[System]
Age: 15

Godly parent: Artemis

Background:

Joanne is a half-wolf, half-human child of Artemis fashioned out of the bones and flesh of a dead she-wolf, and imbued it with part of the Goddess' spirit. Of course, Artemis couldn't keep the baby girl she had created, but she did know of a good family for her. Soon a little girl baby was found at the doorstep of and later adopted by Scott Fountain, Alaska State Police and Michelle Fountain, Scott's older sister, and a practicing veterinarian.

Joanne lived in the city of Lakes, Alaska. From an early age, Joanne seemed to have a special bond with the outdoors. She could handle a rifle with ease, shoot a bow with an unbelievable level of accuracy, and loved to hike and camp with her dad and aunt. She was a slightly average student but struggled with learning disabilities that often frustrated her. But on the athletic field and rifle range, she really shined, particularly in running, and cross-country skiing. By middle school, Joanne was successfully competing in state archery, biathlon and cross country skiing competitions, and there was serious talk of her going to the Olympics someday.

Joanne was always easy going, and she had a few friends in school. But she really didn't hang out too much and generally did better with dogs than people. She often helped out at her aunt's clinic and nearby animal shelter. When not working, studying or competing, Joanne preferred to spend her time outside on long hikes or camping. It was during one of her hikes that she found a lone gray wolf cub clinging for dear life to a small log in the middle of a cold stream. Headless of her own safety, Joanne waded into the stream and plucked the cub from danger, suffering a torrent of licks from the very grateful cub in the process. Taking the cub home, and with help from her aunt, Joanne nursed it back to full health. In the process girl and wolf bonded. Joanne named the cub Smoke after her gray and white fur.

At first, Joanne's aunt and father wanted to return Smoke to the wild as soon as possible since Gray Wolves do not really make good pets. But this wolf was clearly different, for it took Joanne's commands easily, and became surprisingly well domesticated. It was as if wolf and girl were made for each other and Joanne's aunt and father eventually relented.

It was the summer of Joanne's second year in high school that her life changed forever. Returning from an early morning walk, she could see smoke rising from where her house was. She then heard multiple gunshots. Joanne and Smoke rushed home to find the house on fire and her father and aunt torn apart and left for dead in pools of their own blood.

Falling to her knees in grief, it was Smoke's growling that shook her out of her grief to notice some sort of monster rushing towards them. Smoke leapt at it, but was batted away. The monster lunged towards Joanne, and she barely managed to roll out of the way of its claws. Grabbing her hunting bow as she rolled, Joanne came up on her knee and in one swift motion nocked three arrows at once and let them fly. The broad hunting arrowheads ripped into the monster's throat. Surprised and moaning in pain, the monster took a step away from Joanne, only to find itself struck again and again by a quick succession of arrows. Soon a cluster of arrows was in the creature's neck. The creature reached up to try to pull them out, but each time it did, it was replaced by another fired from Joanne's bow. Eventually it was just too much and the monster crashed to the ground, dead.

After taking a few deep breaths to calm down. Joanne knelt before the now dead creature to make sure it was truly dead. She had absolutely no idea what it was, but she blessed her decision to bring her bow with her that morning. Smoke seemed ok, perhaps only her pride was hurt from getting batted aside

Smoke bound up to her mistress and gave her a quick nuzzle, as if to ask if Joanne was ok. She was not. Joanne turned to what was left of her family and broke down crying. Smoke sat next to her and leaned in a bit to comfort her mistress. Wolf and girl sat this way for what seemed to be a long time before two female Hunters appeared. They had been sent to rescue Joanne from that monster, and were stunned to find she had killed it alone. As gently as they could they could, they informed Joanne that she was in further danger and she needed to leave, now. Sirens could now be heard in the distance, probably the local sheriff and the fire rescue services, the hunters realized. Glumly nodding her assent, Joanne bid farewell to her father and aunt. The two hunters pulled Joanne to her feet and with Smoke trailing closely behind, all four disappeared scant seconds before the first fire truck arrived at the burning cabin.

Powers:

Skin of Nature: Wild animals will take no notice of Joanne and she can move through underbrush with ease, and with high degree of silence and stealth. Joanne will not leave any tracks unless she wishes to.

Natural Hunter: Joanne has the predatory instincts of a gray wolf, making her highly skilled in hunting, tracking, and reading how "prey" will react. Joanne's senses are enhanced to canine levels. She can see in the dark, track and differentiate between different scents and has enhanced levels of hearing.

Alpha Female: Joanne has the ability to communicate with and command canines of any species. She cannot command police or similarly trained dogs, but they will generally be indifferent to her presence.

Weapon or gifts from godly parent:

Joanne has a modern compound hunting bow that she can shoot with a superhuman level of accuracy. She received it as a birthday present from her father last year. The woman behind the counter said it would be perfect for Joanne.

Note: Smoke is Joanne's friend and companion out her own free will, and Joanne would never dare attempt to "command" Smoke unless circumstances were dire. The two share an empathic link and know each other's feelings. Though she appears to be a regular adolescent grey wolf, Smoke is smarter (same as an Australian Shepard), and can endure more punishment than a normal wolf.

[User]
Vergil is currently near the Pegasus Stables, writing something down. After a few moments, he scratched out his writing. "No, this won't do." He says to himself. He turns to the next page and sighs a little. On the paper, is a drawing of his father, Euri. After looking at it for a few minutes, he simply smiles and puts the book away. "Just look father," Vergil mutters to himself. "I'll make a name for myself." And with that, he sets off to the Hermes Cabin, his only home (until he moves into his mothers cabin, that is). Once he enters, he finds, as usual, some people there.

His bag was on top of his bed (if you can call it one). It contained all his belongings: a camp half-blood shirt, some pens all assortments, drawings (mainly of famous writers and anime characters), a photo of his father and mother on their wedding night, and a book about Greek mythology. He puts away his journal and pen in their respective spots, and zips the entire bag up.

This was the last time he would ever really see the hermes cabin, and he was happy about that. No more stuffy nights sleeping on the floor and no more social interaction. It would just be himself in his own cabin. As he packed up, no one batted one eye at him. Why would they? He is not one of them, he never will be one of them. He will always be just a normal face in the crowd.

As he left the Hermes cabin, the sun was setting in Camp Half-Blood. There were some people duing some studying before they let in for the night, there some people practicing their swordsplay, and others that are just walking around. It was a peaceful evening.

[Assistant]
@golani@JrVader

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While Chiron talked with Syrus and Joanne Lilith watched the people her age as they swung sword and thrust with spear in what looked like the training styles she'd seen in the frescos and pottery of Greece; even their armor spoke of the age of Bronze.

She was no trained fighter but her dad's insistence on her joining him in his morning Tai chi exercises had left her with a body the girls at school often envied openly and the flexibility required to make her one of her former schools top gymnasts. She ate as she wished and wasn't married to any special trendy diet so common in the circles she'd run in though by dent of her tastes was still a healthy one and helped her keep her muscles and bones in great condition.

Maybe it was because she'd never pushed herself except in gymnastics or entertained a thought of violence that she was mesmerized by the spectacle of the ancient arts of war and therefore was surprised when the Master of the Camp Chiron the Centaur spoke to her.

"Oh! Thank you Sir

Mother must trust you as she whispered her intentions and needs rather than at speaking volume which she has lead me to understand I will need do sometime in the future less I amass a cult of followers I do not need.

Mother did mention my Cabin would be as her temples were a small structure behind Aphrodite's most of it beneath the earth. She said quickly recovering from her surprise and even managing to keep her voice under control.

Then as she followed him she had a thought

"If there is need of cabin space and mine shows to be large enough I can offer guest status to any needing a place to stay. I'm somewhat used to having guests because of my dad's open door policy so it would be no bother

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Hey Alice
Tap to hear

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[User]
Chiron smiled. As they came up on the Cabin Lilith was to stay in he turned. "You may have visitors but as far as sleeping goes everyone has their place. Also your mother does trust me. I have been around for a very long time and she wanted to make sure I was in on who I was receiving into my care. I know about the things that have brought you here and we will do our best to show you have to control that voice just as we do with the Aphrodite girls and some boys from Apollo. Now we will be heading off for Syrus' cabin you make yourself at home."

Syrus turned before following Chiron. "It was nice to meet you Lilith. See you at dinner later." He smiled warmly and handed her the guitar case feeling a little guilty about not helping her inside the Cabin with her stuff but Chiron was already walking off. He turned and waved one more time before heading after Chiron.

Catching up he smiled at Joanne. "Accompanying me to the cabin? I don't mind the company. Just wasn't sure if you need to do other things before dinner." He looked ahead at the woods behind the three large cabins. The big three. Empty since Percy Jackson was not here with them and Nico was off doing the gods knew what. Off to the side of the Hades cabin stood a much smaller one. The vines grew around it and flames came from two torches beside two doors. A vision blurred before him and he smiled a Chiron."One is a trap that leads to a misty void but the other a room for me." Chiron nodded and was about to say something when another camper came running up telling him of an accident that he needed help with. "See you both at dinner!" He yelled as he galloped off after the kid.

Looking to Joanne he asked. "You wanna come in? Looks like you have something on your mind." He waited to see what she would day before doing anything else.

@golani

[Assistant]
Joanne

Joanne suddenly looked a bit uneasy at the prospect, but she just HAD to know what happened earlier that day to her family.

"Ummmm, yeah," Joanne said. "Let's go in, I do have a question or two to ask you."

Joanne followed Syrus in, instructing Smoke to wait outside the cabin. The wolf dutifully sank down to lie on the porch, looking up at both Syrus and Joanne with barely concealed concern as they headed inside.

Picking out a pair of bunks, Joanne and Syrus sat down opposite each other. Joanne put her bow down on the floor and looked at Syrus for a second before beginning.

"Soooo…" Joanne began. "I couldn't help hearing your conversation with Lilith earlier, about you being in Alaska." She looked away, obviously a bit uncomfortable. "I didn't mean to spy on you, but it sounded like you may know what happened to my dad and aunt."

