[System]
Age: 22

Description: When viewed by humans of everyday life Maru appears as a brown haired girl with green eyes,generally wearing a Brown cloak with the hood pulled up.

Gender: Female

Race: Deer Faun

Magic: Earth and Druid Magic.

Equipment: N/A

Personality: Maru is timid and considered to be a loner, she fears large crowds and tends to keep to her self, when drawn into conversation she is kind but with a steely opposition. She's either relaxed or on edge, she prefers the wooded forests to the city but enjoys what the city has to offer, she thoroughly loves shiny objects so it wouldn't be odd to see necklaces and bracelets and other jewelry wrapped about her horns.

History: Maru was born in the forest, when she was old enough she left and moved to the city, she got a job as an apprentice at an herb shop, she saved up enough to buy a small apartment then quit her job, she roams the city finding discarded jewelry to add to her ever growing collection.

[User] [POST EXPUNGED]

[Assistant]
Eighty
Another round on the job.

What's an inconspicuous vehicle? Certainly not a windowless van, but a windowed one with so much clutter and spare tools on the inside that nothing else could be seen, was at least a little better. Ladder on the roof was a decent touch as well. Honestly, Eighty hated driving this thing over his other, much smaller and more reasonable car, but he was hauling some important cargo this time around. Too big for the average trunk. He was almost to his destination, he wouldn't have to worry much longer.

At a red light, Eighty passed some subtle glances around, making sure he was mostly clear of other vehicles. He turned his head, one eye peering into the back of the van. Something was draped in a cloth blanket, and fastened securely. And Eighty asked it, "Comfortable back there?"

There was no response, save for a low growl. Eighty turned his head back towards the road, continuing on with his delivery.

"We're almost home. Sit tight."

Another growl. Eighty smirked.

[User]
The day had been like any other. Eyja had woken in her small bedroom, greeted Calfer and enjoyed her morning cup of peppermint tea with some linseed crackers and dried fruit. Afterwards she had gone to work in her shop until she closed for the day. Having a daily routine that had nothing to do with cleansing rituals and meditation circles was a blessing to the young witch. Of course she still practised her beliefs, just not to the extent of what was normal with her couvern. As she sold some dried camomile she thought of her sisters and a yearning came to her heart. She'd have to visit them soon.

Calfer sat on his perch in her shop and softly cooed when they were alone. She went over to stroke his head. "I think I'm going out tonight." Eyja told the owl. "I still need to get my hands on some Doxy eggs." The owl cooed again, ruffling it's feathers. She sighed. "You know I can't take you with me. People would notice! And you know we're not supposed to reveal ourselves to ordinary humans." A snap of the beak was her answer. "I'll be careful. Take good care of the house now!" The bird turned it's head to one side, planely ignoring her. This made the young witch leave with a smile. Calfer was far too worried! What on earth could happen with the Order around?

Making her way through London she sat in the bus, staring at all the buildings it passed. At first she had been intimidated by the city, but now that she had grown accustomed to it it didn't frighten her any more. The enclosure had become more of a comfort to her, securing her from the wolrds dreads. Ironic, somehow. Other people didn't feel at ease in the noise, dirt and hectic of the city. Yet for Eyja it had become a home she felt safe in.

The bus stopped in front of a bakery and the witch got off, continuing her small journey by foot. The further she went, the quieter everything was. Then she had reached her destination and entered the Abandoned Bar. Now, where was her usual clerk whom she got exquisite and rare ingredients from? Looking around she stayed near the entrance, trying to spy through the crowd, her long hair dancing around her shoulders like liquid fire, bright in contrast to her dark clothing and pale face. Finally she found the man who was sitting at a table, deep in conversation with another. Perhaps she'd wait a bit . . .

[Assistant]
Saryx walked along the grungy streets, bumping into people accidentally. There were so many people here, how can anyone relax? Saryx pulled her hood closer around her face. She was quite timid around other people as she shied away from the oncoming traffic of people. Saryx began to wonder if she would find anyone in this god forsaken place that could help her settle in.
With a sigh, Saryx entered into a nearby bar to rest, for she had been walking for hours. She only had a few British pounds, which meant she needed to find work and soon. She had heard about other magical beings within this area, so maybe she could find work for one of them? Of course she would have to hide what she was, fearing she would put her life on the line.

[User]
The museum echoed footsteps as a megaphone or microphone might, blaring the sound throughout the empty halls. Romen statues of gods and goddesses peered down upon the source of the noise. Gregory stared back, blank eyes recalling their glory when they had still been decorated for their grace to be won. Now they were marble and only that.

The museum was supposed to close an hour ago but working there had privlages that aloud him to stay and clean the floors for however long he liked, the night guards certainly didn't mind the extra company. Even if he was a bit strange.

By the time he had made his way back to the entrance and the dino bones he had thoroughly lost interest. Gregory could not recall dinosaurs, the thing that lurked in his mind had not bothered itself with the trivial creatures and so Gregory himself could not be bothered with them either.

He left through the front door walking to the Abandoned bar; a place he'd recalled from another time when he was not called Gregory. It was a dim place, dirty on the outside but remarkably full of interesting people on the inside. There he would be amongst other things, non-humans. He took a seat at the bar and asked for just water, Gregory didn't need to be poisoned by magic drink or whatever. Gregory had family to get home to after the bar.

[Assistant]
The van arrived at a locked up warehouse away from most of the traffic. However, as should be expected, it was all but unoccupied. Eighty parked the van back-facing a large service door, shut it off, and then exited the driver seat. He proceeded towards a smaller door on the side of the warehouse, checking his surroundings for any witnesses. Thankfully, he was clear.

He knocked on the door. There was a single knock back. Eighty replied with a single word.

"Terrier."

The door opened silently, and he stepped inside. There were two men, one by the door, one sitting in a chair close by. Both of them looked like your average thugs. The seated one looked at Eighty and asked him, "Finally made it. New blood here too?"

"Yeah. Female, blank drug record, minor psychological damage."

"Perfect." The man replied, standing up and opening the service door. Eighty took out his keys and opened up the van, pulling away the blanket covering the cargo. Inside was a werewolf. Relatively small, ragged from captivity, bound by an obscene number of straps and locks. There was a device strapped to her head that was ready to drive a giant nail through it if she got too rowdy.

"Beautiful." One of the thugs commented, "We'll fix her right up for the new season. You should think about joining up this time Eighty, make some bets."

"Nah, mate." Eighty replied, "I just want the money, and the bonus we talked about."

The man nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out two things - a neat bundle of pounds, and a plastic bag full of some form of black powder. Eighty pocketed both, and the thug said to him, "Season doesn't start until next week. You got some time time to think about it."

"Mate, just roll her out so I can get movin'."

The thug turned and grabbed the cage, pulling it out onto a large dolly the other thug had brought in. He took a needle from a strap on his holster and carefully injected it into the werewolf's thigh, sedating her. Eighty handed the device to shut off the nail mechanism to the thug he'd been talking to. They closed up the van, and the deal was done. Eighty turned back towards the door and made his way out while the thugs rolled the werewolf away to her new life as a pit fighter.

As he exited the warehouse, Eighty took out his phone and texted someone.

Dropped off the dog food at your friend's house.

And as he got back into his van, he got a reply.

Good, thanks. Appreciate the help.

And with work done for the day, Eighty believed he earned himself a pint before he headed back home. Oh, but where to drink?

...

The Order knew about Eighty. They knew about his activities, and boy did they not approve. But just as much as he was an eyesore to them, he was also a valuable informant. Plenty of up-and-coming villainous groups had met their end thanks to the man's sense of criminal limitation. After all, if one party gets too powerful, the business suddenly becomes harder. And no one wanted the worse of two evils.

The leadership knew who he was - the rest, not as well. And he preferred to keep it that way. So why was he just now entering their Abandoned Bar?

Well, they had the best drinks in the immediate area. And despite their strenuous relationship, the Order allowed their little informant to have a pint or two as long as he stayed out of trouble, and away from anyone who might recognize him.

Not that anyone here did. He almost never talked to these people.

[User] Saryx took a seat at the bar and ordered a cheap drink. Something to warm her up. Without fire, Saryx has been getting colder and colder and she needed to heat up some. She gave the bartender the last bit of money she had for some food. Some fish and chips. To her, the chicken was way to greasy and she didn't even go near the chips. She wasn't a big vegetable person, if you can call chips a vegetable. In fact, she preferred to eat only meat. She took a swig from her cup and looked around the room, seeing who was around.

[Assistant]
Just standing there, waiting for her clerk to finish his business she started to feel uneasy. With a sigh of defeat she went over to the bar, moving her slender body through the crowd as she tried not to bump too many with her bag that dangled happiply from her shoulder. Maybe she should have brought a smaller one . . . Then again, she never new what her clerk would have for her. She sat down between a woman who was picking at her fish and chips and seemingly didn't enjoy it much and a man with a small beard and dark eyes who just looked like plain trouble. Well, she'd have to wait a while for the time being. Bending over the counter she waved for the bartender who came rushing by. With a smile she gave up her order: „Hello! I'd like a large glass of water, please." Her voice was soft and barely carried over the noise of her surroundings. The man ogled at her. „Pardon, Missy?" She sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. „A GLASS OF WATER!" she almost shouted. The man started laughing. „We don't serve no water here!" Disbelief and frustration played in her features. Was the guy serious?!

