[System]
Marisaya Njalsdottir || 20 || Female
Race
Half-Elf (Silvari and Norgardian)
Appearance
Mari's undoubtedly a little small for a fighter, but moves with the grace and poise of someone who has had thorough training, if not a great deal of experience. She can easily pass for human even if her auburn red hair isn't covering her lightly pointed ears. Her eyes are a bright sea blue-green, and she typically gives off the look of someone still full of life and energy.

She wears light armor, mostly embossed and studded leather that's probably more decorative than it is protective, with a minimum of cobbled-together plate. It's in Mari's interest to stay lightly geared, considering how often she finds herself on open water.
Personality
Mari is fierce, bold, and passionate, and a genuinely good woman at heart. She feels she has a great deal to make up for from her youth, and believes fully that the Daughters of Rán are her way to redemption.

When working Mari is serious, focused, and efficient, and though at times self-doubt can slow her down, she has enough courage to forge ahead even when she suspects she might fail. Recently she has found meaning and purpose in helping others, and will gladly take up a worthy cause even at risk to her own safety or fortune.

In quieter moments, Mari is fully capable of relaxing, unwinding, and sharing a drink and stories. She's not secretive about her past or her feelings, and finds that she connects with and empathizes easily with others.
The Ninth Daughter of Rán

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Background~Aspiring Mercenary Priestess
~Lower Class, Criminal Background
~Daughter of a runaway Silvari noblewoman and a Norgardian smuggler
HistoryMari has romantic origins, the result of a runaway Silvari girl fleeing an arranged marriage and a Norgardian smuggler that left his own homeland behind. She grew up in the Sea of Swords, and there the romance ended. Life as the daughter of a common smuggler was hardly easy, especially one like her father, who found himself in debt to powerful individuals.

At twelve Mari found herself working to help pay off those debts, mostly to a criminal and pirate lord, an Izyrian named Ihsan. She worked for him and his crews, hopping islands and pickpocketing, thieving, spying, and eavesdropping. As she grew, she graduated to more direct assistance, and took some part in piracy and raids. It was all she knew at first, and Mari was talented and adventurous, albeit unsatisfied with the way her life was going.

Everything changed at 18, when she was caught stealing from a woman named Asherah, First of the Daughters of Rán, a small but respected and even feared group of women sellswords. Often known by other names such as Sisters of the Sea or Witches of the Waves or simply the Sirens, the Daughters belonged to the clever and cunning sea-goddess Rán. The gifts she granted her Nine Daughters were not always extraordinary, but it was believed that the presence of a Daughter aboard a ship could well be the difference between a smooth voyage and a death at the hands of a passing leviathan or vicious storm.

When Asherah unexpectedly took a liking to Mari, she felt the Goddess had guided them together. Rán's Daughters always numbered Nine, but recently one had passed, opening a place for Mari if she wanted it. Even knowing she'd be leaving her father on his own, not to mention making an enemy of Ihsan by betraying him, Mari accepted, and began two years of hard training with her new sisters, who protected her while she prepared to join their ranks. She learned slowly and with many mistakes, but learned all the same. The Daughters of Rán offered her a new way forward, one where she could be a better person, while still finding the adventure her heart desired.

Now at the end of her training, Mari faces a rite of passage: venture into the Blackwood, alone, and make her way into the forgotten places with Rán's guidance, to find her hidden temple, a place supposedly only accessible to the Nine Daughters. There she will pray and accept the gifts the Goddess offers, seizing the power she feels she needs to fully make amends for her past.
MotivationMari must find the Hidden Temple of Rán, hidden somewhere in the Blackwood, and complete her initiation into the Daughters of Rán. After that, she can follow where the waters take her, and sell her sword and skills to those she feels need it most.

Witch of the Waves

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|  |
| SkillsMari is a former thief attempting to remake herself as a proper warrior. Her abilities are spread thin between combat, knowledge, and underhanded skills.
Combat [1/1]~Sword and Shield [1]
~Daggers [1]
Intelligence [1/1]~Literacy [1]
~Religion [1]
~Geography [1]
Charisma [1/1]~Diplomacy [2]
Health [1/1]~Cold Resistance [1]
Faculties [1/1]~Resolve [1]
~Perception [1]
Agility [1/1]~Pick Pocket [1]
~Lockpick [1]
~Balance [1]
~Swimming [2]
Mysticism [0/3]

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Equipment~One handed sword
~Wooden round shield
~Two small daggers
~Leather and partial plate armor
~Stitched hide and linen clothes
~Prayer bead necklaces with symbols of Rán
Money~1 Royal
~18 Lordlings
~40 Commons
Languages~Northern Tongue
~Grim Northern
~Bits and pieces of many other tongues |
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[User]
Hearing = 4 + 1 = 5 (Got response from Poohead already)
Charm = 7 + 1 = 8

"See? They wouldn't hurt respectable fellows like ourselves!" Emilio would proudly declare as they were escorted along the path forward. There was some part of him that was glad they no longer had to push the cart along, but also less than happy as the brush was thick and dirtied his outfit. If this was common certainly there was an opportunity to be a washer of clothes right? Wherever there are towns there are royals in need. It was a thought he held aside from wondering what the landscape itself held, and what business was ripe with opportunity.

Truly if people were terrified of coming here there had to be untapped potential. Lumber certainly would be in no short supply, though he'd have to get an arbor's opinion on its qualities. With all the hills there had to be at least a few deposits of ores in the area that had to be of some worth. Perhaps he could work out something with the ferryman if this place itself was lacking in professionals. Paying for their transport at discounted prices in exchange for each man's expertise. Such ambitions would have to wait as they'd have to work up some funds, and certainly get Wēlanandaz a proper forge again at the least.

His theories got disoriented slightly as they finally came out of the thicket and could lay eyes properly on the wall in front of them. Walled in protection was certainly a boon, but it immediately ripped away the idea of a 'town' as he had thought of it before. Space was ever in demand in these places and that certainly could be a hinderance, especially depending on how these folk valued coin. Though all the same it left room for specialty, causing the man's mind to race once more. A few pats on his donkey's head would be a reward for now having helped them make it this far. His eyes would immediately scan inside as the gate lifted, trying to get a scope of Olderin's Refuge.

Immediate of note was the lack of 'buildings' in this section. This was obviously property of the Knights of the Skull, and likely the occupants further inside would have better answers of what service exactly they provided and at what cost. His immediate business thoughts would be set aside however at the eyeing and listening in to the two seemingly 'nobles' of this area. Or at least what passed for nobles. He'd curse silently at the brush that had dirtied his clothes on the way here, as he quickly worked to get what matter of foliage lay stuck to him off. Had he more time he would of changed into his good clothes, but that sort of sight now would be unseemly. He'd have to kick it up a notch with his words to make up for his lackluster appearance was his obvious thought.

"I'll handle this one Wēlanandaz, see if there's anything we can sort out or lock in agreements for. Perhaps they can help us find a place to settle in for the night as well." He would mutter softly to his companion before striding forth, not one to dilly dally and await a reply.

As with everything, he would walk with flair into their view before announcing himself. "Gentlemen gentlemen, please pardon my intrusion into your conversation. I couldn't help but overhear your current woes. Me and my companions-" A hand would give a stroke to the donkey's head. "Are but recent arrivals who wish to cure your worries in what ways we can. I heard some fine men have gone missing? Alas, were I more skilled with my blade I would venture out myself and thrash whatever foul miscreant or miscreation was responsible. What I can offer however is mine and my friend's services. Ah, but let me introduce us so that you might understand."

The Dre Costan would puff out his chest slightly as he made ready to add all the more gestures to the introduction. "Emilio Virtoli, merchant and intellectual of the Dre Costan nation. Behind is my quite capable and sturdy companion Wēlanandaz, skilled smith who knows his way around almost anything you throw at him. Finally, our reliable pack animal Bertillo who carries the burdens of our work." A smile would flash as he happily introduced each of them.

"Alas, I would be more than happy to help ensure ample supply and good steel in fine fashion was of the men's use, but do you know how heavy all the things for a forge are?" His voice seemed to turn quite dramatic, his face and actions following in quick fashion as he certainly exaggerated for effect. "I'm sure my dwarf friend could give you quite the answer, though he'd as quickly call me a weakling for complaining of such as his people are built as mountains!" A laugh was added on as he quickly shifted tone with each line.

"Anyways, not to drag on too much but if you wish something could certainly be arranged I imagine to help render our services."
@JB

[Assistant]
Po gave her a smile in return and held out his hand to shake. If she took it she would feel his hand was strong and callused from some sort of labor. "If Ithaca vouches for you, you're more than welcome honestly. Besides, you have the look of someone who's done their share of traveling. Let me-" Po got up and turned, gnabbing a loose chair from out of the crowd that Mari wouldn't have noticed before from another table.

As he did, Phyrrae sipped her drink languidly. Orek's smile spread at Mari, revealing two golden teeth. "Don't be nervous. We're no' what you might call a daring group of adventurers. Ye'll do just fine."

Phyrrae nearly jumped when Po pointed at Orek, his finger thrusting past her face. "Oh, come on! Mari, this dwarf is the most famous adventurer within four hundred miles. Probably further." Po looked like he was a huge fanboy at that moment, suddenly giving off an air of a wide eyed boy rather than the rakish man he might look when you only get a glimpse of him. For his part, the Dwarf just waved him off, spouting off some small excuse as to why that was just youthful blathering. Ithaca leaned over Mari's shoulder.

"It's true, that Dwarf has been to twice as many places as me in the Blackwood, and we've been here around the same time. Don't let him downplay it."

