[System]
7 May 1908

Appearance
Average height, sand brown hair kept up in a professional looking bun when in school/working, left down to let her natural wave free. Hazel eyes often behind reading glasses and dark circles from being up way too late. Occasionally looks a little haggard, her fair skin making the dark circles a little more obvious. A few dark freckles on her face and arms stand out starkly.

Personality
Kind, giving, passionate, and a little absent minded. Bea is a nice person to work with, talk with (as long as you don't mind random, winding tangents on things you might not actually want to know about), and generally be around. She's dedicated to learning and her work, doesn't give up easily and will keep going sometimes even past when it's obvious she should give up.

History

William Axford
9 September 1893

Appearance
Tall, broad shouldered, and generally built like a working man. Strawberry blond hair kept just outside of military standards, light blue eyes set in a handsome face. Few scars here and there, along with a few tattoos. One of his daughters name above his heart, a phoenix across his shoulder on his back, and a naked valkyrie one his right inner forearm.

Personality
Will is a bit of a bastard sometimes, and for the most part doesn't really like to spend lots of time in large groups of people. He's fine with a few people for long times but public spaces start to bother him if he's in them too long. He's rather caring to people he's close to, overly protective almost of them. He treats women amazingly well despite still being a bit of a sleaze sometimes when he talks to them.

History
Born the eldest of far too many, childhood was rough and made him tough. He left home as soon as he could and didn't look back really. A few years before the war broke out, at seventeen he became a father. But that only encouraged him to enlist and ship out.

He served on the front lines for a few yearsbefore moving on to airship service where he found his stride, quickly rising up the ranks. A year before the cease fire was called, he injured fairly badly in battle and he was still in recovery when the fighting stopped. When he was up again he'd been discharged and he took the offer from one of his former officers as captain of one of his civilian vessels. He has since captained the Valkyrie ever since.

Rebeca Elizabeth Axford
25 April 1910

Appearance
Medium height, slim build with a lovely set of curves. Long, mid back length bright red hair hair and startling blue eyes. She's almost always with a bright smile on her face, and a kind look on her face. Even if she had shorter hair there'd be no denying that she was a woman, everything about her screamed it, but in a soft way, especially considering her age. Delicate and feminine, but there's enough spunk in her look that one would believe she was able to go running and swimming with the boys just as well as them.

Personality
Kind, caring, compassionate, loud, exuberant, and loving. There is something about Rebeca that makes it hard to not be happy when you're around her. She gets under your skin quickly, making her seem like she's always been your friend. The girl is all smiles and light laughter. There are very few who would not count her friend, or friendly, even amongst hardened people she is a source of light.

History
The only child of a pair of high school sweet hearts who never wed, Rebeca was raised just on the cusp of middle class. Her mother did well enough to never have her wanting, but the extra little things of life did slip them by as well. But she was happy, and bright and didn't care about those things. Her mother died when she just a little over thirteen, leaving her to live with her grandparents just a few towns over from Saint Louis. She was happy and content with her life, even if she didn't see her father as much as she would have liked to have.

At sixteen, her grandmother who was already I'll passed, her grandfather a few months later. She stayed in the house for a while before her uncle kicked her out because he didn't approve of her lifestyle, and had never liked that she had been born out of wedlock and remains so. So she sent a letter to her father and he gladly took her with him when he next came into town.

[User]
She'd been on a few airships in her life. Only a few though. So the sight of all of them moored up was awe inspiring. She walked with her eyes focused on the ships, trusting that Roger would make sure that she didn't walk into anyone. Thankfully she made it there without any incident and stood looking at the Valkyrie. She was an old ship. But she was well loved, that was obvious.

When Roger spoke with the other man, she brought her attention over to him at last, looking confused. "I'm sure," Bea replied, not sounding it. People who self boasted of being the best rarely ever were. "Is the captain here, now though?"

The man crossed his arms over his chest, looking behind him for a moment. "He is," he said simply, not stopping them from going aboard, but not being overly welcoming either.

《》《》

Rebeca murmured her thanks for her drink, taking a sip from it before replying. "Sorta," she shrugged. "He said I could find you here and I decided to come down. A drink sounded good after all." She pulled a little cigarette case out of a pocket on her skirt, pulling a cigarette out of it and laying it open on the bar top with a gesture to Estella that she could have one if she wished.

She didn't light it up right away, but instead held it in her fingers as she looked at the other woman. "That thing you said was a problem, was one. This afternoon. And the fool had the audacity to blame you. Said you must have done something to it because you couldn't have known otherwise."

[Assistant]
The man was very helpful. However, Roger did not come back with a snappy reply. He smiled politely. "Can you get him?" He asked. Though the mechanic didn't seem to mind that they boarded, still, a ship was like a house. You didn't just walk on without permission. Many ship captains didn't like just anyone on their vessel wondering around and though Roger knew he'd probably fine - as he knew the man - he still didn't want to overstep his place.

The mechanic looked at him like he was an idiot. "I'm waiting for a," he paused glancing at Bea before saying what probably was going to be a curse word due to the pause and the rephrasing. "I'm waiting for a part. Should have been here by now." He said, clearly not wanting to be bothered by them. "Just go in. The ol' man is no doubt on the bridge or something."

Roger raised an eyebrow at the insult. No doubt if William would have heard that he would have not been pleased. What ever happened to that older mechanic. That nice man? He was a bit nicer and would have either gotten the captain or escorted them to him. Roger glanced toward the door. "And Rebeca?" He asked.

"She's the one I'm waiting for." The mechanic pulled out a cigar and lit it up. He crossed his arms and sighed. "Where is she?" He muttered annoyed. He really wanted to get this stupid part fixed so he could head out. She no doubt got lost but he wasn't going to go find her.
~ ~ ~
Estella declined the offer with a slight shake of her head and a smile. She listened to Rebeca. If she was given a nickel for every time she had been blamed for something that wasn't her fault, she'd be rich...well not really but still have quiet a few nickels. She tilted her head slightly at what to her seemed like an interesting statement. Was their an implied question behind it? She took a drink and decided not to answer it. She gave no defense, no reasoning as to why or how she knew. Instead she glanced over.

"Was anyone hurt?" She asked. There was slight concern. She didn't think so. Rebeca looked fine but you never knew. It all depended on how high they got before the Helacoptz went out. She didn't think it would have gotten that high but you never knew. She hoped no one got hurt. As it was, she was wondering if she should have voiced her concern to the captain. Immediately, she dismissed it. She had reported it to the mechanic. Though, she could have gone over his head, it hadn't been her call to do so. There were times you did but times you didn't.

Thankfully no one was hurt. For that Estella was grateful. She looked back at her drink. She was slightly curious as to why Rebeca had come looking for her. From the earlier statement, she didn't think the woman blamed her for the accident. Was she here because she figured Estella paid for the part? Oh she hoped not. She didn't want a big scene from it. But she couldn't think of why else she'd be here. So she waited. She could be patient and she wasn't going to come out and rudely ask.

[User]
Beatrix sighed and rolled her eyes at him some. "Well, thank you for that, " she said, sounding not very thankful at all. She doubted that he would show them on if they asked, and Roger had said that he was friend with the captain so she saw no point in not just going on board and finding the man himself.

So she swept past him, gesturing Roger after her as she went. It took her a moment before she could orientate herself, but she struck out with confidence down a hallway and was right in choosing as she brought them right to the bridge like the mechanic had said the captain was likely to be found.

And sure enough, Will was there in his chair, sitting sideways in it with his long legs over the arm. He was reading over the newspaper, glasses perched on his nose when he looked up at the sound of feet in the bridge. He blinked in a moment of surprise before he folded up the paper and swung his legs back over to stand up. "Well well, long time no see," he said, extending a work roughed hand to Roger with a grin spread wide on his face. "What brings you and this fine lady to my humble ship?"

《》《》

Rebeca smiled at her some. "No," she said in answer to her question about anyone being hurt. "Nothing damaged aside from the ship some, and someone's pride a little." She sipped at her drink a bit more before she went on. "I was hoping you might be so inclined to come back with me to the Valkyrie. Might be in née of your help. Even if just to carry parts back with me." Though it was obvious that Rebeca was after much more than just the errand running.

[Assistant]
The mechanic was not at all helpful. Roger missed the old one. This one he didn't trust. He had seen a couple 'discrete' glances toward Bea that the man shot. It seemed strange that William would hire this man but then again, one did what they needed to do. The old mechanic probably retired and finding a replacement isn't as always as everyone thought.

Following Bea into the ship, Roger followed. Considering she never had been on this ship before, she seemed to know where she was going. Entering the bridge he smiled at the Captain and shook the worn hand. "Passage. We're looking at traveling to Glasglow probably next week." Remembering his manners, he introduced Bea to the Captain. "William, this is Miss Beatrix Brown. A good friend of mine and daughter of the professor I used to work for. Bea, this is Captain William Axford. We met last summer." He didn't elaborate how they met or that it entailed security detail for some valuable cargo.

