[System]
Age: 27
Physical Description: Dante is a short (4'7") woman with a fiery disposition. She has medium length black hair and green eyes. Spaced out every few inches across her arms, legs, spine, neck, and both sides of her head are quarter sized cybernetic nerve implants that allow her to interact with Inferno. Sometimes when she is working on the ship you can see images of what she is reading back-lit in her optic H.U.D.

Important items:

INFERNO: Inferno is a ten foot tall Artemis Class artillery suit chassis. The suit requires a neural hookup to the user to function. New users can also find that there is a slight ping between when they tell the suit to move and when the suit actually does. This slight error in the design of the suit eventually fades as the Inferno computer systems slowly get accustomed to the operator's specific neural input. The Inferno chassis comes equipped with several weapons, some that are standard and some that have been improvised or improved by Dante, it also has air-tight seals and boosters allowing the suit to survive short trips or battles in space, and of course very Heavy armor to protect from Ship or land based cannons, shells, or lasers. Overall the suit is slow and has difficulty hitting close targets in favor of more long range or high impact destruction.

(the suit without any weapons on it)

 MICRO-GRAVITY DISTORTER FISTS: The Inferno chassis comes equipped with several small Micro-Grav distorters in its hands that can be activated to take out buildings or high armored targets by distorting gravity in a small vortex in close proximity to whatever it is you want destroyed. Due to the slow speed of the overall armor this weapon is not good at hand to hand combat with other units, unless they are units of the same speed or slower than the Inferno armor. the Micro-Grav distorter in each hand can also be shot as a small projectile and then detonated, causing massive damage, but this is a last ditch effort tactic as the distorters are rare, expensive, hard to make, and there are only two on board the entire suit.

 MID-RANGE PLASMA GRENADE SILOS: The Inferno chassis comes equipped with 40 plasma grenade launching silos located in the shoulders of the suit for when trouble get just a biiiit to close. the launcher can fire up to its whole payload, a maximum of 120 grenades, in a few seconds. The range of the launcher is about 120 yards and is not very accurate, only being able to aim within a twenty yard radius. however the launcher cannot fire the grenades within twenty yards of itself. The launcher, when activated, peppers whatever twenty yard radius you choose within range until either the operator stops it or it runs out of ammunition. The grenades themselves have a radius of about four yards each.

 150mm SHOULDER MOUNTED RAILGUN: The Inferno chassis comes equipped with a 150mm shoulder mounted Railgun that fires high explosive plasma shells designed to bring down the biggest ships in the least time. When in firing mode the gun, which is normally pointing straight into the air, rotates over the shoulder and moves into firing position. While to Inferno armor is in this mode most of it's other systems are offline and it is vulnerable to attack. It is possible to fire the thrusters to move in the case of incoming fire, but most other systems will not be available.

H.U.D.: Dante has an implanted Heads Up Display in her eyes that allows her to connect to the Inferno's systems and get real time info on whats going on with the suit. They also allow her to view pretty much anything her omni-tool could connect with, as well as giving her firing positions and helping her aim both in and out of the Inferno armor.

OMNI-TOOL: Miniature Computer that allows for communication, calculation, augmented reality navigation and small-scale hacking.

COIL-GUN PISTOL: For the rare occasion that she is caught up in combat outside her suit Dante keeps a coil-gun pistol on her.

Short Bio:
 Dante was born on the frontier world of Prodius on the edge of Ascendancy space. Prodius was a beautiful world full of life, nearly classified as a Paradise world. her father had been an engineer for the colony's mechanical systems, and she was poised to replace him. Her father would bring her along on jobs and show her the ins and the outs of how these machine's functioned. Dante loved her life and was excited about being part of the Ascendancy and what that would mean. She wanted nothing more than to take on her father's role and build the future of her people.

 Then it was discovered that Prodius was rich in precious and rare metals. The Ascendancy took note of the small frontier world and began extracting the metals and rare materials for use in the was against the Coalition. Mines, factories, and cities began to sprout up around the planet. They spreading pollution, carving out forests, hollowing out mountains digging deep fissures into the earth. Dante watched as her home slowly was turned into a barely livable wasteland over the course of only a few years. Her father's job was automated and he was forced to take up work as a miner. Dante got shoved into a child labor union assembling machines of war in the factories. life went on this way for what seemed like forever. Until her father died.

The mountain her father worked at had been scanned and came back positive for gold, silver and possibly naturally occurring electrum. It was honey combed and mined and hollowed out until finally one day it caved in. the whole mountain just fell in on itself, with her father inside. Dante wasn't the only person to lose a family member in that collapse, far from it. But hearing that her father was gone... that he wasn't coming back and that it was because the Ascendancy had just pushed. to. far. It broke something in her. Dante drifted in this hell that had been created by The Ascendancy of Man for years. She did nothing but build their machines of war, and drift hopelessly through life.

Then they left. After the mines emptied and the mountains collapsed under their own weight; after the factories closed their doors and all those who had come seeking opportunity had moved on to the next thing. After Prodius was a barren hellscape with nothing to offer anyone, The Ascendancy just turned their backs and moved on like a swarm of locust.

It was then, standing in the ruins of the factory she had worked for the past twenty years, staring at the empty husk of a building that seemed so similar to how she felt inside; that's when she found it. The Artillery suit was half finished and partially buried by fallen mechanical equipment, but the frame was in one piece and she knew how to finish it with her eyes closed. The only problem would be finding the materials to finish it. So over the course of the next year Dante Scavenged and searched and worked on the suit. It was the only thing she could think to do. Every now and then she would make a modification she thought was necessary or would change something because it was easier with the materials she had available.

Eventually she needed to test the suit to see if it was working. A healthy black market had sprung up in place of the metropolis that had left and abandoned this place, so Dante decided to head there and get a few upgrades. She had never really spent the credits she made with the Ascendancy or the credits they had given her after her father died, it wasn't as if she had been saving them for anything, she just had never needed anything to buy; and while The Ascendancy didn't pay very much, twenty year of not very much adds up to more than you'd think. She purchased illegal implants to let her interact with the suit so that she could test it, and make sure it was working. She purchased eye implants and an omni-tool to make sure the computer systems were operating correctly, and she purchased a coil-gun to make sure she wasn't bothered by other scavengers.

Dante continued to toil, not knowing why she was doing this, or what she would do when it was finished. She had bought all of this equipment, but it was all only to finish the suit. for some reason she felt that if she could finish this one last suit, everything would be okay. She would talk to it sometimes. When she was working, just to break the silence. She told the suit about her father, she talked about how she missed him and he wasn't ever coming back. She talked about her home and how she wanted to see the forest, or taste fresh clean river water again. She talked about her childhood and how she wanted it back. Dante would talk and talk, and the suit would be her ever present listener, never interrupting, or judging her for what she said. It was her stalwart companion, her shoulder to cry on, in more than a few instances it was her punching bag or the brunt of her rage at the universe, but in the end it was undeniably and irrevocably... her friend.

Then... after a few years, a lot of heartache, and a lot of money later; it was finished. Dante didn't really know what to do. She had just kept going knowing that eventually she would find a purpose or a drive or something after this was done... but she was empty. Building the suit had BEEN the purpose. To distract her... but it hadn't distracted her had it? It had honed her, made her clear and sharp. All those hundreds of hours working and talking and releasing her feelings and her wishes and wants; she stood in front on this impressive machine of war she had built, her Inferno of rage and pain and fury, all her emotions embodied in a single entity. She knew what she was going to do. She was going to tear down the Ascendancy of Man, and burn it with this Inferno and leave nothing but ash and debris.

The next day she blew the rest of her credits on ammunition and a charter on a ship off world for her and the suit. She had heard in the black market about a resistance movement called Moonstrike, and a few whispers about a ship named the Xuanxang. As Dante charted her course in the hidden cargo hold a bright red military grade Artillery suit with 'INFERNO' painted in bright white letters on it's back waited to be unleashed.

Exceptional Skill List:
Exceptional Engineering x3
Exceptional Gunslinging
Exceptional Navigation
Exceptional Piloting x2
Exceptional Endurance

[User]
Innocence Lost - Emergency Post

Eldrid and Natasha

"Is this our Loyalist?" Natasha asked Eldrid, who shook his head.

"No, this is a new opponent entirely," Eldrid then looked at the hood-and-cloak figure as he extended his own 'Spellbook' omni-tool. "Amazing... The power level of this enemy is much higher than mine is, for now. These runes also show a more sophisticated use of Magic than even I have seen from 'Small Paul' and the other enchanters." He grinned at that. "But they're not invincible."

He stretched out his right arm with a flourish, and water flowed out of his gourd, mixing with the spilled blood from the dead Ascendancy personnel's bodies and the ampoules of water they carried as emergency rations. Said water flowed into small, floating streams that impacted the walls and corridors, searching for runes to activate prematurely, all the while avoiding Stella's charge towards the mysterious foe.

Natasha, meanwhile, weighed her options carefully; Eldrid was trying to hit the runes with water to wash them out - wouldn't that trigger the enemy's trap early, though? For that matter, was this mysterious foe even real, or just a decoy? So she shouted at Reisus, "Rei! Try some grenades or some form of wide-area attack! We need to erase as many of these runes as possible and/or see if this attacker is just an illusion!"

Reisus might sense that there was ground underneath the floor of the crashed ship, ground close enough to use as a source of raw materials for one of his powers.

@Starlance@Bartimaeus@Stern Algorithm@Crowvette@KillamriX88@The Jest@CriticalHit

[Assistant]
Rachel didn't expect the girl to flinch at her question, though given the situation, being intimidating was a good thing, as the Giant could attest. Guess she learned something from her Ascendancy 'squadmates' after all, even if it was just barking at others. Then she spewed out something about looking for allies and her name, followed by a passphrase straight from a book of poetry. "Whatever happened to the good old days when passwords were pseudorandom strings of alphanumeric characters?" she sighed.