"If no one will speak of where we are going, then I will!" Boomed Kane. Phyrrae, who was attempting to sip her drink for a third time, flinched and the alcohol sloshed off onto the table. Her eyes flared and shot at Kane, but the Drogotar was already too far into beginning what they came to speak about. "Orek here has told us that he may have found the Forge of Gandelyn the Smith, who wrought the Seven Runic Rings! This is an endeavor worthy of remembrance!"

Po had placed his hands over his ears. It was true the tavern was loud, but being so close to a humanoid so large, it could reverberate one's eardrums quite easily. "Yeah..." He remarked, lowering his hands and blinking. "If even one of those rings is there, it could be significant in over a dozen ways."

[User]
Mari took Po's hand and shook, then accepted the chair he brought over for her, feeling a little more relaxed as each moment passed. They all seemed friendly enough, this group, save for the elf, but she was starting to suspect the woman was like that towards everyone. She smiled at the others singing the dwarf's praises, eventually leaning back in her chair and lifting one leg over the other.

She jumped, however, at the booming voice of Kane, though she ended up laughing nervously a few moments later. "The Forge? Gandelyn the Smith? Seven Runic Rings?" she repeated, looking from one group member to the next. "I'm not familiar, I'm afraid." If she had to guess, it was some sort of dwarven thing. Dwarves weren't all that common in the Sea of Swords, really. The waters often didn't agree with them, as they preferred the bellies of mountains to that of the seas.

"If that significance includes a bit of coin, I'm happy to tag along and help out." It was perhaps the most adventurer job she'd ever had the opportunity to join, the only motivation being the promise of some significant artifact, and the journey requiring a group to delve into forgotten places, full of unknown dangers.

Sounded like fun, really.


[System]
Age: Physically 25
Gender: Female
Race: Elven

Appearance: Juna has in possession great natural beauty, and many men have fallen for her for this reason in the past. She is about 5'2 in height, with green eyes, and not very muscular, with gentle and graceful features. She has fair and clear skin, with golden blonde hair. She usually wears a set of brown leather armor, but in times of comfort she will wear lighter cloth or wool clothing.

Brief Character Concept: Juna, despite her gentle appearances, is far from gentle. She is quick in combat, and surprisingly strong as well. She skillfully wields her sword, and uses her many knives as further support in battle. Her personality, at least on the surface, is that of a carefree, if snarky, individual. She lives a life full of independence, and is known to be loyal to no one except Lothren. She has two true goals in life, and that is to kill Amon Serona and see that Alonso lives out his life peacefully.

History: Juna was born to a pair of normal Elven parents on the border of Areta. She had a normal youth, where she lived as a carefree, youthful spirit, with her childhood friend Ilias. Then she met greatest love of her life, Hadrian, a young human man. They would often play the harp together, and he taught her how to sing. Yet when they had finally grown close, Hadrian succumbed to a sickness that he had long held secret. Hadrian passed away from Juno seemingly as quickly as he had come, and although her heart healed in time, a deep scar would remain in her heart.

She grew close yet again to Ilias, and in time the two of them were to be married. Yet it was not to be, for on the day her wedding was to be held, the Aretan Knights came. Illias and Juna's parents were killed, and only Juna survived. She cried, mourned, and cursed her fate. She remembered the face and the name of the one she saw as most responsible, Amon Serona, and Juna swore to herself that every future day of hers would be dedicated to hunting him down until one of them was dead. Juna, over the years honed her skill in fighting mostly through experience.

She does not hesitate to speak of how she has murdered. Before she was among the Mummers, she was caught in a human village while chasing down Amon. She found herself having a hard time escaping, and she slew a few knights, and a few people who shouldn't have died did die as well. Juna never refers to this event in any detail, only saying that it makes her a murderer. She would not have gotten out alive were it not for Lothren, and for this Juna offered him unflinching loyalty. When she met Lothren, and he offered her a place as one of the Ytharien, Juna was hesitant, but accepted. With her impeccable skill at both the harp and her beautiful singing voice, as well as her personality, Juna was a natural performer, and as the years passed she grew into the role.

[User]
"I'm sure you are," Juna replied to Annara rude and uncalled for comment.

She had apparently taken it quite seriously, although it wasn't as if Juna had meant to question her adequacy in combat situations. She was sure that she had adequate combat abilities, although it wasn't as if they were involved in situations of extreme combat. Rather, the challenge was getting so that no one had died, which was something which they had probably all failed at least once. God knows Juna had failed, and her failure was something she would never forget, but now she was getting distracted.

Annara went on ahead of her, as she was quite eager to go inside. Juna didn't know what was going on in Annara's head, and there was no way of knowing what was. What was certain, however, was that Annara would be going in first. Was Annara always quite so moody and irritable? Juna could not quite recall so, but then again it was not as if she was a close friend, although she did care about her deeply. In a way, it seemed like Annara's mood shifted from angry to angrier, and she rushed inside the house Lothren had been. Juna wasn't aware of what was wrong, just that it was. Juna followed suit, even if that meant leaving Aust in the dust. He'd be fine.

Juna saw the knight, who was surprisingly still for a man with such hatred and fervor in his eyes, which was perhaps the second strongest combination of emotions in the world. Juna could tell that if he had any choice, he would spring on Lothren in a moment, but it seemed the power of a rifle was convincing enough. Lothren held the Knight's fate, and his life was like a string of yarn in between a blade of scissors, ready to be cut at the first notice.

Annara seemed to have had some bad experience with the Knights of Areta. Juna understood, of course, but she didn't get violent like Annara did. She hit him multiple times, and they were good hits too. Now, as entertaining as it may be to see a Knight get pummeled by a cute girl, senseless violence inevitably had to stop. That was the price that needed to be paid.

Juna grabbed Annara by her arms and carefully pulled her back a few feet. She needed to calm down, and Juna needed to be the one to do it. She had a feeling, though, that she wasn't leaning on Annara's good side. Juna thought she had a good nature, but she was not sure about a kind nature.

"Well that was something," Juna said, giving Annara a smile. "But don't hold it against me for doing this."

"I understand the want, the need, for revenge," Juna said, and her smile had disappeared into an expression of deep serious. "But you can't go and attack him simply because he is a knight. And even for the one who you want revenge on, you must be willing to become evil, and more evil than they ever could be, because they never had your morals, but you did."

"Well, why don't we get on to the next order of business," Juna said, her smile and seemingly carefree demeanor returning. "Now sir knight, I am an elf, and I'm sure you are overjoyed to meet me. If we become friends I'm sure everything will go great, and I'm sure you know it too."

[Assistant]
Aust was last to make it into the building and down the stairs, and by the time he made it Juna was already pulling Annara away from the knight. On the floor a bit behind them all was a man in the garb of a Viceni mage, clearly unconscious. In the middle of it all were Lothren and the knight, one with a firearm leveled at the other in order to discourage any hostile movement. All in all, it was an interesting scene. Aust wasn't sure who was in more danger at that point; the Ytharien, the knight, or Alonso's disguise.

Juna seemed to have a handle on Annara, and Lothen had the knight under control for the moment, so Aust paced slowly around them all the check on the mage. Aside from being severely battered and bruised, presumably from the knight's tirade he had heard a few moments before, but would live without any attention. If not for the fact that he would be stranded and alone in a building with a the potential to be destroyed if others fell on it, the Viceni would have eventually woken up and recovered from the probable concussion in due time. Under the circumstances, however, it seemed unwise to simply leave him be.

Now that Juna was addressing the knight, Aust turned to their leader. He had given his instructions as to the knight, but hadn't said anything about the mage, or about what would happen when Alan saw them returning with a knight in tow.

"What about this one? He's out for now, and will be for a while, but I don't think we can just leave him. It's obvious he's a Magus. If he wakes up to the village empty and destroyed, he might get it in his head to track us down for some revenge. Could be a real threat. Beside that, it doesn't feel right. We got everyone else out as safely as we could. Who knows what could happen to this one before he stirs?" Aust said, speaking from where he knelt at the unconscious man's side. He carried his longknife bare in his right hand, the sharp tip pointed in the general direction of the knight in case things got exciting again. The elf's eyes flicked between his companions and the two strangers, trying to pay attention to the whole situation at once.

[User]
Gawain coughed violently as he stared up into the barrel of the firearm aimed directly at his most precious item - not his face, but rather what was inside of it. "Just like an elf," he groaned with a smirk on his lips. The man was clearly not impressed by the little spiel that the elf was putting on. "An elf would aim a weapon at a man with nigh more than his fists." he continued as his eyes fell upon those who were entering the room. The first down seemed to be a girl - human from the looks of it but evidently no better than these pointy eared rats. Second came a woman, an elf woman none the less. The footsteps of the third could be heard but by then the human woman had nearly slung herself onto the knight - for no reason!

The man defended himself as good and bad as he could. The presence of the firearm was, ofcourse, a demotivating factor. He tried to shield himself, mainly his face, using his arms and shoulder as a shield against her many blows. She spat at him, a nice big wallop of spit landing in his face before she attempted to kick him in the sack. The elven woman pulled her away barely in time and he felt the feet connect to his inner thigh, nearly hitting his second most precious item. As he got on his knees, coughing violently again, his eyes went up and stared into the eyes of the girl. "I've no idea who or what you are," he said while he gathered a mix of blood and spit in his mouth before tuffing it out in front of her and the elven man with the guns' feet. "But from your language you're evidently a tribal whore. And if you've ever looked for a reason we hunt your people every now and then, the reason lies right before you." he said, spreading his arms presenting himself as 'the reason' for hunting the tribal horse people.

"Criminals hide in your tents and your people refuse to give them to us. And now look at you. Beating an unarmed man.. if this gun wasn't aimed at my head I'd have your head..." His words were followed by a shifty glance at the gun. He decided to hold his tongue with the insults for now, for fear of his head being blown off. Gawain was a hothead, and an aggressive fighter when it came to it, but he was not dumb enough to fight back with.. whatever that thing was aimed at his head. He'd seen one before - once, only once - and whatever those things do, he did not wish to experience it.