With the formal introductions out of the way and the pleasantries taken care off, Roger went back to the business at hand. "We're seeing if we can find passage to Glasglow and then back here to London probably mid-next week. I thought I saw your ship and was wondering if you were headed that way."

~ ~ ~
That was a relief. Pride was something that could be hurt and in her opinion was better than actual injury. But then again, from her brief encounter with the man, she doubted the mechanic would agree with her. But it wasn't her place to judge. In a way, she could possibly see his point. You get some girl come in and say something that doesn't make any sense. Then it happens and he gets the blame. Not that she was going to provide any pity. Though not an airship mechanic, if someone genuinely gave her a warning, she might look into it - even if she didn't believe them.

Anyway, she set her drink down and looked at Rebeca. "Sure, I can bring the parts back." She didn't mind delivering parts or heading back to the ship. She doubted though that the mechanic would want her poking around the ship. Not to mention she wasn't sure about that as well. It wasn't her place - she'd help if asked but at the same time, as her mother used to say, "gayst deyn eygn gesheft" - mind your own business. "Did Rufus get all the parts you needed?" She asked.

Her surprise was evident when Rebeca mentioned there was only one part. "Only one?" She blinked surprised. Had the schmuck even looked at the rest of the engine or had he just looked at the one part? She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt but with an airship starting to take off only to crash back down again - there had to be more than one part needed. She hoped for their sakes that he didn't just assume it was the one. It would just make things worse and delay them more.

[User]
Will shook Bea's hand gentler than he'd done Roger's, but not because she wasn't a man, just because she looked more the bookish type and not the work with their hands type. "Just Will is fine," he said to her. "No need to worry about mister or anything, won't offend me any."

"As you wish, Will," Bea nodded, taking her hand back as Roger spoke with him about why they were there.

He seemed to pounder this some before nodding his head. "I can take you to Glasgow and back next week," he said with another little nod of his head. "Had been looking to go soon, but I'll stick around for a friend."

《》《》

She took a few draws of her smoke before replying. "He didn't look at anything before he sent me." She shrugged her shoulder slightly, rolling her eyes. "He's honestly not as good of a mechanic as he said he was. I mean, he's not been terrible so far, I suppose. But I'm pretty sure he's only here because of me."

She took another drag of her smoke before going on, "I think he's just used to having underlings that make sure the work gets done. He's just so lazy."


[System]
Race | Age | Sex

Appearance

Personality

Background
* Profession (Optional)
* Class
* Heritage

History (Optional)

Motivation

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [0/1]

*
*
*

Intelligence [0/1]

*
*
*

Charisma [0/1]

*
*
*

Health [0/1]

*
*
*

Faculties [0/1]

*
*
*

Agility [0/1]

*
*
*

Mysticism [0/3]

*
*
*

---

Equipment
*
*
*

Money
For simplicity's sake, we're doing 3 types of coinage. Royals (Gold), Lordlings (Silver), and Commons (Copper). They each measure 20 of the previous coinage. 20 Lordlings makes a Royal and 20 Commons makes a Lordling. You will roll for your currency. You will roll a D10 for Royals, D20 for Lordlings, and D100 for Commons.

Languages

Rannic Ulfsson

Human (Thaegar) | 27 | Male

Appearance

Rannic stands at an impressive height (6'3), with a powerful physique and callused hands made for combat. His mane of hair is as brown as a wild oak, his eyes as green as leaves. He's not unhandsome and generally sports a robust beard, had he not shaven once he entered the Blackwood. His adventures in the Northern Marches had destroyed much of his ancestral armor, so he now wears what banded plate and leather he can to maintain protection. With large hands, long legs, and broad shoulders, he makes an imposing figure to face down in combat.

Personality
Rannic is honorable and blunt, though he has a streak of free spirit from having been separated from his home for the last four years. Though he can be a bit gruff, he's earnest enough and tends to keep his word. As with most Thaegars, you'll find him a terrible enemy or a loyal friend given enough time to make his aquaintence. He values nothing more than to be implemented back into Thaegar society, though he's become comfortable with his lot in life. Gold and glory are fine companions for the young man, but it will take more than that for him to forget his father's word or his oath to his the thane.

Background
* Professional Soldier (Optional)
* Lower Class
* Son of the Blacksmith and Basket Weaver

History (Optional)

Motivation
Rannic seeks to slay a Dragon or Giant, and to return either head to his clan for recompense of his previous crimes.

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [1/1]

* Two Handed Sword [2]
* Unarmed [1]
* Two Handed Blunt [1]
* Two Handed Cleave [1]

Intelligence [1/1]

* Legendry [1]
* History [1]
*

Charisma [1/1]

*
*
*

Health [1/1]

* Strength [2]
* Constitution [1]
* Toughness [1]
* Stamina [1]

Faculties [1/1]

* Resolve [1]
* Perception [1]
*

Agility [1/1]

* Running [1]
* Outdoors [1]
*

Mysticism [0/3]

*
*
*

---

Equipment
*
*
*

Money
3 Royals, 7 Lordlings, 20 Commons

Languages
Drimgoth, Northern Tongue

[User]
It quite obviously had not been her day, Aeryn thought as she gazed down at her feet. A blister on the side of her ankle from walking. She prodded at it with her forefinger, the sharpness of her nail popped the skin and it began to leak down over her skin to pool upon the fabric of her sock. She shrugged at it nonchalantly, putting her boots back on again - the sting was only minor, and the rumble in her stomach louder.

She was at the last of her rations, and she pulled out from her bag the last strips of meat she had. They were worse for wear now, covered in the dirt from the inside lining of the bag, and dryer still. Luckily, she had her secret weapon tucked away. As she pulled it out, she licked her lips and almost smiled. The corners of her mouth curling mischievously as she turned the lid off the jar. It popped, and a small amount of steam flowed over the rim as she gazed down into the bubbling liquid. Chilli jam.

Happily, she dunked the strips of meat into the sauce. It would have been considered far too hot for a regular palette. She had witnessed men cry at a very sniff of the stuff, here she was being incredibly liberal in the application of it on her jerky.

Shrouded under her cloak, she remained hidden up in the branches of her chosen tree. Rations finished, she was still hungry. Her ears picked up the quiet little click-clack footsteps of a tree-beetle to her left. She raised a brow, and looked left and right as if by instinct, hoping nobody else was around even if she knew there was not. Swiftly, she grabbed the crunchy bug and shoved it into her mouth as it still wriggled in her grip. It wriggled more in her mouth, one of it's squirming legs escaped her lips until she bit down into the centre. It was... [i]Runny[/i. She frowned. "Blech," she mumbled out as it dribbled over her lip. There was only one thing that would wash down the taste.

And then she took a swig from the jam as if it were a drink. A sneaky, hot belch followed.

She was no longer hungry, and somewhere in the trunk of the tree, there would be a newly orphaned nest of tree beetles.

---

Some moments later, all hell had broken loose in the distance -- and that distance was coming toward her at full speed.

Her reflexes kicked in, and she armed herself first with the crossbow. Wolf was a bigger threat than the Gundarog, but the wolf was also a majestic beast, and the Gundarog was an ugly creature. The wolf would provide her with a nice warm pelt and enough meat to last her for days. But the Gundarog was an ugly creature.

If she left the Gundarog for the wolf, the beast would soon be full and come after her. She had to think fast.

Finally, she fired off a bolt from the crossbow -- directly above the Gundarog. She sent it splintering into a weakened branch on a nearby tree. It came tumbling down with a crash, right between the Gundarog and her.

"Give all rations and I kill wolf," she said.

[Assistant]
"I am Alanya, daughter of Burgrave Rochestor. If you're going to Oakhollow, I'll follow. Otherwise this seems to be hello and goodbye."

Torsten shook the woman's hand as did his compatriots in turn. "My name is Torsten Meier. Most folks just call me Torsten." As she shook her friend's hands, he introduced them to her. "This is Ulf Gunnerson, otherwise known as Wolf." Wolf was a small wiry man about five and a half feet tall. Although his brown hair was starting to gray already, the man was only thirty three summers in age. His Fu Manchu mustache and beard were peppered with a few gray hairs as well. Wolf simply nodded towards Alanya. He didn't know what to say.

The second friend stood 6' 4" tall, with rippling muscles bulging over his arms, legs and chest. He was a very impressive man to look at; handsome to boot. One wout noticed his bleached blonde hair, with his beard in a tight braid dangling off his chin and ending below the top edge of his hauberk. "This jötunn is Njal Osborne or Oz."

"Nice to make your acquaintance, ma'am," Oz stammered out.

"We'll travel with you to Oakhollow," Torsten responded. Then he looked at Njal. "Oz, would you mind carrying the fat little man?"

"Not a problem, Tors." Njal tossed the unconscious man over a shoulder like he was a sack of onions. It was no difficulty for the man to carry the smaller man than it would for a horse to carry anyone.