"I found them," she paused and swallowed. "Well, you know, dead. And whatever it was that killed them then tried to kill me. And it would have, if I haven't been carrying my bow this morning. Instead, I killed it…I'm still not exactly certain how I did that. And then I found myself here." Joanne looked directly at Syrus, as tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. "Please, tell me what you know…"

[User] Syrus wore a grim face as she told him that she had found her family like that. Then he gulped down shock as she told him she had killed the thing he was after. He started shaking his head, "No there is no way. How? The Naga Umbra is very powerful." Syrus stood and thought for a second. "It hid itself from me and...waited...on you?" He looked at Joanne. "You aren't a hunter. The wolf...the bow and those people. You are a demigod of Artemis...an actual daughter." He shook his head and went over to her and pulled up a chair sitting directly in front of her. "Ok so what I know is that my mother had a vision. She is the only one who can because of a loop hole. I can do the same thing. She sent me to track a Naga Umbra or snake of shadows if you will. It's an envoy or sign that Erebos the primordial god could return. Why it's after you I'm not sure yet." He stared back at her waiting for her to process the info. @golani

[Assistant]
Joanne wiped the tears away from her eyes, as her expression turned hard. "Syrus, I can tell you with no doubt I killed that...Naga Umbra thingie. I put so many arrows into it, it had no chance to get away." Joanne tapped her bow with her foot to emphasize that last statement.

"As for being a daughter of Artemis, that's what the two women that brought me here said, except that I was 'the' daughter, not 'a' daughter," Joanne noted. "And they were just as confused as you how that happened," she added with a small smile.

"Still," Joanne continued. "I don't understand exactly what you mean. Who is this Erebos guy?"


[System]
Gender: Male
Age: 2000+

Appearance: Botis appears as a man of average size with pitch black hair and menacing red eyes/viper-like green eyes. Two sharp horns appear out of his forehead and illuminating fangs. He wears a long black leather jacket. Underneath the jacket he wears a simple black shirt and black trousers. He wears a heavy chain around his neck, but still manages to move around swiftly. Along with that is a golden lock necklace strapped tight around his neck. He wears a pair of heavy dark boots. He wears fingerless black gloves and has green painted nails.

In his true form he bears the appearance of an ugly large viper with horns and wings.

Personality: Although being a respected count, Botis is quite a childish person. He tends to act very bossy and doesn't take kind to authority. When having his new conjurer he acts rebellious and wants to do things his own way, but in the end is easy to control because of his child-like personality. He likes to mock his opponents during battle and often has a menacing look, filled with desire to bite his opponents. He has a habit to lick his lips.

Bio: Being born in a royal family in the Underworld, Botis always had been very spoiled. He was raised to be the heir of his father's title as Count of Hell. However Botis wanted more. He trained and trained, he ventured and eventually gathered a legion of demons which he eventually over time expanded to a total of sixty legions. Through his ventures he acquired the title of president and earl as well, a huge feat for a demon. Despite being one of the most powerful daemons in the Underworld he was summoned as one of the daemons of the conjurer Ciara.

Abilities: Botis is a skilled swordsman, wielding a sharp and bright sword. During his ventures his swordsman skills only improved. Aside these trained skills he has the natural ability to tell all things past and future and reconciles friends and foes. Poison flows through his blood which doesn't effect him but can effect others when they are scratched, bitten or slain by his blade.

Despite him being an excellent swordsman, Ciara doesn't have the mana to summon such a powerful blade to the surface forcing Botis to leave it at his manor under the protection of Connir, his loyal lapdog. On the surface he relies on his magic which vary from flare's to poisons to a pool of red essence that summons hands out of it... kinda creepy. In his household he has five maidens who he can summon with his own mana, unlike his sword. They all come from different backgrounds and were carefully selected by Botis to join his household.

Weapon: Botis wields a sword imbued with the poison inside of his body.

[User]
On the way home Ciara did not dare to speak, she got scared from the outlash Botis had given her just now. She did not know him good enough to difference between concerned anger or legit anger for judging the way he fights, how he has always fought. Ciara flew behind Botis watching his back as he flew with a quick beat to his wings. Deep inside herself she knew he was right, if left alive witch hunters would continue to kill, regardless of her kindness. Ciara couldn't help but think she wanted to end the circle of hatred between witches and hunters, and she wanted to take the first step. Someone had to.

Ciara sighed deep for her ridiculous thought, a strange goal for a witch to have indeed. She was supposed to fool around, trick them and kill them the moment she could. But if she and Rico could be friends, then why not the rest of them as well.

Once they landed at Robur Botis made sure Ciara got inside without saying a thing. When he wanted to fly away, to go towards Rico, Ciara stopped him by pulling his sleef. She looked at the ground, not even daring to look at Botis before she spoke.

''please come back after you have been to Rico'' She said and released the sleef of his black coat. ''I need you here'' Ciara commented before corecting herself '' I want you here''

[Assistant]
Botis didn't reply and took off. He headed towards the cabin of Lucille where she and Rico would be. He landed at a safe distance and pulled back his wings. He approached the entrance and knocked on the door. It didn't take long for Rico to open the door.

"Hey Rico, is Lucille there? I want to speak with her... in private." he said.

Rico looked kinda angered. "What is your business with her? Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"It's okay Rico, please leave us be." Lucille interrupted and motioned her boyfriend back to the living room. "So what's up demon?"

"Look Lucille, I don't know what you are or what your intentions are, but for now I trust you."

"Okay, so you came here just to say that?"

"No, I came with a request. Please venture back to those woods and make short work of the remaining witch hunters, I believe they will be asleep for quite some time."

Lucille looked rather surprised when Botis requested what he did. Botis on the other hand has a serious face throughout the conversation and hoped for Lucille to accept his request.

"Fine. I'll kill those men for you. Now go, Rico might get suspicious." she said. Botis nodded and took off again. He flew towards Robur and landed in front of the tree.

He sighed. On one hand he didn't want to go in and just transport himself back to the Underworld. On the other hand Ciara seemed like she really needed him to be with her, but why? She had Cherub and Surgat... with himself gone she would recover her mana much quicker. He decided to enter the house. Ciara seemed to be upstairs, probably resting in her bed, so he was greeted by Cherub and Surgat.

"Hey guys." Botis knelt down to reach their height. "I'm sorry to say this, but I'm going back to the Underworld. It's the best for Ciara, she may call upon me when she's done recovering." he said. He didn't respond to the two whether they begged for him to stay or not. A pentagram appeared underneath him and he was sucked into it appearing in his manor again.

[User]
Ciara laid on her bed after a exhausting day. She had teh feeling however, that her day was far from over. She had a lot to think about, a lot to set straight.

''right what where my goals again'' She said to herself as she rolled of her bed and landed onto the floor.

''one, I am going to be the greatest witch that has ever walked the earth.
 Two, I am going to make sure we get an understanding between hunters and witches.
 three, Danthalions circle will be added to my grimoire'' Ciara sighed as she slid further on the ground.

''four, I am going to make sure I will become a mistress worthy of Botis's service'' she said, adding another goal to her huge list.

''and five, I am going to find myself an handsome man'' ciara giggled at the thought alone, she was still a girl after all. She dreamt of those kind of things as well. Her giggle soon faded as she felt the precence of Botis near Robur, only to dissapear soon afterwards. The strain of having him around dissapeared with him, wich made Ciara feel lonely. She really wanted to talk to him and Cherub about some past events. Mainly the Midnight rose organization. Surgat had been with her at the time but the other two didn't know a thing about that.

Her peacefull thoughts were heavely interupted by a door slamming open and the two little ones charging in to her room.

''MISTRESSS'' they both cried as they flew into her arms.

''what happend this time'' Ciara said putting on a smile for their sake.

''Botis, that meany. He left even tough we asked him to stay'' Cherub said pouting as Ciara sighed. She had not expected anything els from him, but had secretly hoped he'd stay.

''He also said that he wouldn't return until you could summon him'' Cherub again sniffed. Ciara stiffend at the sound of the words.

''Was that exactly what he said?'' She said concerned as all the white pulled ut of her face. No way that he could leave her...right? Ciara knew that there was a possebilety he had grown tired of her so soon. She was a weak, in constand need of help, no killing, failure of a witch.

''hush now, I am sure he will come by to eat some apple pie or somehting, I doubt that will be the last we'd seen of him'' The though of summoning Botis on her own was nothing more than a far off mere dream right now. It would take a while for her to obtain such a power.
''It will be alright'' Ciara wisperd more to herself than to the little ones.

~one week later~

Ciara sat in the top of Robur practecing her magic spells, she had found out that ever since the battle with the vampire hunters her mana output had increased. Her turned to ash spell wasn't such a strain on her anymore, though she still had a time limit of half an houre to deal with now. The emptyness and silence around the tree had been buggin Ciara for a while now. She had already gotten used to Botis teasing the little ones and having them bicker over an cookie or such. She had still held onto the faint glimmer of hope he'd return to her, hoping that it had been his stubbornes talking again. Ciara sighed and tapped with her feet on the branch of Robur.

sigh
tap tap
tap tap tap
sigh
tap

''cats N'hell'' She said angry rushing down to her Bookshelf. ''like hell you will get out of our contract you idiot'' She yelled to herself while searching for the airbubble spel. This was an spell that formed an bubble of air around the casters head, filtering the air thus making sure the caster always had a fresh supply of air around. The main reason she was searching for this spell was because of the air within the netherworld. It had a time limit but it was all she had for now, it was better than nothing.

''found it'' She exclaimed happily as she started to draw Botis his summonig circle.
''aquafolium'' She chanted before activating the circle. She looked around making sure the little ones were not around, she did not wanted to bring them to any potentional danger. Quickly she jumped into the circle, doing the most stupid or brave thing in her entire life, more stupid actually.