The third figure had now entered the room but was quickly obscured again by the elf woman stepping up. She spoke some horseshit at the other woman, something about being evil. It made no sense to Gawain so he simply grimaced at it. He was unsure what to do - there wasn't much more to do but wait for a chance to get some kind of sharp weapon and get rid of these pointy eared fuckers. She continued to put on a little play for the knight, pretending they could be friends. But she likely realized full well that the knight was in a position where he couldn't demand for anything. It made sense. "Aye," he said, one of his eyes already growing thick from the beating he'd received from the woman. It didn't seem to stop him from playing along with the game. "My first elven friend. I'm overjoyed.." He snorted and spat out some more blood before awkwardly stumbling onto his feet, though not making any extremely fast movements to avoid getting, you know, shot.

The man stepped up now, finally making an actual statement. It was about the mage - and although Gawain could live with it if they simply left the mage, something compelled him to speak up. It must've been the fact that to Gawain, mages were heathen blasphemers. "He somehow captured me. The man is a criminal. You might be an elf, so I don't think you'd understand the concept of.. justice.. but if you've any contempt for kidnappers and backstabbers, you'll end this man's life." He looked at the elf for a moment before shaking his head solemnly. What was he talking about. Backstabbers? "Ofcourse you'd not understand.. you four are all backstabbers like he is. That's the reason I got captured.. unarmed and unarmored. Monarch bless me.. I'll need it."

[Assistant]
Juna was normally not quick to anger, but there were certain things that could be done which trigger her anger instantly. They didn't number very high, but if by chance you treaded on one of them Juna would have been far more willing to merciless. She would never go straight to being evil, except in one circumstance, but her nature would become so that she would be quite unpleasant for he enemies, and quite sadistic.

It so happened that this Knight, this pompous and arrogant man, unable to keep up his façade of bravery in the face of a weapon pointed at his face, had crossed a line which Juna would not appreciate being crossed. When he had called Annara a tribal whore Juna had decided she did not need to hear any more. It seemed she had made a mistake and had not come to correct conclusion when she had burst forth a lesson in ethics from her mouth.

"I've changed my mind! Sorry about this, Annara." Juna said with a smile. "It seems deep thoughts really can only take you so far. Forget all about that pseudo-philosophical drivel I spouted. "

So Juna promptly let go of Annara, releasing her arms. Then she looked at the knight, and angry look in her eyes but a firm smile on her face. She knew exactly what she would do, and it would only be the beginning. She kicked him between the crotch with a firm thrust of her foot. Juna would see how much he liked that, how smart he was now.

"So, what was that you were doing with him before I rudely interrupted you, Annara?" Juna said, discretely drawing her knife.


[System]
Type: Bi-Pedal Medium-Light CQC Infiltrator Mech
Description:
Built for CQC and stealth, the Model 12 Mk. 3SO excels at cutting down anything foolish enough to stand in front of it. A speed-class mecha, it can easily dodge attacks and is incredibly agile (by a mecha's standards any ways). However, due to this lightness, it has very weak armor, relying on the shields and the pilot's skill more to survive instead of just tanking rounds and blows.

After being captured, it was given a new super charged power source using Actinium as a power source and various motor upgrades, making it even faster. At a personal request, it was also given extra composite allow armor so shield wouldn't be as relied on. With the additions of jump thrusters in the feet and shoulders, its mobility was further increased but it lacks the ability to fully fly

Weapons:
- 2 x Type 303 "Blades of Hope" High Frequency Energy Edges - Using a blade of high-frequency oscillating particles that can cut at a subatomic level, these swords can cut through nearly anything, even energy shields can hold off the inevitable for so long against these deadly swords
- 1 x Back-mounted "Black Orchestra" Missile Pod - A small pod containing roughly two dozen 50mm missiles, it gets its name from the sound its delayed firing system creates as it staggers the missiles, creating a sound close to an orchestra.

Equipment:
- M3G2-01 "Hellbender" Thermal Harmonic Heat Claw - The Phantom Zero's right hand weapon, it can emit a very strong microwave radiation capable of frying electronics and warping metal, even setting things on fire depending on how long its held and what its made of.
- T2-25 Stealth Mute Driver - While not a true stealth drive in the way that it turns the mech invisible, it makes it invisible to radar, useful for getting the jump on people
- 5th Generation Nordenheimer Resonator Drive - Main energy source for the Phantom Zero, uses an Actinium core and provides good power for its size. Due to some battle damage, it overloads if used above 90% and can also cause de-syncs at that point too.
- RZ0.45.BO2L Projected Wire Anchors G-Series - A pair of rocket propelled anchors located near the waist, they shoot out at high speed and are often used as a discretion in battles, sneaking in extra hits or preventing movements. Alternatively they can be used in a manner similar to grappling hooks.
- Tokorovz Model 19-V MPIA - Standing for "Multi-use Phased Identification Array", the Model 19-V is the primary radar system of Phantom Zero, it overlays thermal, night vision, and electric signatures to identify and find other vehicles.

Name: Edoric Thatch
Alias: Edo, Knight of Zero
Age: 19
Theme: sweetARMS - Blade of Hope

Personality:
Edoric is a fairly reserved guy, being a former child soldier and having killed dozens with your own hands at six doesn't exactly make you a very positive and happy person. All he cares about is finishing whatever mission is at had and getting the job done no matter the loses since that was the way he was trained to think. He sees everyones as pawns in a some great game, including himself. When in the presence of others, he acts very professionally to the point you'd think he was the son of a CEO or a general.

Weapon:

M19 PDP-77 Pistol

Name: MSNE-94 P500-Series Custom Energy Rig "Himiko"
Type: Tripodal Medium-Heavy Long Range Support Mech
Description:
Originally an Ironhide Dev. mining walker meant to cut through tough rock with a laser, the MSNE-94 has undergone significant changes to become a military support NCM. Its main laser has been given an upgrade to an ArOs Productions Type 4-CZ2 FP-2A (Focused Plasma Acceleration Array), a plasma beam which is deadly against large objects while still being very precise.

Being a civilian model, it has very little armor so additional armor plates where added to bulk it up. Its also omni-dirctional meaning it its body can do a full 360 degree rotation (what the legs perceive as "forwards" is whatever direction the body is facing) and its feet have magnetic drills allowing it to climb up most walls.

Weapons:
- 1 x Type 4-CZ2 FP-2A - Main weapon of the Himiko, it is a long range plasma beam cannon which can easily take out buildings and armor. Its beam will last for a continous 3 seconds with a six second cool down but can fire "bolts" like a semi automatic rifle which doesn't require a cool down nor as much power.
- 2 x MG43K-Z4.1 Auto Cannons - Secondary weapon of the Himiko which is often used against infantry threats. It high fire rate also makes it ideal for take down shields and grants the NCM limited amounts of AA capabilities.

Equipment:
Ironhide Civilian Cockpit Model 00-K3 - A cockpit style unique to Ironhide's civilian lines, the 00-K3 isn't a seat or any of the sort but more of a motorcycle-style. Its markets as one of the most comfortable cockpits ever created and so far Chiyome hasn't complained.
Amaburi MGD Model 14g3 - Standing for "Magnetic Grip Drills", the MGD is what gives the Himiko is special ability to walk on vertical surfaces, both metallic and non-metalic. Its many tiny drills allow the NCM enough traction to walk on walls and can dig in for firing.
Nördstrum Yggdrasil Energy Drive - Capible of producing the massive amounts of energy needed, the Yggdrasil ED uses Thorium in an unique way that allows it to derive huge amounts of energy from it.
- Tokorovz Model 19-V MPIA - Standing for "Multi-use Phased Identification Array", the Model 19-V is the primary radar system of Himiko, it overlays thermal, night vision, and electric signatures to identify and find targets.

Name: Chiyome Lelou
Alias: Chi-Chan, Smiling Demon
Age: 16
Theme: Senbonzakura ICMB Remix

Personality: Hyper active and peppy, Reina is a hapy-go-lucky girl with a smile on her face and a talent for piloting. She often plays the part of the "cute little sister" as she is rather short for her age (looking like she's 13) and has a whole slew of cute movements to supplement that notion. She almost always keeps her smile on, even as she's killing and fighting, giving her the nickname of "Smiling Demon" and shows a tiny sadistic streak in fights. Other wise, she's a just a peppy, ditzy little girl on base, cheerfully wondering around and trying to get extra cookies.

Outside of the normal implants needed to pilot a NCM, she also has motorized leg joints and nano-fiber enhanced leg muscles making her extremely agile on foot. She also has an Inertia Reducer that makes her less likely to get nausea and loose her balance, useful when she's bouncing around either on foot or in her NCM

[User]
Being disappointed by having to patch up someone else's work, Jeremiah sighs, and then goes to work.
While examining the shoulder joint, he has a simple but (comparatively) effective idea:
Since fine-tuning servos for reaction-speed is both boring and a hassle, it should be easier to simply add another motor-system, if the power requirements are not too high. However, standard motors for joints like the shoulders are generally either to heavy or weak, but all he was asked to do was increase the initial acceleration, so simply giving the joint a 'kick' whenever a motion starts should suffice.
Since the joint is made out of metal, a ring of coils around it could do the trick, as a current-spike in the coil will induce an opposite current in the joint, which's magnetic field will repell the coil's magnetic field, giving the joint a 'kick'.
Unlike standard motors no additional moving parts or armatures are required, likely reducing the wheight sufficiently enough.
"Got it!", the words slipped out of his mouth, before he realizes a significant potential problem: the required current-change must be comparatively large, definetly larger than what most civilian tech operates on, excluding industrial equipment. He has no idea how much AC voltage the NCM this part is for can produce.
"Do you know which voltages I can expect from the NCM?", Jeremiah asks.