"Wait wait, are you seriously suggesting we implicitly trust two people that literally wandered out of the sodding woods?" she asked John, her gaze now shifting between Narvia and the Giant. The latter's unique method of approach left her a more than little worried for her safety, which only amplified the general distrust of other people she has developed during her days as a full-time thief. "Ugh, you're the leader," she groaned, then addressed Narvia and the Giant, "but I'm not turning my back to either of you." For foreman's sake, John, now you've made me volunteer for a rear guard!' she thought.

And what was that about 'Secret regiments'? What was John going on about? Then it hit her. Shortly before the start of the mission, he mentioned he could see all magic. Damn it, another unwelcome variable, one that could potentially make this girl even more dangerous than the Giant. Rachel was feeling more and more out of her element with each passing second. At least Narvia claimed she didn't want unnecessary bloodshed. It was a shred of good news, whatever her word was worth. She turned to the giant. "Alright, that's three claiming peace. What about you, Tiny?"

[User]
Dante felt the rhythmic hummm of Inferno's systems interacting with her own implants as they broke the Atmosphere on Plenty - 035, the steady flow of information between her and the war machine was one of the few things that could calm her shaky nerves as she began to touch down on the only other planet she'd ever been on besides her home.

 As she broke cloud cover she saw the wreckage that the encrypted message from Moonstrike had talked about. Dante's H.U.D. alerted her to the presence of a large group outside the wreckage. Moonstrike had said they were going to need reinforcements, but they had only given her a code to use in establishing contact with the other agents.

She fired her thrusters as she came within landing height and slowed her decent. Inferno shook and rattled from the sudden change in direction, the thrusters held steady. Finally The bright crimson red artillery mech landed a few yards away from the group with a loud '[i]THOOM/i]' as the ground shook slightly with the heavy landing of so much weight.

Dante activated the outboard P.A. system and her voice came booming out of Inferno, "Those who aim to kill the sun, may instead strike at the moon."
She really hoped someone in this group recognized the code because if not then she looked like the biggest idiot. Still, she figured she might as well be prepared in case they are enemies and Inferno's shoulder plates slide down to reveal twenty silos on each shoulder and a slight whining noise can be heard as the silos prep to fire.


[System]
Age: 26

Gender: Male

Occupation: Technician

Appearance:

Standing at a rather average height of 5'11" (1.80m), Parker may not look like much at first glance. He looks like any other Cascadian with his pale skin and electric blue eyes. He is relatively lean, but has a fair bit of muscle. His short and messy dark brown, almost black hair is normally kept hidden underneath a dark blue baseball cap, which itself is rather worn and faded. He is usually seen wearing a brown jacket which protects himself from the harsh temperatures of Cascade, and a pair of dark grey cargo pants. On his feet are a pair of heavy-duty boots meant for traversing the snow. He wears a pair of gloves on each hand, though he swaps these out for regular fingerless ones when not in the cold. Parker wears his personal holotool on his left arm.

Personality: Parker is rather antisocial, and may come off as somewhat unfriendly at first glance, and does not like social contact. However, he is actually quite personable once you get to know him. Often nervous and paranoid about everything, he is also seen as the weird one of his small group of friends. Despite this, he truly cares for those he considers his friends. He is also perfectly willing to risk his life for those he cares about should he really have to. While relatively experienced in firearms and hand-to-hand combat, Parker does everything he can to avoid fights.

History: WIP

[User]
UEG Colony World Cascade
Friday, 29 September 2843
2:30 PM

"There's snow in my pants." Parker grumbled to no one in particular as he adjusted his faded blue cap and shoved his hands into his pockets. White snow crunched under his boots as he fought the howling wind. The technician trudged his way down the sidewalk, snow assaulting his body as he did so. Cascadian winters were brutal, and Parker just has the misfortune of getting caught in a truly horrific blizzard. As far as he could see, his entire world was white, and he could only make out the faintest outline of Cascade's capital of Anchor City in the distance, light silhouettes of buildings standing out against the cruel white curtain. He raised his arm and activated his holotool strapped to it, the device instantly lighting up and displaying the current temperature.

Negative forty degrees celsius. Could be worse, he supposed.

Even with his thermal regulators working overtime underneath his three layers of clothing, he could still feel the merciless chill biting into his skin. It wasn't exactly unexpected. He had spent twenty-six years living in the planet's subzero conditions, so the cold was something he was used to. Not that he enjoyed freezing his ass off, of course. To ask him if he enjoyed the cold was like asking if someone who grew up in a hot environment if they enjoyed getting heatstroke in the sun.

A car sped by, its hoverlift engines keeping it suspended a few feet in the air immediately kicking some snow onto Parker. He cursed, angrily flashing a rather rude signal at the driver. But there was no use getting angry. The sooner he got home, the sooner he could kick back and enjoy his vacation time for the next week. At home, under a heated blanket in a temperature-regulated home. That in his mind, he shook off clumps of snow off his clothes and continued his tedious journey home.

[Assistant]
Somewhere

Silvia had no idea what happened, or where she was. What she did know that it was cold, very cold, which made sense considering appeared to be caught in the middle of a blizzard. There were troubling gaps in her memory, troubling in the way that while she could remember her name, and everything else about herself, this of course meant she didn't have amnesia... just after a certain point her memory simply went blank.

In the moment however she had more important priorities, the very top one being a basic desire to not die. Her clothing was horribly ill suited for the weather, hell she could already feel her fingers and grow numb after standing there for a minute at most. At least she were wearing boots, so that was a silver lining despite how insignificant it really was in the bigger picture.

After looking around trying to locate any kind of landmark, just something to help her figure out where she was, or even better a place she could take shelter. Her eyes strained against the snow, but she was able see what appeared to be a lit silhouettes of some structures, though she definitely couldn't tell more than that. She reasoned these buildings had to be quite far away, yet she would rather take her chances instead of laying down to die in the snow. With her arms held close to her body in a meager attempt to preserve body heat, Silvia slowly started to make her way to what she hoped was shelter, fighting the snow and wind along the way.

[User]
Parker continued to trudge through the snow, which had gotten ankle-deep by this point, grumbling and cursing all the way. His home was less than a kilometre away, but at this rate, it'd take him much longer than the usual five or so minutes it normally took. He could have taken his car to work, on hitched a ride on a bus, but noooooo, he decided to actually get out and walk to work. Admittedly, the day was bright and clear in the morning, with the frozen icicles hanging off tree branches glistening in the sun. He enjoyed those sights, and maybe he did enjoy that morning stroll through city park.

The wind howled, and Parker's cap was almost blown off his head. He yelped as he swiftly snatched it from the air and tightened it. He stared up towards the sky. The winds were picking up, and the blizzard was getting more severe. Not a good thing. He didn't want to experience a whiteout again. Checking his holotool once more, he noted that the temperature had fallen by one degree. He shivered. He honestly hoped it wouldn't drop to negative sixty this year. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, he picked up his pace.

Just then, someone stumbled out of the snow-covered forest, appearing cold and confused. Parker couldn't make out who it was, but the person clearly needed help. He made his way towards the person. Nearing the person, Parker noticed that it was a woman who seemed to be in her early twenties. His eyes widened slightly when he saw what she was wearing. She was wearing a thin, sleeveless dress, which had slits in the sides that revealed her admittedly shapely legs, and a pair of knee-high boots.

Clothes horrifically unsuited for the cold. Did she have a death wish or something?

Still, she clearly needed help, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to preserve body heat. Parker approached her slowly. "Hey!" He called over the sound of the wind. "Do you need some help?"

[Assistant]
Silvia's attention was quite suddenly drawn to a nearby voice, although at first she wasn't sure if anyone was there given the harsh conditions. At this point she was seriously shivering after only a few minutes of exposure, which meant she wasn't in any condition to fight if things were to go south. The man in question was difficult to make out despite how close they stood to each other, yet he had a distinctly odd air to him. Perhaps it was the cold getting to her.

She attempted to open her mouth to speak, but was then abruptly interrupted by a heavy gust of wind which was almost enough to completely knock her down. Silvia after regaining her footing tried to talk again, however she couldn't muster the energy to form any words, not when her entire body so mind numbingly cold. Instead she nodded her head, hoping that the stranger could see her well enough.

[User]
Parker could see the woman in question open her mouth to say something, but no words came out. "What? I can't hear you. Speak up!" He called. A strong gust of wind suddenly blew through the area, forcing him to take a step back to avoid falling. The woman, however, seemed to be hit the hardest. She almost fell, but thankfully managed to regain his footing. "Whoa there!" Parker rushed to steady her, instinctively putting his arm around her shoulder. "You lost?" He asked, looking her in the eyes. Then he noticed that she had purple eyes. Odd, but not exactly uncommon. "Uh, where do you live? I can take you home."

His holotool beeped, and he spared it a glance. By now, temperatures had already dropped to below forty-four. That wasn't good. He couldn't risk standing out in the open for any longer, and it seemed like the woman was showing the first signs of hypothermia. "Shit." His breath turned to mist as snow continued to pelt them both. He had to get her someplace warm. Parker turned back to her. "The weather's getting too cold. I hope you wouldn't mind coming home with me." He slowly began to guide her in the direction of his home, fighting the wind with each step.

[Assistant]
Silvia offered no resistance as the man guided her along, not that she could do a thing if she wanted. Besides while in a dangerous, undoubtedly fatal situation she wasn't about to turn down the help unless she truly had a death wish. Now that she was closer to the man she was able to get a better idea of his appearance, which was odd to put it a way. The fabric of this coat was foreign, well actually that was the case for his entire garb, he did however look prepared for arctic climates so he had to be a local of some kind. His looks were about average, far from ugly but nothing remarkable to be frank. Above all else, he wanted to help and she intended to capitalize on that.

Her shivering only worsened as they continued to shuffle along, her hands were fully numb and probably frostbit far as she could tell, in fact her entire body was starting to truly feel the effects of the cold. Quite suddenly, Silvia lost her footing and fell to the ground despite the man's assistance as her legs had given out completely, the freezing conditions finally sapped most of her energy. She was still conscious, but barely so.

[User]
"Whoa!" Parker cried as the girl lost her footing and fell to the ground. He bent down to help her up. "You okay?" He asked. Then he noticed that she was shivering madly. Her lips were beginning to turn blue, too. While she was still conscious, it seemed as if she was going to pass out any minute. He had to do something. Quick. Cursing his luck, Parker scooped her from the ground into a bridal carry, before sprinting off. His boots provided enough grip as to not slip and fall, potentially injuring them both.