"We are all from Norgard. We have been travelling for several weeks to get here. I guess you could see we are on something of a wanderlust; adventure seekers." Torsten was concerned that maybe he said too much already. Not everyone has nice thoughts about Norgardian. "So who exactly is your father? I have never heard of Burgrave Rochestor." Torsten would engage the woman in small talk as they headed through the forest in the direction of the settlement.

[User]
Phyrrae sniffed at the comment, but with Mari's quick eyes she did see a small, self satisfied smile on the elf maiden's face. "I'm not sure what you're talking about." She replied, though the woman did keep her voice down all the same. "If I were to do something like that, he'd never play a game with me again."

With that, Phyrrae drifted into herself as the group trekked deeper into the murky forest. Orek took the lead, at least in spirit. Po was often at the fore, his staff bumping against the ground with every two steps, though he often slowed down to make sure everyone was safe and in line. Even on the road, the forest seemed to reach out and cling to you. Phyrrae eyed the forest with suspicion, and whilst Kane didn't seem to be afraid of anything, it was clear he was alert the way he moved.

"I cannaught believ we could naught even bring a mule." Sinclair said, breaking the monatany of the walk. He wasn't just complaining, as it became evident he had embroiled himself in a discussion of spoils with Orek. The Dwarf chuckled through his well groomed beard.

"Last I checked, seven rings wasn't that big of a haul." He rumbled, smirking at the duelist. "Besides, as long as we find the place we can get back there easy enough to take the rest of whatever loot there is. If I were you, I'd be happy we don't have a beast here that might get spooked and run off with all of that treasure you're hoping to get your hands on."

"I'm pretty sure Kane can carry quite a lot." Po remarked casually, an easy smile on his face as he walked beside them. His staff was now on the back of his shoulders with his arms up and resting on it. His skin was tanned and his arms were toned from a life of manual labor. He could likely lift quite a bit as well, but Dwarves were known for their ability to haul large loads, so despite being the second tallest, Orek could give Po a run for his money in carrying capacity.

"Stupid," Phyrrae breathed. "Counting your vrikerumbles before they bear honey..." Likely a comment on the three of them assuming they would find anything.

Meanwhile, Kane had actually lagged behind a few feet. The massive humanoid's shoulders were still slightly taller than the top of Mari's head, though there was a comforting aura about Kane. He had the look of a careful and loyal friend to match how fearsome of an enemy he would be.

"Mari, I have a question to ask if you would honor me." The Drogator growled, his large tail scraping along the ground audibly. "Are you a powerful warrior among your kind?" He asked. "Traveling the Blackwood alone is something most humans would not do." He watched her curiously, Mari likely having seen lizards who looked the same when they were on alert for predators or prey. "What brings you here on our journey?"

[Assistant]
The sun was still in the sky, but it had notably lowered into the west, casting light along the table as they spoke. It was clear the Elf and Gnome weren't entirely used to a stranger passing through Greybridge to seek company with them out of the blue, as the two exchanged looks when he asked if he could buy them a hot meal and a drink. Despite speculating, it was clear Calvin was up for it to a point. As if on cue, his small stomach growled audibly, causing Saskia to roll her eyes.

"That's kind," Saskia remarked, eyeing Cillian for a moment. "We have been here for awhile, however."

"Not too long." Calvin interjected, elbowing her. "Besides, we haven't eaten anything since we sat down. We can at least enjoy a meal from our new friend before we depart, eh?"

Two elves with braids and riding leathers strode into the front door as a few laborers stalked out into the streets. The city seemed as lively as ever, with raucous conversations mixed with hushed meetings in the corner of the Iron Star. It drowned out the silence of Saskia, who shrugged her shapely shoulders after she deliberated. She seemed to lower her wariness quite a bit actually.

"I guess I should relax. After all I just made a fortune and you're wanting to buy me dinner. What's not to like?" She replied, calling over two drinks for her and Calvin on Cillian's dime. She got a Banian Whiskey, one of the strongest recreational drinks menfolk had. "Though, I am curious. What makes you so enamored with the Blackwood, my friend? You do know it's a death trap. Even a bard would have a hard time finding glory in there without a touch of death. You don't even have a Knight or monster slayer to follow. Will you go in alone?"

"Oh and the city is always safe?" Calvin asked.

"At least the city is predictable. The Blackwood is filled with nameless things and creepy crawlies." Saskia shuddered for a moment, though her comfort returned tenfold when she got her whiskey. Calvin received and Andredian mead for a light buzz and a warm stomach to go with his meal.

"Yes, tell us your end goal, friend." Calvin suggested to Cillian.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 19

Birthplace: Chapel Hill, North Carolina

Appearance:
5'11" with dirty blond hair and blue/green eyes depending on the lighting. Fairly muscular but rarely show emotion on his face.

Personality: (Introverted/Sensing/Thinking/Perception) To most Alex appears cold and standoffish, but those who know him well realize he is just a quiet guy. He can seem rude but that is only because he is very direct and rarely lets bias change how he deals with things unless he REALLY dislikes someone. He is fiercely loyal and if someone hurts or wrongs someone he cares about he will defend them, but he rarely defends himself. He loves bringing characters to life and enjoys making people happy despite not seeming like it. Ever since the outbreak he has trouble trusting people and it takes a lot for them to earn it. Until they have earned his trust though he won't take his eyes off them. He does however pretend to trust them and he is very convincing.

Occupation before the breakout: College Student

Skills: Good shot. Fairly decent at fighting. Good actor. Great driver.

Fears/Incompetencies: Large numbers of people. That someone he cares about dies because of him. Will every now and then 'stick his foot in his mouth'.

Equipment: A katana he inherited from his grandfather. A bookbag with some water, food, and a change of clothes, an Atlanta Braves Baseball cap, a zippo lighter.

Group: He and his siblings are members of a democratic survivor group south of Dana Point.

History: Alex is the second oldest of his siblings. When he was younger he connected fairly well with others, but eventually someone really close to him betrayed him. Also almost all of the friend groups he has ever been in tend to have a large falling out leaving him to have to decide which side he would join. He never could choose so he always got left behind. Over the years he closed himself off emotionally to others and rarely opens up anymore. He went to college in California close to Dana Point and his siblings were luckily in the area during the outbreak.

[User]
Ethan Blackledge

Clouds completely covered the sky, with smoke still clearly visible from the north of a group who were running the opposite way. They'd reached the coast pretty quickly and gone east following the coast line. The survivors had not stopped running since the walkers had swarmed their home and destroyed everything they'd been building over the past year. There was only eleven people who managed to get out of the town together and they had no clue if anyone else had gotten out of there.

They hadn't spoken a word to each other since the first five minutes of escaping. Ethan, one of the survivors, thought to himself that it was best not to say anything. Letting everyone come to terms with what had just happened as they continued to move down the coast.

—————————————————————————————————————————

An hour later, they still hadn't stopped moving, still following the coast with the smoke slowly fading into the distance. Their speed had started to get slower and slower and you could hear everyone breathing getting heavier as well. "Stop…" Ethan said in an out of breath tone. "We need to take a minute to catch our breathes... One of us is going to pass out in a minute." Ethan slowed down to a walk then stopped completely putting his hands on his head breathing in as much as he could.

The highway road that they'd been going down was covered in cars that had slowly started to rust over the past year. Everyone had decided to agree with Ethan and started to lean against the cars or sit on the floor. Ethan took off his rucksack and chucked it on top of a car bonnet and grabbed his map and the bottle of water out and taking a sip and passing it towards Walter. A pretty quiet guy but Ethan was really fond of him. He'd been on a few scavenging trips with Walter and they'd all gone well, Ethan trusted him. He was also glad to see Alex, sometimes it was hard to talk to him because of the slight language barrier, but he knew quite a bit on medicine and in these times it was one of the best traits somebody could have.

Ethan laid out the map on the bonnet, looking it over to see where there next stop could be. "We'll keep moving down the coast until the sun starts to go down." Ethan said out loud thinking to himself. "Then find a house to stay for the night…" There was houses all the way down the highway and as far as he could see. "The walkers will probably linger about in Dana Point for a while so we should have time to sleep. Anybody think we should do anything different?" Ethan looked around to see if anyone wanted to do something else. He knew everyone was clearly thinking about what had just occurred but he knew this wasn't the time or the place to actually start talking about it.

[Assistant]
Camyllia's heart pounded in her chest as she ran down the street away from her home tears running down her face. She refuses to turn her head to see if she was followed or not due to her panic state of mind. She dodges under the arms of a walker letting it fall and kept running. It wasnt' long that she came to a stop by an abandoned apartment building. Camyllia puts her hands behind her head and allowed air into her constricting lungs.

"Oh man," She whispers putting her hands down and looking around. Camyllia had ran all the way to the beach she played at with her uncle. Letting out a smile she makes her way down the road to where some colorful houses going for the smaller but brighter blue one. Coming to a stop at the sidewalk watching a half walker groan on the lawn reaching out for her. Slowly making her way forward Camyllia saw who the walker was, Jannette, her uncles ex.