[Assistant]
"Oh? You have a solution already? Lovely! The rest of the NCM design has plenty power available, it shouldn't reduce energy performance at all."
Esteban continues, "Please, discuss your idea?", Esteban looks at you happily, yet inquisitvely. "As long as it doesn't damage the NCM's all-range targeting abilities, I believe I'd approve of your concept.", he goes to explain the needs of the design, "This NCM design calls for arm maneuverability, steadiness, and rapid twitch motor capability."

"The main thing, I admit.. does it work?" he asks one last time.

[User]
Jeremiah answers, a littlebit proud of his speed.
"My plan is to leave the current motors as they are, so by simply disabling the system I plan to add will restore any capabilities that may be lost, although I don't think any will be lost.
Basically, my plan is to mount a ring of coils, which are all oriented in the same direction, around the joint. The coils will be connected to a controller for high AC voltages and currents. When a current spike is sent through a coil, it'll repell the joint's magnetic feedback, 'kicking' it into motion. As the generated forces and heat are also relatively large, the system should only activate when a new movement begins. As the metal of the joint itself will be the armature, the coils ans their controller will be the only additional weight.
As for the exact measurements, I need the data about what the NCM can give us and how well induction works in which parts of the joint.
Also, in case the ring of coils is damaged, the coils, which are still intact, will do their job fine, unlike most motors, although the directions of the 'kick' will be more limited."
After a short pause to finally breathe in again: "Is this acceptable?"

[Assistant]
"That's a wonderous solution! Please, we should implement this. The craft has plenty of energy to go around, if it's not inductive enough we should simply be able to brute-force it a little.". He comes out of the room for a second to request materials, it looks like. "I believe your solution is the best we have at the time. ...Makes me wonder, how come no one else has put this in their NCM's?".

After a while, relevant materials are allotted, and the others assist Michell with his concept. After testing, it seems to be a complete success!
More testing, solutions to issues, and fine-tuning the design takes up most of your day, until you're put back to your quarters for the night by your 'Boss' and security. Strangely, you're locked inside, for 'security reasons'.

[User]
Eriko quickly heads over towards the briefing room, and takes a seat closest to the back her eyes going over to each other members of the team. She was excited to finally be on her first mission and leaned forward in her seat holding a pen and paper in front of her, she would start to take in notes and looking at the satellite closely her main problem would be the SAM. When Jeanne suddenly targeted her looking slightly embarrassed during training. "It was only just one time during the test when no one told me about it.." Eriko said letting out a sigh.

When they were dismissed Eriko stood up holding her notes and watched as Nine left the room without going on with some sort of strategy. she would then walk over to the rest of the group.

[Assistant]
Edoric studied the board for a second, jotting down note in a small pad so he'd remember, not that he wouldn't to begin with. Leaving the room with a "good bye" and a slight bow, he dutifully walked out and to the hangar lockers, sorting out his plans in his head. He would most likely be going in first or flanking around. He used a melee-focused light NCM so flanking would presumably be a better option as going in guns-a-blazing (swords-a-blazing in his case) would probably only get himself killed. Pressing a hand against his earpiece, he talked into as he pushed open the door to the locker room,

Artfully spinning his locker combination into the rusting metal container, he opened it up to bring out his combat suit. Woven from black polymers and plastics, he suited up up and exhaled as it synced up with the implants in his body. Pushing the door into the hangar itself, he made his way to the cockpit of the Phantom Zero, taking a seat as the neural plug connected to him via an implant on the nape of his neck. His brain began to link up with the machine, notifications popping up in front of his eyes. One by one, they shot at the speed of a machine gun as they quickly loaded and turned green, only to disappear soon after. Once all the messages faded out, the hug came online, the blue overlay around the edges showed Edoric things like the power level, shield and hull strength, and how the engine was running, going to high was bad for the phantom zero and lead to many unsavory things.

With every now calibrated and ready, Edoric took the remaining check if his personal weapons where good and loaded (which being the person he was, the guns always were) and to sleep a little, he was staying up late last night going over weapon and part catalogues to request from Traore. A new stealth drive was nice, but he should probably invest in a new power drive that didn't cause his NCM to shut down if he used it too heavily. Jeanne also recommended him getting something ranged that wasn't missiles or Rocket Anchors. As his head filled with bits and pieces from catalogues, he soon lulled himself to sleep, ready to be woken at a second's notice when the time came.

---

CHiyome yawned as Jeanne droned on and on about the mission. She knew what to do already, go in and burn anything that pointed a gun at her. Glad that the woman finally stopped speaking, she put the four legs of her chai back on the ground and shot up with new found energy. Bouncing around, she watched Nine briskly walk out and Edo bow to the instructor before leaving. How antisocial and cold of them! Chiyome spun around on the spot before hopping over to where Eriko was going to meet up with the rest of the group.
"Heeelloo~ Eri-poi! Are you excited to finally go on a mission?" the hyperactive girl latched her arms around white haired girl, half glomping her, half strangling her, "What's the plan fufu?"


[System]
Age: Roughly 18 years old

Race: Elf

Appearance: She dresses much like her mother though she wears stormy blue colors and blacks. At her waist is the orb she used that was fashion to help her with her magic. With green-blue eyes set in a sharp, lean face. Something that could be called stern if it wasn't for the button nose. With her pale blonde hair. She's tall standing just slightly shorter than her father.

Personality/Background: Too sharp and clever for her own good. She learned at a younger age than most how to read and was reading far more advance books than others sooner due to being confined to her mother's chambers and bed as a sickly child. With the help of Morrigahn, her mother, Dorian and Keiran she mastered magic. Under she perfected her control and skill. Becoming adept as a battle mage. She was curious as to who her father was, though her never lacked for Uncles or Aunts. When she wasn't sick she was quickly dubbed 'Windy' by Varric for her tendency to leave a trail of destruction in her wake as she worked though her questions in search of answers. Though she did piece it together scant years before she ran away from home with Keiran. Terrifying both Morrigahn and her mother.

When Kieran was delivering a report on their well-being. Qunari forces appeared near the Eluvian she had camped at. Cornered she summon aid in form of a spirit she accidentally turned into a demon with her cry for help. Solas found her shortly after and from there. He couldn't loose the young elf who refused to leave. She joined Fen'Harel and quickly proved herself as she worked up the ranks to working closely below Solas and his second in command who turns out to be Abelas. Working to preserve the Elven temples that remain, and Abelas is completely certain that Athelya is up to something. Using the organization for her own good, though there is a grudging respect between the two. Athelya does bend to Abelas's command but she doesn't do so often or with grace.

[User]
Athelya tilted her head slightly as Sparrow mentioned the Elder One, tossing the bone over her shoulder as it burst into mage fire. Consuming the bone to ash, with a slight flare. Her eyes shimmering a slight green as she did so. By her reckoning this man was in his early twenties. Putting him as a young child when the Veil had been torn into the sky. "You were but a child then, if my guess of your age is accurate." She noted with a certain hardness in her voice. The entire ordeal was something of a rough spot to the elf, but with reason. It had been her family that had fought and still fought over the future of the world. Corypheus had merely been the lesser of the problem. A herald to a large threat. The threat that had unleashed the Elder One, though Athelya would give Fen'Harel credit for sticking about to see his own mess dealt with. But it didn't mean she didn't feel the sorrow or the hurt of the lack of her father. Uncles just were not the same when you watched other families gathered and happy at a market or during festivals.

A creased brow frowned as she watched the fire pop and sparks fly high in the air. "Corypheus was a problem and he was dealt with. But he was merely one among many that all of Thedas faced. The mages and templars. The Dread Wolf. Tevinter, Olais and the Divine's death." The pale head shook back and forth sadly. "It was before my time, but all that had happened is not over quite yet. The first storm passed, but now a second gathers." Her voice was filled with sorrow as she felt the flicker of magic ripple from the eluvian far off in the ruins. Someone had come through, but it could anyone from what Athelya could pick up. A mere courier looking for her, to Fen'Harel himself. Neither of which concerned the elvhen maid. Watching the human she cocked a arrogant brow, with a slightly amused smile. He was a interesting fellow some might even call handsome in some way. But she had little interest for the looks of someone, a quick mind was more to her tastes. Her thoughts dipped down to sorrow once more. For even if she did find this human interesting she was bound by her duty to produce an elvhen heir. It was something Kieran and her had argued about over the last two years. Athelya had dug in her heels and coldly informed her eldest friend that a heir would have to be elvhen, else all she worked for would be undermined by the race of humans. It's not something she looked forward to, but the thought was the in her mind as she moved towards the future she strove for.

"I do have to disagree however." Athelya stated firmly as Sparrow brought up spirits and demons. Her smile turning slightly wicked as she chuckled more to herself than to her companion. "Compassion, love, strength, courage, knowledge, wisdom." She gestured to Sparrow, as a stream of magic flickered from her hand to the fire. A illusion taking form aided by the flames. "They are friends of mine. Demons are what mages force them to become by pulling them through a hole that is too small, or against their will. Forcing a guise upon them of something they are not." Her eyes were sorrowful as an image of a person being dragged through a small hole appeared. Once on the otherside they were mangled as their bones had twisted to fit though the hole. "They cannot help it, and yet mages and humans blame them for it. My own kin as well. The strain that it puts upon them make them- the spirits, I mean- forget themselves in the pain." The image dissolved into flames again as the woman sat back, gazing at Sparrow.