Parker kept running, quietly thankful that there wasn't anyone else around on the street who would notice this, probably getting the wrong ideas. He would've died on the spot if that happened. He shook those thoughts from his mind, though, too focused on making his way back home, his face feeling the effect of cold. Finally, the sight of his family home became clear, and he swiftly turned and ran up the driveway. He shifted the girl's weight to his right arm, noting how light she was. Then, he tapped his holotool against the security console.

The maglocks on the door immediately deactivated, and the door slid open with a hiss. He entered, greeted with a gust of warmer air. He was never so thankful he had the foresight to set the building's temperature regulator to a comfortable twenty-four degrees before be left. The door closed behind him, finally leaving them in warm shelter.

Parker gently laid the girl down on a couch in the living room, recalling his many, many lessons on how to treat hypothermia. It was one of the most important things growing up on a cold planet, after all. He considered himself lucky to not he an inhabitant of actual frozen planets like Hiemal or Stolitsa. Conditions there were subzero all the time, unlike here on Cascade, where there were at least five seasons.

The continent of Brittia was currently experiencing its second winter, where conditions were much more brutal than its first. During the first winter, temperatures rarely dropped below negative twenty. During the second, temperatures always dropped below negative twenty.

Moving the couch closer to a heating unit mounted to the wall and a vent on the floor, he made sure to increase the temperature of those two. Then, he sprinted upstairs and pulled out a spare blanket from a closet, making his way downstairs and spreading it over her. That done, he sighed and walked over to the kitchen and poured a glass of warm water, before walking back to the living room and pulling out a chair. He sat down and shifted towards the girl. "Here," He said. "Drink this. It'll warm you up. Can you tell me your name, please?"

[Assistant]
The next series of events were nothing but a blur to Silvia, who was still awake fortunately enough. Before she truly realized it she was lying down covered with a blanket and was definitely indoors. It seemed the man knew exactly how to treat hypothermia, something that the woman never dreamed she would have to deal with, but she survived her brush with it. Her head rolled to the side to look at the glass of water, and after a moment sat up to take it. To take a drink from a stranger in other situations might not be recommended, yet she figured since he went through the effort of saving her life that she wasn't in any danger, besides she wasn't the paranoid type either.

Silvia took a sip from the glass, not quite enjoying the taste of warm water if she were to be honest, still she needed to warm up. "Silvia." She eventually responded to his question and gave the glass back with a nod. She then fell back onto the couch, after which she gave a long drawn out sigh. "What about you? Got a name?"

[User]
"Yeah," Parker nodded. "I'm Parker." He introduced, taking the empty glass and placing it on the coffee table. "So, what were you doing wandering around outside in minus forty-four degrees?" He asked, standing up and unzipping his jacket before taking it off, revealing his plain red hoodie which he also unzipped, showing a white tee shirt with the logo of the Damascus Robotics Research Corporation, the company which he worked for as a technician. He repaired broken machinery and fixed technical issues. Working there had offered him a fairly modest salary of fifty thousand credits a year. More than enough to pay his bills.

"I don't mean to be rude, but what are you wearing?" He asked, gesturing to Silvia's choice of wear as he sat down. It looked like clothing someone would wear during the summer or something. "Why aren't you wearing... you know, something for the cold?"


[System]
"Eh, maybe later.."

Basics
Race:
Tothum.

Gender:
Female.

Age:
23.

Additional Info
Personality:
Atlas' main trait would be apathetic. That goes for her looks, others' looks, things going around her, or just in general. As handy as this could be for saving your feelings from getting hurt, it doesn't help when she has to make choices. Usually, she's a go with the flow type of gal, but this can be a pain when she's given options. Especially about her future, where her indecisiveness makes it hard for her to even have the slightest idea on what she wants to do.

Matched with her uncaring attitude is her laziness. It takes a lot of convincing to get her to do something. Your best bet to get her to do something would be offering her something food related. But even then, she's pretty reluctant to do something that she doesn't want to. Most of the time, she prefers dozing in the shade for a couple hours. If something requires hard labor, you can most certainly count her out despite that being one of the only things she's really good at.

She is passive towards people, not wanting to be on sides other than her own. Atlas isn't much of a people's person, and can be a bit uncomfortable when around people for long periods of time. Given her reclusiveness, she can be rather socially awkward, so she doesn't talk much as she has no idea what to say most of the time. Sh

Something that must be pointed out would be that although she doesn't care about most things, she does indeed care about the well being of others over herself. Following the stereotypical gentle giant, she likes to watch out for others, which explains her companionship with her little Neth friend, Rykiar.

Appearance:
Atlas, being rightfully named, is quite tall and has an almost intimidating size. Being from the chilly Toth region, one must put a bit of bulk on, which explains her being on the more heavier side. She appears more akin to that of a bull rather than possessing more of a feminine figure of most lady Tothum. This doesn't bother her, however, despite often being mistaken for a male. With snow comes thick fur, her own being a shaggy blue-gray, aside from her whiskered snout and stomach which are a lighter gray.

Being a Tothum, Atlas has dark gray hooves, perfect for not losing your toes to frostbite up north. Along with her hooves are a pair of horns, usually kept short and rounded off when her transformation magic isn't in play. Noticeably, above her warm brown eyes are thick eyebrow markings, giving her a rather angry appearance.

As for clothes, she tends to keep it simple. She wears a parka like top over a plain tunic as well a pair of short pants that cut off at her haunches. Atlas tends to dress rather lightly due to her heavy fur that makes her overheat easily.

Height:
7'3 ft.

Weight:
250 lbs.

Fight related
Magic:
Transformation.

Class:
Wanderlusty Nomad

Weapons/Items:
Has a knapsack she carries with her that has supplies like food, basic medicinal herbs, and most likely a few of Rykiar's belongings.

Strengths:
-Good at being on the defensive, be it taking a beating, or protecting others, she can stand being in the front lines and having others hide behind her as she takes the blunt of the attack.

-Pretty strong, be it for fighting or carrying something heavy, she's the one to go to.

Weaknesses:
-Is on the slow side, no thanks to her laziness or even her large size. This also includes in battle, as she takes her time making attacks, often waiting for the perfect time, but it could be a mistake on her part and not being quick enough.

-She's also rather easily tired, usually after using her magic abilities enough exhausts her and is down for the count.

-Her attitude and carefree ways can hinder her to not care in dire situations, or even make her own choices that may not be necessarily right.

-Overheats easily, and is often sluggish in warmer weather. Fire elemental magic is a big no-no for her.

Techniques:
Atlas heavily relies on her transformation magic, using it to overpower her enemy, or mostly just to flee. She will alter her body whatever it calls for the situation, such as:

* Tougher skin/scaly plates for defense
* Sharp claws/fangs/horns
* Wings
* Growth in size and strength

But as mentioned, all these alterations, especially when combined, will tucker her out pretty easily. As a result, Atlas will only really use magic when the moment calls for it.

Flavor:
Theme Song:
Come on you hermit, you never fight back

[User]
Zack had excused himself from the company of his three brothers to wander around the city for a while. Helpfully he was able to procure from Ezekiel a hooded jacket with which to conceal himself, although it was a tight fit on the far larger coyote. "Well," Zack had thought to himself as he winced in the constricting hood, "At least it's not the sack I was wearing over my head on the way into the city."

The farmer Zack had acquired that sack from was pretty pleased with the arrangement, ultimately. As it had turned out, he had long ago received a curse from Zack himself: he was hexed in such a way that if he tried to say the word "fish", he could only do so backwards. When Zack, unfazed by the farmer's yelling and threats, agreed to at last reverse this curse in exchange for a simple potato sack, the farmer was at first stunned, and then overwhelmed with joy. The farmer couldn't believe his luck! And so it was that Gort Symons, lah'na farmer, could after so long order his favorite foodstuff with minimal embarrassment. When he broke the news to his family, they were overcome with tears of joy. Zack couldn't for the life of him remember what the farmer had even done to earn his ire in the first place, but at least he had got a potato sack out of it several years on. The eye slits he had to leave with his teeth; as he learned, the blunt head and butt of his staff didn't quite do the trick.

And so Zack wandered the streets, looking inconspicuously conspicuous. People who saw his overly tightly bound hood mostly just assumed him a member of some obscure religious order most masochistic. It certainly beat self-flagellation as a practice, and was at the very least much easier for parents to explain to their children. You also don't need to cover a child's eyes from a man wearing overly tight clothing, usually; you always had to do this when a shirtless man came by, lashing himself. Unless if the child had a particularly strange upbringing, but maybe that's not for me to judge.

Zack had no destination in mind, it was simply just refreshing to be able to walk among actual crowds of people again. He had spent many months out in the woods, just like the fairytales said he does. From time to time he had even bumped into the children who had gone out on dares to find "Cackling Zack's Shack", or whatever it was his supposed abode was called in their imaginations. Zack merely took amusement at these visitors, although they were arguably his most consistent contact with anything but wildlife during those months of isolation. To keep up appearances, he would often threaten and scare the children away, although he had never actually cursed any he could recall. But if the threat was enough to do it, was following through with the actual action that needed?

He glanced up at the sign of an inn with longing. He promised his brothers he wouldn't be out long, but he had not enjoyed the pleasure of a drink for such a long time. As if to assuage his guilty conscience, he began to consider that maybe if he made lodgings here, he wouldn't burden his brothers with having to make space for him in their already cramped house. This was enough to spur him to wander in.

"Hail, inkeeper. Some mead, please!" said Zack merrily as he rifled through his pockets for some coin.

[Assistant]
Nile slid next to the coyote gracefully and with practiced ease, flipping a coin between her fingers and spinning it casually on the tabletop. "Two." was all she said and at the sound of coin clattering on wood the innkeeper quickly snatched it up and nodded, returning in moments with two mugs filled to the brim with foaming mead. Nile gave the coyote a not at all subtle searching glance, "Those clothes are rather tight for a caster aren't they?" she murmured to herself as she examined his body and paused a moment. Her hand reached out and a single finger curled around his scarf for a moment, "Maybe they could do with some loosening, especially if you're anything like your staff." She said with a wily grin then turned back towards her drink and swigged it, easily taking half the large container in a single gulp.

