they put on those collars."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but I don't think they knew we were here." Wolfy said as Kiba took off his hoody and used it to grab the ring.

Kiba stood up and walked to the others, minus Phase who seemed to be asleep, "Guys, big news." He said as he began to tell everyone of the black ring. "What do you guys think we should do?"

[User]
Robert listen to Kiba's explain, before answering his question.

"Let's just ignore this thing and let catastrophic damage rain on the digital world as it spreads! If you haven't gotten it that was sarcasm, we should destroy every last one."

Robert pulled out a pair of gloves that he asked Norn to get for him and took the ring off Kiba's hands and inspected it, as in he just swiped it. Robert looked at it for a moment before sharing out his thoughts.

"I can inspect the code on this and use it to track where this thing came from, but I'll need to have a wireless access in order to do the latter, but I'm pretty sure one of the army bases have one of those, though it might take some effort to get to."

[Assistant]
Danny's first though was that going by foot might be safer but when Wolfy found the ring and it turned out that Drimogemon and Cyclomon might not be part of the army he changed his mind. "I say that for now we stick with Locomon, not only is it faster and less tiring it decreases the chance that any army members see that there are humans. But if we're attacked again we should leave the tracks."

The white haired kid's comment about dealing with the rings made sense but there was a potentially much easier way to learn about them. "Yeah, I agree but if anyone knows how to contact Norn maybe we can ask her what she knows first."

Hirschmon was relieved that no one blamed for not helping, though he still thought he should have helped more, that way maybe that Liollmon might have survived. "Next time though I'll definitely make up for this."


[System]
Race: Elf, darker than usual complexion.
Faction/Unit: Brand's Brood
Location: Bosfryd
Synopsis of Role: A full blooded elf, with an affinity for combat and nature; adopted by brand as a youngling that was was exiled for his appearance.

[User]
"T-t-t-title's g-good in the Company," he pointed out to his 'brother,' "And Myrmith was barking," he explained as he squatted down on his haunches amongst the flowers. His warg there, a truly nasty piece of business that looked like it'd served in a couple campaigns itself, seemed pretty in tune with the orc, who was all long, lanky muscle, hunched over, with a topknot of black hair. He had tusks and it all looked a bit savage and unkempt, but the actual equipment was carefully maintained; immaculate fletchings on the arrows, cord-wrapped knife handles and an axe that was balanced and sized for an orc, handle axed and head sharpened. It was easy for a less observant person to write off the orc as some sort of dimwit.

It was a lesson that a lot of beings didn't survive. Dakgu was a nasty piece of work, after all.

But it was true, an entire company of pissed off orcs tended to respect one of their own that went one to one with a powerful knife-ear ranger and came out on top, but a bunch of elven rangers might not be so happy. On the other hand, Myrmith Tinuviel was genocidal.

They'd have to deal. The truth was that in taking Ceril for their latest employer, the Company did come up against the forces that the Elven kingdom of Torceleblas supported, and killed quite a few of theirs in the process. That was war, and if tuskers took a certain pleasure in it, that was quite natural to them. In any event, the Queen there wasn't anything on Bloody Harold. Once the fighting was done, she was rather intent on running a profitable, peaceful kingdom without exacting bloody revenge on anyone that ever disrespected her.

She didn't know her father at all and wasn't trying to impress him. Bloody Harold? Always trying to impress one of his ancestors or show them up. Dakgu? Grateful he didn't know a father. Well, except Brand and he didn't leave the Nightwood trying to please the old ranger either. Dakgu's life was the one he chose, and he wasn't going to the likes of Harvey dictate that to him.

And perhaps there would be a reckoning with his elven 'kin.' There was never much love lost there in a lot of ways, but Dakgu always held his bargains and gave his word in good faith. The elaborate and bloody vengeance piece? Keeping the world in line a bit.

"Sides, we ain't here," he had to speak carefully, because of his impediment, "to fight each other."

[Assistant]
The Prince was in armour, having just trounced several of his gentlemen on the tilt field, when his constable approached with a stocky, plain-faced spatharios at his back. "My Lord, I think you know Andreas Alcaeus, who has served four years with you as a member of the Guard." He bowed and extended an arm towards the man, who was quite obviously nervous – he fidgeted in place, constantly making minute adjustments to his kit, which he had polished to a mirror sheen.

The Prince smiled warmly, and reached out to clap Andreas' shoulder. "You're leaving, then. I'll miss you – the sight of you always made me feel safe." He admitted, and laughed.