[Assistant]
Sparrow rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking. He grabbed another rabbit's leg, chewing in thought as he stayed silent for a moment."I'll be twenty three in three months actually, so I was almost a young child after the biggest part of the war was over. But I started work shortly after to help pay for food on the table for my family, and the first time going out to look was slim pickings," he said with a shake if his head, " Lest I wanted a job involving demons, and I don't take them," he said with a frown.

Finishing off his second leg quickly, Sparrow tossed the bone aside and sat back on his mat. He rubbed his stomach for a moment, a thoughtful look still on his face. "As for the demon stuff, I honestly don't know much about it so if thats what you say is true, I'll take your word for it," He said simply, turning to gaze at the forest for a brief moment.

"I don't know nothing about no second storm, but if it's as bad as the first I don't know how Thedas will survive. It barely survived the last time. Maker and whose to say we won't have a Blight next? Haven't seen the Darkspawn hordes in a while eh?"  Sparrow shook his head with a small sigh. "Figure I'm best off just keeping to the sidelines til all this shit blows over,"

[User]
There was a silvery laugh as Atheyla tossed her head back at the mention of Darkspawn. "If they wish to come let them!" She urged with an amused look in her eyes. This 'Sparrow' was amusing she would grant him that! A Blight was the least of his worries, but she would not tell him such. She would not tell him that the eluvian that stood in those ruins was a bridge to the traitor of the Inqusition, nor that that said elf might be making his way though the ruins or forests to seek her out. That would take a great deal of time, for her magic was about that ruin like a thick fog that morning could not burn through. With all the power she had been using to restore and preserve, it would be a confusing trail to any. If it was to be, Athelya would deal with it then. With wit, charm, fact, and power. All of which she had on hand, the elf maid thought with amusement. "The Blight is not to concern myself nor what comes." She did give him that cryptic remark. Running a hand over her foci and tracing the whorls that designed the stone orb. A green aura trailing after hr fingers.

"Thedas will survive." Her voice was strong and sure as she held out the orb and let it whirl free of her grasp hovering over her once more gloved hand. "Thedas will survive if people can learn to look beyond themselves, to accept the ancient as well as the new." Looking back to the ruins, she gave a short sigh. As much as she would like to remain and to speak with this human man. Athelya felt the need, the call to return to her plan so carefully laid. There was also the matter she did not want Klaine to suffer an arrow through his chest if it was Abelas or one of his men. The ancient elves had come to fight for the lowering of the Veil, though many still remained to protect the ruins of the Temple of Mythal for all they had lost the Well of Sorrows. Closing her green-blue eyes, Athelya gave a tired sigh. "You should pack up your camp and return to civilization for a time. The wilds are a dangerous place for a human." Giving the man a stern look she set her staff in the ground moving to stand but not quite standing. "Especially so near the ruins of my kin."

Pulling herself to her feet she flipped the long braid back over her shoulder so that it would lay once more upon her chest. Athelya was taller than most elves by mere inches, but that height spoke of ancient blood to those who knew. "I have journeyed into the Fade and ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of ancient civilizations. I know a storm when I see one stir among the powers of the continent. The possibly of restoration, however slim, must be grasped with both hands if Thedas is to survived." She stared off towards the ruins her eyes deep in thought. "Though I fear the price that might be extracted before the chance comes to fruition." Athelya sighed and frowned as she gripped her staff with both hands. Troubled by possibilities that could be bearing down. "For that. I hope no Blight will wreck upon this land. It would dash away the hopes of many if it were to come to pass. The hope and the love of many turned to ash. For love may exist but hope must nurture it." Glancing to Sparrow she gave a weary smile. "Forgive me, my thoughts are filled with worry and dire warnings and knowledge of what is coming." The orb floated beside her before a gloved hand grasped it and slipped the precious object into it's net. "It is a blessing and a curse."

[Assistant]
Sparrow felt a heavy weight settle in the middle of his chest as he heard Athelya's words. So, she knew what was coming huh? And it wasn't a Blight, or so she seemed to think. Sparrow was under the impression that the elf knew exactly what to expect and had been preparing for it for quite some time. Which made him feel extraordinarily out of the loop, as usual. He was usually the last to know anything important anyways, since he spent so little time paying attention to anyone he wasn't get paid to keep track of.

With a small sigh, he picked up a stick and stoked his slowly dying fire. "You seem to know am awful lot about the state of things and exactly what is going on," He said in a knowing tone, a twinkle in his eye. Though, whether that was from the fire or something else, one couldn't be too sure.

"Maybe we should stick together until the shit really hits the fan, if it's gonna be as bad as you say," He said with a shrug of his shoulders,"I mean, I'm no swordsman but my bow can cut down just as many enemies I assure you,"  He said with a wink at her.

[User]
Athelya cocked her head at the human as he merely sat there and stirred the morning's fire. The sun was growing steadily towards it zenith and she found herself bemused by the man's slow pace at life. Even envious of it. Half of her little game was appearing as he was, the other half was thinking moves ahead of her blood kin. Seldom were her thoughts so able to laze about upon the breeze and travel as they may. A small smile twitched at her lips. "If you indeed traveled with me human my kin would kill you." Her voice was soft, but her eyes sorrowful at the truth of those words. "Unless you were able to convince them of your allegiance to a elvhen parent and claim at least to be a half-blood." Athelya mussed looking off towards the ruins with too clever eyes. It was possible he could pull off such a feat but it would be difficult. To teach him the language of her kin, to teach him the customs he would need to know. But the real question was if it would be worth it? Sparrow would be a weak link in her network if she revealed her plans to him even in part. He would be a flaw even if he was not informed of her scheme and he was found to be pure human.

Gripping the staff in both hands she studied the sky far above the green canopy. If he was found out it was thousands more who would suffer and she could no more allow that to happen than she could allow him to die because the one who sought her was coming. It would take time for them to reach her of course. Athelya had become adept at walking trails many last checked and hiding her presence. Many of the Dalish clans respect her for her skill as well as her blood when she chose to reveal it. Turning the piercing gaze back to the young Sparrow, young by standards of her teacher's allies, the elvhen maid gave a small smirk. "I was born to this storm, and it is what will consume me in the end. I do not know 'an awful lot', I know exactly what is going on and what is going to happen. I have spent two years orchestrating the stage to set the scene I require." She brandished her staff at the fire, the embers dying instantly.

Tilting a pale head in a regal nod, Athelya spun her staff about one gloved hand with the ease of long practice. Walking towards the edge of the camp opposite the ruin, the elf looked over her should with a raised brow. "And I fear it will be worse than you will image, if I fail. The Veil will be torn asunder by Fen'Harel and the Fade will merge with this World. My kin will regain much, or lose it all along with the rest of the races of Thedas." She commented with a dry voice, sounding bored by this fact. Though it was a lie. "If the Inquistion or the rest of Thedas wins my kin will be massacred for this attempt. Humans have never been forgiving to elves in the past. I do not believe that has changed in the grand scheme of 'pulling apart the world'. Despite the noble intentions behind it." Locking both hands behind her back the staff held horizontal behind her, Athelya looked up towards the sky as she wandered into the woods. Listening to see if the marksman was coming. Casting a raised brow over her shoulder the elf made a noise of annoyance. "Are you coming, Sparrow? I believe when all is said I might be of need of your assistance. Or you could remain here... And wait for whoever came through the eluvian to catch up and butcher you." She added with a pointed look towards the ruins. "You might even have the honor to die at the hand of a thousand year old elf who is more tempermental than a dwarf."


[System]
Merchant

---

Level 3

-------STATISTICS-------

-------MASTERIES-------

| VIT -- 22 | 75% | BLADES -- E
| MGT -- 6 | 50% | POLEARMS -- D
| SKI -- 8 | 55% | AXES/BLUNT -- E
| SPD -- 9 | 55% | BOWS/RANGED -- C
| SRT -- 2 | 20% | THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 0 | 5% | MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 5 | 40% |
Secondary Statistics

WGT -- ?
ACC -- ??
AVO -- ??
RES -- ??
CRT -- ??

---

Traits:

- MOUNTED: This unit rides their favored mount, gaining +2 MVT, while being subject to mounted weapon restrictions as well as being disadvantaged by certain weapons and skills. Similarly, a mounted unit may spend whatever MVT remains to reposition directly after attacking. A mounted unit may dismount at anytime. While mounted, a character may use the 'rescue' command to carry another unit to safety.
- CELERITY: Movement +2.

---

* Bronze Short Spear

	+ MIGHT | 3
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 3
	+ CONDITION | 24/30
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 190

* Bronze Short Bow

	+ MIGHT | 2
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 2
	+ CONDITION | 18/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | +5% Critical Rate, Cannot be used with shields
	+ COST | 275

* Bronze Sling

	+ MIGHT | 1
	+ ACCURACY | 85
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ CONDITION | 10/10
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 60

* Bronze Crossbow

	+ MIGHT | 5
	+ ACCURACY | 90
	+ WEIGHT | 7
	+ CONDITION | 30/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 470

Possessions: Vulnerary (1/3), 190 AU

Personality/Appearance
Zarif is a man of 22 years and 7 moons, standing just under 6 feet tall, and never seen far from his Camel, Salador. With skin paler than most and strange clothing, Zarif is one who attracts a passing interest in some, and a scornful look from others. Not accustomed to the lands of Akkad or their strange gods, Zarif tends to appear bit naive about its ways and customs, though this is often a ploy used to lower people's guards to his cunning. Still a salesman at heart, Zarif always does his best to strike a good deal.

Backstory
Born in the distant lands beyond the endless desert to the west, Zarif was raised to be a Merchant like his father, and took to it quickly. When he was old enough, his father bought him his own Camel, and Zarif quickly bonded with the animal, whom he named Salador, and has been inseparable ever since.