When the bartender went away without another word Eyja almost collapsed onto the bar chair. She had been defeated because of a glass of water . . . How ludicrous! She looked over to the table of the man she was waiting for. He was still in deep conversation. At least she had a place to sit. Her gaze wandered to the woman. She smiled friendly before continuing her scan through the crowd. A little nervous she started playing with her pendant. The man next to her seemed somewhat . . . off . . . She couldn't quite grasp it. Perhaps it was just the heat in the room or the sound level surrounding her. Maybe it even just was hunger. She'd had nothing since breakfast and she wouldn't be home for another few hours. Maybe she should get something here. The thought lingered for a moment before she shook her head. No, if she asked for a salad the man would probably throw her out entirely!

[User]
You don't go to a pub for a glass of water. Not a normal one at least, this one was a more special case. Eighty was seated, passing a glance at the woman who'd asked for her glass of rain, only to get denied. After her turn was up, the bartender approached him next.

"You." The bartender commented, "What do you want now?"

"My usual." Eighty replied, "I'll be out of your hair after one or two, mate. Ease up."

The bartender, looking all sorts of displeased, turned and grabbed a glass, and held it under a lager dispenser. He handed over the drink, and Eighty handed over the payment. They continued to eye each other for a moment as the exchange was made.

"You ever gonna tell me your name?" The bartender asked.

"No." Eighty replied.

The bartender looked well and done with the conversation, so he turned to serve his other patrons. Eighty began taking sips of his lager, pulling out his phone and flipping through messages and random websites. And, passing quick glances around the room, mainly for signs of trouble.

[Assistant] Maru had been wandering the streets, to any passersby she'd appear a tall girl wrapped in a brown robe, only striking green eyes visable from the darkness beneath the hood, but to any supernatural creature or any human with supernatural powers she'd appear a tall Faun, large antlers with rings and necklaces draped across a tip or two sat atop her head, her two legs were furry and ended in hooves that had bracelets around them and her fluffy deer tail twitched here and there with her mood same as her large ears that twitched, her eyes stayed the same, a vibrant almost glowing emerald color. Maru moved along the cobblestones her mind set on the opal ring in her hand, her latest find, she fixed the ring on one of her antlers and looked around, she tended to just roam the city when bored, her eyes always catching any lost or discarded jewelry along the walk. She blew out a sigh and moved to enter the Abandoned Bar, she often frequented the local bars, drunk maidens were more likely to drop their expensive wears there, plus she had a sweet tooth for wine. Moving inside she casted her eyes around before approaching the bar and ordering a glass of red wine, she seated her self at a stool and sipped at the wine as her green eyes scanned the floor for anything shiny.


[System]
Age: 24

Affiliation: Assassin Brotherhood, House of Medici, House of Auditore

Appearance:

Elena is almost always found with her hood and cloak drawn, hiding in shadows or on the rooftops of Florence. The assassin's garb she dons hides her long brown hair, which would fall in waves to the middle of her back should it be left to flow freely, instead it is usually tucked back in a messy braid in her hood. In combat, she does her best to rely on stealth, thus her hidden blades and throwing knives are her preferred weapons. Should she enter combat, however, a scimitar serves her well.

Background:

Elena Nicoletta Carrozza was born into the working class of Florence to a second-generation blacksmith. Despite being inferior to the upper crust of the city's many privileged and wealthy, the Carrozza family, and other of the middle class, made a decent living under the Medici family's generous Florentine rule. Elena's father, Domenico Carrozza, always had a steady business supplying part of the city guard with their blades.

Elena and her brother, Renzo, were raised with love and attention by their mother and father. They were taught values of equality, respect, and appreciation. All things that they could see shared first hand among the people of their family's circle. Because of the company her father kept, Elena never went anywhere without a watchful eye on her.

 It was not much longer into her youth before Elena was made aware why her father kept such close and secretive company. He belonged to a centuries old guild known as the Assassin Brotherhood. Domenico revealed his identity as an Assassin to his children only when he knew they were old enough to comprehend the gravity of the information and responsible enough to begin their own training to join in the Brotherhood as their grandparents had before them.

Flash forward several years and Elena now moves in the shadows, fulfilling requests and orders made by those at the top of the organization. She possesses a rebellious spirit, however, and so her conformity to these orders is often messy at best. This keeps her from gaining the full approval of Mario Auditore, head of the Assassin's Guild. Her brother, however, follows his orders as given, and so has been given a mission to prove himself for his next rank.

Renzo was tasked by Niccolo Machiavelli and others to take out an ex-assassin who had become a hazard to the Brotherhood and its mission, a young man Elena had not had much interaction with in his short stent with the Assassins. Elena was left idle on petty errand missions, knowing her skill far outweighed her work, while her brother was out performing meaningful work for the betterment of the guild.

She was naively bitter about the situation. That is, until her brother came barreling through her door covered in blood. His wound was a serious one, and he told of his encounter with the man and his accomplice. Renzo's recovery was a lengthy one. If Elena even thought she was serious about the Templars before, it was personal now.

Another several years later, and Elena has earned herself a worthy rank among the best in the Brotherhood, despite her reckless nature at times. Her proven stealth has now earned her the task of infiltrating the lives of those closest to Rodrigo Borgia, in search of more information about an ancient artifact known as a Piece of Eden, something the Assassins don't want to fall into the hands of the Knights Templar.

[User]
Elena was not eager to be ushered by a Templar to a doctor, but given Alessandro's state she did not know if they had time to make it back to their quarters or trusted associates before running into more trouble. With a sigh of discontent and an equally unamused look upon her face, she pressed Alessandro on in front of her and followed behind him as they exited the catacombs. What made her even more nervous was having the Templar's behind her.

As they walked, her arms remained tense, ready for the slightest movement or deviation so that her blades may extend again and find the flesh of the mutts that she knew were out to best her. When the apprentice suddenly left as they were in the streets, Elena's eyes narrowed and she stepped closer to Alessandro, not trusting the Templar's explanation as they continued towards the medical cart.

Once there, she was happy to see the Templar leave. Alessandro began getting treatment from the doctor, who from the looks of it didn't know an Assassin from a Templar from a goat. All the same, so long as his practices were proven. But not moments later, the sound of chinking armor moving in a steadily approaching beat caused Elena to swear under her breath.

"Merda."

Turning, she glared as the guard accused the two of criminal activity. Then, she laughed as the Templar stepped forward with the others.

"Bastardo. Scared to take on one and a half Assassins, so the Templars go running for an army? How doughty of you." Elena spoke, her feet not moving from the place she stood when the guard had approached her with his husky and charged voice.

Alessandro was still on the bench, wound half-dressed and doctor long gone. His eyes shifted across the Templar group as he stood up, wincing and grabbing his sword from its scabbard beside him.

"What are you going to do, arrest us?" Alessandro quipped through clenched teeth. One hand was placed on his bleeding wound and the other held out his blade. Elena shot him a sideways glance, as she still stood without a weapon drawn or any notion of hostility towards these 'authorities.'

"Jail is the best they can do, Alessandro. Put your weapon down."

Alessandro looked from the guards to his weapon, then lowered it with disdain. The pair of Assassins put their hands up. With the nearby onlookers that the spectacle had garnered, it was unlikely that the guard should be so careless as to attack two surrendering and seemingly innocent people.

The guards began to advance on them. Elena did not move, but kept her gaze on the Templar.

"So, what will you do now?"

[Assistant]
The Assassins were trapped. While the woman could have possibly outrun all the guards, Luciano knew she was not going to leave his injured companion behind. The doctor was dutiful but not bold, and so he fled when he had the chance. Curiosity got the better of many citizens however, there was soon an entire circle of spectators around the stand. That was the one circumstance not in the Templars' favour—and the Assassins were quick to voice it.
"What about a public execution right here and right now, eh?!" The guard captain huffed angrily. The accusation of cowardice was the greatest blow to his pride. He reached for his sword, ready to pounce in any moment.

Luciano pulled him back firmly.
"Don't think I couldn't have killed you both down there," he said confidently to the Assassins. "But us Templars have morals too. We had an agreement. I held it against my better judgement. And I will once again let you live...for now. Take them away."
The captain signed four of his men to restrain the Assassins, not taking any chances for a sudden breakout.
"Heh, the Signor is merciful. He must have plans for you. May have been better off executed after all..." one of them murmured at the two pushing them forward to get them moving.