As Ciara slammed through the portal and onto the ground she felt a pressure on her body, unabeling her to move. Her body was pinned to an old rug, that lay on the floor of an long hallway. Ciara's body needed time adjusting to the athmospheer of the plae, but slowly she felt herself being able to move.

She had 40 minutes to find Botis, convince/slamm it back into his head that they had a contract that need to be uphold. Once she was able to move she started to walk around the place.

7 minutes had passed.

[Assistant]
After returning to the Underworld, Botis felt kinda guilty for leaving his mistress all alone at the surface, even after he pulled the dick move of asking Lucille to finish off the remaining witch hunters. However Ciara could summon him anytime she could, so there should be no problem there. She just needed to have her mana completely restored, hopefully those little twerps didn't misinterpreted what he said. He could be a little intimidating towards them.

There had been two silent days in the Venom Manor. Botis was just staring into the distance, occasionally playing with the fire in his hand. He stood up and walked through the corridors and went to the basement of his manor. Once downstairs he walked through a door which lead to the only room on that level. There was a plateau with a shiny sword laying on it. Botis walked up to it.

"Such a beautiful blade, it is a waste I cannot use it." he mumbled to himself.

"Oh, and why might that be?" he heard a voice saying from behind. Botis turned around and saw another demon standing behind him. Dressed in a lute suit with a messy beard and his signature weapon the Trumpet Rifle strapped on his back. It was Barbatos, Duke of the Underworld, ruling 30 legions of demons.

"Barbatos... what are you doing here?"

Connir ran into the room, although still with the monotonous look on his face.

"Sorry master, he barged right in." the canine servant reported.

"It's okay." Botis answered. Connir nodded and headed back upstairs.

"To come back to your question. I was just thinking about giving an old friend a visit." the lute answered.

"We aren't friends... not anymore." Botis looked at him quite frustrated, although Barbatos could only throw up a smirk.

"Oh, and though I've heard from a little bird that you and Dantalion have crossed paths several times lately." he grinned.

"All coincidental."

"Okay, next question. So why are you admiring the Venom Blade? What is the reason you can't use it?"

"Simply put, my mistress in contract doesn't have the amount of mana to summon the blade along with me. Hell, I even have to help her summon me... it can be such a drag with her."

"Yet you haven't killed her. That must mean something."

"Shut up. If you have nothing else to ask please leave my estate before I call my maidens." Botis said obviously pissed off at the remark of Barbatos.

"Oeh, we wouln't that. Well say hi to Dantalion next time you see it and expect to see me drop by another time. Cheers!"

And with that the demon was gone again. Barbatos was a real jester, even though he dresses like a regular lute. He wandered from who he get the info that he was having several encounters with Dantailion again. Weird things are happening in both the Underworld and Overworld. Botis took another glance at his Venom Blade before returning upstairs.

The next few days passed by rather quickly. He spend some time with his maidens, them mainly asking questions about their higher mistress, as they were quite interested in Ciara. It was only on the seventh day when he suddenly noticed a disturbance. As if someone was pouring alcohol on a fresh wound. It was a quick and instant feeling, yet seemed to last longer. Only after seven minutes of nothingness the pain started coming back again, this time luckily not as stringy as the first time.

Botis hesitated on grabbing his sword... he almost decided not to but in a quick change of mind took it along anyway. When he stepped outside he couldn't feel at all where the source of this pain was coming from. He did a small patrol around his manor but unfortunately couldn't find it. He sat down at his throne inside again when suddenly the sentences surfaced again from his conversation with Barbatos earlier.

"Yet you haven't killed her."


[System]
Age:
19

Height:
7'0

Personality:
Alver is sort of quiet at first, mostly because he starts out suspicious of other people due to what his parents often warned him about and his previous encounters. Due to this, he can be sarcastic, sometimes a smart-ass, and let out a bit more of his dark sarcastic humor. He's also sometimes a bit mean and bitter when it comes to people who seem to feel overly sorry for themselves. He doesn't mean to be cruel, it just comes out that way. Often rebutting with 'Right, at least you can probably find someone who's like you. They even made groups for people like you. How many groups of albino do you see?' Since it's sometimes a lonely thought being the only one. He's never seen another person like him, can't even see if one is on the internet somewhere. Utter seclusion. It felt like he was part of a extinct species. However, he's a pretty mature, sweet and kind boy who's rather calm most of the time. Pretty level headed, and doesn't enjoy fights. He's naturally curious and adventurous and enjoys wandering about often, seeming to ignore any possible danger. Although he doesn't have a lot of social skills and finds it difficult on how to talk to others, he does want other people's company even for a little bit. Having been secluded most of his life. But he's always willing to lend a friendly ear to those who feel down, giving his own friendly advice and opinions. Quite a fatherly/brotherly figure towards those younger than him. He loves flowers, stargazing, singing and playing the piano. As well as practicing Judo his father taught him. He also likes animals. Despite his overall kind nature, he can be mischievous and enjoys teasing others and has a little bit of dark humor. Despite others not usually enjoying his presence and sometimes hating his own appearance, he has a small bit of pride in his looks and never really attempts hiding his hair anymore, even growing it out into a longer length. He also enjoys taking advantage of those who are a bit scared of him from the 'demonic, ghost, vampire' rumors.

Appearance:

Hobbies:
Piano, Violin, Singing, Dancing, Judo, Reading, Painting, Walking, Cooking.

Likes:
Doing his Hobbies, swimming, stars, moon, night time, strawberries, cherries, rain, animals

Dislikes:
Bullies, sunlight, indoors, heavy clothing, judgmental or overly religious people, broccoli, vehicles

Sexual Preference: He can go either, but he prefers guys.

History:
On the day of Halloween, October 31st 1995, gave birth to a boy with striking white hair and very pale white skin. Eyes a pretty light lavender color that often seemed to change color depending on where the light struck them. Sometimes lavender, sometimes a very light pale blue, and even a tinge of red people would say. His parents were quite shocked to see such a pale baby and wondered if he was just unhealthy, having never seen someone as pale as a ghost. He wasn't, the was just born with the gene of extremely rare pigments of a albino.

So, his mother named him Alver, meaning "White" in Latin-American, along to fit with his last name, Starlis meaning Star.

His parents worried over his well being, as the doctors gave them proper diagnostics of possible defects of albinos, as well as studying their own research. They feared he would burn easily and wouldn't be able to see well since he had such low pigments in his eyes, as well as feared of rumors that the internet spread. Many saying that quite of bit of people sell albino's over to Africa because those people believe the organs of albinos are some sort of sacred healing items.

Due to this, his family moved out of the city to a small town in a more secluded house near a meadow. Both to be away from many people, and so he could grow in a healthier environment. As he grew up, Alver's parents rarely actually let him out of the house, especially during the day. He was home schooled in order to avoid other people as much as possible, knowing full and well that he would only be treated poorly over being a albino. Often leaving him home alone when they had to work.

He was first allowed outside at the age of eight years old, when he begged his mother to take him shopping with her. However, she bundled him up in clothing. A coat, long pants, gloves, a scarf, sunglasses and a hat. At least it was during a chillier time of the season, but Alver detested it because he could hardly see anything or really move around with ease. Still, despite the downsides, he enjoyed being outside finally and helping his mother with shopping.

At one point, Alver saw a playground on the way home, asking his mother eagerly if he could go and play with the other children. She forbid it however, saying that it wasn't safe. When asked why, she answered 'Because you are different. They will hurt you.' Seeming to be absolutely sure he would just get bullied over his looks.

At the age of twelve, Alver grew a bit more adventurous. So when his parents went to work, he snuck out of the house during a cloudy day. He still wore long clothing, gloves, and brought a umbrella just in case. But felt more confident that he'd be fine during cloudy weather. The townsfolk had never seen Alver without heavy clothing covering his head and were shocked at what they saw. A child, pale as a ghost with such odd colored eyes and striking white hair had come of that house near the meadow.

Rumors speed through town like a fire, some saying he was really a ghost, others claiming he must be a vampire for no one saw him in the sunlight without excessive clothing covering his white skin.

When Alver attempted to play with other children, they were actually scared of him. Some were brave enough to call him hurtful names, but they retreated and ran home whenever he drew closer. When his parents got home and heard of the rumors, they scolded Alver for leaving home. It was too late though as now the whole town had heard of the 'ghost' boy.

His father at that point, tried to teach him self defense moves he learned in the police force. Alver was a fairly a frail person, but he learned to be quick on his feet and how to at least avoid being pummeled. It was just another hobby to avoid boredom since he wasn't allow to do much like watch tv. His parents feared his eyes would get bad if he watched tv or play on a computer.

Despite many believing he was some sort of spawn of satin or some undead creature, Alver continued to grow like any normal boy, only really coming out during the night when he was old enough to feel to wander around. During his teens, he often wandered around night, enjoying being outdoors as well as get inspired for his regular hobby of painting. During his lonely years, he learned quite a few things. Painting, dancing, singing, and even how to play the piano and violin.

Often, he can be found during the night in the meadow. Either stargazing, singing or playing the violin. His father sadly passed away when he was fifteen, leaving his mother almost broken. Now, she spends most of her time away from home, hardly ever being around. Always working or something. Alver at first detested being further secluded, but soon enjoyed being able to be outside more. Though he does still mostly avoid other people, tired of their murmurs and odd looks. Most of the townsfolk a bit intimidated by him since he grew tall as a teen as well as being the son of two police officers. That and the 'demonic' rumors of him. As he matured, he found himself being mildly attracted to either gender, though seemed to find amusement to being with another male. Though he keeps his gender preferences a secret and hardly ever gets romantically involved with anyone.

[User]
Continuing to cling to his seat, the tall pale man looked out the window, watching as as the mechanism raised them higher from the ground. Despite how uncomfortable he was with vehicles in general, including carnival rides, he didn't say anything or complain and just tried focusing on the pleasant view they had. Listening to Aaron whistling a tune, the lavender eyed man took a deep breath to calm his nerves.