Andreas swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and bowed deeply. "I am needed home, your grace. My…father has passed, and I wish to be there for his burial."

The Prince nodded seriously and frowned in commiseration. "I'm sorry to hear that. Will you return afterwards?" Strangely, in his eyes the Prince spied a steely determination, and no small amount of anger.

Andreas stiffened, then said slowly, "If I am able, your grace."

The Prince leaned close and smiled. "Then I'll expect you back, Andreas." He turned to his constable. "See that his kit is well-stored. I grant him leave, but do not discharge him from my service."

"My Lord!" The constable replied, bowing slightly.

The Prince grinned and turned, calling over his shoulder. "Now get going!"

Andreas bowed again, as ceremony demanded, and walked from the Prince's presence to the guardroom, where he embraced a dozen close friends, drank a farewell cup of wine, and handed the steward his kit – his maille hauberk and his good cote of plates beautifully covered in the Imperial purple; his two purple cotes with matching hoods, for wear at court, and his hose of purple cloth. He went to hand in his badge, too – a cleverly fashioned thing of silver and gold enamel, with the Imperial double-headed eagle as the centerpiece – but the steward handed it back to him. "His Majesty expressly stated that you were to keep your badge, as you are on leave and not discharged from the Guard."

Andreas almost cried.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The apprentice cut the lashings on the sacking, revealing a rounded pommel on one end, ferruled in heavy bronze, balancing a fine sword blade at the other end. The hilt was worked in silver, and the guard made up of two griffin-heads; the fuller extended from the base of the hilt to two-thirds the way to the blade's tip. A tassel of Imperial purple hung from the base of the pommel in place of a peen block.

It was a guardsman's sword, but incomparably finer, made by a master and not by one of the dozens of journeyman smiths under the employ of the Domestikos.

Andreas couldn't help himself, and he whirled it between his hands, the blade cutting the air and the tip not quite brushing the plaster of the low room.

The apprentice flattened himself against the wall, and the master nodded, satisfied. "The sword you brought me was a fine enough weapon," the master said. "Competently made. But the finish," he winced, then shrugged. "And I thought that the balance could be improved."

Andreas just smiled in appreciation. The master added a scabbard – a sheath of wood covered in fine red leather with the Imperial insignia stamped in the center. Andreas counted down a hundred silver marks – a sizeable portion of four years' pay.

Andreas carried his new sword out to his riding horse and put it lovingly into the straps, close to hand. No one watching doubted that he'd handle it a dozen more times before he was clear of the suburbs. Or that he'd stop and use it on the first bush he found growing by the road.

"You ride today, then," the master said.

Andreas nodded. "I'm needed in the north," he said. "My father has passed."

The weapon smith nodded. "Send him my respects, then, and the sele of the day on you."

Andreas embraced the smith, stepped through the door, and walked his horse back up the road.

"There goes a good man," said the master to his apprentice. "I've known a few. And yet as fierce as a lion when his blood's up. A better knight than many who wear spurs."

The apprentice was too smitten with hero-worship to comment. The master tried not to wonder why a man would commission a sword for a funeral.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Nightwood was much the same as Andreas remembered. Same sights, same smells, and in many cases, even the same trees. Why, that tree there was where Brand showed him how to make his first snare, and just over yonder was the tree he had used to climb when he wanted to be alone.

He smiled sadly. There were a lot of memories in these woods. Good ones, mostly. But now they all felt a somewhat bitter, knowing what had happened to old Brand.

Andreas fingered the hilt of the sword at his side. He would bring justice back to these woods. For Brand.

It wasn't long until he reached the barrow. He touched the runes with a nostalgic fondness, and walked inside to greet his erstwhile family.

[User]
Nightwood, Some Time Previous

It was snowing, thick wet flakes that melted quickly into the soggy ground.

The clearing was orderly, with a large, square garden- well planted though Spring was still young- a small barn, and a tidy cottage of wood and clay with a freshly thatched roof. The Barkstead lads had evidently been hard at work for the old man, who'd never been one to allow his charges to wallow in grief.

The gnarled trunks of Nightwood closed around the homestead on all sides, budding branches reaching for the sky like twisted fingers uplifted in prayer. The only way to this place was through woods Brand knew better than any still living.

Anyone who came here was seen well before he arrived.

If the man who emerged into the clearing from the treeline knew that, he did not seem particularly perturbed by it. He was youngish looking -though he was not young- with a lean, weatherworn face, dark eyes, and a little smile that played across the corners of his mouth like he was in on something, some great funny secret soon to be revealed. He wore a simple black doublet and cloak. Snowflakes nested in his ruffled hair.