The crowd slowly started to disperse as the group of guards marched away with the captives. Luciano remained at the back with Emerico, talking in hushed tones drowned out by the bustle of the city.
"Excellent work. This mission is not so much of a failure anymore because of you," Luciano praised his apprentice.
"Ahimé. All but consolation for the loss of the Apple..." Emerico held his head downwards in visible disappointment. He was unsure if it still was the power of the artefact speaking from him or if he truly regretted not doing everything to save it.
"Until we learn how to handle its massive potential, it is better this way."
"Perhaps." He looked up. "But I have to ask...why spare these two ratti?"
"Their lives are still not safe... The captain thirsts for blood. But they have to survive. They are good warriors. Honest ones. They would make valuable allies."
Emerico looked at the Templar in disbelief.
"They will not convert."
"Nothing is certain. The Le Stinche tends to have a profound effect on its prisoners..." The Florentine prison was one of the first of its kind to be able to keep inmates in for a longer amount of time instead of simply providing a temporary stay for the criminals who awaited their true punishment. "But I'm afraid I won't be able to see it for now. I have to go."
"Where?"
"To talk with the Maestro. If I'm correct, he is leaving for San Gimignano today. I have to get his approval for the plan."
"Buona fortuna."

Rodrigo Borgia resided in the house of one of his allies when duties called him to Florence, something which happened much more often nowadays. Luciano heard he had a plot to be executed, but never bothered finding out the details. After letting the guards at the door know who he was and who he sought, the Templar was soon allowed inside. The Grand Master stood in the window in his usual red and black clothing.
"I trust you will reveal the Apple of Eden to me now," he spoke, his voice not bearing opposition.
"We were followed. Your men were not enough to fend off the two Assassins and we were forced to fight them ourselves. The Apple's power was accidentally awoken and the entire place collapsed." Luciano straightened himself, trying to retain his confidence. He was not used to reporting failure...and he did not dare to think about the consequences. "The Piece...the Piece was lost to the depths with everything else."

"You lost the Apple of Eden?!" The Grand Master turned around, seething with rage. "You have failed me, de Vicari! You have failed the entire Templar Order! Did you come here expecting anything else than the worst of deaths...?"
"I did not come to beg for forgiveness or make excuses. I came to make the best out of a bad situation."
"What are you waiting for then? What can you say that could possibly absolve you from your horrendous failure?"
"The two Assassins...we have captured them. And I have reasons to believe their Brotherhood knows the location of another such artefact." Luciano kept a straight face as he spoke. He had nothing concrete to support his intriguing words, but he feared that without them, his plan would not be approved...or worse.
"Is that so? And how would you acquire the information?" Rodrigo was sceptic, but interested—his thirst for absolute power overshadowed everything else.
"The two are in prison now, with the threat of execution. With your permission, I can intervene and get them to aid our cause." Luciano knew it was not much for a plan just yet, but he was confident in his success. "Of course, I take responsibility for everything happening. If they lay as much as a finger on a Templar, I will accept death as worthy punishment."
"If you do not find the location, the same will happen." Rodrigo threatened, but the real menace from his voice was gone. "Molto bene. I give you the chance to right the wrongs you have caused. Have your way with our enemies...and find me another Apple."

Luciano felt very satisfied as he left the house and started heading for the Le Stinche. Not only did he avoid a harsh sentence himself, he also managed to gain the permission he needed. Yet, he had to realise that the hardest part was only now beginning: turning the two Assassins.

[User]
The scene back on the street had of course not been an ideal one. But if that scenario was not ideal, this one was dreadful. A paunchy guard pressed on behind Elena and Alessandro, forcing them down a small corridor until they reached a holding cell outfitted with the standardized metal shackles. How odd, she thought, to leave the pair celled together.

The less than interested guard used his meaty hands to shove Elena's far more refined arms (now stripped of their ornate gauntlets) into the cold metal grip of the cuffs, chaining her to the wall with little more than the threadbare prison uniform she was issued and the wall to lean against. Alessandro received the same treatment, though through his garments a bloodstain was already being added to the many that preceeded it. The prison guards were less aggressive than the Templar puppets of the street posts, but to be asked to care for an assumed criminal was a stretch.

Alessandro slid down against the wall after the guard left, hitting the floor with a soft thud and a grunt. The exhaustion was apparent on his face, his entire body actually. His eyes fluttered closed and he sighed. Elena frowned and looked to the guard who stood outside of their cell.

"Scusa," The guard looked over his shoulder at her, but did little else to acknowledge the woman, "This man needs the medico, surely you could escort him to see a doctor about his injuries?"

The guard let out a barely audible grunt and turned his gaze forward again. Elena narrowed her eyes at the man. "You wouldn't want your superior knowing you let a man bleed to death and make such a mess on your watch, would you?"

"Basta! You are to wait until they come to take you to your separate chambers. Then, you will be more concerned about yourself than your friend."

So they weren't being held together. That fell more in line with the separation of the prison's quarters, a wing for women and a different one for men. Still, she had a feeling she wasn't going to be kept with the petty thieves if the Templars could pull the strings in Le Stinche as well. Knowing Rodrigo Borgia's growing influence, it was not unlikely.

Not long after, another pair of guards approached. Elena was picked up and removed from her shackles rather raggedly, as Alessandro was served the same. Elena resisted, but was met with a club to her side as she was drug from the cell. Struggling, she could see Alessandro being dragged as well, but not because he was resisting: because he could not walk.

"Alessandro! Laa shay'a waqi'un moutlaq bale kouloun moumkine."

Those were the last words she expressed to him before the club met the back of her head and the blackness overtook her.

Elena awoke in a damp cell that smelled of mildew and bile. Both her feet and hands chained to a wall, she was enclosed by rock all around her and held in by a sturdy iron door. A dark figure appeared through the small window of the door, laughing as she roused.

"Good morning, Assassin. I hope you had a nice nap. You won't be getting any more sleep once the boss gets here."

Her mind was groggy, but one thing she knew now for certain: her fate was in the hands of the Templars.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon: The Ampere, a unique polearm with a wide, flat blade rather than a spearhead along with a gray steel pole. It has both range and lethality, keeping most melee fighters at a range safe for Abel but devastating to them with a tempered steel point, as well as channeling Abel's natural aura far better than he can do by himself (Inside the the Ampere's pole is a thick mesh of silver and copper wire). The Ampere has a single alternate mode that splits the wide blade into four parts and reverses their direction, creating a vaguely mace shape. In this mode, the Ampere can release bolts of lightening that travel impressive distances instantly.

Specialty: Abel fits best into the role of guardian, fittingly enough. His size, range, and defensive characteristics make him good at intercepting danger coming for his teammates, and he can certainly throw his strength around at close range, armed or not. Using his lightening bolts, he is able to paralyze if not flash-fry a single opponent at long range.

Semblance: Surge - This ability allows him to project electricity that can manipulate the Ampere at short range without touching it and summon it back to his hand when disarmed, as well as channel electricity to shock anything the weapon touches. By using Surge to rotate his staff quickly at very close range, he can create a sort of shield. When he focuses his power sufficiently through the Ampere in staff mode, he is able to fire a bolt of lightening that takes several minutes to recharge.

Personality: Abel is proud and gruff, very serious and totally without humor. For someone who appreciates the creativity and technique of both weapons and battle so thoroughly, he ironically is without creativity. Instead, he tend to go about his business by the book, a principled young man of habit and routine with little to no capability to think outside the box. While he is dependable, he is not flexible, and can respond to bullying, injustice, or even plain teasing with sudden anger. While not antisocial, he sticks with only a few friends at any given time, concentrating on strong bonds rather than many bonds. He loathes popular culture and those who overtly subscribe to it. The Grimm mask he carries makes him upset and angry, more at himself than anything else, but as it reminds him of his brother he cannot let it go. Deep down, Abel is a severe defeatist.

Color: Azure

Emblem: An azure lightening bolt, naturally.

Appearance:
When reading, he is forced to put on glasses.

[User]
Gratia Mindaro - Airship

"My team was nominated for the annual cultural exchange with Beacon," she explained, her flat tone unwavering even as she revealed more information to the boy she now considered 'slightly above the unwashed masses'. Her gaze had yet to let up, onyx eyes boring into the other teenager's grey ones as they met. "I took the opportunity."

Does he use gel for that weirdass cowlick thing?

The question her conversation partner had asked was somewhat difficult for her to answer. Relenting to her team's choice to fly all the way here to Vale had not really been a decision made with any underlying motives. Gratia had, after a certain amount of thought and consultation with her family, taken the leap upon realising that there was little reason not to, and that the opportunity to do so would not have been one that could return in the future. An all-expenses paid trip over to a kingdom so far from her native city-state to experience how learning was conducted at the relatively-prestigious Beacon Academy was not exactly enticing, but it was certainly of enough interest to her that she had decided to simply tag along with the rest of VGNB and pop over to see how inferior Vale was to Mistral.

She had already found one shitty aspect in the form of the public transport.

He's relatively athletic, it seems. Likely another Beacon student.

Her eyes continued to stare holes into Luke, expression completely unchanging.

[Assistant]
Luke Schwarz-- Under Scrutiny

If I blink first, does that mean I lose?

Luke tried it out, blinking candidly. No response of any kind from Gratia. Just continuation of the stare straight into his soul.

This girl was intense!