As Aaron suddenly asked a question about how this whole town was pretty much a bunch of assholes and the church girl spoke how 'misguided' they were, Alver couldn't help but give a grunt in response. In his opinion, misguided could just mean they are a bunch of idiots.

"...Seems that way.... Their 'misgiided' ways seem to enjoy looking on those who are different. Apparently doesn't matter if it's by looks, personality or just who you are.. If it's off the norm, you might as well be considered rats that they want to use mousetraps on to get rid of them." Alver answered bluntly, his light eyes looking down at the land below. Watching as people scurried about in their own business.

[Assistant]
Amy held Jackson lightly with one hand, knowing that Jackson wouldn't fall, but ready to grip him tight. Just in case. She took a few brief moments as they rode the Wheel to study her companions. Her eyes were drawn to Reyna, who although Amy couldn't be sure, appeared upset. She caught her looking away from Jackson, and Amy looked to her son. Despite the circumstances of his conception, she wouldn't change having him for the world. She kissed the top of his head, and looked back to Reyna.

She reached out and took one of the younger girls hands, giving it a quick squeeze, before returning her hand to the light grip around Jackson. Jackson looked about, at the others as well, and then wriggled out of her grip. He trotted over to the pale boy-and just when would she get his name?-and happily climbed up on the seat, with a little bit of difficulty as his short legs squirmed for purchase.

And then Aaron asked the question. Amy looked out the Ferris Wheel, listening as the others answered. "It's not so much if you are against the norm. Its...if you challenge the...norm. Its if you challenge the religion that this town is obsessed with...then you are considered wrong. It just seems that this town is uneducated, in the...realness of the world" She looked back to the group, eyes automatically falling on her son. "It doesn't matter to me. But I know it will effect how people see him"

[User]
Aaron listened to the responses of his carnival companions. As soon as they answered, he felt slightly embarassed, though not for any public shame sort of reason. Asking that kind of question just wasn't in his nature normally. Most of the time he was a bit of a child, thinking that everyone was good in their core and that it was just their teenage years causing them to act like jerks. With this group though, he had started thinking differently. Or maybe just thinking in general.

So when Reyna gave her answer of good people being misguided, Aaron was silently admonishing himself. She was right, or course. There's was no reason to generalize an entire town full of people, each with different minds, personalities, upbringings and goals. Judging an entire population was just as wrong as how they were treated sometimes.

Though, Aaron realized that the pale guy was right, too. Some people in this town were acted like jerks, plain and simple. Even the adults had their moments, like with Dr. Saunders. And some of the teachers. Maybe some people just never grew out of their jerk phase. Maybe some people just didn't know how to be decent people.

Then, Amy offered her opinion on the matter, about challenging the norm and the faith of this town. That had merit too, religion probably played a big part of it. Not that religion made people ignorant, just about every group on the planet has their share of thick-skulled and hateful people. But with a town built on the foundations of their faith, where religion played such a big part in everyone's lives, it was bound to attract some crazies. When Amy mentioned Jackson and how some people saw him, it made Aaron sick again. Childhood was everything, not to mention the responsibility having to raise him in a sea of ignorance. Aaron never thought of himself as chivalrous and he still didn't, but everyone needed some help. Or at the very least, a friend. He made a mental note to ask Amy something when they were done with the festivities for the night.

"I feel like it's about intent, too." Aaron said as their seat drew closer to the ground again, bringing them back to Earth and away from their sanctuary in the sky. "People can say and do awful things with the best intentions. My folks are like that. They just want me to be happy, and they think that the only way I can be happy is if I conform to their idea of what makes people happy. But that's not what I want. I have my own ideas..." His thought trailed off. Aaron was silent for a moment before whipping his head towards the pale guy, asking, "Okay, just what heck is your name?"

[Assistant]
"I don't remember reading 'Shun thy albino' in the bible nor have much choice in the 'challenge' matter considering I'm born this way. Unless I want to do the other thing that they look down upon, which is dying the hair. Makes me wonder which they would prefer at this point." Alver grumbled at Amy's reply but resumed staring out the window.

"But maybe it's just a whole bunch of different reasons or excuses. Maybe they just want to feel better about themselves by looking down on others remotely 'off' even just a little. Maybe they think they are showing pity, or maybe they really are just a bunch of... Sour apples." The pale man said before glancing his lavender gaze toward Aaron as he spoke once more.

Perhaps intent was indeed another factor, he himself could sort of relate. His parents had brought him up distant to others, hiding in the shadows. They were trying to do what's best for him, and he knew they loved him... But they still treated him as 'different' and something unusual. Could he hate them for that when they treated him differently but still loved him?

As Aaron questioned the taller male of the group of a name, Alver simply blinked thoughtfully before innocently grinning. "Mhmmm a lot of names. Vampy, pale guy/boy, beanstalk, Ghosty, Mr. Starlis." he mused before looking to the blonde.

"Why do you want to know?" Alver asked, genuinely curious. After all, this was the first time anyone bothered asking. It seemed so odd now having to be questioned on it. Most instantly came up with some sort of nickname and just called him that whenever they saw him. As a child, he got mad at it, but now he simply didn't care anymore.

To have someone actually ask though... It was odd. To him at least.


[System]
Dame Charlotte Encore,
The Duchess

---

Basics
Nicknames, titles, etc.:
"The Duchess" - One Hive City gang, The Gentry, is lead by someone referred to only as The Duchess. For the Duchess' protection, only a handful of people, The Counts, know their real identity. Said handful would know The Duchess to be Dame Charlotte Elizabeth Encore.
"Dame..." - As Charlotte's identity as The Duchess is kept secret, she poses as a Dame within The Gentry. This means that she can wield a minor amount of power among them without revealing her true identity. She is, however, expected to earn her keep like any other low-ranking member.
Age:
39
Species:
Human
Gender:
Female
Height:
5'5"
Weight:
136lbs

Appearance
As is custom among The Gentry, almost none of Charlotte's natural appearance is visible while she is. Excessive makeup veils the colour of her skin, an intricate mask covers most of her face, and a dramatic dress hides her figure. The effect is an appearance of wealth and power, as well as a certain kind of artificial beauty. Her appearance is often comparable to a porcelain doll, which is, again, a common feature among The Gentry. It creates a sense of anonymity, to the point where, with the changes in a person's outfit from day to day, it can become impossible to recognise one of the Gentry as one seen before. This adds another level of protection against would-be assassins - even if they were to discover the Duchess' true identity, it would still be very difficult to recognise them.
Behind all the makeup and masquerade is a very different woman, in more than just appearance. Modest, brown hair that falls just past Charlotte's shoulders, a slight build and pale blue eyes. While her public appearance is the ultimate display of wealth and confidence, Charlotte's private self is a more unassuming character. Certainly not someone you'd expect to be leading one of the most dangerous criminal syndicates out there.

Capabilities
Charlotte carries an estoc and a cinquedea (a thin thrusting sword and a long, wide dagger). The shorter cinquedea is used for parrying blows and trapping an opponent's weapon, while the estoc is used in attack, and is adept at piercing metal armour. Both are heavily stylised and look extremely expensive, in keeping with The Gentry's style. Additionaly, though Charlotte is not especially strong, she is an expert in wielding both weapons, and extensive use of two weapons at once has rendered her ambidextrous. Of course, Charlotte is intelligent enough to wear a layer of leather armour underneath her clothes. Even a noblewoman is better off discomforted than dead.

Personality
As leader of The Gentry, Charlotte is the ultimate representation of what a member should be. She is polite and well-mannered, and has an excellent poker face even before her manner of dress is considered. She practically lives her life by the idea that there is a time and a place for everything, but realising this means everything has a correct time as much as everything has an incorrect time. She'll use violence and deception in equal amounts: whenever it is the correct time and place. She'll show off just as much as she'll keep secrets: whenever it is the correct time and place. She is powerful, and wealthy, and she wants to be more powerful, and more wealthy. The method does not matter to her, she just wants to see her organisation succeed.

[User]
Kull had no intention of miming a cigar store indian, waiting to be crapped on by a bird. He'd wanted to make sure she was resolute to see it all through to the end before he went on the offensive. He whipped his gladius out of its sheath and brought it to a half raised position when she finished talking, and clapped his empty left hand to his right clavicle, the silvery glint in his eye all but broadcasting that he was ready to punish should she try to stop him from retrieving his weapon before she regained all her senses. She'd been asking for him to attack, and so he would.

He abruptly took a big left step forwards and tore loose his cloak, whisking it over his right shoulder and hurling it fluttering towards her upper body, a crimson curtain signifying the end of the show. Again he was acting on the most important rule of fighting. You can't fight what you can't see, unless you're Spiderman or something. After throwing it he'd weave to his left in case she tried stabbing straight through the cape on reaction, dipping after her so he could catch her if she tried to backpedal, not that she'd be so quick with a bad leg. His gladius could stab right through her leather, but from whence would it come? Her entire body was a target for his biting edge, each stroke liable to maim or kill. How she handled the cloak obscuring her vision was key to survival.

[Assistant]
Use of the cape in battle. A popular strategy in fencing, but always an annoying one. Typically one would simply move out of the way, as a cloak throw was almost always followed up with an attack. Besides, it's simply stupid to attack through, and leave oneself open to retribution.

Kull was correct in that an injured right leg would slow a backwards retreat from where he was now standing, as putting large amounts of weight on it would be painful. However, Charlotte could bring her right foot, which had been in front during the previous attack, back next to her left, turning her to face Kull's new position in time to duck the cloak before he continued to move in that direction.

The question, then was how to respond. Kull was undoubtedly stronger than Charlotte, so a close melee could not be prolonged in her favour, without an outside advantage. Yet, she could not reliably hit Kull with her estoc, without an outside advantage. Without an outside advantage.

A disgustingly brutal idea came across Charlotte. Not something she'd ever consider doing normally, but Kull had annoyed her, and it might be necessary for her survival. Without an outside advantage. What was her best advantage over Kull? His injury.