Nile would've taken the coins she'd felt in his bottom right coat pocket if she'd felt the need to but she wasn't strapped on cash right now and she hadn't even played here yet. From the guilty look on his face as he'd walked in he'd come here for a rare, but much needed splurge, perhaps she could convince him to splurge just a little more. Drunk people were always fun to watch. Lordy he was a tall one though, nearly two feet taller then herself, though that wasn't that much of a surprise in it of itself. He was obviously either a religious person of some sort, some sort of magic user, or both. She had fun playing with those religious folks and she found those with magic often made for the most exciting tales.

[User]
"I hate being in Shava'ren, All these Ravens, you have feeling that they will steal something when you don't watch them".
Varm was in Tarner, a coastal port located in the North of Shava'ren, he was going to g
et on the first ship sailing to Lahria. He was Travelling to meet his friend, a Lah'na named Reker, an innkeeper in one of the cities. His tavern was called "White sword", where he planned to go, Varm have a deal designed to bring him some money. Varm had a rare item whose name could not be divulged and that is why so much afraid of being robbed.

After eating a meal in the coastal tavern he decided to look around for ship. One of them called "Black Rose" had planned to travel to Lahria. The Captain was Rakonai.

"Hi, may I go on a journey together with you? I have to be in Lahria in four days."
The captain was not too nice,
"you can sail with us, however you will need to pay".
"I don't have too much money but I have to go along with you, so I'll pay."

After the transaction, Varm went back to the tavern to pack. "The ship sets off in an hour, so I advise you to hurry up"  Captain yelled. An hour later, the ship was already on the waves, carried by sea to Lahria.

[Assistant]
The two companions had found their room with ease. It was rather small, but did hold two beds that Atlas could actually fit on. This was a whole lot better than their usual accommodations of the cold hard ground. Atlas got comfortable, throwing her bag to the side, she collapsed on the bed with a content sigh. The jingle of her coin pouch sounded as she had laid down, and the Toth couldn't help but feel a little guilty. About the whole stealing thing they did earlier as well lying to the innkeeper about their situation. However all her grumbling into the mattress had easily faded when a knock had sounded on their door, indicating the food was there.

Atlas nearly flew to the door, a small cart held plates of many various dishes, fit for both of their tastes. Atlas gave a coin as a tip before wheeling in the cart between the two beds excitedly. The last thing she remembered eating was a rather suspicious mushroom Rykiar dared her to consume. All she recalled was waking up three days later even more hungry than before. At least their suffering had all paid off as the Tothum took her first bite. She wanted to cry tears of joy, it was just that delicious. Or rather they were so starved anything tasted good. Either way, this could have been described as the best moment of her rather uneventful life.

They ate quietly, the sounds of the town filled the room from the open window as a relaxing background noise. Avisthelm was certainly a nice place, or a dump. She really had no clue, having not been to enough towns for references. Either way, Atlas wouldn't mind staying here a bit longer if possible.

The cow turned on her bed, munching still on a piece of freshly baked bread, to look out the window. As diverse as the town may be, there was an excess of Lah'na in the town. Atlas of course had no trouble with this, her upbringing taught her to look beyond race, but she couldn't help but wonder if this town was more accepting than the last one they were at. Of course, traveling with a Neth made it easy in this land, she did recall some poor Shael being denied a room at an inn in a Neth run town before. All in all, she was more than grateful that her own race never seemed to have problems.

Distractedly, she reached for her mug for a drink, only to realize she was all out. Atlas looked over at Rykiar's own drink to see it was also empty. They had a brief stare down, both wanting the other to get more. The mouse of course won, in victory he laid down, pretending to be asleep to make sure the Toth would fetch the beverages. With a playful snort, Atlas got up, the mugs clinking as she made her way out and down the stairs. Hooves clunking on the wooden stairs, she realized it was more busy than when they first arrived.

She shuffled toward the bar, placing the mugs up for a refill. She reached in her pouch to pull out a couple of coins. With a brief smile at the innkeeper, Atlas waited patiently, standing off to the side from the two seated nearby. She looked around at the little knickknacks that decorated the room, just wanting to go back to her room. Her and Rykiar still needed to discuss plans for the next day, or at least after a good nap.


[System]
Age: 23
Race: Breton - although one can see a touch of Nord, from her Father's side.
Class: Rogue
Appearance: Standing at a height of about 5'5, with a slim and lithe body, Roze has the perfect figure for being quiet and sneaky. Her disarming grin and sweet dimpled cheeks often make others underestimate her, along with her warm, honey coloured eyes. She has a thick mane of black curls reaching nearly her mid-back, that she more often than not just ties up and stuffs into a hood when it misbehaves - which is always.

Personality: Easy-going and naturally sweet, she can make a witty quip about pretty much anything and is quick to tease to lighten the atmosphere. However, she can turn bitter when people treat her badly, and her anger is something that you do not want to face, even with a sword in your hand. Other than that, she has an unwavering loyalty for those she cares about, and is quick to stand up for the down-trodden and discriminated.

Bio: Roze's story is rather simple, yet tragic one. Ever since she was a young girl, hearing stories about the various adventurers while living in Cyrodiil, she wanted to join their ranks immediately. However, her life didn't go particularly as she had planned. Starting off in life in a small village just north of Bruma in Cyrodiil, adventure seemed unlikely. Her community were no more than farmers, the strongest man there being a Redguard blacksmith; who was getting on his years. A man kinder than his dour exterior showed, he gifted Rozalia a small steel dagger when she but four years old. Little did she know at that time how much she would come to rely on it.
The Great War hadn't affected their small village all that much - Rozalia not even aware of it, due to her being born 3 years after the Concordat was signed. However, that all changed when a group of Thalmor came their way; one of the groups that had fought in Hammerfell and lingered in Cyrodiil, they passed through their village on the their way to Skyrim. However, seeing the sole Redguard in the village brought back sour memories for the group of Aldmeri Dominion warriors, and they issued an unwarranted search, spewing some nonsense that they had received intelligence of outlawed Talos Worship. As many in the village were Nords - such as Rozalia's father - Talos symbols and shrines remained, and were found. Being only simple farm-hands, they had no defense against the Thalmor that slaughtered their entire village and razed the houses to the ground. Rozalia only escaped thanks to that old Redguard blacksmith, who had been determined to save the only child of the village. He was shot in the back with an arrow as she fled into the icy wilderness, tears freezing on her face as she left behind the corpses of everyone she knew and loved, the last words of the Redguard still in her mind:
"Don't look back. Don't forget."
She made her way to Bruma, avoiding neighbouring villages in case Thalmor lingered there - even at four years old, she was a quick thinker. As soon as she reached the gates of Bruma, the various beggars dotted around the city quickly took her under their wing. Thankfully, she had some pretty quick street-smarts, and was able to avoid trouble while living on the streets with various other orphans and veterans of the war. For 19 years, she stayed on the streets - travelling to various cities, and eventually coming into contact with the Thieves Guild in the Imperial City. Although not actually joining them, they offered her basic training on how to defend herself - that old steel dagger she had received years ago had saved her life plenty of times; either from drug addicts, fellow pickpockets, or men who got far too personal. But she knew she needed something better if she were to get anywhere in life.
Naturally talented with a bow, it was her favoured weapon - it was quick, quiet, and gave plenty of ranged shots. However, in order for the training to occur, the Guild wanted one thing - she had to steal the bow, and the arrows. Now, that was child's play for her - picking the most isolated armoury in the city was no problem, nor was picking the locks and getting away with ease. So, this way she received training, including the basics of swordplay and parrying, etc.
When the word of dragons got to her, she made the decision to travel to Skyrim and help fight - ''borrowing'' some armour and weapons along her way, from some very unsuspecting - and no doubt furious - travelling merchants. After all, she could look after herself, both in the streets and in the wilds. She also knew that the Thalmor were prevalent in Skyrim, thanks to the uprisal of the Stormcloaks. She never fails to recall those last words of the Redguard Blacksmith. She didn't look back, that was true.
But nor did she forget.

Equipment: A fairly battered - but strong - set of leather armour, enchanted with a chameleon illusion, along with a leather mages hood, which gives her a boost in health. Also has a twin set of ebony daggers, found during one of her silent plunderings of giant camps. Also has a hunting bow, given by the Guild.
She also carries with her at all times the old steel dagger - not used much, but still looked after - and an Amulet of Mara that always hangs around her neck, which belonged to her Mother. A man tried to steal it once. He didn't see daylight again.

Other: Has a great love for music, and although tempted to join the Bard's College, couldn't simply be done with the cattiness of the other Bards and the endless chores one must do to learn how to play a drum. However, the Thieve's Guild of Skyrim has interested her - although it seemed almost unwise to make that big a commitment when she was younger, she has a better feeling about this.

[User]
"The little lass and Saxhleel are right."

Rawlith voice spoke up again after the duo of males finished there introductions. He was smiling, in the manner that the feline-folk do with their jowls and beast expression. He released his once again crossed arms and stood moving to the map Delphine left for the group while pointing to Kynesgrove. He then looked at everyone, his orbs shining lightly in the torchlight of the room while they flickered with the vibrant flakes that allowed him his low-light vision.

"They speak like this one, they redirect the same point as this one did. We are not hear to vouch for our powers, we are not hear to herald our tales of great necromancy and spell-bound achievements. No matter our opinions, no matter our feelings, no matter our weaknesses, we are all heading to Kynesgrove. Delphine made that clear, and this one respects the ideal of introducing ourselves, but such does not require such trivial quarreling, and ranting of one's status and power. Now, Delphine also said we would split up after Kynesgrove.." He let his sentence sit a moment while he examined the marked locations and found the one he was looking for in Whiterun Hold. "This one has been to one already, he found it while taking his steps towards another endeavor. This one will want to travel to this one after Kynesgrove." He stated while looking about the room. "This one did not mean to so boldly insert himself earlier with the roar, but this one feels it was necessary to bring an end to the foolery. This one would like to introduce himself, He is Rawlith-Dar. This one is a skilled wearer of medium armor, Bonemold to be specific. He also wields bonemold axes, he favors then over other weapons. This one has trained to be both strong, and agile. This one is Cathay, a sub-species of Khajiit with both a grand strength and grand agility." He stated to the people.