"Oh, I see." he replied, seat slightly rocking as the airship touched down at the city below. "You miss home, then?"

Because he had to admit it, he kind of did himself, despite definitely not missing getting woken up by two little sisters (one of which that was taller than him by some sick twist of fate). Although he had his teammates to confide in and get to know, there still was that strange emptiness that extended time away from family, from his routine, from what he'd known for ages, brought. It was only natural, he knew as much from anecdotes by both parents about when they were his age.

As the others began to file past them and off the airship, he rose, a touch miffed at the unfortunate timing of everything. Despite feeling as though he were playing a verbal game of minesweeper, he did genuinely have some interest in picking the quiet young woman's head.

Maybe they'd have a class together, or something.

[User]
Gratia Mindaro - Airship

Her gaze broke the moment the airship landed against the tarmac, the entire vehicle rumbling lightly before indicator lights signalled to everybody aboard that they were clear to exit. She followed the other teenager's example and rose to her feet, stuffing her hands back into the warm pockets of her coat. It was not particularly a cold day, but as her conversation partner had been noting earlier, it was quite windy, and Gratia didn't plan on exposing her hands to the chill of the breeze. She lightly stretched out her entire body, allowing it to release some of the tension she had built up during the trip down from Beacon.

"Yes," replied the Huntress, her impassive tone still unchanging, but spoken obviously in honesty. She enjoyed the presence of her family and loved ones, and to be so far from her home was already making her somewhat homesick. Haven hadn't been too far from where she lived; it actually loomed over the streets where she had grown up, in fact, so she had spent a number of her weekends visiting her parents. Now, however, they were an ocean away.

Gratia joined the line of people slowly filing their way out of the airship, reaching out to brush some hair away from her eyes once more. She was standing behind Luke this time, a change from their situation earlier when they were loading up. Personally, she had found their conversation to be decently of interest compared to the meaningless prattle she had to endure from time to time. It helped that the boy wasn't overly offensive in any manner. She would have to keep the name "Luke Schwarz" in mind.

[Assistant]
Abel Fulgurate

And without due provocation, the guardian appeared.

The general mood of the evening had evidently gotten to him, for despite his general inclination for social interaction, he was fixed upon finding his teammates and requesting their accompaniment to a bowling 'n burgers place in town, Drury Lanes. Unfortunately, after spending several hours in the armory bumbling through the fabrication of a dozen or so grenades that employed water dust to blanket an area in sogginess, to more or less the exasperation of the good Professor Chatsworth, he had been definitively unaware of his comrades' whereabouts.

Eventually, however, the theory that every man gets lucky sooner or later (in one way or another) had seemingly won out, for while making his way through this particular hallway he had happened to catch a glimpse of not only Sapphire, but also his buddy Robert. Breathing a sigh of relief, Abel made his way toward them, walking past and saying 'hey' to Oswald on the way, only to discover a certain paucity of clothing on Robert's part. ...Alright. After making a somewhat baffled face he tore his attention away and addressed Sapphire. "Er, hello. Glad I found you. Know where Shiro 'n Gren are? I was, ah, hoping we'd all be able to go bowling at Drury Lanes, have some burgers, relax before weekend's over. Y'know...as a team." It didn't cross his mind that she might be wanting to spend time away from her team, particularly its resident hyperactive ferret-lover.

If Abel's manner at all indicated impatience, it lay in the fact that shortly before he'd also spotted several people headed in the direction of the airshop docks. While not overly concerned with the activities of the other students, he didn't want to get started much later than they, lest he and his team have less grand of a time.

[User]
Luke Schwarz-- Parting Words

"I can relate a bit to that. Although, I'm not in an entirely new kingdom..." he mused as they stepped off of the airship and onto the pavement below, into a sea of dispersing students.

He honestly had a hard time imagining the sheer scale of the distance between here and her home. For all his attempted worldliness, at the end of the day he'd never really strayed too far from home. It honestly was a bit of an intimidating concept, being so far away from what you knew.

In that case, then, Gratia Mindaro was admirably strong to be able to do it so casually. Her adjustment period must have been remarkably short.

I guess I shouldn't be so surprised, considering this is Beacon Academy...

So many strong people here, of all types.

Body.
Mind.
Spirit.

He supposed that was what it took to hold hope of becoming a Hunter or Huntress. It would only make sense that he'd find himself surrounded by these types of people.

Turning to Gratia, he threw her a friendly smile and a short wave.

"Well, I hope you end up liking it here. See you around, Gratia Mindaro."

[Assistant]
Sapphire Rode - Beacon Academy
Sapphire nodded to Oswald as he departed a veiled smile on her face in response to his remarks about Robert's state of undress. She felt slightly more at ease with herself and her day plans after Oswald's comments about her clothing and needing to 'get ready' though he hadn't explicitly said it she felt he was referring to the plans they'd discussed on Friday.

As Oswald left Robert bumblingly explained the reason he was dressed as though he'd just gotten out of the shower. For a hunter in training he should be more aware of himself than his explanation would suggest. He should also have a backup plan for returning to the door should it be necessary. Sapphire herself preferred the giant oak tree outside there dorm window as a means of entering and exiting at late hours but without that the next best option would have been to damage bricks along the building leading up to the window in a ladder like manner.

The thing that caught her attention was what Robert said about Sapphire and her own team. Clearly after she'd left Friday night for the amoury Robert and Abel had had a decent length chat which comprised information about Scoot, the nuisance to there dorm and apparently information about Sapphire herself. "Did he? I should have a chat with him about sharing information that does not concern him and if by mascot you mean that telepathic rodent that has been terrorizing our dorms? If I knew where he was you would never see him again."

Speak of the devil, seconds later Abel approached inquiring as to the rest of the teams location and whether she would want to attend an evening at Drury Lanes Bowling alley. While she didn't altogether mind the sport of bowling Sapphire had rather been looking forward to spending some time on her own. Or at least with company she was comfortable with. "I don't keep track of Swansong twenty four hours a day. No doubt Shiro is doing some property damage somewhere and Gren is either cooking or tending his garden. As much fun as watching Shiro destroy a bowling alley would be I've got plans in the city with Oswald. There's a karaoke bar in Southern Vale I'm rather fond of."
@Guess Who

[User]
A slight constricting occurred around Abel's eyes and mouth. Sapphire had a date? Lucky He couldn't help but think about his own situation. Though neither shy nor obnoxious, and boasting a rather impressive physique, he'd never had a girlfriend. Sure, he'd asked a girl once or twice back at Pallisade, but he'd never been taken up. Worst of all, Abel had no clue what he could be doing better. And as if to emphasize his own shortcomings, here was Sapphire already with a date within a week. After a moment he brought himself to say, "Ah...okay. No problem."

He glanced at Robert. During his approach, and despite the RPGD leader's current garb, he'd been planning on talking to him after sorting things out with Sapphire. Now, however, he definitively felt that he'd rather not stick around. "I'll head to the dorms then, text Gren, so on." Turning to go, he paused after taking a step, realizing he was probably being discourteous. "Uh, good luck with your date," he said, and strode off at a brisk pace.

On the way to the dorms, he tried to avoid stewing, but overlooking his own faults had never been one of Abel's strong suits. Still, it would not avail him to be all mopey around his friends, so he jammed his hands into the pockets of his delightful blue jacket and walked on, distracting himself by trying to imagine what Shiro and Gren were doing at that moment. Since the first day, whenever he thought of Gren cooking, it had always been grilling meat in Abel's mind. If that was the case, his destination was either the kitchens or the dorm rooms. If not, the gardens were next, and after being shown his teammate's work not long ago Abel had a good idea where they were. Since he was already on the way, he did not pull out his scroll.

Still, he managed to nearly run into someone as he rounded a corner in the dormitory area. At first he thought, given the individual's height, that he'd almost collided with a fellow dude, but a split-second later he was able to affirm beyond the shadow of a doubt that he'd practically smacked into a girl. Her hair and her outfit matched perfectly: yellow and gold, with a bright red scarf interrupting the mustard monotony. Though Abel felt rather dubious about an entire outfit the audacious color of the sun, he discreetly observed that this young lady had an impressive physique—not many girls this age had that sort of musculature, and very few actually wore armor. Still mulling over the subject of romance somewhere in his head, Abel's first thought went something along the lines of ohmyGodwe'resoulmates, followed up shortly by Dammit. I'm a moron. With that sorted out, all that was left was to apologize and continue on his not-so-merry way.

"Whoops, sorry," he said to Krysanthe, "Guess I'm so concentrated on bowling I can't stop myself almost bowling into other people." Desperate to not appear awkward in any way, he tried a smile and continued, "Er, I didn't hit you, did I?"


[System]
Age:
17

Gender:
Female

Appearance:

Abigail is fairly tall, standing around a solid 5'7". Her natural skin color is usually quite pale compared to most other people. A rather striking feature, that a lot of people find rather attractive. Her feature she likes most, however, is her hair. Her long purple hair is usually tied back into a pony tail. Most people tend to notice her bright green eyes at first, however, much to her own chagrin. She hates the color green.