"Sorry," She says pulling out her softball bat,"Can't have you aroun' Jan," Camyllia said her country twang coming out a bit. The walker reachedoutmore for her making the girl sigh before she swung with all her might caving the womans head in. Camyllia eye's began to water and she backed away her stomach churned and she held onto it gagging. Get ahold of your self Cammy! You're on your own! No wussy crap

 Coming over to the walker she rips her softball out of her head and goes to the still feeling sick to her stomach over what she had just done.

[User]
The small white house was off to the side of the main road. From the outside it looked abandoned : boarded up windows, overgrown yard, cobwebs everywhere... But inside there were two souls that called the little sanctuary home.

Kat gently rocked the baby girl. She had been fed and given a bath, now it was nap time. But, being stubborn like her mother, the baby was refusing to go down without a fight.
"Come on Gracey..." her mother cooed gently. "You're going to make me do it aren't you?"
The baby girl's replied with a whine and reached for her mother's face.
Kat sighed. "Alright then," she agreed and began to sing.

 "You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy when skies are grey,
You'll never know dear,
How much I love you,
Please don't take my sunshine away...

She continued softly, humming when not singing the words to the classic lullaby. It was the only thing that could make Grace sleep.
Eventually the baby girl yawned and laid her head against her mommy's chest, closing her eyes. Kat gently and carefully laid her in the makeshift plan pen she had crafted from safety gates and twine. She made sure Grace had her little pink blanket that she wouldn't sleep without.
Still humming, Kat picked up the shotgun, which now had no ammo but was still an effective intimidation tool, and went to the window to keep watch. A swarm of walkers had passed by during the night, which meant if any survivors were left in their wake they might be headed her way.
If they thought a single mother with a baby would be an easy scavenging target, they had another thing coming...

[Assistant]
Just outside of San Clemente High School in a sniper's den which is well concealed by large rocks and some foliage, Alex is holding the Hunting rifle looking down the scope and checking the fence. Pretty clear. The clean-up crew this month was doing very well. Maybe whoever got chosen this month would choose the same people. Alex didn't care where he got put as long as there was some solitude involved.

As he was about ready to pack up and head back to the gate his walkie squawked to life, "Hey Alex. Meetings about to happen soon. Did you remember to put your vote in this month." Alex detached his walkie from his belt and pulled it up in front of himself to respond, "Nah. You know it don't matter to me. I always vote for you anyway, Ollie." Alex always voted for Ollie. Why wouldn't he. Ollie knew how to lead a group of people, he was trustworthy, he was fun to laugh at, and last but not least he was his older brother.

"You know I'm getting tired of that excuse. A couple of the others are too. They think you don't take the system seriously." With that Alex grabbed the rifle, his backpack, and the binoculars and left the small perch, "Don't worry about it. Hey tell Dave that I'm approaching the gate. He's way to jumpy. I don't wanna risk getting shot." Alex turned his walkie off and walked the rest of the way down the hill and picked up a slight jog when he got close to the gate, "Hey. It's me. Guard Tower A Cycle 3 reporting back.
Under his breath
 I seriously hope I'm not under Jefferson again." The gate swings open in front of Alex and he rushes to the supply room and drops off the binoculars and rifle, then makes his way to the cafeteria for the meeting. By the time he arrived they had already started counting the votes for the month. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Erin, wait or was it Clara, whatever. Either way he decided he might as well congratulate her for the good work she did this month. He always hated running into stragglers on his way back from the perch. He walked over and sat beside her, "Hey good work this month. Hopefully whoever is in charge of clean-up chooses you for their crew. I heard you got the most kills this month."


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 27

Race: Half-Dragon/Half-Goliath

Appearance
Kharne takes after both of his parents very heavily. His mothers size and strength, his fathers natural defenses and coloration. He stands at an intimidating ten feet tall. Fairly above average even among other Goliaths. He's built much like a barbarian or a fighter, thick muscles ripple beneath his scales even at a near idle. Speaking of his scales, most of his body is black with a blue sheen in the right light while the plating along his chest and underside of his tail are a dark royal purple. His massive wingspan and strength doesn't make up for the half-formed membrane that decorate it, only allowing him to glide or gain a boost to jumping distance.

Strangely his horns are as white as freshly fallen snow, each one is about a foot and a half long and curve back slightly. Three spikes line the back of his jaw, the longest of which is four inches, the middle being three, and the bottom a mere two inches long. The spikes seem to protect his ears which can swivel to catch sounds and are pointed. Much likes his horns and spikes his claws, both hands and feet, are just as white. But the claws on his feet are clearly larger and designed to tear. Lastly his eyes, which are red with a reptilian pupil, sometimes glow depending on his mood. The more agitated and angry the brighter the glow.

Personality
Kharne can best be described as a blunt individual. He despises most races flowery language that beats around the bush and instead goes right to the point. Despite his bluntness he has the patience of a mountain, only the truly stupid things in the world getting him to actually get snappy. Given his bestial nature though he's a natural empath. Able to sense true emotions to a limited degree, his humanoid nature sort of getting in the way with more reason and logic. Like almost any race if he's treated correctly he's a good ally. Treat him wrong and you'll find no friendship, no aid, and potentially a pissed off stream of acid.

History
Kharne rarely gets into his history unless a superior has asked about it. He was a part of a Goliath tribe up in the mountains, his father unknown but clearly draconic, his mother a pure-blood Goliath. Once he was mature enough physically he left the tribe behind to survive in the mountains on his own. His draconic nature driving him to hunt and solitude while his Goliath side felt he was a drain on his single parent.

Very few things could contend with him in the mountains that he wandered. Getting that nice Goliath size before finally leaving into the warmer climes beneath the mountains. Down below there was far less solitude than he thought there would be. There were these soft bipedal beings in houses. Dozens of them that ran and screamed merely at the sight of him. He didn't understand their gibberish, only the Giantish and Draconic from his people and own instinct.

During the brief time he had been in the "valley" he encountered an old Knight. Such an odd being, this old man. Extremely few Goliath's lived to old age and even they went out to one-up their previous exploits. But the other odd thing was this old man could speak Draconic. So instead of yelling and screaming as he fled he held a conversation with the huge draconic man. Asking where he came from, what he planned on doing, typical stuff people wanted to know when they encountered a new and rare being.

Kharne found himself without answers to some of these questions. He had been following his instincts so much that he never really thought about his own future aside from his next meal. Finding no answer he was given a choice to follow the elderly man and learn from him or continue on with his instinctual life. It's obvious what Kharne picked, he followed the man and learned things about the world that even his ancestors and tribe didn't know. He didn't know it but his mere presence helped the old man, who'd try to rob a guy with a ten foot tall behemoth nearby during their travels?

Cut forward a few years and here we have a Kharne that had gained a good amount of knowledge, learned to suppress his instinctual dragon nature, and even push aside, most, of his Goliath competitiveness. He wasn't the scholarly sort but he wanted to learn things that could help him in the long run. Like potentially locating his draconic father if he ever felt like going that far. In his 'off time', meaning when he didn't have his face in a book, he learned the humanoid ways of fighting. With weapons, armor, and shields instead of tooth and claw.

During his time of study he looked at the various kingdoms of the races. Their histories, their military strategies, strengths, weaknesses, etc. He also looked at the gods and goddesses each one sort of fell under. He didn't really see anything that he could follow himself just by reading. So he'd have to see what each offered when he decided to travel. Given his draconic nature he honestly had no idea how long he'd live but he could spend that time fighting and learning.

The old knight he had helped before, and learned a little from, recommended he should participate in the upcoming meetings and fighting. Currently the behemoth is recommended to the human based kingdom to help where he's suitable. It wasn't possible to be a kingdom of one after all.

How he got to be a part of the group was because of that old knight. He had done a lot of good for the kingdom and his word carried some weight. He recommended Kharne, who had been studying up on the other kingdoms and doing odd jobs, for the cause. There wasn't any resistance to the idea, having muscle was a good thing sometimes. Aside from studying he had been clearing the kingdom of bandit fortresses and hunting the larger monsters that seemed to roam the area.

Equipment
* Crystal Greatsword: A monstrously huge sword made from what looks to be crystal. It glows a soft red, as if shining light through a refined rose quartz. It's eight feet long, the blade is single edged, it's four inches thick, and roughly fifteen inches wide. No one knows how much it weighs but the typical races can't even lift it.
* Steel Arm: Steel plates cover his right arm, his first knuckles to his shoulder. This is in place of a shield, allowing more maneuverability to parry melee attacks.
* "Champions" Belt: A particularly large steel clasp that goes around the waist. It's an inch thick and about five inches wide. Attached to the belt is a "skirt" of red fabric with a gold border that reaches his ankles. Offers minor protection and public decency.
* Dragon Tooth Bangle: A leather bangle on his bicep that has a ring of dragon teeth. A keepsake from his tribe up in the mountains and offers nothing but memories.