"This one hopes you will accept him as his own tribe had, this journey will certainly require us to all come together." He added while he left the map and returned to place himself against the back wall, going quiet again as if he hadn't even spoken to them.

[Assistant]
Dreet-Na continued to listen, fortunately the heated situation was seeming to resolve itself as others of the group spoke of cooperation before the nord who had spoken earlier followed the red-eyed one's lead and introduced his strengths, followed by his imperial companion who introduced himself as Leonidas. Making another note in his book about the pair Dreet-Na turned his attention to the Khajiit as he spoke, making note that he had referred to him as a Saxhleel rather than Argonian.*'Perhaps this Khajiit is more intellectually inclined than those I have met before'*he thought to himself briefly, somewhat impressed that he had used the Jel word for Argonian.

The Khajiit proceeded to speak further, adding more weight to his point before turning his attention to the map. He spoke of his intention to head to one of the markers that was located somewhere near Whiterun, stating that he had already stumbled upon it. Questions sprung into Dreet-Na's mind, curious about what he had discovered on his previous visit, but before he could ask the Khajiit began to apologise for his ear-splitting outburst earlier before introducing himself. His name was Rawlith-Dar and he seemed to be primarily a warrior of sorts, though his choice of weapon and armour were exotic – Dreet-Na having not heard of Bonemold being used outside of Morrowind. Distracted for a moment Dreet-Na remembered the Dunmer folk law legend he had once read about the creation of Bonemold armour, it being accredited to a noble lord by the name of Arslic Oan who was granted a castle and land by his king, but after building a stronghold and settling down with his many slaves they fell under attack from a tribe of cannibalistic nords who began attacking Arslic's slaves in the fields. The nords allegedly grew bolder, until they held the very stronghold itself under siege. After several failed attempts at sending his slaves to fetch water from a river, Arslic asked his armorer, Gorkith, to forge an armour sturdier than leather but lighter than metal. Bonemold armor was the apparent answer and although seventeen of his slaves were killed and eaten in the subsequent attempt, one made it back with a jar of water. Dreet-Na suppressed the urge to share the tale, knowing that there were far more important matters at hand than the origins of Rawlith-Dar's armour of choice.

**"This one is Cathay, a sub-species of Khajiit with both a grand strength and grand agility"**explained Rawlith-Dar, again peaking Dreet-Na's curiosity, as he knew that there were allegedly several sub-species of Khajiit, however up until now he had remained intentionally ignorant of any knowledge regarding this – due to his dislike of the race as a whole.

**"This one hopes you will accept him as his own tribe had, this journey will certainly require us to all come together."**Finished the Khajiit before returning to his place against the back wall.

Dreet-Na considered what he had heard and the manner this Khajiit held himself, again finding himself more curious than he would have thought. He had not found Rawlith-Dar's speech as frustrating and foolish as he had that of other Khajiits, usually finding great annoyance at their habit of referring to themselves in the third person or as 'this one', and so made a mental note to try and keep his prejudice in check for the moment – at least where Rawlith-Dar was concerned.

Taking the brief lull in conversation as his opportunity Dreet-Na cleared his throat again before he spoke "As I have said, I am a scholar first, and so I would suppose that my primary talent is within knowledge. However I am most proficient with the schools of Restoration, Alteration and what was formerly known as Mysticism. I have skills in the other schools but have not focused upon them as thoroughly. I cannot enchant items and I have only little skill in Alchemy."

He finished as quickly as he had started, turning his gaze to the next of the companions expectantly as he once more lit his pipe, his quill poised ready above the book.

[User]
Rozalia was silent as the introductions went around the room, the tension considerably lighter. Huh. That Niko guy was pretty good with words. As the Argonian began his introduction, she wondered idly what she herself would say. A thief? No, she needed to make herself sound more impressive than that. She was an expert sneak, but again, not really a useful thing to have for hunting down dragons. Lock-picking, pick-pocketing, speech... those were her fortes. But nothing useful against a dragon.
*Well,*She thought to herself.*Looks like I'm going to have to dig into the ol' bag of horseshit for this.*
Sitting up straighter - although not standing - she gave the room a half-smile.
"Well, I'm Rozalia. As you've obviously already noticed, I'm a rogue - most can't see me when I get into the shadows," she darted a sly glare at Vincent, who hadn't spoken much more after dropping the helmet - ", but I'm an all round good at everything sort of girl." She said, then paused, realizing that had sounded pretty big-headed. "Well, what I mean is I'm good with my blades, I'm good - no, pretty good - with my bow, and my Breton blood gives me a good foothold when it comes to magic." She finished, not bothering to mention that despite her Breton blood, she didn't really partake in magic. Oh, boy. She was gonna have to work on that one. "And, I'm an excellent people person. I can talk my way out of anything." She added with a roguish grin, not mentioning the incident with her new vampire friend, and praying he wouldn't either. Never before had first impressions mattered so much.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Class: Sanctioned Psyker

Psyker Power
Divination & Telekinesis are her main fields of psychic talent, but she also possesses two other abilities such as Smite and Storm of Lightning, as well as a rudimentary form of mental communication. Does not possess any noteworthy healing abilities, and she is just as likely to send someone to the warp as she is to heal a minor scratch.

Appearance:
5.8ft tall, pale skin and snow white hair. Sturdy and heavy frame, but still retains her feminine figure despite adhering to a strict physical training regime.

The base of her outfit consist of a simple yet elastic skin tight jumpsuit in dark brown color that is capable of withstanding the vacuum of space as well as provide a decent protection against the elements, though offers little protection versus physical threats. Overlayed on top is a series of armaplas plates that form a chestguard, cuisses, knee-high boots, shoulderpads and gloves stretching back and up to her elbows where they form into a sharp point. They offer good locational protection, especially from the front, but leave her jumpsuit exposed in other places, particularly from her lower back and down to the back of her knees where her boots cover both sides of her ankles. The plates are polished to a light gray color, and almost look like silver. The surface is covered with a series of intricate design and artwork in typical imperial fashion, featuring numerous flutes and ridges across the plates, as well as a couple skull imprints. Above her armor she wears a satin blue silk cloak that hangs down from the back of her left shoulder, as well as a silk loincloth hanging from the front of her belt of similar color. Thrown sideways around her torso is a series of books and scrolls attached by chain.

Running up along the spine of her chestguard is a refractor field generator built into the plate itself, taking form of a small generator emitting a series of horizontal, blue lights up along the back of the chestplate, and shaped much like a human skeletal spine. When activated, a faint, blue and almost invisible barrier appears around her figure.

Her helmet is made out of the same material as that of her armor, and it takes the form of a gothic plated helmet, with a narrow but wide blue glass visor and a longer neck guard extending out behind her helmet. Two plastic tubes are attached to a rebreather device at the bottom mouth piece of her helmet, that stretch out on each side of her neck and down into a small, highly pressurized air tank built into the back of her chestguard.

Her boots are magnetic, and her entire suit when worn enables her to survive in space, and also provides immunity to most chemical and biological attacks. She carries enough oxygen to last for almost an hour.

Equipment:

Main Weapon: Her primary weapon is a two handed power-weapon in the form of an oversized saber with a sleek blade and an extended handle which doubles as a psyker staff, and adorned with sigils, trinkets, technological gadgets and inscriptions. She often uses her weapon in conjunction with her telekinetic powers to amplify its destructive potential.

"Scylla" [Custom-Built Handgun], .50 caliber, 7 round clip size x 3 carried.

Ceremonial Dagger. In essence, just a normal albeit flashy dagger with an adorned handle. Typically only carried for show, but is sharp enough to slice through unprotected skin with ease, and small enough to be concealed without much problem.

Refractor Field. Description under Appearance.

Servo-Skull: Mostly used to store events, data, recordings and scrolls.

Savior – Saved an influential nobleman by foreseeing his assassination, tossing him out of the way of the sniper's bullet with her telekinetic powers and into a big wedding cake instead.

Guide – Saved a band of arbiters from the underworld of a hive world during an uprising by using her powers of divination to avoid the roaming mobs and gangs and reached safety without incident. Not a single shot was fired during their escape.

Hates Surprises – Accidentally electrocuted and sent three of the arbiters she had saved above to the infirmary when they tried to surprise her with a party later. Being so used to foresee danger before it happens, she is prone to freaking out over minor surprises that eludes her farsight.

Fireteam – During an Ork incursion, she helped a fireteam of six guardsmen hold off a much larger band of orks after their sergeant was injured through using her powers of divination to guide their fire, turning what had been originally green recruits into seemingly crack shots. Any Ork that left its cover was immediately put down from long range, and when they mounted a frenzied charge together, they didn't make it more than halfway across the field to the trenches before they were wiped out by precision fire.

Warpstorm over Mordran V - Adrianne was assigned to aid the planetary imperial garrison with culling a lesser greenskin uprising, assisting local Imperial Guard and Sisters of Battle forces with the purging when a warpstorm suddenly appeared over the otherwise peaceful colony world of Mordran V. Trapped on the planet, Adrianne found herself fighting for survival alongside her imperial guard as Chaos Ships appeared in orbit, and unleashed a ferocious invasion of the planet! Though the warpstorm only lasted for two weeks, by the time it had lifted, Mordran V had been transformed from a lush, promising garden world into a lifeless, daemon-infested hellscape, with most of its original population killed except for a few imperial strongholds that managed to weather the storm. Her experience from Mordran V would change Adrianne for ever. What had been a cautious girl that had stepped onto the planet would instead emerge a seemingly reckless with little to no restraint on her powers!