Dropping her estoc to the sand, Charlotte leapt up (two feet to two feet, keeping her leg in mind) from her ducking position and jammed her right thumb into Kull's injured eye.

Should her attack work, she would grin, and say to her opponent "You know what might have helped there? A mask."

[User]
It would've been brutal, had Kull not acted on yet another rule of combat. If you can't reach your opponent, then you can at least reach their reach. Quite frankly, it meant that if you were facing an opponent that was risky to attempt body shots on, you should go for their arms. Dame dropping her main weapon only aided Kull in his endeaver. He kept his head turned towards her, focusing his good eye on his opponent to keep from being blindsided. He reacted quickly to her counter, as if it were a jab during his regular barefisted sparring sessions.

The scarring on his face had mostly come from fist fighting, and so he well knew how to handle hands flying at his mug in a jiffy. He tucked his chin down, lowering his face so her thumb instead collided with his forehead, his raised and ready gladius flashing down to slice her arm in twain just below the elbow and send her hand skidding across the sand before she could yank it back. It was a strong, compact swing, his armpit not open and left vulnerable for any stabs, even if she had the presence of mind to try and immediately attack with her dagger after potentially losing much of her arm. If she tried defending with her dagger, the burlier gladius would be liable to pound it out of her grip and still give her a nice cut for the trouble with its greater momentum.

[Assistant]
So Kull wanted to cut off Charlotte's arm? It was a fair plan, but a doomed one.

First of all, Kull's comparison of Charlotte's attack to a jab was logical, except in one manner; while it would take momentum to deal damage with a punch, it would not take momentum to inflict the pain desired by putting force on the wound. Therefore it was a simple matter for Charlotte to simply slide her thumb down into Kull's forehead and into his eye. In fact, she probably could have adjusted course mid attack, but it was too late for that now.

The sword. The sword was still a problem. But, again, there was one mistake in his logic. High school physics: when pushing a lever, the further away from the fulcrum you are pushing, the less force is necessary to move the lever that far. The lever being the gladius, and the fulcrum being Kull's hand, this would mean that his additional force from momentum could be rendered irrelevant if Charlotte could meet his blade at the middle with the handle end of her blade, and, considering that the wide blade of the cinquedea was meant for parrying anyway, she could feasibly stop the gladius in its tracks. So, that was what she did.

[User] The reason Kull liked to take hits on the forehead? The forehead was hard. He'd messed up the knuckles of many fighters by letting them sock his brainplate. Dislocated knuckles, fractured metacarpals... Though it depended on how hard they attacked. She'd tried to jab at his eye, and might've ended up jamming her thumb good on his helm instead. That being said, she'd be able to slide it down into his eye, extracing a roar of pain from the man. It took his breath away, how much it hurt. It was very painful, yes, but not at all lethal and Kull knew it. He had to keep fighting for his life, had to kill the urge to cringe or pause to take a breather, had to own up to the pain and power through it. In a reactive flash, like when you slap a bee that's stung you, his left hand surged up to sieze her right hand in a crushing grip and wrench her off his grimacing face, twisting cruelly to lock her arm out to the side, all the while keeping his head turned enough to maintain sight of her with his good eye. He'd abruptly spit a fat gout of blood at her eyes, accumulated from his damaged sinuses, potentially making her flinch. He wasn't worried about her attacking with her dagger, though he was anticipating it. To do so she'd leave herself open, and Kull had many ways of creaming someone. It was her only remaining defense, and she probably knew she had only one shot with it.

[Assistant]
This might be a problem. Right arm twisted away, painfully - useless. Left arm free, but necessary for defending against that gladius - useless. Legs unable to reach any vulnerable targets, right leg in particular weakening - both useless.

And then Kull spat blood in her face. As he'd planned, she flinched. She didn't want blood on her mask, after all.

Charlotte's opponent was stronger than her, so freeing herself would not be easy. Her right arm's position was limiting her movement - unless she moved with it. She stepped in the direction he was twisting her arm, moving so that it was still trapped, but no longer painful, or in danger of breaking. It did, however, put Charlotte behind Kull, facing away from him. Hardly a suitable position to fight him from.

The best she could come up with from there was a sharp back kick with her left leg into the inside of Kull's right knee, in an attempt to unbalance him and possibly loosen his hold. Regardless, she quickly had to return her left leg to the ground, as she doubted that her right would be able to take her full weight for more than a few moments.

[User]
Kull was no aikido master, but he knew how to hurt a human body. It was like the opposite of the golden rule; do unto others what you don't want done to yourself. As Dame flinched from his bloody spit he employed his own brand of improvised martial arts. He threw a swift snap kick with his rear left leg, seeking to dislodge her right kneecap from its socket with the unforgiving metal toe of his greave whilst she was distracted, before levering her hard to the ground by her twisted arm. If all went well, she'd wind up on her back with her arm still stiffly held, and the looming Kull's gladius half raised and ready to fall like the wrath of a Hyborean god. He'd be near her right side. His legs were the most available stabbing targets, but it'd come at the cost of her life to attack, if she wound up in that position. He was also aware that she could spit at him in return, and was deadset not to let his guard down. He'd had many a foe try to use his own tricks against him in a tight spot.

"I'm not trying to make it personal, damn you! You're a toadhumping duelist or something, not a gladiator! I don't want to have to- URRRRGH!! How can I say it!? Does a baker try to bake in the workshop of a shoe maker!? Can a shoe maker find pride in making better shoes than a f*cking BAKER!?"

"OOOH, IF THIS WERE A KITCHEN I'D %$#@ YOUR ASSHOLE, SHOE MAKER."

"OH NO, I'LL KILL YOU FOR DARING TO BAKE BREAD IN MY ANUS PUCKERING WORKSHOP. ALL I DO IS POOP OUT SHOES ALL DAY LONG LIKE AN OBESE ELF WITH THE SPICY SCOOTS."

"Well I got news for you, sexy woman! If a shoe maker killed a baker, HE'D GO OUTA BUSINESS..."

*Beat*

*Kull realized he'd strayed a little off track.*

"And... Argh... It's my responsibility to apologize for the MORONS that took you out of your bakery. So... Don't make me kill you, dammit. Settle for a thumb war with me instead if you're that pissed, or Rock, Paper, Scissors!"

[Assistant]
There was nothing Charlotte could do. She was up against a superior fighter, and she had lost. It was like a game of chess, when you can see that you're in a losing position and all you can do is watch and delay the inevitable.

Her already weakened right leg collapsed from under her, and she fell. The wrenching pain that tore her right arm intensified - no doubt Kull could break it if he wanted. Meanwhile, her left arm was free and uninjured, and though she could interpose her weapon between Kull's and herself, she doubted the sustainability of that plan. But what else could she do? Not much, that was clear.

"I don't want your mercy. I'm not afraid of death. You said before that winning here only earns you another day of your life. What makes you think my home is any different? Here, the hammer and sword, there, the poison and lies. My death has been coming for a long time, but I refuse to hide from it, even if oblivion is the only other way out."

All she could do now was delay the inevitable. So, she delayed the inevitable.


[System]
Archetype: 'Big' Man Villain
Alias: Dissonance

Age: 25

Powers:
Force - Jen generates a field of force from her hands. She cannot stop this without the use of her gloves. Her gloves allow her to control her powers, being able to shut them off completely, fire out a powerful shot of force (effective range of 10 m), or use it to enhance her punches. This sometimes gives the illusion of super strength, but this is not the case. She won't lift a car, but she can punch one quite far.

Resistance - Jen is quite resilient, partly due to the training and fighting she's been through, and partly because the same genes that cause her powers also boost her natural resistance, allowing her to take harder punches and fight for longer. The effects of this are not too strong, but she can stay standing longer than most. This only works against physical projectiles.

Weaknesses:
Range - Outside her range of 10 m, Jen is useless. She has no ranged weapons whatsoever.

Mental attacks - Though Jen's outer shell is strong, the horrors she has seen and commited mean that she is fragile on the inside, leaving her extremely vulnerable to mental attacks of any kind.

Standard Human Weaknesses - Reduced effects from projectiles, as above.

Alignment: Villain

Personality: Determined - Cold - Ruthless - Dispassionate - Broken

Appearance:

Gloves:

She usually just wears a pair of grey combat trousers, a grey sports tshirt and a black leather jacket when she commits crimes. She also wears a black cloth facemask over the bottom half of her face.

BRIEF Bio: Jen led a quiet life for her first 18 years. When she left school, instead of attending university, she joined up with the armed forces, determined to do good in the world. After a year of service, she was assigned to a special operations division, the SAS. She carried out missions for several years, seeing things that would make normal people break down and go insane. This led to her becoming withdrawn, often appearing emotionless to deal with what she had seen. After a particularly brutal mission, Jen refused the orders of her commanding officer when ordered to gun down some civilians. When threatened at gunpoint, Jen's powers awoke. She killed the rest of her squadron with them, partly due to their out of control nature, and partly because she wanted to. After that, she went on the run, dying her hair to help obscure her identity. She moved to New Athens, determined to change the world to a vision she wanted, one free from the governments and corruption she viewed as responsible for the atrocities she had to commit. There is nothing she won't do to see this happen.

Storylines: Even though she's a villain, I'd like to see her win a few fights. Definitely would love to do a monologue at some point. And maybe even a redemption story arc, later down the line?

Notes: Her mother is Scottish, and her father is English. She was raised in Guilford. She has inherited her mother's strong liver. She is an expert at hand to hand combat, even without her powers. She is also a crack shot, but has sworn never to use a gun again.

[User]
The Kane Corp. Skyscraper, Downtown

"Ah, Miss Legrand! Welc…" She butts in, guttural, low. "It's Marionette." Even so, that million dollar smile that Kane sported never faltered. "Yes, aliases are rather popular these days, aren't they?" No response, just that same look of agitation that the girl was known to show. Marionette seemed to think that intimidation would win the day; but in this case, in Mr. Kane's office with at least a half dozen armed guards equipped with military equipment… Darius wasn't worried in the least.