Magic
* Dragon Breath(Acid): Due to his draconic heritage he can fire a spray of acid in a 60ft line from his mouth. This can only be used twice daily
* Dragon Resistance(Acid): His dragon heritage gives him resistance to his own breath weapon damage type.
* Rage: It's less magic and more his body going into overdrive. His strength and endurance are multiplied by 1.5x. His reflexes are heightened due to the 'higher brain functions' slowing down to not interfere.

Extra
If you're wondering what Kharne sounds like, here ya go. youtube.com/watch?v=-dOXkdxP1ig

[User]
Beatrix watched and waited, shield held protectively in front of her and hand on her pommel. She'd moved out with the rest of the group, making sure her light fell on them through the movement, and watched with narrowed eyes as it laughed. Or somethings did. Her eyes darted around the field, looking for anything that would give a clue to what was happening. The bolt now consuming the house was rather unappealing and she had no interest in surrendering her troops to this abomination. She watched carefully as the ice and water creature slammed against the monster. Curious. It hadn't been worried about the bolt before so what about this was so different? Ice? Water?

Magic.

Fight fire with fire. An abhorrent saying of the other races, willing to concede their values to worsening horrors for the value of temporary victory. What good is evil even when it provides for the greater good? But philosophising aside, it seemed the creature's "heart", for lack of a better term, was unnaturally hard so perhaps magic was the only thing that had an opportunity to destroy it. And what better magic did they have than a Goddess blessed blade?

Beartix took a deep breath, glanced at the party, and nodded resolutely. She drew Gryphon, the crystal clear sound of its blade singing as it hit the cold air, and winked at the Butcher. She threw S'vennia a determined look, glanced at the Blade of Ruin, and tilted her head at the beast before turning back to face the creature and grinned, laughing loudly.

"If its a dance you want, tis a dance you shall have! Lets see if we can keep you occupied for a while! And I think our tune will be cover fire, no?" Beatrix taunted brazenly before she charged, shield high and blade ready. "For all who came before us and for all who march with us still!" Her blade matched her shield, sheathed in a shimmering white light.

She dug her heel into the ground and, instead of swinging at the beast, turned the other direction to leave her armored back open for a strike as the tip of her blade swing behind her and up towards the creature's face. The move would frame its chest perfectly and hopefully the glow of the magical enhancement would keep it blinded long enough for a follow up strike.

[Assistant]
Kharne felt the air changing as he continued his approach. The surroundings changed as well, flickering between reality and this...spirit world. He had never seen nor heard of such a being that seemed to exist, and control, both planes. That laughter rung out again, but he just tuned it out. It was probably to make people unsettled if they somehow resisted the freezing that this creature did. Then again it probably found all of this to be great fun, its body was essentially nothing but metal. How did one kill what might not even be truly alive?

At a certain point he felt that sensation again, that immense weight. But he wasn't covered in ice this time. Clenching his jaw he pushed himself, forcing his body to continue forward. The sudden winds were cold, freezing like his old mountainous home. Steam wafted from his body from the unnatural coldness. Another step and reality changed again, it was the ghostly appearance now instead of the one of iron.

Its strange smile grew wider as it gathered energy in its palm. "You got me unawares once..." He growled out through clenched teeth. His body moved as the Butcher rushed him. His bones sounded like steel girders bending from him forcing his muscles to react. He wasn't as fast as he normally was, but he had seen how the Butcher would move its hand. A ball could be thrown, or thrust, but it only went in a single direction. Forward.

Kharne shifted slightly, letting his bulks weight help move him out of the way of its charging thrust while he tried to grab its wrist. He was only guessing he could even touch the damn thing, but its arms and torso seemed solid while its lower body was the more ghostly of it.

[User]
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`In the street`
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@Kazemitsu

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"If its a dance you want, tis a dance you shall have! Lets see if we can keep you occupied for a while! And I think our tune will be cover fire, no?... For all who came before us and for all who march with us still!" Beatriz cried as she begun her assault on the beast. The Butcher regarded her almost with curiosity as she enacted her unusual move, arrogant that it would do no harm.

In this it was wrong, as Beatrix's blade made contact, the monster was staggered by the blow. In the realm it had trapped Kharne into, the dragon would also see the butcher stagger even though it did not seem as if anything had struck it. The backwards stagger caused Kharne's grab to miss, but it also caused the energy beam it had planned to hit Kharne with ended up firing early and wild from being knocked off-balance, the blast flying into a nearby cottage, crashing through a window in similar fashion to the bolt Cyterius had fired. Within seconds, another implosion blew the structure apart. Kharne saw it all unfold as it happened. In the "Real world" the party would witness the building erupt as if spontaneously. Debris was flung and scattered across the streets and neighboring houses.

In Kharne's dimension, the Butcher regained its footing and faced towards the dragon, bringing one of it's limbs back again in an attempt to do a quick melee strike against Kharne instead of wasting time charging another energy blast. In the party's perspective, the monster was looking at nothing, nowhere near where Kharne's real body stood, and had faced away inexplicably from Beatrix, leaving it open to another attack.

[Assistant]
Kharne took note that some force had made the Butcher stumble. The others must be doing something, this was clearly not the usual plane of reality. This has to be a spirit plane of some sort. He thought as it righted itself. When it drew its arm back for a strike Kharne got ready. It telegraphed its attacks so much, was it that cocky? Or was it invulnerable in certain planes?

When it slashed for him he batted aside its attack with a flick of his sword. Even if it was stronger, a parry only took a fraction of someones strength. It was essentially using their own strength and balance against them. His wing lunged forward, the massive limbs clawed 'hand' was curled into a makeshift fist to plow into the Butcher's chest.


[System]
Vis Starkweather

Appearance:
Vis stands at 6ft 4 inches tall and weighs 170Ibs, his figure would be classed as lanky though he has enough muscle mass to avoid that (but not enough to be called muscular), his skin is pale but not too pale, it is comparable to milk. He has snow white, pigmentless hair, courtesy of his father, which he generally has slicked back, the color of his right eye is a deep, electric blue, his left eye is a bright green (this one is blind as it was struck with a curse. He has a slim head with rounded features, not the sharp features of his elven father, though he does have the elven ears even though the left one is in tatters, hanging limpy to the side. On the lower left side of his face he is missing the skin and flesh of his jaw and lower cheek, exposing his gums and teeth, this occured from the same accident as the one that ruined his ear, a cross bolt that narrowly missed destroying his life, he covers up the facial scar with a black scarf.

Race: Half-Elf
Class: Rogue

Main-Hand Weapon: Iron Rapier
Off-Hand Weapon: Slim Iron Dagger
Secondary Weapon: Knuckle Dusters

Armor:
When he is not traveling or not engaged in anything that could end his life, he wears a white puffy shirt, with long sleeves and buttons down the front, as for legs he wears grey trousers and a pair of black leather boots, the scarf around his face doesn't go unless he's in private. When he is traveling however he does wear armor, a set of grey leather armor with azure highlights in the place of tassels and the odd leather plate, the armor has a fur neckline and full segmented leather arms and legs. He always has his sword by his side.

Powers: Not Magically Inclined.

Skills: He has turned the simple act of stealth into an art, having mastered the shadows and the ways to be at one with them; he can hide like no other, may it be active or in plain sight, if he doesn't want you to see him, he won't be seen. Another skill that he possesses is the ability to climb and scale natural and unnatural surfaces, though he much prefers to climb buildings and other structures because he feels more at ease with them. And the final skill of note is that he is streetwise, using his logic and intuition to find who, what or where he wants to find, he can build an interactive map of the city around him, using key figures and places as guides to finding things, picking up on things most wouldn't notice.

Weaknesses: One of his major flaws is that, though he can dodge hits very well, he can only get hit a few times before he is down for the count. His slighter than average frame and and lack of heavy armor don't exactly help and his sword isn't the best for attacking heavily armored opponents. Another one of his flaws is that he's not precisely a people's person, it's not because he doesn't like to interact but because he feels that he can't do it due to his horrible lisping and bad temperament when people refer to the scarf that is constantly around his neck. On his left side he has sensory underload, he's completely blind and partially deaf, one caused by a witch's curse (the witch is now dead) and a crossbow bolt (like the witch, his assailant is dead), his inability to hear and see on the left side doesn't help when he's fighting in a croud or when he's trying to be perceptive (but he manages well). His cursed, green left eye glows in the dark, though this helps when he wants to see in the dark, projecting a cone of soft green light, when he is trying to hide, he needs to close it and cover it with a hand (he only has two and he'd rather have use of both).