Despite her liking her hair, she doesn't particularly care so much about her appearance. Despite her mom being a bit of a fashionista, she's always taken after her father - an ex Private Investigator. (Also ignore that blue streak. Just now noticed it, and I am too lazy to find another picture xP)

Personality:
Where to start with her personality? If one were to go by first impressions only, they would simply assume that she's a girl who thinks she's ten times better than everyone at everything. She will often state how much she doesn't like other people and do it quite loudly as well. Its the honest truth, to her. She thinks everyone else will slow her down. She doesn't like interacting with other people, even more so when its against her will. So this whole journey thing, is going to be...interesting, for her at least, since she find most other people quite annoying.

However, despite that grumpy, somewhat brash, some would even say arrogant exterior, is a girl who really and truthfully just wants a friend who'll put up with her nonsense, no matter how troublesome she could possibly be. Unfortunately, 'friendship' is a foreign concept to her and she had no idea how to even be friendly. Most often, she can only resort to some sort of insults or something else that makes her seem like she only did something for herself.

However, once she finally warms up to someone, they'll find a secret side to her that is surprisingly thoughtful, and a bit on the sweet side. That doesn't mean its any easier for her - in fact, she's quite nervous about being seemingly to be nice to people. Most often, they'll find her a stuttering and blushing mess, especially if said being nice involves some kind of physical contact, like say...a hug.

Think of her as a grumpy Tsundere cat that secretly likes being cuddled with~ xP

History:
Abigail is originally from Kalos, growing up in the center of of the country - Lumiose. She was born to a mother who was a rather well known fashion designer, and her father who was a Private Investigator. For a time, she grew up there and was quite happy with her life. Well, happy to her in any case. Her parents, despite being rich didn't want to spoil their daughter so they made her work for almost anything she wanted. So, at an early age she developed a need to be the best at everything she worked at. Working harder yielded better rewards, no?

When she was around the age of six, her father and mother split - though she never understood why exactly. She moved to Johto with her father, and they settled down in the city of costal city of Olivine, where she spent the rest of the years growing up. Her father was a bit less lax on her being spoiled, but by now she had gotten it into her head she had to be the absolute best. Actually, no, she was the best and she wasn't going to let anyone tell her otherwise.

She graduated trainers school at the top of her class a few years later when she was 16. After that, she wasn't quite sure what to do with her life. Sure trainer school was promising and all, but she had never actually considered it as an actual career...but oddly enough, the allure of danger and adventure was just too good, despite the law stating travelling in pairs was necessary. So, she signed up for a license, and set off for Newbark Town.

Quirks/Habits/Other:
- Surprisingly, likes eating a lot. Good food is just one way to get on her good side. Where it all goes...people don't know.
- She's surprisingly strong for her size. Physical fitness was something her father also drilled into her. She still likes doing a light jog in the mornings, and waking up at the crack of dawn.
- Do not mess up her hair. its the only thing she actively takes care of appearance wise. Mess it up, you will die.
- has an interest in martial arts, but has never actually tried learning them.

Inventory:
- Pokeballs x5
- Burn Heal x5
- Paralyze Heal x5
- Sleep Heal x5
- Antidote x5
- Potion x5
- First-aid kit, for minor scrapes and injuries (x1)
- Extra clothes x2 (including pajamas)
- Holo-caster, souvenir from Kalos. Works with older and other phones too, but no Hologram will be displayed unless it's communicating with another Holo Caster.
- Hair-Care products, and various hair ties
- Camping stuff.
- 100$
- Johto Map
- Repel (x2)
All stuffed into her shoulder bag, rather unorganized.

Pokemon:

Received from Professor Elm

Name: Tyrian
Gender: Male
Ability: Poison Point
Brave Nature
Good Perseverance
Personality: Some might say he's a bit on the derpy side, but if pokemon could talk, he'd simply say he's highly curious about the world.
Level: 6

Moves:
Leer
Peck

Caught on Route 29

Gender: Female
Ability: Swarm
Impish Nature
Likes to thrash about
Personality: A mischievous little bug, who really doesn't seem to like humans so much.
Level: 4

Moves:
Poison Sting
String Shot

Theme~ xP

TL;DR:
A somewhat Arrogant Tsundere, who really doesn't seem to like people, but secretly likes being cuddled with by people she likes.
Her color is PURPLE

[User]
- Peggy Atkinson -

With that single slap, chaos broke lose from the rest of the group, and Peggy, currently seeming to be in a state of shock from what she had just done, just watched blankly as the madness unfolded.

Jackson pulled out a guitar-like instrument and started playing a mocking song, unmistakably directed at Abigail, and Blake was now in hysterics. Avery, with a shout of "Aww… GROUP HUG~!", gathered both Peggy and Abigail in a warm, friendly embrace, and Peggy could only imagine he was trying to act peacekeeper. Her body tensed at the contact. She got hugs from her mother often, as Erica seemed to need some reassurance throughout the day that Peggy was not only safe, but still loved and appreciated her as a mother. However, Peggy hadn't been hugged by a guy for over a year now, since her grandfather had died, it made her feel uncomfortable.

She apparently wasn't the only one.

"G-get off!" snapped Abigail. Peggy could see that she blushing as she tried to pull away from the boy. Seemed like she and Abigail ahd at least one thing in common. "Arceus Avery, warn me next time when you're going to go touching people! Some of us don't...don't like...uhm...the whole...touching thing." After getting free of Avery's hug, Abigail turned back to Peggy. "You know," she continued. "I'm not going to waste my time on someone with such hideous taste in clothes." The words stung a little, but no where near as much as Abigail's earlier comments about Peggy's family. "I mean really, green? That is the most disgusting color in the history of mankind. I think you'd actually look better in...maybe a bright red? Perhaps a blue or a yellow." Peggy didn't say anything in return and simply watched as Abigail walked off a little away from the rest of them. Was she mad? Upset? It seemed like she might be. Melody followed soon after, and Peggy was left there, being awkwardly hugged by Avery. After a moment, Peggy pulled away from Avery's hug, feeling the shock starting to wear off a little and give way to sensations of guilt and shame.

Why had she done that? Peggy hugged hers arms to her chest, looking down at her shoes. Yes, what Abigail had said was mean, but was hitting her really the best response? She should have just sucked it up and remained silent and unmoving, should have just taken it. At worst, she should have attempted some kind of retort, not too hurtful but snappy enough. But no, Peggy'd gone and overreacted.

Big surprise.

While Peggy was moping, Jasper had been watching her trainer with half-interested expression, but seemed to be getting bored now that Peggy had gone all mopey on her and turned her attention to some leaves blowing past, carried by a gentle breeze, and went after them, batting and swiping at them with her paws in a manner that partly playful, yet partly aggressive.

Now that the chaos was slowly started to die down, Ryley, clearly the most mature of the group, stepped forward. "How about we make camp soon guys? I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing".

Peggy didn't respond, didn't feel she had the right to speak at the moment after how she had behaved and simply shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot.

[Assistant]
-Alexander Elric-

Well... This was different.

So, to recap what had just happened: Abigail was verbally attacking Peggy, Peggy retaliates with a slap. In response Jackson starts to ridicule Abigail with a song and Blake starts laughing his ass off about the whole occurance. And to top it all off the airhead Avery, who was completely oblivious to everything, difuses the situation with a hug...

What!?

Riley came up with the briliant idea of setting up camp. Finally someone that made sense! Alex looked over at the rest of the group. Abigail and Peggy both didnt look so good. No wonder, Peggy is as introverted as can be and was the center of all the attention just now, ofcourse she's not doing so well now. And Abigail... As much as he might dislike her, she was being picked on by everyone right now. No one deserves that, not even Abigail. The sun was setting and Alex was thinking about where to set up camp.

But first he had something to make clear to the group...

Alex walked up to Blake who was still rolling around on the ground laughing at what just happened. Alex gave a "gentle" kick to Blakes head. "Get up idiot! Stop making a fool out of yourself!" He turned around to face Jackson. "And you, do you think this is the right time for a song?" Alex faced the rest of the group. "Are you all insane? Nightfall is close, we should be setting up camp and all we are doing is squabling amongst ourselves or rediculing members of our group. Is this how we are going to act from now on?" He looked at Jackson and Blake, then at Abigail.

"Yes, we might not all agree with one another and yes, some people might have left a bad first impression. But does that really mean we should already shun them? Already mock them?" Alex walked up to Abigail. "I'm sorry for my comment about your hair earlier, it was uncalled for."  He looked over at Peggy and then back at Abigail. "And I think you realise that what you said to Peggy was uncalled for aswell so please, for the sake of the group, would you want to appologise about earlier to her? Maybe she would then appologise to you aswell." He smiled at Abigail, hoping that it would convince her... And Eevee bumped with his little head against Abigail, trying to push her towards Peggy.

[User]
By now, she had put a few yards of distance between herself and the rest of the group. She had no more desire to socialize with any of them, and if at all possible, once they got to Cherrygrove she'd probably head off by herself without them. Damn the laws. She could take care of herself, she always had. She always had to, and that wasn't gonna change now.