"I hope your trip here wasn't uncomfor…" Again, an interjection; this one louder and fiery. "Uncomfortable? Like that prison cell your goons stuffed me in? Or did you mean uncomfortable like the invasive tests that your scientists subjected me to?!" She takes a step forward. "Don't you talk to me about comfort you…" Maria yelps helplessly, falling limp after Kane signals to the woman that waited patiently by the door. Her head clashes with the hard marble tiling, something Kane couldn't help but chuckle at.

"Unfortunate that we must be so uppity, hm?" Darius walks around his desk and kneels beside the mechanical form of his newest asset. "But now you know what will happen if you ever get another bout of bravado that goes against my associates and I." He gives another signal, and this time two guards haul Marionette's body onto her knees so that the two can meet face to face. "You can't keep me…" Giving her a taste of her own medicine, Kane forcibly stops the girl from speaking by grabbing ahold of her jaw, squeezing ever so tightly.

"I'm afraid you will be staying under the employment of this company Ms. Legrand. See, the only reason that your worthless body is even able to function properly is because you're using technology that belongs to me; therefore, you belong to me." She can't help but whimper now, and tears form at the corners of the girls eyes. Kane had won, for now. He removes his grip and returns to a stand. "Take her away. And have a pleasant day, Miss Legrand."

[Assistant]
INTRODUCTION MUSIC

New Athens NC
May 2, 11 AM

The sun's morning light brought with it warmth and atop one of New Athens' tallest buildings, Stuart sat overlooking the city below him with his wings at rest on his back. Ever since he had gained the ability to fly like a wasp, the beauty of being a man able to fly was now his and it felt amazing and uplifting. There was now almost no heights that he couldn't obtain and the only thing that kept him on the ground was his normal life. Almost every week he stood up here to watch the sunrise and take time relax before rejoining the busy life of the normal human on the ground.

Stuart's wings came to life and started flapping at incredible speeds as he took off from the roof of the building and into the air. The wind blew past him as he darted through the sky and wonder of flight just never seemed to get old for him. Flying also helped calm down his nerves after doing hard hero work and many times his nerves were on edge after taking one bad guy after the other. Stuart wasn't still sure if he could handle to hard life of a hero, the powers were incredible, but he feared about the consequences that his actions would bring him and the responsibility that came with his great abilities.

Even before he had found the primordial ooze, Stuart suffered from paranoia, which was probably a side effect of his bad encounter with the wasps from his childhood. He regularly thought of things that made him afraid for what could happen in the future because of his actions like if he had done the right thing or if he had been faster in acts of heroics. He obviously couldn't be everywhere at once, but he still felt responsible for keeping as many people as safe as possible. Stuart made sure to train his powers as much as he time to do and hone in on his martial art skills to increase his speed with taking down enemies.

"Another day in the life of Yellow Jacket" he said to himself as he flew over the city, looking down at the cars and civilians below. His incredible sense of smell could pick out all of the different scents and aromas that covered the city and those of food were especially pleasant for him. He would have to stop and get a bite to eat soon and his mind wondered what he have for lunch. Even though he was super-powered being, he was still a man and still needed to fulfill the needs of his human side.

[User]
New Athens NC
May 2, 11 AM

Paul had woken up from his nights of sleeping in the park under the stars. He didn't really have a home as despite him being a hero and american legend, he made no money and could not afford a place to live. Not to mention that since he had no secret identity he would have a hard time finding a job anyways. Paul had started the morning off however by playing with a few of the children in the park who were there with their parents.

Eventually Paul though Paul started to wonder off towards the slums of the city, once there he saw what he had been hoping not to see this early in the morning. A gang war was getting started it seems. Many of these people in the gang war seemed to be quite young as well, all of them willing to die for 'turf' though they had no legal ownings in the area.

As Paul approached he could hear a buzzing over head, he looked up to see Yellow Jacket flying over head. Paul had met the hero a few times before and he understood the heroes strengths. Paul was rather slow and wouldn't be able to catch all of these thugs before they started to run away. "Hey! Yellow bee! Could use some help down here!" Paul bellowed loudly into the air, at this point all of the thugs had turned their attention and guns towards Paul who was blissfully unaware.

Paul turned to look down as all of them looked to be aiming their guns at him. "You wouldn't hit an american Legend Paul Bunyan now would you? Why don't you all put down your guns and we can talk this out peacefully." Paul said to them with a rather innocent look on his face as he slowly approached them all. The only answer he got though was a bullet to chest, which thanks to his skin being as strong as steel, didn't do much. Of course a shot to the head would knock him out. And poison would do even worse things to him. "Could use some help Bee!" Paul shouted to the sky hoping that Yellow Jacket would hear him despite getting the heroes name wrong.

Paul then started to charge towards the thugs who opened fire on him, most of them rather inexperienced in handling a gun and either hitting his chest or missing him and hitting a building. This fight was already starting to get out of hand though with glass shattering and people looking for cover.

Tales

[Assistant]
May 3rd, 1:40 pm

Roast and Toast Cafe

Jen took a sip of her coffee, a smile flitting across her face at the taste. A good drink always made her feel better. She looked over the street at her target, the main office of the New Athens Banking Company. The way Jen saw it, the NABC was one of the keystones of this city, and the whole country in fact. If she could cause havoc in the headquarters, one of the most well guarded facilities in the city, then not only would it strike fear into the general populace, there was a chance it would destabilise the infrastructure of the cities economical system. She stood up, shrugging her shoulders a little as she walked out of the cafe. She paused at the doorway.
"Thank you for the coffee," She said to the owner, who gave her a smile.

She walked out of the door and made her way to the edge of the street, quickly crossing over in a break in the traffic, pulling up her mask as she did. She started to walk up the stairs, cracking her knuckles as she came to the door. The security guard put a hand out.
"I'm sorry ma'am, only employees are allowed in," He said with a calm voice, not scared by the 5'7 girl.
"It would be better for both of us if you took the rest of the day off," She said coldly, her fist clenching up.
"Is that a threat?" He said, crossing his arms in an attempt to look more intimidating.
"Yes," She said simply, before punching him in the chest.
There was thoom sound as the guard was sent flying backwards through the glass door, landing on the ground with a thump and a groan as Jen stepped through the door, her eyes quickly surveying the lobby. She spotted another guard quickly making his way over, reaching for a gun in his holster.
"Too close," she said, firing a shockwave at him, sending him skidding into the welcome desk behind him, flipping over it and landing on the other side.
She gave a glare to the receptionist who was reaching for the phone, sending another blast at the poor girl to knock her out, the chair she was sat in spinning around slowly.

Jen made her way over to the elevator, pressing the button and walking in. She pressed the button for the top floor, knowing she would be stopped along the way.


[System]
Tomomi Katayama
Nicknames: Kata
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Weapon Type: Gloves & Knuckles

Appearance:

She never bothers to wear her school uniform, and the teachers have given up on trying to make her. As such, she tends to wear this type of outfit everywhere, much to the irritation of the school's staff.

Personality: Kata is the type of person that refuses to lose to anyone. Over-competitive, determined and reckless, she is unable to bring herself to turn away from a fight. No matter who or what she is trying to take on, she is confident that she can and will beat it. This attitude can tend to get her into trouble, but her stubborn nature, quick thinking and skills can also get her out of it, at least most of the time.

When she is fighting, it becomes clear that she's a little bit of an adrenaline junkie, and will happily put herself in danger just for the thrill of it, making her perfectly willing to take on fights for others. This has the unusual effect of making her seem quite selfless, when in reality she is anything but.

Her attitude towards fights changes a lot if she ever gets angry. While normally she is quite fiery and hot-tempered, once she passes a certain point her anger becomes much colder and more frightening to deal with. This only really happens if someone has done something to hurt her beforehand or damage her pride during the fight.

She tends to put on a bit of a false front, appearing carefree and relaxed in response to confrontation and never seeming to take it seriously when other people mention her issues, acting like she doesn't care. If people put her further, she has a range of tactics to deflect from it, including cutting remarks, frosty silence and shameless flirting. It should be said that she will probably do the last one either way.

Biography: Born and raised in Inaba, Kata always found the town kind of boring. She was an only child and her parents, while they cared about her, weren't very attentive and just ignored her leaving her to do her own thing most of the time. She was never the most attentive pupil in school, always feeling as though there were better things to do than sit and memorise a bunch of facts she'd never use.

When the murders started happening, she was a lot less freaked out than a lot of people. Sure, it wasn't good and she found it really messed up, but something was finally happening in Inaba. In the midst of all the craziness, she actually stopped causing trouble a little, seeing as there was actually something unusual happening to distract her for once. She calmed down, was paying more attention in class and actually got pretty good grades for a while.

Once it was all over, though, she returned to her old ways even more than before. Having something actually happen in Inaba just made it even harder to go back to the sleepy town's usual atmosphere. Currently, she spends her time messing with people and practising her martial arts skills in search of something to do, but she finds herself lacking some sort of purpose in life while people around her are deciding what they want to do.

Arcana: Chariot

Persona: Kottos - A large, muscular humanoid figure with several pairs of arms and a silver body, covered in dark red armour. It has long, white hair. As a persona of the Chariot arcana, it is focused around using physical skills.

Skills:
Sonic Punch
Tarukaja

[User] "Alright I'm not sure what's more funny the fact that, that small stick actually hurt you or the fact that you got a set enough to try and defend someone squirt." Shiro grumbled as he walked up to Minto and looked down at him. Shiro was rather tall especially for a Japanese male his age. It wasn't that he was abnormally tall but he was definitely tall enough to look down on a lot of the kids. "You new around here runt? Or were you just invisible all these years? Whatever kid look I'm a good guy so I'll make a deal stumble off too class and don't screw with me and I'll forget about you telling me what to do." Shiro said as ruffled Minto's hair with a chuckle. Shiro smelt like garlic for some reason and while it wasn't pungent it definitely was noticeable. "OH WAIT! I get it you need this little dude to actually stand up for you is that it Akira? WOW I didn't think it was possible for you too actually lose any more balls than you already did." Shiro taunted with a chuckle.