[User]
Stukov had pretty much finished stapling himself back together, searing the wound shut with some heat tool the emergency medical kit had beforehand to aid the staples in holding his side together, and packed the now lighter medical kit back up. There was a lot going on, far as the former Armsman could fathom, watching another cog boy come rolling up as, unknown to Stukov, the treatment and continued arguing between Sis and Smiles went on just like normal. Far as he could tell, Cog Girl was getting answers, the wounded woman in the armored vehicle, a Taurox or something like that, Stukov was barely familiar with Guard vehicles to begin with since he usually worked on Naval vessels, not Guard gear. He saw some of the stuff doing his rounds before the Inquisition picked him up, but that hardly meant he was knowledgable about any of it in the slightest. Hell, he didn't even know how to drive a vehicle let alone a combat one. It was never something that might be a concern and come up, after all, Armsman were not ground troops. They operated in the confined close quarters of a pitched boarding action. Being able to drive a tank, not terribly useful in the skill list for the Armsman.

But Stukov digressed, mentally, as the situation kept developing independently of his train of thought. Said newcomer cog boy, not Gear Girl to keep things straight in his head, commented on the injured woman that Boss was treating and he grunted as he forced himself onto his feet. Whether the man was here to help, or not, was irrelevant. Right now? They needed to stitch that woman up to a degree she wouldn't go and die at. Which meant they needed actual trained medical personelle, not his ever so caviler medical solutions or more painkillers, even if the latter of the two made it far easier for the injured in question to not lay around groaning in pain if they were so drugged up they could taste color. Stukov was on his feet as he made his way over to the newcomer Cog Boy and where the injured was, going on about Boss having sent her on some sort of damned mission or another. Well, he really couldn't comment on that, so combat training kicked in. Treating field injured personnel took decisive action, and the owman was probably in all sorts of shock from blood loss right now, painkillers dulling her senses and reactions further aside.

"Alright, questions as to who you are later Cogboy, stabilizing is first priority. Boss, probably not a good idea to move her until she is stable and the extent of her injuries is at least reasonably known. Alright Scarlet, yes that is your nickname now, questions later. Right now, need you to stay still and not agitate any injuries further with unnecessary movement. The amount of drugs in your system right now probably dulls how you can feel the extent of the damage, and any agitation movement might cause. Cogboy, you actually trained in medicae work or just know a thing or two about us meatbags?" Stukov was, in the meantime as he talked since he was no medicae and just had basic workings of the medicae field well enough to stitch people together and stabilize them for proper medics to complain about later, building a stretcher arrangement for when it was safe to move the guardswoman he had nicknamed Scarlet, all because of the blood color. Clever him, right? But he was trying to focus everyone present on the task at hand. Preventing casualties from occurring further.

[Assistant]
Lilith quirked an eyebrow. "Of course I put those melta bombs there! I was assigned to demolish that building and the cult inside - nobody thought to tell me of the Inquisition being here! I just sort of happened along Aviza, killed a bunch of guards, et-cetera. Would've been much more convenient if I knew there was artillery support available, I wouldn't have had to sneak around that mansion for days and carry around all those explosives."

She followed his gaze as he glanced at Cath. "Is she…? She looks rather eh…" Lilith trailed off, letting the woman's condition speak for itself.

She turned back to the Inquisitor, "While I'm here, is there anything you need? You seem… rather reason compared to ah, your compatriots, shall we say?"

[User]
Ansiel Hated flying when there wasn't battle waiting for her once she got off. In fact he hated flying all together. But this flight was different from the rest, it was more Boring than the rest. She was all alone on this trip. There was no one to talk to, no one to discuss weapons with,... No one to flirt with. She had found that for the past hour she had just Ben fondling with her armor just to block out the boredom.

After a few more minutes the driver of the Valkyrie she was on turned on the intercom and said "well be landing shortly have your belongings ready. over" and signed off.

Ansiel rose with her duffle bag in hand and her sword carefully wrapped in straps that was slung over her shoulder opened the hatche as they began descending to the ground. "So this is my new station huh, I'd better get used to it" she said to herself taking in the view? "Thanks for the lift" she said over the intercom to the driver as she lept from the Valkyrie as it hovered a few feet off the ground and landed with a thump as she became familiar with her surroundings and began walking to her new HQ.

[Assistant]
Walking outside of the door to her room would be Adrianne, the snow-white haired Psyker now fully dressed in her usual battle gear consisting of a deep brown skin tight jumpsuit overlayed with a set of sectional plates in the form of a chestguard, long gauntlets and knee high boots fashioned in the usual imperial, gothic style. In her hand she carried her slightly bent psyker staff, and perched on her shoulder would be that of a psyber raven, a black feathered cybernetically enhanced raven constantly watching her surroundings through its one red, bionic eye that seemed to be constantly adjusting itself.

"It's probably time to regroup with the rest of the team."

Adrianne thought to herself. However, thoughts of the recent failed arrest attempt at the mansion also ran through her mind. Memories of how she had driven the Inquisitor through an imperial guard blockade at great risk, how she had severely beaten and then left one of their undercover operatives, and recently pissed off Sister Aviza by giving her a new cool tattoo.

Tallying her favors and ills, she was definitely leaning more towards the latter.

"I can leave the scrying for later. Right now I probably ought to generate some goodwill!"

Walking down into the main living room of the apartment, Adrianne would come to find that none of the other members of the team were currently present. Perfect. That gave her time to prepare before they arrived! Picking up speed, she would quickly head over towards the kitchen area, her psyber raven jumping off her shoulder to perch itself ever vigilantly on top of a frock holder. Reaching the kitchen area, she would flick her wrist as the shelves opened themselves up. Using her power of telekinesis, the psyker would quickly begin to prepare a meal, moving large amounts of pots, pans, knives, ingredients with her will alone.

However, she had not gotten more than halfway through the preparation when she suddenly noticed a valkyrie touching down on the pad outside of the apartment. Gazing up to look out through the glass window with her violet eyes, the psyker could see another woman approaching the doors to the apartment. A sister of battle no less.

"Another one?!" Adrianne would mutter to herself as she watched Ansiel approach the apartment, the psyker currently surrounded by at least 12 different knives floating in the air around her, as well as one tomato.


[System]
"Why am I here, you ask? Well, for the adventure of course!"
Nicknames/Title:
 Spell Blade
 The Wandering Scholar

Theme Songs:
 Standard Theme
 Battle Theme

Gender:
 Female

Marital Status:
 --

Age:
 20

Sexuality:
 Pauline

Family Ties:
 --

Class:
 Magus
 There are those who spend their lives poring over ancient tomes and texts, unlocking the power of magic, and there are those who spend their time perfecting the use of individual weapons, becoming masters without equal. The magus is at once a student of both philosophies, blending magical ability and martial prowess into something entirely unique, a discipline in which both spell and steel are used to devastating effect. As she grows in power, the magus unlocks powerful forms of arcana that allow her to merge her talents further, and at the pinnacle of her art, the magus becomes a blur of steel and magic, a force that few foes would dare to stand against.
 Magi spend much of their time traveling the world, learning whatever martial or arcane secrets they can find. They might spend months learning a new sword-fighting style from a master warrior, while simultaneously moonlighting in the local library, poring through tomes of ancient lore. Most who take this path dabble in all sorts of lore, picking up anything that might aid them in their search for perfection.

Weapon Mastery(ies):
 Sword, Tome

Inventory:
 Silver Sword
 Arcthunder
 Vulnerary

Personality:
 Youthful, and full of energy and wonder, Aika feels most at home both at the heart of a battlefield and in the depths of a library. She often might act too immature or optimistic for her companions, but she is a reliable source of knowledge, and a well trusted blade. Doesn't like to talk about her family.

Biography:
 Originally from the icy peaks of Frossbarr, Aika took to the roads in pursuit of great masters of magic and martial arts. Her desire to become a legend in both swordplay and spellcraft has led her across the sandy deserts of Alistaf and the thick jungles of Jotenvarr, stopping only to learn and practice with scholars and soldiers alike.
 It was during her stay in Jotenvarr that she learned that King Alexandro himself requested her by name for her skill. Upon arrival, she happily agreed to take up arms in the royal guard.

[User]
Tybalt Argyris

As they conversed, Tybalt took a seat on the bed across from Hiro, listening intently to his words. Being of noble birth, Tybalt had not had the kind of experience people like Hiro had. He did not get to see the world like they did, he had to learn what it was like to survive on his own, not be brought up in poverty and have survival constantly on his mind.

"Incredible, you used all of the beast you say? Is that where you got your clothing?" He asked, motioning to Hiro's attire, visually shuddering a little bit from the idea of wearing dead animal skins right off the beast. "That sounds like an incredibly difficult life, but the fact that you sit here now is a testament to the amount of drive you truly have. I'm glad your skills let you survive until now, and apparently much more. Boars and stags made good target practice from the sounds of it, comparative to flying horses, even!" He quipped, letting a laugh slip out after his joke. "Then again, I figure squirrels and birds would be much harder to hit...all the more reason to respect such marksmanship. Let me say I would not want to be on the end of your bow."

He glanced to the others, cracking a smile as he saw the merc and the cavalier leering at one another. Rising from his seat, he clapped Hiro on the shoulder and motioned to the others. "Come, let's go meet the other squad while we still have time."

Hoping the archer was following him, the mage briskly strode over to the others, placing a leg on a chair in front of him to boldly announce his arrival into the conversation with Hiro in tow.

"Hello, my new friends!" He spoke to the cavalier, mercenary, and swordsman, a bold grin on his face. "I believe I have not introduced myself. My name is Tybalt. Talented mage, noble on the rise, and easy on the eyes if I do say so myself." He proclaimed to the three. "And what fine gentlemen may I be speaking to?"

[Assistant]
Joan Croce

A woman, dressed in the traditional pink suit of a troubradour, though she wore a short pink and white skirt along with a white cape skirt that reached her knees, made her way towards the dorm where squad Quinque and squad Trignita.

When she arrived and was about to open the door, she noticed the foortprint on it. Her hand twitched back as she raised an eyebrow.

How unsightly, what kind of person would do this? Ruining a fine piece of architecture like this... well, Joan could only reprimand them later on.