He was unarmed. And, in spite of the freezing mud, he was barefoot.

"Anyone home?" he called as he strode up the damp path to the cottage, "I think so-oh. Smells like someones just put out a cookin' fire. What're we makin'?"

A bowstring creaked as it was drawn. An old man rose slowly from the tangled foliage of the garden, arrow notched and ready to fire, aimed at the newcomer's head.

The stranger turned, his little smile widening into a lopsided grin, as though the prospect of an arrow in the throat was an unexpected thrill.

"Hello Brand," he said.

"Kadath," said Brand. His rugged face was hard as granite, eyes filled with murder. "What're you doing at my home?"

"You had to know Harry wouldn't let you alone after you spat on his offer," said Kadath, "Why didn't you run? Disappear with the boys into the woods? Too proud? Or just feeling your age?"

"Boys aren't here, they're nowhere you'll find 'em," said Brand.

"I doubt that, my old friend, I'm very good at finding."

A flock of birds erupted from the woods to the south. In the distance shouting could now be heard, the rough voices of hardened men, too many to count.

"Why'd you come ahead of your lackeys, then? Something to tell me?" asked Brand.

"Not my lackeys," said Kadath, shaking his head, "You won't find a Red Fang among 'em. I owe you that much."

Brand snorted, "Why're you here then?"

"Came for the boys, not for you," said Kadath, "More valuable to me alive and stowed away than with their little heads perched on Harry's parapet. Always good to have insurance, no? Specially since the King's starting to lose a step or two. Not handling guilt too well, I guess. Can't stomach it like you and I."

"I spent a lifetime working off the guilt you buried me in," said Brand.

Kadath shrugged and jerked a thumb over his shoulder towards the treeline, where the shouting was growing closer. "You'll want me to find the Barkstead lads before they do. Where are they?"

"I'd rather the devils in all six hells find them than you," said Brand.

He loosed his arrow.

[Assistant]
He had been gone a little more than a fortnight, when thoughts drenched in sorrow crept into his mind. He hadn't wanted to leave, but Brand - his General - insisted that he, like many of the others, follow a path only forged by leaving the shelter of his proverbial wings. The Elf had no idea where to go, for he had considered himself the sword and shield of Brand, his eternal protector, his solider.

Still, at his behest, Adinraen Barriurden packed a small rucksack of survival essentials, as well as twin Boneswords, and a similarly crafted Bow, and set off. He headed in an easterly direction, wondering what he would find and why Brand felt it so important that he followed the flock, so to speak. So when the feeling settled in, he almost turned on his heel and raced back, something had to be wrong, right? Yet, the misjudged Elf steeled himself and carried onwards, until the next night when he set up camp on the edge of a clearing, so he could see any potential threats coming from the forward and sides. With the forest to his back, he felt strangely safe.

The night wasn't long born when the news came to him, by chance or by fate, when a travelling party stumbled upon his fire. Like many others, they were taken aback by his appearance, but steady words calmed them down. They brought word from back home with them, perhaps the most jarring of which was that a known ranger from the forest had been killed. They stumbled remembering the name, but Adinraen knew it in his heart. He was quiet the rest of the evening.

For months after, he stalked the forest around his childhood home, not able to bring himself to enter the place where Brand would no longer offer solace or training. He blamed himself, he should have stayed and fought by Brands side, protected him from the unsavory circumstances of his death. What could was a solider, a sword and shield, if it were not there when needed?

The darkness of the forest provided a sinister comfort, embracing thoughts of exacting revenge until they bloomed. Today was the day, heads would become charms of a necklace in honor of his Master. But was that Master the darkness or Brand?

Before he took to setting off, he passed by Brand's house one more time, but something was notably different. The ground around the entrance was disturbed. Had they come back after all this time to rummage through Brands belongings?

Adinraen drew both swords and almost soared through the air as he leapt from a branch. He landed with a little thud, and brushed the rune that would allow entry. His breath almost caught, he was entering for the first time in months. The Sword and Shield had returned home to roost.

With nerves of iron, he stepped through the entrance, his left hand sword immediately coming to a stop right before piercing through the back of Andreas neck. Trained eyes flittered around, the numbers inside were numerous.

What had stopped him? Recognition. Though they were older, different, he knew the faces he saw.

Family.

Is he dead too, Adinraen asked, his voice descending quickly into contempt. He referred to Diē, the one who left long ago to die. As he did so, he lowered his sword and stepped to his left and forward, eying those who had returned. This had to have been due to one thing, the death of Brand.