Personality:
He has a rather quiet demeanor, not because he is shy but because he despises the way he sounds due to the hole in his mouth, though he still does prefer to listen because there is more to gain by doing so. He doesn't like arguments, usually finding a way to dodge them, usually elegantly but when that doesn't work he's not afraid to fight, though he usually doesn't raise his sword offensively. Vis is very fond of books, though his reading skills are weak he finds great pleasure in trying to desipher the ink; he is not the most intelligent, he can't tell you how magic works, or guess the mass of a brick by the light it reflects but he is crafty and cunning, able to put two and two together faster than most. Before he says things he tries to stop and thinks for a while to make sure what he's saying is right, he us cautious not wanting or willing to make mistakes if it will put him or the people he cares about in less then comfortable conditions.
Background:
He was the child of a human and an elf, his mother and father respectively. His mother was a baker's assistant in the kitchen of some duke who ran the area, she would go to the castle kitchen every morning at around dawn and returned every night after the sun had set, she wasn't happy with her job but the money was good so she stayed. However one autumn day she suddenly didn't dislike her job as much, there was a visit by a group of royal dignitaries, they must have been high up because they had a whole host of guards and courtiers with them, she knew because she had to back so much more bread and pastries but that is irrelevant. One evening she was taking some roles over to the dinner table where more were asked for, when she bumped into one of the guard, literally bumping into him and spilling all the roles onto the floor, however that wasn't on her mind at that moment, what was on her mind was the handsome elven guard she bumped into and likewise she was on his. That was the start of their romance, they spent evenings together and days eyeing eachother from across rooms and halls as they passed eachother, during this autumn Vis was conceived and by the time his father had to leave (he had to stay with the royal group because the winter had become too harsh to travel) he was born. However Vis had only seen his father by the time he was 6, he had to leave once the weather had cleared, which was a few days before Vis was born. He had made an instant connection with his father and visa versa, his father had decided to leave the employment of his former masters and become the head of guard of the duke's castle, with his baker's assistant wife. His father had taught him many things through his youth, primarly how to use a sword but other things as well, like how to skin a cat, however the one thing that he wasn't taught was how to read or write, he picked some of that up himself and it hasn't improved yet, most likely it's worse.
By the time he was a young man, he started getting restless, wanting to go out and see the world instead of being an assisstant to an assisstant baker. His parents told him time and time again to reconsider but Vis was too stubborn, and his father noticed this stubbornness as his own, the elf allowed him to go under one condition, that he was to practice his reading and send them letters. Vis agreed, rather too quickly, forgetting that he was horrible at both reading and writing, so he set off and had many adventures, most of them ending badly, some of them ending horribly and abruptly with an injury. But he adventured on undeterred, half blind, hard at hearing and with a hole in his maw.
Other:

Vis' Companion
Age: 9 or 10

Appearance: Kat is a spindly girl of around 5'2", weighing not much more then a sack of flour. Her slim body boasts no fat and little muscle, though she is full enough to avoid the shape of her bones coming through her skin. She has fair skin, lightly dusted by the rays of the sun and with faded freckles peppered across her cheeks and nose. Her face is small and clustered around a small area, she has a small nose and wide lips that are naturally red, with a protruding chin and large ears to fram her head. Her hair is long and flat, rough to the touch and rolls to the small of her back, it is dull copper in color, with subdued tones of richer reds, browns and auburns. Her eyes hazel, though mostly green have flecks of brown, gold and blue in them. On her left hand, the pinky and the ring finger up to the middle are missing, her forearms are also speckled with black burn marks and small scars.

Race: Human (Of the Ginger variety)
Class: None, at the moment...

Clothes: Kat where's on her head a tightly wrapped white linen bandana, it conceals everything above her hairline and ends at the back of her head with a tightly wound bun, all her hair is concealed; she often takes it off and uses it as a scarf though, when she is not working. On her body she wears a grey woolen poncho over a lime green tunic, covering her legs with a leather skirt that goes down to the base of her ankles; on her feet she wears black boots and instead od socks a pair of white leggings made of close fitting cotton. On her hands she wears fingerless gloves that are open at the top and secured around her wrist by a strap and a button.

Weapon: Nothing (Vis' Dagger in due time)

Skills: One of her skills is climbing, though she is fairly new to it, she can climb fairly well but at a slow pace compared to Vis, she often uses her skills at climbing to explore or hide from someone or thing. Another of her skills is that she knows how to cook, often sticking to recipes she knows but still willing to try something new, though most people would not really care about cooking, when on the road good cooking can make a long journey bearable. Hiding, a mixture of her small size and ability to be very quiet, she can become invisible, helped by the neutral color of her visible clothing.

Weaknesses: She is completely illiterate, not even knowing how to write or read her name. This is a problem when it comes to bring on the road, as she can't read signs or maps. She reacts badly to critiscm or negative situations, often yelling and crying and being a roucus child. She can't keep her mouth shut and often talks at inopportune times, saying things she shouldn't say or at the wrong moment, often speaking her mind instead of keeping it there. Doesn't know how to control anger very well, often vents it as tears or yelling and punching.

Personality: Kat is a rather brash individual, often blurting out and avoiding general manners like thanking people and asking politely, often being rather blunt and indifferent to people's opinions. When not at work at the bakery, she often finds herself getting into trouble, often finding her way into "adventures" that she shouldn't be partaking in. Though her attitude is rough, she has some kindness to her, not knowing when far is but understanding when too far is and realizing when to back off and when to approach with an (awkward) gentles hand. Kat is also a fairly curious person, often asking things she shouldn't and getting into situations that could otherwise be avoided with s level head, not saying she thick. She had the ability to pick things up quickly, it's just that she's not given the opportunity to try often.

Background: Kat was born in the spring, on the morning of last frost, her mother was a baker and her father a forester. From a young age, her parents struggled to get her affection and this struggle developed into a heated fight for Kat's heart. This ultimately tore the marriage apart, the end signaled by the father running off in the middle of the night and taking Kat with him. She was relatively calm with the situation and lived with her father, until he was killed by a bunch of thugs for not being able to pay back some debt. Her neighbors helped her get back to her mother,  and it appeared that all was smooth sailing, working at the bakery. That is until the attack...

[User]
Separ
Separ quickly studied the supplies of Carver, Alula, and the scarf wearing elf. Carver barely seemed to have anything, Alula on the other hand seemed to have tons of gold, as well as some miscellaneous items that Separ could make neither heads nor tails of. Lastly the scarf wearin elf seemed to have a modest sum of money as well as some various items which made Separ question why he had them in the first place. Disregarding those items Separ listened to the elf talk about buying various food items and such, only for a girl who identified herself as Rose Anew, aka 'Phoenix' to step forward and ask if she could go along with the group.

Separ was immediately impressed by her, as she said she was both a capable fighter and a great cook. "A fighter and a cook? You've instantly sold me, I'm happy you could be on the team. So what kind of dishes do you specialize in?" Separ then looked around at his fellow group members. "No one has any objections right?"

[Assistant]
"Everyone found gold? I think we have enough for a sword or two."
Furnace held his heavy bag of coins and shook the bag have it make a sattisfying jingling sound.
"Though the metal is soft and not ideal. We can make do."

[User]
Alula watched with strange interest as Carver tossed the rock out of his bag. She watched it roll and skid away from the group, until it finally settled into a grassy patch several yards away from them. It would have been impossible for anyone to just see the rock if they were walking past, and yet Alula knew it was there, so she could see it. She shivered despite the heat. She turned her blurred attention back to the group.

She allowed the punching man who look through her bag, which she had hidden within her robes. She didn't really have anything of importance on her. Her bag was actually a blanket all bundled together with twine. In her bundle was nothing but a few torn up pieces of canvas, likely at one point a tent, and some random odds and ends. Nothing of value, more like junk you would find laying around. She wondered where they came from.

And then there was another girl. Alula pulled down the rim of her hat, muttering softly. "A life is cut short so another can begin. Lives are lost in the forest of life to allow the young to grow." She felt horribly dizzy and a bitter cold spreading though her veins. She leaned forward for a moment, resting her weight against Carver until the cold was replaced with the burn. At this point she was hoping no one else would approached the group.

[Assistant] Vis watched the rock skid to a halt and walked over to it to pick it up off the ground and into his pocket, a man walking past gave him a glance, most likely because of his damaged face but Vis decided to believe that he glanced about the rock, who knew, he might find use for it later. He turned to the group and once more spoke up, "I'm going thu go thearching for bread, anyone wanth thoo thag along?" he asked, hoping someone would want to come with him, though he wasn't too talkative, he didn't mind the company when he had it, it made him feel a little better about being bad at socializing.


[System]
Age: 20
Sex: Male
Position within The Imperium of Man: Inquisitorial Scribe of the Ordo Malleus
Appearance: 5'10", with messy black hair, and hazel eyes. Not particularly well built, and very faintly tan skin.

His outermost layer is that of a classic inquisitorial trenchcoat, free of most inquisition iconography save for a golden Aquila adorning his right shoulder -- as he has yet to earn any beyond that. On his left forearm, is a vambrace shaped cogitator that manages the controls to his refractor field as well as his assisted targeting system, its many buttons glow a soft, dull red. Beneath the trenchcoat lies a lightweight variant of the ceremite plate used by inquisition stormtroopers; sacrificing sturdiness for mobility, as the weight of the normal armor plating would likely prove cumbersomely heavy to Titus. The dark and dulled coloration of the ceramite makes the plating almost blend into the shadows cast by the trenchcoat. On the back of his left hip is a leather fannypack, containing and concealing his personal refractor field.