"Abigail…they're all idiots. You know that, right? Your suggestion was just as good as theirs, and they had no right to act the way they did. But, uh… I'll always be your friend. And I'm always on your side. Okay?"

Just one little pink-haired problem.

"Friend? Don't make me laugh." Abigail snapped. "I don't know why you're being so friendly Melody, but I'm not an idiot. I'm not really a nice person, I get that, and I really don't care. Those morons can all get eaten by a wild mightyena for all I care." She stopped, turning around the face the other girl. "So. Why are you really being nice to me, hmm? Not like we're friends, We've known each other for barely even a half of a day."

She sighed, taking her purse and setting it on the ground, arceus, she was tired for some reason.

"So why, don't you, leave me alone." She said to Melody.

"How about we make camp soon guys? I don't know about you guys, but a bit of rest sounds amazing".

Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who said camp would be a good idea. She could use the sleep....hell, she might wake up early enough tomorrow and head to Blackthorn by herself. Tyrian and her new spinarak would definitely be up to the task, she was sure.

"I'm sorry for my comment about your hair earlier, it was uncalled for. And I think you realise that what you said to Peggy was uncalled for aswell so please, for the sake of the group, would you want to appologise about earlier to her? Maybe she would then appologise to you aswell."

Annnd just as she finally drowned out the rest of the groups nonsense, one of the idiots decided to walk up. The one who made a comment about her hair. What was his name? Alexander. Right. He was apologizing, and he wanted her to apologize?! Pfffft. The thought made her laugh again. These idiots...

"Like I'm apologizing to her." She said to Alexander. "And she doesn't need to apologize either." She continued with a huff. "I mean't every word I said. If that daddy's girl doesn't toughen up, she's gonna get hurt. So no, I'm not apologizing. I said it, and I meant it. Honestly, I think her slapping me was a good start." She smugly replied, like she had helped Peggy in some way. "Now why, don't you all leave me alone, hm? I have no desire to talk with you idiots any more. Ah...just one thing. I think making camp would be a good idea. We can decide where we're going tomorrow morning."

With that, she said nothing more to Alexander, Melody, or the rest of the group and went about setting up her own little campsite.


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

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

Armor:

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

Modified Refractor Field -- standard issue refractor field.

Weapons:

Plasma pistol-- standard issue plasma pistol

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

Equipment:

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

Assisted targeting eyepiece.

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

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

Character Theme:

[User]
Stukov chuckled in response to the 'Tannan Suffering' he preferred. Sure, it was an acquired taste, but if anything was going to keep you awake and alert, it was that. Plus, better than the recaff that he had to rely on most of the time, and given how unnervingly nice this place was, he suspected he could afford an indulgence as mild as Tanna. The others were quick to make their own requests, and making jokes at his choice aside, he shrugged when even Aviza had her laugh as well. Smile's rather unusual offhand comment got a sideways glance from the Armsman before returning focus to what was going on in responding to the teasing on his choice of drink. "What can I say? Even I have my indulgences. Better than galley recaff, I'll tell you that much."

 Cogs was going about her rather, well, unusual mutterings and chatter. He'd dealt with those of a mechanical inclination before, mind, but this one was a special kind of touched, even among her own kind. Not that he had the lack of intelligence to say that out loud or to her face without damn good reason, mind, but it was still a consideration he made all the same. Though the mention of other members got a cocked eyebrow of curiosity aimed at Aviza as she went about her work. "Who else did I miss while I was off on other assignments? Sounds like an even merrier band of misfits than usual, to be frank."

 Andromedai finally chimed in after sufficiently stuffing her face with food, Stukov glancing over as he listened. After lunch, it was tour time, then picking out lodging and downtime to do whatever prior to heading out onto the first mission proper. The usual warning of 'enjoy your time while you can, for tomorrow you may be dead' line of thinking. There was always time for a quick nap or a quick break, whether those of her status believed so or not. Sneaking in micro naps and breaths of, usually figurative, fresh air was important in not going insane. Or getting killed, but those two tended to go hand in hand. "Should I avoid asking about how long it took you to assemble this little slice of decadence here, Celeste, given how jarringly different this is from even typical Inquisitorial fare?"

[Assistant]
"Thank you very much. An act this fine deserves to not fall under the Prank Victim designation~, so thank you Celestian." Medaira replied with a smile when the woman confirmed she'd make her a coffee after all. In the group considering so far the only non prank victim was their own glorious leader, who admittedly could use some additional modified servo heads like her own to fly about and creep people out. Now the second Celestian also made it into the no prank list via virtue of lucky coffee break." And I've got to compliment you for the fine brewing skills." She mentioned in the end as her servo head flew away to hover around Stukov for some reason.

 With the drink in place in a rather theme fitting cup, she took a good sip from it before starting to eat her portion of the food in well mannered small bites. Now the quesiton may rise about why Medaira was using good polite almost noble like manners? Well how can you prank the hell out of people if they only can take you as a brutish no mannered savage!? Sometimes the best pranks were best laid slow upon unsuspecting victims. Besides knowing how to handle proper table manners was always a plus.

 She gave a nod of acknowledgement and a hum when they were told the arrangements. With a slow sipping of her coffe, she thought about it. So they'd get their room and a few hours to probably rest and prepare for the upcoming mission." Ohh, that's fine just enough of time to rest a bit and unpack, decorate and clean. I assume we can make... small rearrangements to the interiors of the room within reason?" She let out a happy chuckle as her servo head flew over with a chirpy sound making energetic rounds above her.

 Needless to say there were a few possible upgrades that could be put in the room without her even seeing it. Bunkbeds for one... one could always use a bunkbead. Same with extra towels. However she most importantly needed to set up her own workshop corner. Without one how was she supposed to do her duties? Granted she could always make use of the place where the ship landed since there were bound to be ample tools avaible in that area, however that was public space and she couldn't exactly proceed with classified pranking operations there. But she supposed she should use that space for the usual repair and maintenance duties for her own and the group's gear. She had to maintain good security on some things she could make or use.' Bloody conservatives!'.

 Medaira wondered if people here wanted to customize their weapons... or attach stuff to them. It was quite the rage in some circles, though usually just with adding more holy seals and sanctified nick nacks. Admittedly sanctified nick nacks made for great sharpnell." Maybe I should find somebody to bless a crate of screws, nuts and bolts... yeah... hmmm" She mumbled and went into thinking expression, ignoring Stukov's possible question as of how this place came to be. She liked it here anyways. It was different and in a good way. They could use more of these places, would be excellent place to hide tech. Probably the reason Necrons liked to chill in tombs. She then proceeded to down the rest of her coffe in a weirdly polite manner before standing up and walking to the side. She had plans to make while the others were finishing their meal! Time was of the essense! Sanctified shrapnel bombs were of utmost priority!

[User]
"Is this actually the real stuff?"

Adrianne pondered privately as she eyed the crystal glass as it was handed to her, swishing the deep crimson content around a bit and watching it with a tone of suspicion. Then she lifted it up to her lips, and took a sip.

"Blood of the gods, it's real!"

Her eyes widened as she looked at the genuine Synod Ministra vintage. She had expected some cheap off brand or replica, but not the real thing!

"Thank you, Aviza. How did you even acquire this?" Adrianne said with a bright smile while eying the Celestian, giving her an approving nod as she took another sip of the vintage; relishing the taste of it.

"It is just perfect, isn't it?"

The sickly sweet voice entered into the back of her mind mid sip. Adrianne felt the exquisite taste of the wine increase to ever new heights flavor. She paused suddenly; a look of alarm flashing across her eyes before she gently placed the glass back down.

"Almost too much... " She muttered quietly to herself, suddenly feeling apprehensive about taking another sip from the tasteful wine. Her gaze drifted around the room for a moment, impaling a few strips of bacon and munching down on them. It felt glorious, but parts of Adrianne suspected that the credit for the flavor did not lie entirely with the Celestian's cooking. She kept on eating, but at a slower pace; enjoying the meal though continually intrigued by its supreme taste. That was until the strange tech-priestess got up, and Adrianne did likewise; not wanting to lose sight of the erratic half-machine-thing lest she not find her before their mission started!

"Tech priestess. Do you have a moment?" Adrianne interrupted, approaching Medaira and intercepting her path.
"I have been having some problems with my plasma pistol recently. Could you take a look a t it?"

She'd ask, gesturing towards her belted holster at the side of her hip before reaching down and unsheathing an ornamental plasma pistol. It was of an old design, with a gunmetal and brass tint. Its normally plain appearance had been decorated with numerous arcane glyphs and runes, accompanied by figures forming geometric lines; and spine of the weapon shone with a haunting violet light as opposed to the regular blue.

"It has been making some unusually high-pitched whining noises whenever I've primed it, and smoke was coming out of one of the cables the last time I fired it. Do you think you could repair it for me?"