[Assistant]
Akira had thought for a change he might get Shiro the slip whilst eyeing the board for any changes in class assignment. That would prove to be wishful thinking as Shiro called out to him. Akira momentarily rolled his eyes, he had no need to humour that moron. However, he would turn his gaze eventually as it proved obvious that something was being launched in his general direction, anticipating the need for a possible side step, provided Shiro would actually throw straight. That was when the unlikely occurred as someone stepped in and Akira shook his head with a sigh, clearly a new kid who was yet to come to terms with the daily goings on at this school.

Akira fought back to urge to face up with Shiro, as he continued with his persistent taunting and now also picking on what would supposedly become his next victim in the line of victims. He didn't doubt what the outcome would likely be, the strange sense that that Shiro was an overgrown chihuahua with the generic temper issue, a chihuahua who had been savagely beaten with an ugly stick, and spent its entire life in a bush. From his experience with him, Shiro seemed to be more of a barker. "No posse to help you today..." Akira grumbled to himself.

Once Shiro had finished his daily routine of taunts Akira waited for the other kid to part ways from him. "Best to ignore, one day, he'll pick the wrong day." Akira spoke rather quietly, before looking to Shiro and shrugging. "People with balls don't need to shout and cause a scene..." Akira said with a sigh, it was actually drawing some attention. This wasn't exactly a comfortable situation for Akira as he turned away and disappeared into the school building with a stream of students, making his way to class.

[User]
"Who the fuck do I look like too you? Hashirama? I don't need a god damn posse to beat anyone's ass." Shiro said as he spit on the ground as he walked forward pushing Minto to the side as he looked over at Akira and merely shook his head. "You want proof? You come at me you little piece of trash." Shiro said with flat cold malice as he turned around and saw one of the old student represenatives looking over at the group with a frown and Shiro turned back to the two of them. "See that's why I'm not going to punch you right now. It's the first day of school and you girl friend here probably doesn't want to see you get decked either. So i'm going to class you two understudy runts stay out of my way. I won't tell you again." Shiro said as he turned around even if Akira taunted him further unless he flat out called him a dickless loser then he wouldn't respond or act out further.

Will and Heero had ignored all the commotion caused by Shiro and had gotten to the board by the time Shiro had pushed his way into the school itself. Heero looked over the list and quietly mumbled out names as he smiled and picked out the first class, "Your in room B-7 Will. Shouldn't be that hard to find. It's on the very end of the hall to the left after you go upstairs. I got class B-1 so I won't be with you but you should be fine." Heero told Will who was slightly worried about how he would fair on his own but he was confident he could handle it on his own for a bit as long as the teacher didn't talk too fast. "Thanks dude should we get to class?" Will asked Heero who shrugged, "We got a couple minutes so we can wait a bit if you want." Heero commented back as Will shook his head, "I'm going to class don't worry about me. I want to get settled in before everything starts."

[Assistant]
Tomomi Katayama

Tomomi was checking the board, after having overtaken a few people on her way into the school. Class B-7, huh? Well, it was... A class? She didn't really know anyone in there, at least she didn't think so. Most of the people that she actually knew weren't even in classes half the time anyway. The good kids tended to avoid her, preferring to suck up to the teachers and polish their shoes or whatever they did in their class time.

To be honest, she could've gone up early, but her eyes narrowed as she glanced back at the entrance and saw Shiro picking on a couple of the people she'd seen on her way in. She kinda knew Shiro from the amount of time she'd spent skipping class - it was impossible to avoid the guy as much as she wanted to - and it would be fair to say that she didn't like him. He didn't seem to like her much either, probably 'cause she was one of the few people in the school who wasn't scared of him at all.

See, most of the people who skipped class were decent people, despite what the teachers would say. Like her, they just couldn't be bothered wading through all the tedious stuff they had to do in classes for what seemed like no reason. Shiro was a piece of work though, so she had no problem walking up to him as he turned away from the pair he seemed to have been picking on.

"Seems like you're just as much of a loser as last year, huh, Shiro? Picking on folks that won't fight back. I'm sure everyone's proud of you!"  she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she looked at him. Despite not liking each other, the two had never actually come to blows as far as she could remember. Still, he'd have a fight on his hands if he tried anything on her! Tomomi Katayama wasn't one to back down.

As long as his two lackeys weren't hanging about, she figured she could take him on anyway if she had to. Might as well make a point by standing up to him, even if she was making a bit of a scene.

[User] Shiro topped mid walk as he turned to look at Tomomi and frowned at her with a disgusted look on his face. "I'm just doing what I got to do Tomomi. If you don't like it why don't you go and give that little shit Akira a little present. I'd figured you'd understand me a little by now. Whatever, is that all? I don't got time to deal with you right now why don't you go find Hashirama and try and see if he likes listening too someone preaching too him. I'm going to actually get to class and last time I checked that was Shiro-SENPAI too you you little piglet." Shiro grumbled at Tomomi. Shiro pushed his way into the hall for real this time making it clear he had no more intentions of dealing with people interrupting him further. Whatever the reason Shiro simply had no intention of getting along with anyone who didn't have the balls' to keep up with him and actually back it up. He looked down on Hashirama for it, he looked down on the students for it, and he spit on anyone who tried to get him to change his mind.

[Assistant]
Minto Hanataba
This was not going good at all, this guy is just like really tall and smelled like garlic and not the good garlic like the garlic bread but like really garlic, his hair was quite greasy too...he needs to wash it properly so it won't be that greasy wait...why is thinking about his hair he just insulted the other guy Akira again and told him to like back off and as much it would be great for him to do so he held that tiny bit of courage he had and stood there still not really doing anything but tying to show he had tough. Though he ended up more like a rabbit about to be eaten by fox type of deal.

Then he was pushed to the side and even if it was just a small push it wasn't cool to do at all. You don't push people who no permission it just not right at all. This Shiro guy is a real meanie for doing all of this. What does he want anyway from doing this? A laugh...meanie that is for sure. He wanted to tell him and say he shouldn't be doing all hose things but he can just tremble and whimper from the guys size...Oh why he had to be so small like a kid. Shiro calling him a squirt is pretty much true and now calling him girlfriend? This is to much for the first day.

He begged that there won't be any fighting he didn't want to end up in the middle of that but he did place himself into the situation so it is bound to happen it seems. Akira told that it brb eat to ignore the guy and right now that seems to be the best idea but he just throws sticks at people! That is very rude to do. "Sti....still...he is..."

Then the girl from earlier Tomomi came by and was so confident and talked this Shiro like she was a the heroine of the story. So much confidence it was so cool and Mint wished he could be the same one day. If he was like that in the first place then none of this would have happened. Now he is just there standing scared....As Shiro walked off he turned to Tomomi and thanked her for her help. He vowed his head and smiled shyly. "Tha-thank you...you looked so c-cool..." Mint couldn't help but to admire her strength for doing that it just cool. Then he turned to Akira and said sorry for causing him trouble even more, he got even called more names and made bigger enemies with that guy. "S-sorry to bother you.."

[User]
Instead of letting on that she was a little intimidated, Tomomi laughed as Shiro stormed off. "Big talk for the guy that's running away, Shiro." she muttered after a few seconds. Man, she'd hoped he'd have taken the bait, but it seemed like he wasn't gonna do any more than talk. Now what was she meant to do? Seemed like there was no other choice.

"Man, that sure is boring. Now I actually gotta go to class." she groaned in frustration, kicking a bottle down the corridor to express her annoyance. Speaking of which, she should probably actually go now. She prepared to go when one of the kids Shiro had been picking on walked up to her.

As she heard the kid thanking her, she looked over and rolled her eyes a little bit. "Look, don't thank me, alright? I don't like the way Shiro acts is all. No offence, but looking out for you guys didn't really come into it."

She shrugged. Looking at the time though, she figured she'd better head to her classroom. "I don't wanna be late, though. Already in enough trouble for attendance." she said to the kid as she turned and headed upstairs. She knew where the class was, passing the American kid on her way there, and pausing at the door. Class B-7.

Oh well, time to see the teacher's reaction to her turning up. This was probably going to end up as the highlight of her day, so she walked in with a cocky, self-satisfied smirk plastered on her face. Surprise!


[System]
Appearance:
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 120 lbs
Hair Color: Pale Blonde
Eye Color: Yellow
Age: 23

History:
The assassin known only as the Crimson Streak is a mystery and an enigma. No one knows where she came from or how she got her reputation. Actually, no, that's false. People know full well how the girl got her blood-soaked title. However, the answers end there.

All anyone knows is that she served under the Imperium for some time as one of their leading assassins before apparently defecting to take the life of a Mercenary. Wandering around for some time, fate would eventually pair her with a certain Taskmage, and the two have been partners ever since. And thus, the mystique surrounding her continues. No one knows her true name, except maybe her partner in crime.

Personality:
Sable generally has two expressions written on her face: neutral and frowning. Perhaps at one time she was less stoic. Maybe. Now though, she'd much rather just not talk much to anyone at any time or anywhere. And if she does talk, it will be in a monotone voice and expression.

As an assassin greatly feared, Sable is a killer with a stone face. Often, the last thing her victims see before their passages into death are her cold visage and blank eyes. Thus, she appears at times distant and robotic, and to some extent she really is, only allowing her mind to focus on tasks at hand. She has a polite dislike for nobility and royals in general, though she will rarely say so. Much like anything else actually.

Maybe she's just shy? Who knows. The only person she says more than three words to is her partner. And even then, it's hard to get any emotion out of her.

Weapons:
Vim and Vigor: A pair of black and white daggers that are noted to be oversized in appearance. They are often used both in a sword-like fashion as well as traditional dagger play. The weapons themselves lack any sort of special abilities, save for one sole function.