Armor:

Super light ceremite armor-- a lighter variant of the ceremite armor worn by Inquisition stormtroopers (visual appearance under description).

Modified Refractor Field -- standard issue refractor field.

Weapons:

Plasma pistol-- standard issue plasma pistol

Ornate Power Rapier-- a small lightweight version of the power sword, makes a better status symbol than weapon.

Equipment:

Vambrace cogitator with holographic image display (and a flashlight).

Assisted targeting eyepiece.

Enhanced Null Collar-- A piece of archaeotech that dampens all warp related effects within the surrounding area. It never leaves Titus' side. Unlike it's more well known counterparts, this model appears to have no noticable side-effects.

Personality: Somewhat Niave, excessively curious, and generally a polite and jolly fellow. Suffers from acute hemophobia and has yet to take a life.

Character Theme:

[User]
"As long as you aren't keeping a corridor of statues, I won't have any comments to make..."

"Some memories are best left buried, Stukov... " Adrianne muttered quietly, but not without a sly smile as she continued to look ahead; following along for the rest of the tour.

And she was impressed by what she saw. The rest of the safehouse was as ostentatious and as alien as she would have come to expect from it. Just what had driven the otherwise pious sister to desgin it in such a manner eluded the psyker, a fact she could not entirely wrap her head around.

Walking through the hallway of paintings, she found herself gazing each way; taking in the strange, almost bizarre sights.

They lacked the usual majestic splendor that was so common with most gothic paintings, with symbols and geometric patterns that often made no sense; whilst other pictures were more designed to assault the senses with a riot of colors and impressions.

"What even is this... "

Adrianne privately thought.

"I think they look kind of nice. The artists had quite some creative souls."

A familiar voice sang throughout the back of her head. But Adrianne would not be the only one to hear it. Nearby, Titus would also be able to hear the voice. It would move through his mind like a brief glimpse, touching the edges of his mind like a razor wire coated with narcotic drugs; both revolting and delightful. For a brief moment he was in the presence of some hungering entity; and then it was gone as soon as it had appeared.

Adrianne noticed nothing out of the sorts. She continued the rest of the trip, noting the vast size of the armory. Just how the battle sister was ever going to crew all these weapons and vehicles she did not know. Did they have a contingent of battle sisters assigned as their strike force in case of emergency, perhaps? Either way, Adrianne found herself dragged along with the barely-sane tech priestess shortly afterwards.

" I will make it work~! BETTER~!"

"Uhm... I don't need it to be better. Just to work like normal, okay?" Adrianne said, raising her fingers in a gesture as if it could somehow calm the ranting tech-priestess. Somehow. She knew the dangers of tampering with plasma weaponry. Whilst this was by all accounts a tech-priest before her; part of the cult mechanicum; she knew it didn't make her immune to mistakes.
"Could you like... just make it work, and save any tech-heresy for the rest of the weapons we have in the armory? Pretty please.... ?"

[Assistant]
Cole Cerus
Cole, unlike most of his companions, stayed quiet throughout the time they arrived at the safehouse. Barely saying a word or interacting with Andromedai or anyone else. Almost like he was not even there, and this suited him. Cole was not a man of many words, choosing to speak when he wanted to, and he did not feel the need. While this would surely make him seem distant to Andromedai and his companions. This is just who he is and Cole doubts that anyone could change that. Still, he is bound to make some form of chat with his fellows sooner or later.

Then it came time for Andromedai to give them a tour of the safehouse. Cole nodded and got up from his chair. Following her without making a sound and silently watched. Noting that the interior seemed to him like something that would be on a Free Trader ship. Not saying that is bad but looked like a nice change of pace from what he is used to. The art though that lined the walls was interesting. He was not a fan of art but found some that caught his eye. Though some of it well.. off is not the right word. Bizarre was the right word, and he cocked his head to the side while looking at one. When Andromedai said that it was artwork that she had collected. Cole could only think that Andromedai had some... peculiar tastes in that case.

The next stop was the medical wing. Cole found it reassuring that someone would be fixing up their wounds if harm came to them. He could not help to remember the last doc that worked on him after a particularly fierce engagement with Orks. Nearly sawed his arm off even though his arm was still fixable. Cole shuttered at the thought of convincing her not to saw off his arm. Sure he could get a new prosthetic and continue fighting unfazed, but he was not ready to give up on his flesh. Hopefully, this doc is not as saw-happy, and Cole will not have any problems with her.

Now they came to the armory and the other rooms. Everything seemed up to standard for him, and when it came to the last room. A pool with a bar and a garden. Cole was amazed by this, a pool with a bar? This is a welcome surprise though he was not sure that he would even dive into the pool. The bar probably when it came down to it and the garden. It could be a good place to relax in silence even though he would be more comfortable if it were not outside the safehouse. The point of a safehouse is to hide people, and having outdoor rooms seemed unwise. Even with Andromedai assured that the security system would still be effective here. However, it is not his place to judge Andromedai for this. She is his boss and an Inquisitor at that. Better to trust in her judgment, and if she thinks that this is safe, then it is safe.

Once the tour was over and Andromedai freed them to do whatever for three hours before being recalled to the living room. Cole headed straight to the armory. He needed to perform maintenance for his weapons for some time and now seem like the perfect time to do it. Finding that he was not alone and Stukov was in the armory doing his own business. Cole gave a friendly nod before finding a spare bench and putting down his lasgun. Here Cole would spend his time performing maintenance and making sure that his weapons worked well. Along with checking out what else the armory had. If Stukov wished to speak to Cole at all, he would not object to talking and, if not. Then that would suit Cole fine.

[User] "This is Celestian Andromedai, all members of the retinue, please report to the main living room for mission assignment and departure." Andromedai's voice would suddenly be heard over the safe houses internal com system when she had decided that they had received plenty of time to get settled into their new surroundings. Moving to the large screen that was placed upon the wall near the sunk in couches and coffee table, she would stand along side it and await for her retinue to arrive. Aviza, of all currently present inside of the safe house, would be the first to arrive. For the last three hours, she had taken her own leave and spent it inside of Andromedai's ship, looking over all of its systems to ensure it was ready for whatever laid ahead of them. "You called for the retinue?" asked Aviza, taking a seat on one of the large sunk in sectional couches before crossing her left leg over her right. "I did, yes, I will have a full brief of our mission once everyone arrives." Aviza nodded her head once in acknowledgement.

[Assistant]
"You've been quiet, Kid. Relatively speaking, what's rattling in that head of yours?"

"Not much at the moment, just reflecting on some rather fond memories." Titus responded warmly to the voidsman, a cheery smile wide on his lips. The boy took another long sip of his coffee, "Say Stukov, you don't suppose this is to fatten us up before we're thrown to the wolves do you?" the scribe chuckled lightly at his own joke as he emptied his glass. From what Titus could tell, Stukov was the closest thing here to a 'normal' person among the retinue, and was likely the only one other than the Celestian herself that the young scribe would feel comfortable trusting. Overall, the rest of the facility seemed both well-equipped and lavish. Though the decorations were a bit over-the-top for Titus' tastes, it was certainly a welcome change to the drab uniformity of the voidship's many halls. "If I didn't know any better, I'd assume this was the residence of a rogue trader!" Titus quietly remarked to himself as the group entered a large corridor lined with strange artworks of exquisite quality. Despite the clear level of craftsmanship and artistry put into each work, some of these creations made the young scribe uneasy. They reminded him things best left forgotten and buried beneath the fog of time's passage and intentional repression.

"I think they look kind of nice. The artists had quite some creative souls."

For the briefest of moments, Titus heard a voice within his mind, its heinously sweet voice sending shivers of ecstasy down his spine. Yet as the sensation passed, the entity's hunger lingered a bit longer before fading into nothingness. The void left by the passing of these invasive sensations was promptly filled by Titus' own sense of overwhelming dread.

It had been months since he'd heard the whispers last. Disciplined management of his null collar was supposed to have negated them entirely. But even before the collar the whispers had never been this clear, this pronounced. Bile rose in his throat as the paranoia built, the walls seemingly closing in; every shadow a whisper of conspiracy-- something was here, and it was close. Cold sweat built on the boy's brow as he felt the world constricting around him. His head pivoted fearfully, franticly searching for where this abomination was hiding. Teeth grit, his heart pounded, his blood ran cold.

And then... Nothing.

The moment the retinue passed into the the room containing the statue of Saint Celestine, it was as if a colossal weight had been lifted from Titus's shoulders. Snapping back to reality, he immediately moved to adjust his collar, but stopping his hand midway to his neck. The last time he'd publicly adjusted his collar, Andromedai had scolded him heavily; and the last thing he wanted was to incur the sister's wrath atop this terrible omen. Rather, he opted to fidget with his sleeve instead; a hopeless attempt at distracting himself from his own fear. He payed little attention to the rest of the tour, his mind overtaken by the prospect of a malevolent entity having already invaded their foothold.