The woman opened the door to the dorm, but perhaps her push was a little too strong or the Claude's previous kick had kind of messed up the door, but the door slammed against the wall once she opened it.

"Oh my." She brought a single hand to her mouth as she said so.

That would certainly turn the attention of more than one of her squadmates to her.

Instead of panicking, the noble woman smiled at the other squads and then bowed down, "I hope this evening finds you well. Please, forgive my blunder. I will try not to repeat it in the near future. In any case, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am Joan Croce, and I've been assigned to squad Quinque starting this evening."

The woman quickly introduced herself, and then went on with the question some of them probably wanted to ask, why the hell was she lacking an squad?

"Sadly, I am the sole survivor of squad one. Most of my squadmates rushed in thoughtlessly and were swiftly killed by a flurry of arrows." The noble woman then cupped her cheek as she remembered the events from this morning.

Her eyebrows knitted together as she thought about it.

"If it weren't for my cute Merin, I don't know what I would have done. She dashed forward and dodged all of the arrows, before running over the man we were supposed to fell. I would like all of you to meet her at some point." The girl smiled again and then nodded. "But just look at me, rambling over and over. I am sure my personal circumstances are of little interest to you people. I hope we can get along."

She bowed down again and move on to one of the empty bunks, leaving a bag with her things beside the bed.

[User]
Hiro Anu

Hiro was going to go speak to someone else before hearing a new person enter the room, a new member for squad Quinque too. He heard her speak of her whole squad dying and it was a bit saddening but he knew that she could move on. He moved over and said "Welcome to squad Quinque, I am Hiro Anu. It is sad to hear that your entire squad died, but now you with us! We lost a man as well, so I know a bit of your grief. Be that as it may I hope you find some comfort." Hiro gave Joan a small smile, hoping to make her feel comfortable at the very least.

[Assistant]
Scott Riley

Read my CS if you haven't yet if you want some background info

"This must be the right way..." Scott muttered to himself as he rounded the corner to the hall where his new bunk would be. Remembering his assigned room number, he could make a quick assessment of how far down the hall his room would be based on the number of the room closest to him. And, as he scanned the hall to find his room, he caught the glimpse of a troubadour entering what he determined to be the right room. At least, that's what he thought. He only caught a glimpse of her backside, after all. Then again, the backside was all he needed.

Re-focusing on the task at hand and combing his hand through his short red hair, Scott made his way after her and entered as she was finishing her story. Not soon enough to hear most of it, but from what he could pick up she was at least in a similar position as he; many of the fools once called his teammates had perished in the previous trials, but out of the survivors were a pair that had been separated into different squads, with Scott being one of them. "Perhaps I can break the ice with our shared tragedy," he thought to himself. "Ladies love a sympathetic man in times of need!" If this attempt to swoon another woman went better than his previous one, then perhaps she won't ask to be assigned a different team in the next mission like the other survivor of his squad did.

Finally getting a good look into the room while Hiro introduced himself, he studied each person for just a moment, though spending a moment longer than necessary looking at the troubadour. Then, to his surprise, he encountered a face he had not seen in a while, and yet remembered it as though he had seen it yesterday. "Well, if my eyes don't deceive me! Is that my green-clad companion, Mikhail? What are the odds of that!" he practically shouted as he dropped his baggage next to the door and rushed over to the dour man. Commencing a strong and hardy embrace, the armor they wore made clanks of various pitches that didn't quite seem to blend well together as they pierced the room's already stuffy air. "Tell me, how have your fared so far?"

[User]
Diana

Diana appeared surprised at Pauline's question. "Hugging this tail obviously." she said in a slightly dreamy tone of voice. Then more people came in and a lot of people started talking. The amount of names and people was nearly dizzying. So Diana tuned it out and focused on the ever so soft tail. She was getting sleepy. Diana's stroking slowed incrementally and her eyes shut to the background noise of conversation and the sweet feeling of that tail. In a few more seconds Diana was laying on the bed next to Azi, hands still clutching the tail but finally still.

[Assistant]
Hyakuya

More people were getting in. So all of them were in other squads but then their squadmates met their untimely deaths. And so they've been reassigned to other squads and coincidentally, the ended up in either Squad Trignita or Squad Quinque. Not that Kyakuya was complaining. It seemed that most squads composed of 6 people, like how they originally started, so they were completing their set.

Joan Croce. It was obvious that she was of noble blood, from her dress to her manners. "I had heard that Lord and Lady Croce had a daughter. I never knew that their daughter would dream of joining the army." As someone who had lived in Jotenvarr since the war and then lived in the palace, he had interacted or at least heard of talks about the nobility around here. And his ears were all too familiar with the family name Croce.

"I am Hyakuya, it is a pleasure to meet you Lady Croce. Hm... shall we call you by Joan perhaps? And I look forward to working with you." A troubadour, a healer on horseback one could say. She was needed in their squad and as one could easily see, without a healer, they would end up bleeding like Hyakuya did. He was better now but if they were to be injured in the middle of battle and cannot battle, that would pose a huge problem and thus a healer was needed.

[User]
Mikhail Fuast

Mikhail had been moments away from unloading a rather snarky reply on Claude when he felt something… wrong. It wasn't the overly peppy Joan girl that made his skin crawl with her positive attitude and good manners. That was something that he had spent years growing accustomed to. No, it was more like a dark harbinger of inevitability that was eerily familiar. And then the door opened and everything became clear.

Walking like he owned the place, Scott's arrival was one that left Mikhail awfully conflicted. On one hand, the womanizer was somebody he could count on in a fight. On the other hand though, Scott also had an awful penchant for hu-

"Oof," Mikhail grunted ignobly as the other cavalier brought him into a most unwelcome embrace, which he had no intent on returning. For a man that kept most people at a figurative arm's length at all times, Scott was the one person that made it physically impossible to do so. Mikhail still wasn't sure if hated that wholeheartedly or merely hated it with a note of grudging respect.

"I find myself questioning a great deal of things," he replied, "Such as how a sorry lech like yourself is still in the military, much less a candidate for the royal guard." His words were one part harsh honesty, one part camaraderie. Unfortunately, Mikhail found himself unable to suppress a grin from surfacing, as it was never good to encourage Scott.

"Now while it is good to see you, can you let go? You're causing a scene."

[Assistant] More and more people were joining the squads. A rather brash merc, apparently from Aika's squad, a Myrmidon - not from either of the squads in the room and a Red Knight who immediately struck a conversation with his green and rather depressive counterpart. Was that all? Fredrick was to join Aika's squad, but there still was no one to fill the missing place in their squad. Oh, there she is! An incredibly beautiful and graceful woman in a pink and white outfit entered the room and introduced herself. "Nice to meet you! I think we'll be teammates." - Pauline smiled at Joan. -"I'm Pauline at this ado- ahem, and this lady next to me is Aika." She lowered her voice slightly and turned to her companion - "See, you won't have to introduce yourself for the fifth time. Anyway, Joan, if you'd like, I could introduce you to others. I don't mind!"

[User]
As Diana slowed her pace into a soft slumber, Aika herself calmed down as well, she wasn't at all embarrassed by laughing so much infront of people she barely knew, as she looked around the new faces with the same innocent smile that seemed to be her normal. When Joan introduced herself and Pauline introduced Aika, the cheery blue-eyed girl stood up to give Lady Croce a playful and exaggerated bow before turning to Pauline.

"Ahh," she began with a fake pompous royalty accent. "Many thanks, m'lady." she bowed in similar fashion, and then placed her hand on her chin in wonder. "Hmm, well I don't know about you but I'm getting kinda tired. And I think our next trials are tomorrow... Hopefully people start winding down soon. Either way, I'm gunna get ready for bed." she finished her thought more so directed out loud than to anyone in particular, even though she was sitting infront of Pauline.

With a turn and crawl across her bed, Aika made it to the center of the room before picking up her bag and exiting the quarters.


[System]
Nicknames/alias:None

Age:44

Place of birth & ethnicity:Mobile, Alabama Caucasian

Gender:Female

Occupation:Gunslinger/Solider

She ain't no woman to be trifled with.

Appearance: Lily is a average sized woman standing at five feet and ten inches, weighing a hundred and forty five pounds total. Her hair is shoulder length and dark brown with visible waves in it, matching her dark brown eyes and well tanned skin from being outdoors. She has three blue stripes tattooed onto her left cheek, put on her by the Apache indians when she was captured the stripes showing she was traded for two blankets and a horse; a permanent reminder of her capture.

Clothing: Lily typically wears normal long riding pants made of rough cotton, along with a white button up and a leather black sleeveless vest. With a rough trench coat completing the ensemble and of course a black wide brimmed circular hat.

Personal style: See above

Personality: Lily is a quiet and withdrawn person, not sharing personal details about herself very freely. Her tolerance for Yankee soldiers is quite low and she is quick to jump into a gun fight, though her time in the Confederate Army made her far wiser and more skilled of the gun than the average person. That being said when not being judged or tested Lily is a happy person, content to drink and gamble like anyone else; not afraid of base labor or getting bloody. She is quite fond of children.

Habits: Drinker, smoker

Regular life skills: Coach driver, Observation mapper, hunter, explorer

Combat skills
Sharpshooter - From six shooters to long rifles Lily is a proficient combatant

Close combat - Given a sword or knife Lily is fairly skilled in defeating opponents in close combat

Leader - Having seen war first hand makes Lily hardened to combat enabling her to lead in the heat of battle

Items on your person:
Griswold revolver (x2) - Lily wears a Griswold revolver on each hip, the pistols common amongst Southerners

Hunting knife - A foot and a half single edged steel knife sheathed in the boot

Flask - Not for water

Canteen - For water

Additional stuff:

-Brown pants (x2)

-White button ups (x3)

-Extra socks (x4 pairs)

-Winchester 84 lever action rifle

-Union officer's sword

What brings you to Haylliesburg: Seeking a new life, escaping Union controlled reconstruction in the south

Your life before coming to Haylliesburg: Lily was actually a wife and mother before the Civil War, although her career was the same as ever a tracker and hunter mostly at the time; her husband was an accountant and usually cared for their son at home. However a year before the start of the Civil War Lily's son Abel was taken by the flu, so when the conflict erupted husband and wife both set out to join the fray; leading to Lily cutting most of her hair off and disguising herself as a young teen boy. Not that many men cared who fought beside them as long as they were reliable when the heat was on, so naturally she formed a strong bond with those whom she fought with in the Forth Confederate Infantry. Lily lost her husband in a battle in Virginia over a bridge, the outnumbered southerners holding the structure until it could be destroyed, however Lily's husband had volunteered to set the charges and sacrificed himself after being shot to detonate the black powder being used to destroy the wooden structure. So when the war was said and done Lily had no one left, and she ventured to the west; running protection for wagon trains be they merchant or families striking across the vast nation. It was on one of these escorts that the Apache attacked the train overwhelming the defenders and seizing Lily as a prize, she spent only seven months amongst the Apache escaping one night by killing the sentinel left to guard her and the other captives.