Having heard stories of a mythical "Golden Land" beyond the desert, with cities paved with gold, armies so large that drank rivers dry, and a king who was both a god and a giant, Zarif joined a merchant caravan to cross the seemingly endless desert. After many moons, with the lands they had been traveling to, with the destination almost within grasp, the caravan was set upon by raiders. Nearly dead and robbed blind, a mercenary company crossed paths with the bloody scene, and managed to save Zarif and Salador. Trapped in this strange land, and with no way to return home, Zarif joined the company, and has been with them for 3 years.

[User]
The wounded yeek warrior advanced with reckless abandon and Etor made quick work of him. The young spearman let out a small sigh as he looked down on the disgusting creature.
Etor: He probably wanted to go out that way.

As the young warrior looked around him, he noticed two things. The rest of the hellions were quite some ways away and the robed Yeek was doing something peculiar. Etor didn't understand the words but he recognizes the impact it was having around the faux priest's immediate area. Etor thinks to himself "This cannot be allowed to continue."
Perhaps the previous victory had emboldened him, maybe it was reckless youth, or perhaps the mysticism that the Ensi was expelling called to Etor. Nevertheless, the young warrior ran towards robed yeek, determined to strike it down. When he noticed the priest was barely hanging on Etor came to a sobering conclusion. He was soon to be surrounded.
Etor: Damn.

Etor rushes to 21-21 and attacks the Yeek Ensi to for 7 damage.

[Assistant]
Things start to get hectic and, as they close in on the structure, they are subtly but dangerously scattered, just enough for the Yeeks to possibly rush down a single target. The brute keeps running, turning at the last second and flanking Ashür on the right. His big frame obscures his ally just barely to the eyes of the two blue creatures a couple steps ahead.

Lyun: "Go. The... -eed support." A low voice, both in tone and volume, some of the words are easily swept away by the surrounding noise.

Lyun moves six tiles to 23-26.

[User]
Iddin: "At last I free you from your bindings, spell. Be free until I once again call upon your power." Iddin locks eyes on Zarif, seeing the rider's injuries. It is finally time to show these devious creatures the power of Zuzu. Perhaps, then, they could regret their wretched existence in their final moments.

Iddin strides purposefully to Zarif, preparing his spell. His staff is carefully waved in arcs alongside his steps, the wind melodically rushing through glass tubes. The whole movement creates a bizarre rhythm, some call completely alien to his fellow mercenaries. Sand whips into the air as Iddin takes his final stride and swings his staff to but an inch before Zarif's chest. "Let Zuzu grant his mercy and heal your wounds with the flesh of his own creation!" The sand flies mercilessly into even the most minor of injuries and cauterizes them with intense heat. The grains melt to glass to fill in where skin, muscle, and bone are absent. And with a glimmer of light reflecting the sun, the glass is gone in a moment and replaced with the very parts it was replacing.

Iddin turns to Ashür, eyes sharp with condemnation. "The words of pathetic deities are achievable by even the most disgusting of scum. They fall before the greater gods, still."

Iddin moves three tiles to 16-26, healing 6 health for Zarif.

[Assistant]
Makeen: Makeen saw an opening in the fallen wall ahead and sounds of battle. To the right he saw most of his party. 'Who could possibly be in the middle of that mess alone...' With quick feet he sprinted to help his comrade beyond the wall.

Makeen moves eight tiles to 15-22. Throwing knives equipped and ready.

[User]
From his current position while charging towards the enemy, Siris could hear his comrades battling the yeeks and was rushing towards them to both aid and to gain more glory. While running Siris sees Zarif to his left coming towards him, figuring Zarif was probably trying to circle around and potentially strike the enemy from another direction. Seeing this opportunity, Siris extends his arm towards Zarif

Siris: "Zarif, assist me! Take me to the battle!"

Siris moves 1 tile to 16-26, gets targeted by the rescue command by Zarif, then gets put down at 22-22

Quick to act, Zarif gives Siris a nod and grabs his arm to help hoist him on his mount while trying to avoid slowing down as much as possible. While rushing towards the enemy, Siris notices his ally Etor bravely fighting by myself with a small swarm of yeets surrounding and rushing in to try to end the brave young warrior's life.

Siris: "HAHAHAHA! Etor you reckless fool!" Siris shouts while preparing to hop of Zarif's camel
"Don't you know only I can fight this many enemies by myself?!"

When Zarif slows down his mount to prepare himself for the rush of enemies Siris jumps off near Etor

Siris: "Although my young friend, you have earned my respect" while getting into a fighting stance and preparing his shield and sword
"allow me to offer my assistance!"

[Assistant]
Kastilus: Despite the circumstance, an air of nervous tension nary befalls the robed gebtleman's face. Nay. Rather he steps too, not even backing down an inch from the detestable creatures assailing his mercs, he's apparently confident in his purchase. In fact, he breaks from the Theurg's succor, moving by way of the creeping pair, Ashür and Lyun."It is as Iddin says! But you know of divine speech? I wouldn't peg such a dour coin-blade a Theurg as well!"

Kastilus moves six tiles to 20-28

There is no response. Ashür clearly focuses his attention here on for the the battle ahead.

"Aaaah, Mystic then. . ." Kastilus muses, standing tall as his guards begin their gambit.

[User]
After helping his comrade up onto Salador's mighty back, the animal galloped past the crumbling walls to their reckless ally with determination. Zarif kicked the animal's side, and turned to his ally behind him, rolling his eyes.

Zarif: "New recruits"

The merchant smiled and shook his head, looking ahead again as Salador began to slow down as they made it to the small crumbling tower where their fool of a recruit was. He shuffled Sirius off the Camel's back and glanced at Etor.

Zarif: "Your recklessness is putting yourself and your allies at risk. You're on cleanup duty, for the foreseeable future" His hard glare softened after a moment, and he readied his bow. "You can hardly hold that heavy thing. Here, take my spear instead"

Zarif rescues Sirus, rides 10 tiles to 21-22, trades his Bronze Short Spear for Etor's Bronze Longspear, then places Sirus on 22-22


[System]
Age: 23.
Race: Human.
Appearance:

 1.79 meters tall, she has long flowing chestnut hair, piercing gray eyes and a rather wild expression. Her body is well trained without a single ounce of useless fat. Still despite the fact she's covered almost entirely in muscles, she's not misshapen at all by it. She has retained her elegant figure almost like a wild cat.

Attire: The attire Chambala wears is a rather unique and exotic type of clothing that not many would wear. It's entirely made of furs, leather and bones. Her chest is tightly wrapped with a long piece of leather. Form the waist she wears a fur breechcloth, tightly secured by a woven string of leather, decorated and additionally kept in place with rather impressive buckles of bone. Additionally on her left shoulder is attached, with leather bands and strings, a big feline skull as a form of shoulderpad. Finally she wears a pair fur boots and gauntlets that double as weapons also. As a finishing touch, she has a pair of earrings made out of the fangs of a beast. Personally handcrafted and carved, they carry an exquisite details actually. Both fangs are carved to with the images of flower fields. For the colder times of the year, she also possesses a big fur coat that reaches under her knees.

Bio: Chambala was born in a family that lived near the edge of the Iron Sap Forest. Her father was a hunter who made a living by hunting the local animals and selling their pelts. Her mother was a simple woman who had a very vague understanding of enchanting, she had studied it as a youngster, but following her marrying and having children she stopped. Still she thought Chambala what she knew from a very early age. The final member of her family was her brother who was 4 years older than her.

 Chambala's early life was not one of riches as her family barely made a living and met both ends, but somehow they persisted. Chambala and her brother helped her father with the hunting from as early as she could remember. She'd help him hunt, set the traps, field dress the smaller pray and so forth. One day when she was 8, while hunting they came across an injured young pup of a wolf. She couldn't bring herself to kill it and after some convincing, the family took it in to raise him after his injury healed. Eventually the wolf turned into trusty hunting companion.

 When Chambala was 14 years old, a tragedy struck her family. One night, she and her trusty wolf companion were out in the woods, hidden up in a tree lookout that her father often use when he was out hunting for game at night. She had spread some simple traps about the place, tied to ropes that were pulled all the way to her hideout so if something small got caught in the traps like rabbit or squirrel, she could easily pull it all the way up before the bigger predators get the chance to eat it. On the next morning, after returning with a little score of 2 rabbits and a squirrel and some rats, she arrived at her home, only to find it burned to the ground. They never had any valuables, but this had all the markings of a bandit attack. Her family probably tried to fight back and they were killed. As such at the age of 14, she was left alone without a roof over her head or family. Chambala had no money, only a few small animals she caught the last night, her trusty companion and a wooden spear.

 The following years passed in complete struggle for survival. She moved to live in a small cave her father used during his hunts after that event. She had no money and even if she went to some of the cities, she'd there just be a urchin. Instead she decided to live by herself at least she had her wolf. The winters were heavy things to survive, but she managed by clumsily modifying her new home and spending all possible time by hugging her wolf for warmth. She even covered the entrance of the cave with stones and wood to stop predators from entering. She covered the stone ground with lots of furs from the many rabbits and other animals she caught. As time passed and she grew older, she started hunting properly with a bow from time to time, but mostly her spear. Gradually she grew better at survival, learned to fight and live in the wilds. From time to time she'd visit towns to sell her furs, buy some provisions and other things she couldn't acquire in the forest by herself and return back to the forest to live a calm live. Sadly to her worst pain, her trusty companion finally had died after injuring his back. She cared for the wolf as best as she could, but the injury was too severe and it passed away. After giving him a proper burial by the cave, she took the furs she had gathered as usual and headed over to Falke to sell them. Who would have guessed the crazy annoying people who lived outside the forest would burn the bridge down, making her stuck outside her forest!

Personality and Aspirations: Wild, bright and careful. She likes to meet people, to hunt and to pass her time doing enjoyable things. She wants to live her life without people telling her how to do so.