[Assistant]
Titus quietly nodded in acknowledgement as he suppressed a frown at the Planetary Governor's response. Though he certainly understood the reasoning behind the man's response, the young scribe was still disheartened over not having the chance to look for (and deal with) any potential information leaks in the Governor's estate. Then, before Titus could think of another question; the meeting abruptly ended, and the entirety of the retinue was ushered out as quickly as they had been brought in, passing a small group of Skitarii rangers as they left. Titus eyed them with slight confusion as he passed them by, That's odd... the boy thought to himself as his eyes scanned the group of Mechanicus soldiers, Why would Skitarii be sent to meet with the Planetary Governor rather than a proper tech-priest?

After giving the fleeting thought a few moments of consideration, I'm sure there's good reason for it. I'm no expert on Mechanicus protocol after all.

---

Titus kept to himself during the ride over to the Inquisitorial safehouse. His mind preoccupied with soaking up the breathtaking sights the world had in store; even the low altitude storm the Typhon had flown through possessed a majesty all it's own. Unfortunately for Titus, this moment of quiet appreciation for the world's awe-inspiring beauty was promptly cut short by the blaring alarm of the ship's proximity sensors. The boy's heart leapt into his throat as he frantically braced for an impact that never came to pass. Even as seamless as the flight continued to be (despite the frequent proximity warnings) Titus didn't dare drop his guard for a moment, for fear they might strike something at any moment. The moment he stepped from the ship onto the landing pad, the young scribe breathed a heavy sigh of relief, "I'm certainly glad that's over..." he muttered to himself as his nerves steadied. Exiting the decontamination room doors, Titus found himself rather pleasantly surprised to find the first room of the safehouse was far different from what he'd pictured. Rather than something like a bunker ripped straight from the imperial guard and painted with silver trim, this was more akin to the abode of a noble. Even more surprising, was that another Inquisition agent had not only been waiting there for the retinue's arrival-- but cooked them a meal as well!

"It's a pleasure to meet you Celestian Aviza, and thank you so much for this incredible meal!" Titus thanked the sister enthusiastically with a polite bow as she brought them to the kitchen. His mouth watered in anticipation as he held the sandwich in his hands. The pain of going months on end of living off naught but generic Naval rations was washed away in a single bite.

The emperor has truly blessed this one with skills befitting of a devoted servant!

Wasting no time, Titus dug into his meal with a vengeance-- even going so far as initially forgetting to order a drink. About four bites in, the young scribe looked up from his plate, casually looking about the room as if expecting something, only for his brow to furrow quizzically. His eyes fell upon the tech priestess as he slowly chewed the bite he'd just taken. Was she toying with him? She did; after all, label him as 'Prank Victim 3'. Before he could swallow and ask her himself, a certain remark about 'Stoic Tannan suffering' caused him to nearly choke on his food as he laughed. A fellow Scribe (who happened to be Vostroyan) back on the ship had gotten him to try it once, and it had taken Titus days to get that horrific taste out of his mouth. Needless to say, Titus was not keen on giving the heinous beverage a second try.

"If you wouldn't mind Celestian Aviza, I too would like a cup of coffee." the Scribe requested in a hoarse voice as he cleared his throat.

Upon receiving his drink, Titus a long whiff of the steam rising from the cup. It had clearly been brewed from freshly ground beans, and ones of the highest quality at that. It was no wonder the Tech Priestess had ordered this rather than a cup of lubricant and motor oil, the aroma alone proved the pristine quality of this brew! Titus took a slow sip of his coffee, relishing the fact he for once got to drink coffee that wasn't made from the powdered shit they provided back on the ship. Even the ship he'd served upon before he'd been transferred over to The Empherian allowed very few opportunities to be graced with coffee this good. In fact… Titus likely hadn't had a cup like this since he first joined the Inquisition itself.

A realization suddenly clicked inside Titus' head as a touched smile spread across his face.

Seems that crazy old bastard still has some faith in me after all …


[System]
Yem in his transformed shape
Age 205
Appearance: Tall, wiry, a beautiful but serious face.
Height: 196cm
Weight: 80kg
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Green
History (Optional): Yem is said to hail from one of the western provinces of the Imperium. Not much is known about his young history, but he says he was born to a pair of farmers in a small village in the middle of nowhere. He spent much of his time in the nearby forest in his youth, playing with the spirits there. He and one of the spirits eventually fell in love and became a couple. As time passed, however, it became apparent that while the spirit the spirit would live forever, Yem would die of old age. The spirit lamented this and gave her soul to him, prolonging his life indefinitely and granting him the gifts of the forest. He has been travelling the world ever since, marveling at its mysteries. According to him, at least.
Personality: Yem is pleasant, thoughtful and secretive. He likes to be around people and has no problem with making friends of strangers. He is the planning kind and likes to take a moment to think before acting. He also likes to keep secrets; Yem never lies but doesn't always say what he knows. He is very fond of artistry in every kind, especially poetry.
Weapons: A spear made from copperwood, and a curved iron dagger.
Abilities (Magic): Yem has been given the soul of a forest spirit, granting him many of its gifts:
* Longevity – Yem is eternally young and will never die of old age.
* Friend of the Forest – Yem is allied with the forest and can move through it without threat. He can survive on grass and leaves as animals do, and predators won't attack him unless provoked.
* Totem – Yem can transform into his spirit shape. While transformed his physical prowess is significantly empowered, as well as his senses. It is very taxing for him, however, quickly exhausting him, as his body wasn't made to use it.

[User]
Once the cursed one managed to get out that he would not attack, Atreides let his hand drop from his sword hilt. He knew the truth of things, then, and would not remain any more hostile to him than he was normally to everyone. But he kept his tone in check as the being stuttered and forced the truth of its words out between whatever the curse attempted to wring them into, a considerable effort no doubt. As it finished speaking, he responded in kind, returning his hands to the pockets of his coat as he did so.

"They don't swear fealty to me, soldier, though if this turns out to be one big band of people running around, I will at least try to talk sense into them before they run into bloody peril every five minutes. The red lady? Folks call her Crimson Streak, Sable to others, she's handy with the knives, enough so not to need magic to compensate. You got a name, or shall it remain cursed one or soldier?"

Atreides had pretty much dismissed the other people running around, being problematic and talking FAR too much, too fast, and too loud for his own tastes. Sable eventually wandered over, and he glanced her way briefly before returning his gaze to the cursed soldier and await his response, speaking an aside to Sable as he did so.

"Lot louder than planned, Meat. Got any suggestions for further planning? Can bet your arse at least one of that lot a raging murder desire for me now. Almost always happens."

Darkness was falling fast, the sun setting over the land, and it wouldn't be too long before folks would have to turn in at the town's local inn. Atreides wouldn't mind a good night's rest, though some preparations would be necessary prior to falling asleep of course. Never trust his surroundings to be safe got him a good ways.

[Assistant]
"Grace period? Ah, I'm still going to end up following you anyways. Besides! I'm great at healing wounds! Here, let's see, how about your friend over there that's wobbling a bit? Actually, that might scare him...Oh well. I'll just wait until later..."

A cross of the arms and the separated orbs all converged back into a single one that performed a light rotation above her head as she listened to the lot speak. ...Sable? A woman without magic taking on a dragon? Sounded like a death wish in the making to her. But, might as well get to work if she wanted to try and stay close to this newfound interest of hers. And with that in mind, she clapped her hands together and held her hand up for the sake of drawing the red woman's attention.

"Miss Sable! Are you injured anywhere in particular? Or your friends of varying eccentric backgrounds? Also, is that your kid? I don't think I've ever seen someone try to eat a dragon before...I wonder if it tastes okay..."

[User]
Katarina finally managed to pop one scale off with the carving knife she was using. It took some real effort. Why would someone hunt something so hard to prepare for food? She sat down on the dragon and sighed. Maybe she was wrong. Something this big probably wasn't food anyways, maybe they were its food and it just wasn't prepared for such a tough fight. She checked her knife and realized that it was dulled just from prying away like she was and she frowned. She placed the knife back into her bag in its proper place making a note to sharpen it later.

She then heard from the crowd:

She stood up and hopped off the dragon with ease. "Dragon! That's what it's called... weird. And she isn't my Mum. My Mum and Pa sent me exploring to learn about the world! I'm not a kid either. I'm seventeen. That makes me an adult!" She placed her hands on her hips and smiled proudly. Then her stomach grumbled and groaned, causing her to frown again. "And I'm hungry..." Carving up the dragon was a waste of effort and now that she thought of it; the dragon was probably really tough and chewy to eat too. Any huge alpha predator like that would have a lot of tough muscle. She'd have to try and find some food, unfortunately, she didn't know which plants were edible and hunting animals would be a fair amount of effort too.

[Assistant]
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.

[User]
"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.

[Assistant]
"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..."

[User]
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.


[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 22

Homeland: Griffan

Specialty: Stealth, deceit, and killing.

Weakness: Using divinare and long-range combat (he can do very basic channeling but that's about it)

Appearance: Standing at an average height, Oz is a muscular but lithe man, lightly bearded, with a head of unruly black curls and very dark, sharp eyes. A crooked smirk is his default expression, and often the one he wears when around people. His skin, which is naturally a creamy tan, is littered with dozens of scars received from his many misadventures, the most notable being a short silvery nick that runs through his right eyebrow. He'll stick to wearing simple clothing that neither weights him down nor restricts his movements, but will favor darker colors and occasionally, light armor.