Sample:

Lily sat high upon the back of her spotted heavy stallion, the sun's rays plummeting down onto the woman and her charges. A line of four wagons two with supplies and two with families rolling across the open grassy plains; several other guards rode beside the wagons as well each man carrying a firearm if not several along with those riding shotgun on the wagons they numbered twelve fighters. Suddenly an arrow came whirling across the open air, fired from an especially thick batch of grass; followed by loud yelping and screeching sounds Apache bursting from all around the train. Men fell quickly but began to return fire. Lily whipped her horse around and charged down the line, firing her revolver as she passed the warriors wounding some but missing those out of range. Her horse took an arrow to the neck leading Lily to fight on foot, rushing back to the wagons for some form of cover, the remaining survivors numbering only 6. The Apache quickly overtook the travelers, Lily striking down two more with the long officers blade she carried on her left hip; though she found herself knocked unconscious by a blow from behind. All and all killing over twenty four Apache warriors with only twelve fighters, Lily was stripped of her weapons and tattooed to mark her value in the tribe sold from her original captor to the next rather quickly. Lily spent the next seven months as a slave for the tribe, from menial labors to the heat of the Apache warriors before a battle or hunt, planning her escape the entire time; seeing her chance when the majority of the skilled warriors left the tribe. Headed to attempt an attack on the railroad, this left only a young boy guarding the captives teepee; Lily found a long strip of frayed rope upon the floor and crept behind the teen. Strangling him quickly and quietly before escaping, reclaiming her old weapons on the way out in a risky stealth mission into the chieftains tent which left two of his wives dead by the end.

Sample from previous rp
roleplayerguild.com/posts/3906489/raw

Favorite Western
youtube.com/watch?v=WGBw3zwzqwI

[User]
Erik Torvald Viken

Great. Not only was the woman just about to start a shoot-out in the saloon, regardless of what he and now the others surrounding her told her. Not only was the damned Indian speaking a undechipherable language, Erik swore it was French but he had no actually knowledge of it. Not only was the other man, the one with a whole in his mouth, effectivly pushing him aside even for his sheriff's star.

Oh no, the cheek-holed Southern troll face had the audacity to call him 'Boy'.

"...What did you just call me, rasshøl?"

Erik was about to turn to him, when the others spoke up to either support Erik as sheriff or warn the lady from fighting. One man raised his glass to him, to which Erik gave a quick nod before turning his attention to the problem at hand. The problem was shoved under the carpet for another second, as the Indian got his attention and saying 'Bounty'.

"...What, the one there? Look, I'm just supposed to get back the stolen cattle, not deal with your fordømte bounties, fights, racism and all that møkk! Now please, would you be so nice as to..."

Had he not been cut off by the lady suddenly striking at the Indian fellow, he would have probably tried to calm down and talk the situation back under his control - not that it had been that in the first place. But now Erik's patience was running thin, as he simply turned around and walked over to sit beside the man with the looks of a sailor.

"Faen heller, give me your strongest bourbon...And do not tell me that the sheriff can't drink..."

[Assistant]
Lauren stumbled back, falling onto a chair and being dumped over the back of it. Landing directly on his head, Lauren growled, pulling himself up using a nearby table. He shook his head to clear the pain a bit. Grabbing a large bottle from a nearby table, he flipped it in his hand so that it was upside-down.

"Mefautretourneràlaputequim'aaccouchée putain de merde!" He yelled, running forth and swinging the bottle wildly, stopping just before he reached the woman, where he bared his teeth at her, then throwing the bottle down with all the force he could muster.

He didn't even know if he hit or not when he dropped the bottle and moved to grab a chair, if he hadn't hit, he was wide open, but he was sure he had to hit at a distance so short.

[User]
Lily stumbled as well as her blow knocked the male backwards onto the floor, catching her footing just in time to see him brandishing a bottle as a weapon; as he came in swinging the woman lowered her head and shoulders. Pushing off the wooden floor as she attempted to tackle the man, grabbing at the area behind his knees to assist in toppling the larger opponent; his bottle coming down just below her shoulders shattering glass into her back producing a fair amount of blood through her white shirt and leather vest. Groaning in pain she pushed herself harder, wishing to drive him onto his back on the floor; reaching upwards if she successfully did so her fingers reaching for his long dark hair with the left; her right driving yet more punches towards his floating ribs as she grappled for control.

"Hold! Still ya sum bitch!"

[Assistant]
Albert welcomed the sheriff with a gesture at the stool next to his, and waved to the smirking bartender -- who seemed to be amused by the fight, probably having seen thousands of them -- to give them both a drink. Both the bartender and the shirtless henchman kept close eye on the fighters, waiting to see whose brains they'd have to scrape off the floor that day.

"The bourbon is on me! Thank you, sir," he said, slowly turning in his stool to watch the poor bastards go at each other, but deciding not to interfere as long as they didn't turn upon him. He found his holster undone, wondering whether he'd lost trust in the spear or whether he'd grown more cautious on his travels west. Better safe than sorry. Wet glasses were placed on the polished wooden bar and he could hear the man behind him move a metal bucket with his foot. Water and rugs, for the brain scraping. Will be over soon.

"The owner of this joint must be asleep or away, I reckon, sheriff. Or he is too used to this type of good morning to do anything about it."

The gory scenes were playing before him, bottles and limbs now breaking on each other. A woman putting her back into a bar fight never failed to bewilder him. "I did warn her. Maybe I should have worn him. God damned idiots..." Running his fingers through his hair, he turned away to face the bar and took his shot of the bourbon looking at the reflection of the great white deer skull hanging on the wall above the stairs behind him, the pale thing observing the fight before it like some macabre forest god of the heathens.

He put the glass down and wiped his mouth clean. "Norwegian, I take it? Or Danish? I couldn't quite make it out through all the ruckus. I'd bet on the former: you've that air to you. Marvelous whalers, Norwegians! Some of the best I've seen. Albert, Albert B. White." He put his hand forward for a handshake.

[User]
Jonah was thrown back if only slightly by the woman attacking the large Indian man. He rolled @Vas Khaleen his eyes and moved in front of her and started to push her back. "Miss, I bet his people did some damn near heinous things but this one ain doin a damn thing. Also I'm supposed to be the new sheriff so I'm gonna ask nicely, leave the damn man alone. That's enou-"

Cshhhhhh

For a nice long second he made sweet love to the floor as the Indian bared down on him with a bottle, most likely aimed for the woman. Jonah's eyes fluttered back open and he took notice to the woman now grappling with the man. Now, there could be a simple solution to this, a couple really: Fire off a round and point it at the two and force them outside or try to break it up again and arrest them both. However, neither option came to thought but rather.

"Did you- You damn- COM"ERE GIRANAMO! IMMA TAN YOUR RED HIDE!"@bluetommy2

He felt a lump forming on the back of his head and small pieces of glass sticking out his neck which he managed to pluck out a couple before charging the man and with the help of the woman already holding him, Jonah speared the tall Indian with the woman accompanying the old captain into a group of poker players. Sadly, before they became a part of what would soon be a saloon brawl, Jonah took notice to one of the poker players...A former Union sergeant.

[Assistant]
@Vas Khaleen@bluetommy2

The brawl continued as another man, someone who had been previously speaking to the Confederate woman, tried to stop the brawl. He winced as the Native broke a bottle across the man's back neck as he tried to talk some sense into the woman. What came next caught him completely off guard, however. The native was pulled into the brawl again as the man who just a minute ago had tried to keep the peace began attacking him. Suddenly, they all fell directly towards where Josiah was sitting, and Josiah tried to get out of the way with a cry of with a cry of "Shi-!

Josiah was thrown back when the brawling group fell into the poker table. Standing up, and brushing himself off, Josiah sighed before thinking Well, I guess I'll hafta handle this meself.... Yelling "Oi ya bloody rebel bastards! Leave tha poor man alone! He's jus' tryin ta play a hand o' cards!", he stepped up to the group and began trying to pull the other man back, gripping his arms and saying "Someone get tha lass!" as he attempted to hold the man's arms behind his back.

[User]
The brawl had quickly turned bad for Lauren, who was now facing two angry confederates, one of whom had started grappling with him. He knew from experience that pulling out his knife would be a bad idea, sure it could intimidate or end the fight fast, but the sheriff was right in front of him.

Thankfully, his table partner grabbed the half-faced man, allowing him to focus entirely on the girl. As they wrestled, Lauren noticed her legs were bent and apart to give her extra leverage, it also made her... lower body a target.

Lauren shoved her back a second, re-positioning his leg in preparation, and then shot his foot upwards. A common misconception, he noted, was that women felt a kick in that area less then a man did, however true that might be, it was more than enough to incapacitate an opponent of either gender.

[Assistant] Lily grunted heavily as two of her blows hit their mark, only to find herself kicked in her more personal regions. A kick which sent her rolling off to the males right cursing his life quite audibly, however it wouldn't cease her assault; both pumping with adrenaline and dulled by whiskey. Swaying as she tumbled back to her feet her shoulder hitting the wall beside a dingy thin glass window, a knife sized piece of the broken bottle in her hand; her eyes narrowed towards the male as the entire bar erupted in small brawls over various personal matters. Her own assault of the larger man like throwing a spark into blackpowder of petty issues.