Each of the daggers was created for the purpose of nullifying magic. As such, Sable can use them to cut away most forms of magic used against her, and the sight of her slicing away at flames of streaks of cast lightning are not uncommon. The blade's true potential, however, can be utilized further in dire situations.

When sensing a situation in which their master is in danger, Vim and Vigor will increase their anti-magic qualities to the point where Sable can severe the particles of magic in the air from at least a two-foot radius. When this state is achieved, next to all magic is canceled two feet from Sable's form. Because of her only magic of summoning as well, Sable can also use Vim and Vigor as projectile boomerangs along side close-combat.

Abilities:
RE-Arch: Sable's only form of magic; it is a type of summoning magic that can call forth as well as store her weapons Vim and Vigor from thin air. In practical hindsight, it's simply a convenient method to arm herself quickly. Because of this utilization, she often uses it to call her blades back to her near-instantly, making the tactic of using them as boomerang projectiles quite effective.

Other:
Although she is known to rest of the world as either Sable, or the Crimson Streak, only one individual dares to give her the affectionate nickname, Crimson Steak. This certain person also has a bad habit of calling her other meat-themed names as well. Furthermore, the full title of her magic is "Repeatable Equip Armament", or, "RE-Arch".

[User]
Sable sighed.

It was starting to get late, and frankly, she didn't like the idea of wasting any more energy mindlessly slaughtering the predators of the night. So she turned in the direction of the nearest town, ready to make the long trek there. She fully expected Atreides to follow her when he was done conversing…but what about the others?

As if unconsciously, she felt her feet carry her towards the strange girl with the orbs, eyeing yet another stranger who was standing atop the dragon and ranting about food. Or something. It was probably best not to let these younglings run around.

And at that, she sighed again.

"No, that girl is not my offspring," she answered with no emotion to the girl with orbs. "Can you care to introduce yourself? Also…I see that I have mildly scratched myself during the last target elimination."

She held up her left hand to reveal a small criss-cross of scratches, probably when slicing away at that dragon's scales. Nothing too serious, but she figured she might as give the girl what she wanted.

"If you wait shortly, we will find food at the nearest mess hall in the nearest town," she called out to the girl still standing near the dragon.

[Assistant]
"Oh, alright. My name is Exoris.~ And it's a pleasure to meet you, madame. You're quite interesting despite your frosty demeanor- oh. You did get hurt? Alright, lemme fix it. Just stand still!"

The orb at her side floated upwards, right over the woman's head as Exoris hummed a tune and held her index finger upwards against the sphere. A small beam, no bigger than a beam of her pinky, shot out from the tip and into the orb that had grown a bright, sweet pink color. Ah, yes, there it was. The shift in her weapon to turn it into a conduit for nice things!~ With the beam converging into the center of the orb, it would shoot right down on the entirety of the red-clad woman in front of her. What looked like an actual attack was instead a spell turned into a healing light. The crossed wounds would close up as it touched at her skin and Exoris would cross her arms soon afterwards with a satisfied look on her face.

"I doubt the details of how it works is important, so I won't bother boring you with the details. I'm tagging along until you die, if you don't mind! And come on, little girl! Or do you wanna be carried?"

Yes, despite the fact that the girl was only a year younger than her at most, she was still calling her "little". It was an endearing nickname! After all, who thought to go and try carving up a dragon for the sake of making a meal? That deserved some credit to her for creative eating...If not slight concern for how that thought process went to decide that big, green, and scaly equaled beef jerky for dinner.

[User]
"Name... my... name..." the ghostly knight had not been asked for his name in... well he was unsure if just how long had passed. He began running through most all the words in his memory, desperately searching for something to call himself... what was his name? Finally a word caught his attention... it would have to do, "I... was once... ca... called... Gilligan... long ago..." hopefully that would suffice. Though the number of the living had quickly grown since the fight, with more coming from seemingly no where. A strange girl with floating orbs, her soul two very different sides of the same coin. A boy already walking... his soul lobotomized... and temperamental... and fraying. Another woman long in hair... and with the least of corrupted spirits... and a white haired man... wielder of the relic... but his soul carried terror... and the bloodthirsty amulet only inflamed the aggressive soul... a strange group... Gilligan was unsure if they truly knew about even themselves. Gilligan... he would have to become use to calling himself that. Again his vision strayed to the Crimson one... Sable... her soul was strange to him... almost familiar... again memory overtook him... bright light and green grass... a wide beautiful field... and the form of a person... obscured by the sun... and again he was wrenched back to his half existence... how strange...
Returning his attention to the man before him, the soldier managed to sputter out, "You seek... the relics... I will accompany you... and... sable... this... is... Un... ne... negoti... negotiable..."

[Assistant]
Time had passed, and Yem had made it to the inn. He was currently lying down on a straw mattress, thinking. He was in possession of a legendary old relic. By all means, he was now a rich man, should he decide to deliver the relic to the authorities. But Yem had little trust in said authorities, and craved no riches. He craved knowledge and power, and something told him the relics held both. He would have to learn to somehow decipher them to obtain it, but that was a problem for later. Right now, he was looking at his amulet and thinking about the strange experience he'd had earlier that day. Someone had been in his body, making it move, using sorcery that Yem himself had no knowledge of whatsoever. That someone could still be in his body, Yem had to admit, but he thought it more likely that it was linked to the amulet. He wanted to communicate with it, speak with it, learn from it, but he was unsure how to do so. Letting it take over had come so naturally for him before, and he was sure he'd be able to do it again, but he couldn't for his life remember how he'd done it now that he was out of the moment. It was probably more of the relics doing than his own. He pondered some more, and then decided to just try something. Experiment. He held the black stone to his chest.

Who are you?, he thought, And why are you in the stone?

There was no answer.

Who are you?, Yem asked again. He wasn't giving up that easy, Tell me who you are!

Still no answer. Yem frowned.

Can you even hear me, or am I making a fool of myself?

Not a sound. Perhaps if he approached it differe-

I can hear you, though whether you're a fool or not I'll leave to future judgement, a voice in his mind suddenly said.

Yem was startled but quickly regained his calm. He collected his thoughts and emptied his mind; whoever it was could hear his thoughts. Best not give too much away.

Why didn't you answer me before? I've been asking your name.

Because you were rude. One doesn't ask for names before giving ones own. It's common courtesy, really.

I see. In that case, I'm Yem.

Yem. What an odd name.

So I've heard. Will you not give me yours now that I've given mine?

I never said I would.

Yem smiled. Tricky. He liked that.

That's rather rude of you, don't you think?

Perhaps. But I've never claimed that I'm not.

He could see that he wouldn't get anything else out of the entity living in the relic tonight, so he decided to retreat for now and return later when he was better prepared.

Ah, I see. This has been illuminating, but I fear I must rest now. We will talk more later.

If you say so, Yem. If you say so.

He put the relic down beside him and wrapped it in a piece of cloth. Hopefully, it couldn't read his mind if he separated himself from it like that. He would have to think of a strategy to get the truth from the being in the amulet.

[User]
Atreides listened with surprising patience as the cursed soldier worked his way through his fractured mind and manner of speech, eventually giving forth the name of Gilligan. Well, that was better than Cursed one, although that would no doubt suffice in a pinch. The being proceeded to mention accompanying Sable and himself, and the matter was not up for debate. Well, that meant they had an undead and near indistructeable, from the showing he gave with the dragon, soldier following them around that could not speak very well. This would make visits to town far more entertaining, he thought with a mental sigh. Well, that did mean things would be easier in sheer violence situations, although why the cursed one insisted on the matter was a mystery to the Taskmage. Depending on how fractured the being was, Gilligan might very well see the past in them and be clinging to it. Or he was very perfectly all there and was putting on a show. He couldn't confirm that either way right now, and for now, it wasn't worth the pain.

"Well, Sir Gilligan, I won't tell you where to go or who to go with, so by all means, let's get the ladies and get moving."

Atreides turned towards Sable, seeing she already had a little gang of her own and snickered, a sound that she would be familiar with as a prelude to some sort of mockery or ribbing that was about to drop. Approaching the woman, whether cursed soldier was in tow or not, he crossed his arms with a sardonic smirk on his face.

"Look at you Meat, got yourself a little girl's night out club and everything already. No more babysitting for me, it seems. On a serious note, its late, we need to find someplace to put up for the night. Town sound good?"

[Assistant]
Sable's ears slightly twitched at the familiar snicker, a frown already deepening onto her face-wait, no. She was already frowning. Well that saved her some effort. Turning around, she met the image of her smirking partner with a look of clear disapproval.

"We are not a girl's night out club Atreides," she pointed out with no emotion. "We are simply travelers going the same way. I think a fan club would be more appropriate to utilize."

With that said, she looked back at the girl with the pink healing light. Testing out her hand, Sable nodded in approval at the renewed flesh.

"Thank you…Exoris. I see there is no debating the issue of you following me. Therefore, do not expect me to save you in times of dire need. That is all."

She turned then, giving Atreides a curt nod before heading for the nearest town. Dusk was soon approaching, and with it, the predators of the night. Not too far away from them, those very same predators had their sights on Ugnis and his green Relic.

Watching. Waiting.

Of course, none of that was on the Crimson Streak's mind. No, no, she was wondering just what ever happened to her first fan, Muzai?

Back in town, Mal would find quite an interesting sight to greet him. For one reason or another, Imperium soldiers were on foot and looking for…something. Probably the Legend Relics, and that made the most sense. They didn't notice him, and probably wouldn't unless he caused a scene.

He could probably slip by and get a room without worry if he kept his composure. With that demon festering inside of him, it was certainly a large gamble.

Far away in a similar town, Yem had finished his attempted conversation with the black Relic. As he departed for the night, a presence was watching him from the darkness. They waited and watched, before slipping inside his lone room through a window. Keeping themselves into the shadows, they focused on his sleeping form.

At once, they drew a crimson blade and became poised to strike.