Weapon: Oz'll use anything he can get his hands on, really, even if it's a bloody chicken bone. He prefers bladed weapons though, and is most practiced with daggers and short swords. Currently carries a pair of short swords on his person.

Personality: Often coming off as light-hearted, cheery, and aloof, Oz is an observant man with a silver tongue and a shrewd personality. He likes money and fighting, and especially loves fighting for money. Offer the right price or reward and he would do nearly anything you ask. While his morals and manners might be lacking, he makes up for it by being honest, open minded and generally well tempered. Although loyalty lies in whoever pays better, he has a rule of always repaying his debts and never biting the hand that feeds him. His friendship is easy to achieve, but his respect and fondness are a bit harder to earn. That doesn't mean it'll be difficult to get along with him though, as he's a man of reason and doesn't often pick fights without a good one. He prefers to keep details of himself and his past private, and doesn't often give information away for free. If asked though, he'll probably spin you some lie that could either be believable or not, depending on who he's speaking to.

[User]
Solace Nocte
(date unknown)
"Do you ave anything to say for yourself, General?"
"I confess to all for which I stand accused."
"So be it. For the crimes of extortion, mass murder, and betrayal to the church and crown, you are hereby punished to death. By confession of guilt, you shall be removed of all properties, physical and otherwise, to be stripped of all titles, and buried in an unmarked grave."
"One last request, my lord?"
"What is it?"
"Leave my with my armour."
(one month ago)
A large man in ornate mail enters the town square, just as the market stalls open for the day. he stops at a flower vendor, purchasing a bundle of marigolds.
"Meeting a lady-friend?" the women asks cheerily, moving to hand him the blossoms, however she hesitates a moment when she notices the eery glow coming from beneath his helm
"Not exactly." the knight replies calmly, taking the flowers and replacing them in her hand with a small satchel of coins "Paying my respects." with that, he turns to leave, making his way to the settlements place of worship.

(today)
Not far from the band registraton office, in a small cemetery, stands a large heavily armoured man, positioned at the last grave in the last row, atop each headstone rests a marigold and a cluster of white bramble flowers, under his breath, he whispers, some sort of prayer
"-for my failure a thousand deaths, that those lives I have laid to waste may not be in vain" he utters, bending down to pick up the weapon from his feet, slinging an enormous sword across his silver cloaked shoulders, with that, the strange knight departs the graveyard, walking steadily to the band offices
"Perhaps it has finally come to pass," the man muses to himself, entering the office courtyard.
"Where does forgiveness lie?" Solace mutters beneath his breath, scanning the area "Do I lead, or shall I follow" he ponders, looking at the other prospective band members and leaders, observing them silently for a few moments. as he waits, the old soldier sees an eerily familiar symbol, the holy seal of Alberon, moments later he notices a man, young in the face, holding a sign above his head with the symbol for a band "And so he shall follow." the man thinks to himself, hesitating only slightly as he enters what was once hallowed ground, before approaching the young blue eyed man.
"Excuse me, child, but are you perhaps recruiting members for a new band?" he says, voice booming over the excited masses "If so, I believe I can be of some use to you."

[Assistant]
Osborn had traveled plenty in his short span of life, from all over his homeland of Griffan, to even the oddest corners of the neighboring lands, and yet he had never set foot in such a troubled place as he had when he arrived in Coleander. Sure, the first few nights had been fine, but that was only for as long as he could keep his pockets filled with money. He hadn't anticipated finding small work to be this hard, even in a shambled state like this, but there he was, broke and hungry and not exactly enjoying himself. It'd been five days since he'd entered the state, and the last two had been spent sleeping outdoors. He had just enough cash for a small meal, if he found the right place, but was honestly more willing to spend it on alcohol at this point.

"If I don't get a drink in me soon, I might just die before ever finding myself a band to afford a drink with." Osborn whined loudly to himself, followed by a groan as he yawned and stretched his back. He'd been sleeping just fine only a few hours earlier, curled up in a surprisingly quiet alleyway towards the center of town, but was woken up when the sounds of people and traffic began to pick up. Now he was in the heart of it all, weaving in and between people while they crowded around stalls and their keepers. He moved at a leisurely pace, keeping an ear out for any mention of the band system and possible work.

That was what he'd traveled so far in search of, after all: a band to join. He'd heard through rumors that the king was willing to pay its bands a pretty penny in exchange for following orders dished out by the state and its people. Basically, it was grunt work, but Oz didn't mind that, as long as the pay was honest and good. He'd yet to actually find a band worth joining though, and was beginning to tire of wandering around broke and drinkless.

"Excuse me, child, but are you perhaps recruiting members for a new band?"

The booming voice glided over the bustling sounds of people like a grand horn, catching the ears of the raven haired drifter. The words "new band" were all that really sunk into his head before he was suddenly sliding his way through the crowds in the general direction of the voice. Soon enough, he spotted the source: a tall, armored man. He was presumably addressing the younger man in front of him, who was holding a wooden sign with the bands' symbol carved into it.

"Well, that was simple." Oz chirped with a widening grin, and strode towards the two with a faster pace. "If the big guys' right, then sign me up too." He spoke quickly and confidently, before the man holding the band sign had a chance to answer the armored fellow. He didn't want to be rude and step on anyone's toes, but if it came to competition, Oz wasn't about to lose his chance to join a band to anyone.

[User]
Viluppo could scarcely believe his good fortune; such a small amount of effort caught the attention of two capable-looking fellows. Struggling to keep his giddiness locked behind a calm visage, Viluppo turned to Oz. His toned arms and sharp eyes gave an impression of experience, someone who has seen much during his travels. Certainly an advantage in the profession he sought.

 "Well, as I was about to tell Sir Knight here, I'd be honored to work with you. Do you know Sir Knight? You seemed to follow him right to m..."

 After glancing back at Solace, something about the armored man demanded Viluppo's attention... or rather, something he carried. An impressive looking greatsword peeked out behind the massive knight. The jewel in its crossguard seemed to gleam in the noontide light. Viluppo began to excitedly pace around Solace to get a better look at the sword, his usual propriety giving way to curiosity.

 "This is a remarkable blade! The kind that you would get up in Griffan at a wastrel's price! And I can faintly feel its rhythm, even!" Normally weapons like this are made so that its divinare is concealed by that of its owner. So some rogue can't just channel its magic and use it against you, of course. But if I focus I can feel a little divinare spill forth from the hilt! It must pack quite a magical punch! Where did you get it?"

 Viluppo's passion started to dim as he realized the stares he was getting. The young man calmed himself down and looked at Solace and Oz with a more composed countenance. "I... apologize for all the questions, but I do have two more. What are your names? And why do wish to join me?"

[Assistant]
Solace
The armored man is wary as Viluppo rushes behind him to examine the blade upon his back"I suppose it is quite impressive," the soldier says, shifting his stane and carfully drawing his blade, "I often forget how uncommon such tools are now." Solace adds, voice lowering to a rumble to avoid disturbing the crowd further as he rests the large sword point first in the ground, allowing the curious blue eyed youth to examine it"I feel great pity for the bandit that attempts to turn it upon me, the steel is tuned to prevent such tomfoolery." he utters, "Merely probing, however, will deliver no proper backlash." with that, he returns the mighty sword to its place at his back "I suppose you could say it was a family heirloom, a set with my armor. forged by a famous member of my clan more years ago than I can count."

He sighs, eyes flickering out for a brief moment"You may call me Solace, child." the old knight says, turning to acknowledge the roguish individual who had tailed him "I have never met this young man in my life." he extends an armoured hand to each of them, moving smoothly in spite of his armors bulk "And I seek honest work for honest pay, I merely have a limited set of skills with which to do so." he lies, his focus shifting briefly to the worn symbol carved in the old temple wall.

[User]
So the kid was familiar with divinare and weaponry? That was a good sign. Oz watched the blue eyed man quickly circle the armored fellow, rambling off about stuff that Oz only barely caught and understood himself. He felt much more interested in this band now that there was a chance that he'd be working with someone skilled in divinare. Despite not understanding how the stuff worked himself, he knew well enough how powerful of an asset such users could be.

Oz gives the armored man a quick glance after he gives his name, now a bit interested in his other possible future band-mate. He obviously had to be good in a fight, what with the weapon he's carrying being so nice. At least, he assumed it was nice, going off of what blue eyes had spouted about it earlier. Oz's eyes lit up a bit, glancing over at blue eyes again. Maybe he'd really lucked out and this was a band with potential? It'd mean getting that drink a whole lot sooner.

"My name's Oz." He introduced himself after the armored man had gone silent, extending a hand towards the blue eyed man. "I'm a simply a traveler looking for good paying work." He stated casually, his grin ever present on his cheeks. "Hoping to find some through the band system. I heard it was working out quite well and thought I'd join too." He added happily.