Inventory: Any weapons, tools, mementos, supplies, or anything else you can think of.

* Claws(hands) – A set of fur and leather gauntlet like weapons, that have each 3 long metal blades at the end. Used for both protection and attacking. She rarely takes these off.
* Claws(feet) – A set of fur and leather boots, but also reinforced with bone. Like her gauntlets, they have each 3 long metal claws at the tip, allowing her kicks to be even deadlier weapons. Plus it helps with climbing! Rarely takes them off also.
* Obsidian knife – A rather simple item, this obsidian knife is her bread and butter tool for harvesting her pray, to cut her food and so forth.
* Fur traveling bag – Down at the bottom of it, there's a rolled up and tied with two leather straps fur, that serves as her blanket if she needs one.
* Dried meat and fruits rations & Waterskin
* Hunting spear – Her second weapon that she uses quite often these days. It's a spear made out of wood, is adorned with bones and has a steel blade. It's just the right length to be used for both throwing and fighting in melee range.

Skills: Anything from specific spells and combat abilities, to known languages, literacy, and crafts. Please add any necessary information if the nature of the skill isn't initially apparent.
Languages: Abbalic
Extreme agility: Chambala possesses almost absurd agility. She is able to dash, dodge, jump, twist her body and perform acrobatic feats with ease. In close fight she's like a wild beast.
Spearplay: She's adept at using her spear for both attack and defense. She's not the strongest physically, but her extreme speed and precision more than makes up for it.
Beastfight: Chambala is not a strange to using her bladed gauntlets and boots to fight in close range. More than once she was forced to fight using only those, to defend herself against beasts or other people. It's not pretty sight, but she possesses odd efficiency with it. Almost as if she was born to be fighting with claws.
Trapper: Chambala has learned the basic of creating traps from her father and since then she has learned more on her own and by conversing with other hunters. She's proficient in making traps from materials found at the forest. From pitfalls to snares and so forth. Mostly ones to allow her to catch/kill the animal with little damage to it's pelt as possible.
Primitive Runes: Chambala had discovered a way to create magical runes of sorts. They lack the very capabilities and strength of their normal counterparts, but allow for interesting effects such as proximity detectors, local poison resistance, small ignition and so forth. In actuality it allows her to create minor trinkets such as wind chimes that react when something approaches, small fangs that could be pierced into wound from poison creature to slow the poison spreading and help fight it off, or a simple pieces of wood or bone that turn into small sparks that could be used to light fires.

Current Location: Falke

[User]
Rebecca was happy that this woman was actually paying attention to her instead of simply shoving her around, or that anyone was paying attention to her at all. She thought her response was somewhat odd, though. What did she mean about the mountain tribes? What did she mean about not having a twin? Why did she find her description flattering? What did she mean by "faults?" Who in the world was she that she could speak like that about them, while also acting like she had no idea who they were? She decided to prod more about it.

 "Er, come again?" The researcher inquired, her tone indicating that she had heard very well what the other woman said as she erred on the side of nuance this time. She retrieved her notebook as she walked and began to double-check it, flipping from one page to the next as she cross-referenced various research notes, religious lore, and journal entries from the book's previous owner. Whether she liked it or not she had an idea of what she might be implying, and she thought such a claim would be blasphemous and so absolutely absurd that it would incite amusement far more than aggression, but it was part of her very nature to follow up on such a thing regardless. She assured herself that she wouldn't have gotten this far if she didn't. She gave an odd glance to the others travelling with her. Were they hearing this, too?

 She supposed it was something that would be better addressed once they got a chance to stop, however. She flipped the pages of the notebook to another section and pulled out her quill. She alternated between pausing to think and writing away, jotting down various notes and equations of physics and magical mechanics as she paid the faintest attention to walking with the rest of the group. She almost tripped a couple of times, but it was no matter. Several pages were filled in a jagged, somewhat legible scrawl until she began to figure out that she had to squint and frown at the page to see what she was doing. The sun was setting, she finally realized, and she needed food. Thankfully they had arrived at their destination.

 Or rather, the next town over, but it was an excuse to rest all the same. Unlike Falke, the farming village had no walls, aside from the fenced-off sections of farmland that seemed to stretch out endlessly, filled with either varying crops or animals, the latter of which seemed to be falling asleep. Along the path were wooden buildings on either side, consisting of housing, inns for those passing through and the occasional shop selling whatever supplies one might need before they had to close down for the night, though it was nowhere near as extravagant as Falke's marketplace. Though the path forked a ways into the settlement, Rebecca could see that at its end, almost as if the town as built around it, was a stone mausoleum, sitting near a wooden building that appeared to be a Church of Aramice. It was a recurring trait in Loyalitat's various towns that never failed to unnerve Rebecca.

 "So..." Rebecca asked as she glanced around the group. "Anyone know any good places to eat around here?"

[Assistant]
Cain wasn't much for religion, actually he wasn't really much for anything, but even he spared a glance over at the golden warrior... Calieo. Cain couldn't exactly give a disbelieving look, or even really raise an eyebrow all that much but internally his curiosity, and suspicion of the arrogant woman grew even more. The hooded lady, now identified as "Rebecca" turned to shoot the rest of the group a disbelieving look of her own, Cain quickly looked back ahead, he doubted she would care but he'd rather maintain ignorance and gather some deal of information his new "partners" before throwing any of his thoughts into the open.

Eventually the group had reached a small farming village, Cain had been here a few times, given its fairly close proximity to Falke it was a good... Meeting spot for any clients Cain went to deal with. That said he hadn't been back for a little while, the last time he "ate" here was when he'd stolen stale bread from the inn and ate atop the church bell tower.

"Explanatory. This is Smaragd Valley, been here a few times. Simple folk typically, should not be an issue if not much attention is drawn to our group..."

Cain paused and looked everyone over for a moment.

"Sarcastic. Which should not be an issue, I am sure."

He looked over at Rebecca "Unsure. There is an Inn.... The Flowing Flagon if memory is correct. Unsure on taste but would not recommend, Inn food terribly easy to poison. Query, perhaps some stalls may yet be open?" The masked man knew these lands fairly well, whilst none of them trusted him to begin with he was quite sure by now they'd clued in to the fact that he was not exactly your average sellsword, that said he maintained to himself that he would only divulge potentially helpful details of the land and from his experience, but never about himself or his work. Even then Cain was not subtle, in speech anyway, better to give them some kind of impression to sate potential curiosity.

[User]
 They had arrived at their first stop, a village about half a day or so distance from the city. It was normal. Not much to say about it, there was a church, a mausoleum, inn or two. Just hte regular village in a regular place with regular work. This was a farming location and it showed. There were no walls and no real soldier presence to speak off. THere probably were some guards or milita about, but she doubted there was a real garrison here.

 "I'd personally prefer to camp out there..." Chambala said, pointing out towards hte other side of the village, where there were some trees just on the edge of the buildings." I prefer making my own food, but tehre was no time today to hunt on the wya here, so I suppose we'd better spend the night in the inn." She added. There was more than enough preserved food in her bags, but she was saving that for her home, these were parts of ehr winter supplies.

 "Don't worry about poison..." She said, showing the carved fang she made on the wya here." Just touch this to any of the food you have, and if there's poison in it, the color would change to pitch black." She stated, heading for hte inn." I will ask the innkeeper to allow me to quickly prepare a meal if any of you are so concerned with being poisoned."


[System]
R.I.S.C. Dossier

---
Age

16

Physical Evaluation

Quinnlash is a young woman, five foot three, average build, and slightly underweight. She has very long hair (dark gray streaked with bright yellow) cut into sharp, straight bangs in front, and typically tied into a braid. When tied, it ends at approximately hip height. Untied, it falls nearly to her knees. She has extremely pale skin, unmarked with the exception of scarring around her empty eye socket (right), over which she wears a black and yellow eyepatch. Her remaining eye (left) is brilliant yellow. She has a sharp chin and jawline. Her muscle mass is slightly beneath consistent with regular exercise, and she is somewhat clumsy. She has a tendency to stumble if she isn't watching where she steps.

Psychological Profile

Quinnlash has some very strange psychological markers that nonetheless make sense when her history is taken into account. She is very much

1) Outgoing
2) Friendly
3) Cheerful
and 4) Supportive,
as well as

1) Anxious
2) Emotionally volatile
3) Prone to attention-seeking behavior
and 4) Highly competitive.

In addition, she seems to bear a great deal of attachment issues (for more information, check her background information).

Background Information

Neither we nor Quinnlash herself know exactly where she was born, but all she can remember is the house she lived in for sixteen years in Hovvi. Specifically, she remembers her own room, as she only left it—without permission, I might add—twice in her life. She was kept completely isolated by her parents, researchers on Modir and modium, and was only aware of what they allowed her to be. The only notable incident throughout her life was, as far as can be told, two or three months after she snuck out into the living room and saw the outside world for the first time. Her right eye spontaneously burst (very likely a result of sudden modium growth) and was subsequently removed.

The second time she snuck out was fully, immediately before meeting Besca, which was the first time she actually left her house. She was intimidated and fascinated, and the world seemed to stare at her very strangely. The only known survivor of the Hovvi Incident, she was removed from the town's ruins and taken to the Aerie, where she was subsequently tested for compatibility and given a modioscory to interface with a Savior.

There are a number of strange medical anomalies present in Quinnlash's system, such as her bright yellow eye and the hair being naturally yellow. More pressing is the unfeasible level of modium present in her entire system when she was first retrieved post-Hovvi Incident, and the filed and maintained seed growth of modium in place of her missing eye. Interim-Commander Darroh has taken over care of the child's training as a pilot, and should be contacted for any inquiries.
Savior

---

Designation

Ablaze

Body

Tall and lean, Ablaze is on the thinner side for a Savior. Long scutes of modium not unlike those found on some aquatic organisms run along the arms and legs, forming a sort of natural armmor-weapon combination. The fingers are long and end in sharp claws. At the pilot's request, its right eye has been covered with a thick plate of metal.