The moment the retinue was released to do as they pleased, the scribe opted to instead immediately retire to his room and lock the door behind him. When it was time to reconvene, Titus was the second of the retinue to arrive for the meeting. Whatever the young man had been doing; he now reeked of holy incense; his eyes red with exposure to the fumes. He took his place on one of the available couches, wordlessly staring at the floor as he awaited the meeting's start.


[System]
N/A

17

Female

Pansexual

Single

E-Girl

Samantha stands at a stout 5'5" and weighs a mere 115 lbs on a very small frame. Her hair is primarily a light brown with a few blonde highlights added in artificially. Samantha is very rarely seen without her signature makeup on -- eyeliner, concealer, foundation... the works! You'd have to catch her in very private and intimate moments to see her without her makeup on. It helps her disguise one of her biggest insecurities. Additionally, Samantha tends to wear clothing on the tighter side. Leggings, small t-shirts, and tank-tops make up a significant amount of her wardrobe, despite the rather not-ideal climate of Ohio. Samantha does not have any piercings at this time, but Samantha very so desperately wants to get a Sailor Moon symbol tattooed on her wrist.

Samantha can be described as a very ambitious girl who is also very much a go-getter. Samantha is surprisingly very adept at reading people and knowing what it takes to please people and whatever else they want, sometimes using that to her advantage. She is also rather self-centered and has very little regard for relationships and feelings, especially if they get in her way. Samantha has learned how to employ a high amount of energy and charisma to her advantage to further assist her toward achieving her goals. Additionally, she values her own goals and ambitions very highly, and she will do whatever it takes to get whatever edge she can on her journey to achieve her goals, even if it may be at the cost of other people and their well-being.

Samantha Queen was adopted from an orphanage in Cleveland, Ohio at a mere six months old by Isaac and Erin Queen. The two had decided from early on in their relationship that they weren't exactly enthusiastic about the prospect of having kids of their own when there were many kids in foster homes and orphanages across the entire world. They didn't have to go very far, however, to find Samantha. They just took one look at her lil baby lookin' ass and they fell in love! It didn't take much longer for them to adopt her into their family.

Little did Isaac and Erin know, their style of parenting was very enabling, which contributed to why Samantha is the way that she is today. The slightest hint of negative emotion from Samantha meant that Erin and Isaac dropped whatever the heck they were doing and appeased Samantha however they could. That meant Samantha got whatever she wanted, and she started to learn just how she could accomplish such a feat. As a result, she managed to get her parents to get her an assortment of video games since they appealed to her and she took quite a liking to them, despite her supposed lack of skill in them.

Today, she has a following on social media as she streams twice a week to her audience. Many people tune in to watch her play video games for hours at a time, not knowing that Samantha is still in high school. She manages to squeeze a decent amount of money from them, and has no intention of stopping, and every intention of squeezing even more money from them in the future.

Isaac Queen | 46 | Father
Erin Queen | 46 | Mother

Imane Anys | #dcd0ff
My favorite part of Halloween is the candy or the spooky vibes.
* Has a soft spot for McDonald's. Her typical order is five McChickens, large fries, and a medium Diet Coke.
* Mains Lux in League of Legends, and it is the only game she can play kind of decently, as she has been placed in Diamond.
* Her Spotify playlists are all over the place, and she has specific playlists for specific champions in League of Legends.
* Her twitch handle is QueenSamantha (very creative, I know.)

[User]
Outfit

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Aria had been planning the lake party well before school had started with the help of her friend Jenna. The manager at the dinner where she worked was nice enough to let her borrow some fold out tables to set the party favors on for the night, though she would have to return them undamaged, of course. It was nice to see everything finally coming together as the sun began to go down.

Rich's car speakers were working damn near perfectly as people started to arrive. While she smiled, nodded, and waved to the familiar faces that walked through the trees, Aria was only looking for one face in particular - Cami. Had her invite been to sudden? To welcoming? Was Aria wrong to assume that since Lud was coming, Cami would as well? Due to Cami showing up or not, Aria had tried to plan the perfect outfit. Not to slutty, but just enough skin. Dark high waisted denim shorts, a loose white tank top, black cardigan and a black two-piece bathing suit underneath it all.

She was currently at the drink table mixing herself a screwdriver, swaying to the beat of the music as she did so. Tonight was either going to be amazing, or very very horrible. Only time would tell which, but at hopefully she wouldn't make to much of a fool out of herself.

[Assistant]
Outfit
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Morgan hadn't spent that much time getting prepared for tonight's party. To be truthful, she rushed through her smaller assignments for this weekend so that she could get a decent amount of time for her Twitch stream this afternoon. She had killed enough angry ten year olds and trash talked enough middle age men until she was in a good mood. Taking a shower around six that evening, she wouldn't realize how late it was until she had blow dried her hair. (Having thick, curly hair, it took forever to dry.)

"Fuck," she exclaimed, eyes widening as she quickly did the math in her head. Fifteen minutes to get ready, another thirty minutes to get to the lake - she would arrive right on time at eight.

Browsing around in her closet, she finally decided on a loose Nike air force cut off crop top, a pair of Nike tempo running shorts, and white converse. While she didn't plan on swimming, Morgan put on a white bikini underneath her clothing.

The drive to the lake felt short due to her excitement. She was glad for the opportunity to get to hang out with Jenna again. Between homework, doing her streams, and baby sitting, she hadn't really had time for much social interaction. She just hoped that her friend would forgive her for her absence.

[User]
"So how was the start of your last year at that godawful school?" Minty's big brother Iwan asked from behind her computer screen. The siblings made sure to stay in contact even now that Iwan had gone off to college. Without sticking together they would both perish under the pressure that their parents put on them.

It was a good thing Minty had her back to the laptop or Iwan would have seen her roll her eyes which he hates. "It's hell! But whatever it'll be over soon right?" Aramintah drawled as she spread the oil paint with her pallet knife over the canvas she was working on. "And besides it's not like my grade from freaking Rosefell will get me anywhere…" she continued.

Her brother let out a small laugh "Don't be so sure little sister. You never know when you might need them." he paused. Minty knew where this was going and was bracing for Iwan's inevitable words. "So… Uhm… Have you thought about… any colleges?", there it was.

Minty spun around in her chair staring straight into the laptop's camera "Dude you know I haven't… Did mom ask you to ask again? God Iwan… really?" she huffed looking at his embarrassed face on the screen. "I thought you were on my side!" she exclaimed.

"Minty! Of course, I am… But you know how mom gets." Iwan defended himself.

The dark-haired girl just grunted and went back to her painting. "Whatever… I need to get ready for this lake thing anyway. I'll talk to you later." she said wiping her hands lazily on a wet cloth. Her hands were stained from the paints no matter how much she rubbed them and after a few seconds she gave up.

"Alright bye sis…" Iwan sighed and logged off.

Slapping the laptop shut Minty walked over to her small closet and picked out an outfit for the night. A few minutes of sprucing up and she was out of the house. As she rode her bike she could feel the irritation from her and Iwan's conversation ebb away and as she got closer to the lake she could hear the music and the murmur of voices, that got her excited.

She locked her bike against a tree fishing out her phone as she did so. Her thumbs tapping away absentmindedly as she walked slowly towards the party. She sent her two best friends each a text message to let her know she was there:

TO: Lana

TO: Eli

When she had sent them Aramintah took a lap trying to see if she knew anyone that where there already… she didn't. She grabbed a wine cooler from the refreshments table as she headed to a small jetty where she sat down looking at the calm lake.

[Assistant]
It was party o'clock, and there was nobody less excited to go than Samantha Queen! Knowing how parties at Rosefell High were, she was probably just going to find whatever Knights were there and stick with them. The only problem was there was only one or two Knights attending tonight, and both of those people were probably going to preoccupied with other people. Still, she had to attend. As much as she wanted to sit back and stream tonight, she figured going to the party would help her stream grow by spreading even more word. Sacrifice a night of streaming in hopes that she'll continue to network more. Lose some, win more. That was the only way she even remotely justified this.

Pulling up to the lake, Samantha stepped out of her car, wearing a gray crewneck sweater and light wash white shorts and white converse. It was going to be a chilly night considering they were right next to the water. Hopefully there was a fire or something because a bitch gets cold! Walking up to the party, she could see a crowd clamoring and a few people she recognized. Good. She was at the right party and not some creepy stoner cult party. Flashing some smiles at some people who made eye contact with her, Samantha went straight for the punch. She wasn't about to start this party without some sort of refreshment, as well as some sort of thing she can sip on whenever she was having a conversation.

On her way to the punch bowl, she spotted a rather familiar face. Was that... Richard Brian? Great! There was someone she could latch onto and use as a catalyst to socialize and network. "Rich! Rich!" Somehow, he wasn't hearing her, at least that was what she thought, "RIIIIIIICH!" She yelled, waving her hand to grab his attention.