Weapon

Ablaze's weapon, suited to the name, is a cannon as long as long as Ablaze is tall that fires explosive blasts of fire. The mechanism by which it produces this fire is unknown. When phased, the cannon gains a charge mechanism, allowing her to charge a shot for up to five seconds to increase the destructive yield considerably, up to approximately twice the size and intensity of the blast at full charge. In addition, the cannon shots can be detonated on command, or detonation can be delayed as a form of trap.

[User]
As Quinn scrolled through her phone, she could hardly believe her eyes just how much people were talking about her. How much garbage they were spewing. There were some things that made her wince, like all the speculation attached to the duel and Roaki. There were some things that made her roll her eye, like the three different eyepatches, none of which actually looked like her eyepatch. There were some things that made her chuckle, and she tapped on the link for the pilot quiz. She'd take it later and see if she got herself or Deelie, or...or Safie.

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

And there were some things that made her eye shoot open in sheer astonishment at the audacity. Secret relationship? Fad diets? Product endorsements I've never seen? Born on the MOON? She kept scrolling, and the results grew wilder and wilder. Until, finally, she saw it.

Locke and Sansean Loughvein... And just like that, they had names.

Locke and Sansean.

And they were...they might be...they could be...dead? They might have died in Hovvi?

Even imagining was...completely alien. Just...just the idea that mom and dad were...dead? Even now, it felt like breaking some kind of universal law. They had been her whole world, her whole reality, for so many years. It was almost hard to fit it into her brain. And something else smacked into her brain along with it, forcing itself in. Like a punch to the face, a lightning bolt to the chest, sending her reeling. Her breathing hitched. No. That had to be wrong.

Deep, sharp breath.

Hand shaking more, she reached back up to the search field. Missed it at first, scrolling past meaningless articles. When her trembling fingers reached, she typed in, Sansean and Locke Loughvein.

Article after article filled the screen. Those about her came first, of course. But they were few and far between as she scrolled down, met with something else entirely.

Genius Modiologists Presumed Dead?

Loughveins Missing After the Hovvi Disaster

Still No Word From Loughveins in Wake of Quinnlash's Duel and Absence - Are They Still Alive?

More and more, and each one she read delivered that same bolt to her chest. She stared at the screen for another moment, then tossed it to the floor and dropped her head into her hands.

She hated her parents. She knew she hated them. They'd done awful things to her for reasons she didn't understand and the search had made no clearer. They'd kept her locked up in one room for her whole life. Fed her poison. By all rights, she hated them with every fiber of her being. The thought of them dead should satisfy her, and she felt Quinnlash's satisfaction and even glee, certainly.

So why, then did that that bolt strike her? Did that thought punch her in the face?

Why did the thought of them dying make her so sad?

And at that thought, her confusion and frustration found their voice and she let out a raw scream, letting her palms muffle it and dull the sharp edges:

"Why do I care?!"

[Assistant]
The presence that haunted Quinn faded, satisfied, confused, and soon she was left with silence. Quinnlash didn't have any answers for her, it seemed, or at least none she thought would help the situation. It was clear enough where she stood with regards to the Loughveins. If an article was posted tomorrow revealing their bodies had been found, there would be a party in the dream that night.

The last, lingering thought left in her wake was the word she so often used whenever they weaseled their way into conversation: Takers.

The quiet didn't last long. From Quinn's room there came a raucous thump, a muted, mumbled alarm, and then the hurrying of footsteps. A moment later, Dahlia came bursting through the door.

"Quinn?!" she yelped, eyes wide and heavy with bags. They locked unsteadily onto her, and with steps just as shaky she scrambled over. "What is it? What happened?" Her hands pulled Quinn's face up, inspecting it, patting down her arms, searching wildly for some sign of injury. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She wasn't, not that Dahlia could see, but that didn't settle her any. She spied the phone discarded on the ground, but didn't bother with it. The room looked fine, no damage anywhere. No alarms blared. No attack. Still the worry stuck with her, and she looked to Quinn expectantly.

[User]
Quinn hadn't really thought of Dahlia when she'd given vent to her frustrated scream. But, she reflected, she should've. As she met Dahlia's eyes with her own, another shard of guilt buried itself in her heart. She looked so tired. So stressed. So worried. Unable to keep eye contact any longer for the stabbing hurt, she dropped her head shamefacedly.

"Y—yeah. I'm...I'm fine. Just..."

She hesitated for a moment. Didn't want to put more on Dahlia. But looking up into her weary silver eyes, she felt herself throwing herself into her sister's arms before she really even realized it, hugging her tight in return. Her eye closed, and she felt a thin stream of tears leaking out.

"I just..."

Another moment of hesitation. Another moment of thinking that she shouldn't burden Dahlia with this. Another moment of self-loathing. But being near Dahlia drew the hurt in her out like nothing else, stripping away the hero pilot, the burdened celebrity, and everything else, and leaving what lay, buried deep, deep down, at the core of Quinn: the lost, scared child.

So when she responded, there was a hint of tears in her voice. "Deelie, they—they could've—they might've—died in Hovvi."

She squeezed the hug tighter, burying her face in her sister's shoulder. "They might be dead. They're probably dead. I'm free of them."

She screwed her eye tighter. "So why—"

And then thickness in her voice turned into sobs.

"Why does it make me sad?"

[Assistant]
Dahlia stood bewildered for a moment, reflexively returning the hug. Quinn was okay? She was okay. She was crying—normal, sometimes she did that—but she wasn't hurt. Scared? No, sad, she heard sad. Sad. Not hurt.

She let out a breath that made her whole body rattle. Relief, mainly, but also the exhaustion catching right up to her. The fog in her mind had parted long enough to determine her sister was alright, and now she could feel it closing again. Quinn was sad about something. Something vague, at least to her, but that was okay. Dahlia was sad about things too. She wanted to say that, but she couldn't connect those wires quite right. She wanted to ask her what was wrong but couldn't articulate that, either.

Instead, Dahlia patted Quinn's head, and resisted the urge to shut her eyes when she leaned her own against it.

"No, it's okay. It's okay. No one's dead," she said absently. Didn't sound right. Felt right, but the words were mumbled and directionless, and part of her knew she was responding more with the intent behind them than the words themselves. "No one's dead. Promise."

[User]
For just a moment, a beautiful, fleeting moment—her sister patting her head, leaning against her, the hug so warm and comforting—everything was right with the world.

And then Dahlia spoke, and the comforting warmth started to burn lower.

Just being there near Dahlia—and the way she was talking, comforting, soft, like a real older sister—was enough to cushion Quinn's pain. But...but the words she was speaking...they didn't sound right. She didn't sound right. She was exhausted. Exhausted. And it was all Quinn's fault.

The warmth burned away, leaving only fading embers, and her sobs stilled then, to shuddering breaths that she could speak through.

"Deelie...Deelie...please..." She squeezed hard enough for her arms to shake, like Dahlia would vanish if she left go. "You..you need sleep, Dahlia. Please. I know..." Her shuddering voice calmed to merely quivering. "I know you're worried about me. That's why you're pushing and pushing and pushing yourself." And then her voice went through another change. Went still, and flat, and hollow. "I'm hurting you again. Again and again and again, I just keep hurting you."

"I'm...I'm sorry..."

[Assistant]
Another change then, Dahlia could tell. She felt it in the strength of Quinn's hug, heard it in the way her voice lost its panic, and then lost everything else with it. She knew it was guilt, even if that realization didn't quite reach her consciousness. Quinn felt guilty about something, about her. Hurting her. Hurting her? Silly. Utterly silly.

"No, no," she said, glancing stability for just a moment. "Didn't hurt me. Never hurt me, Quinn. Nuh-uh. I just…forgot, s'all. Just forgot. No biggie. Sleeping fine, just a lil' weird."

She pulled herself away, just enough to look Quinn in the eye. Red, wet-cheeked, stricken with guilt or worry or grief or all; a part of her stung knowing this was the most familiar of her sister's faces. Dahlia wanted more than anything these days to see her smile. To make sure she was safe enough to smile.

She smiled—like this, see?—and squeezed Quinn's shoulders. Her eyes ached. "Never sorry to me. I'm not sorry. I wouldn't change anything. Made you a promise. 'Cause I wouldn't change anything."

[User]
Dahlia pulled away a little bit—not far enough to leave Quinn's desperate embrace—and smiled.

"Never sorry to me. I'm not sorry. I wouldn't change anything. Made you a promise. 'Cause I wouldn't change anything."

Quinn stared up at her, almost uncomprehending. Didn't hurt me. Never hurt me, Quinn.

And just like that, the fervent energy that she gripped her sister with wilted and faded, and she just about collapsed into her, resting her face on her shoulder once again. Closing her eye tight, clenching her jaw, she tried her absolute hardest to not cry again. And she almost succeeded. Almost, but not quite. The love that Dahlia showed her. Her burning, cloying guilt. Her...her parents, and the new news that she'd been burdened with. She couldn't hold it forever. And once the first tears came, the floodgates opened, and she wept.

Even so, she kept trying to force words out through it. No matter what her sister said...she still wasn't doing enough. So she kept going, voice small and tremulous, like the pathetic child that she was, deep down.

"I—hic—I made you—sniff break...breakfast. 'S...hrrkkkg...'s in the fridge." Her hug once again turned tight, but less out of desperation this time. It was more out of...

"I—I—I love you, Deelie. I—heugh—I love...love you so much."