[System]
Gender: Male

Age: 19

Personality: Generally speaking, Bailey is an affable, inoffensive fellow. He's a little awkward and has trouble interacting with people he doesn't know well, but he's pretty nice if you get to know him and has a very dry sense of humor. It takes a lot to make him angry—typically it can take days or even weeks of buildup before he loses his temper—but, to quote Mark Twain "Once [his temper is] lost, you cannot find it with a dog." Similarly, when he makes up his mind about something, he is adamant in his decision and will fight to defend it. He's embarrassed by his family's history (he dislikes his family in general; check the biography for details) and will avoid discussing his family or lineage any way he possibly can.

Appearance: Bailey stands about 5'10" tall and is Caucasian with a sprinkling of freckles on his face and a farmer's tan that seems to never leave. He has brown hair and eyes. His frame is wiry but has the muscle structure of someone who has climbed trees since he was little (he's still a pretty damn good tree climber, not that that'll have any effect on anything). He typically prefers his clothes to be comfortable over fashionable, but he still tries to keep them in good repair.

Biography: The Clarke apple orchard has been in Bailey's family for many more generations than magecraft. From birth, Bailey wasn't expected to do anything more than what was expected of the Clarke family's firstborn son: take over the farm. He learned the family magecraft, but that was only supposed to be used sparingly, and only to help the farm. Bailey wasn't the happiest with his fate, but he was willing to accept it, until the day he was cleaning the family attic and found a box containing his great-great-great grandmother's books.
Bailey was fascinated. He wanted to learn more, to understand magic, to move beyond the mass of trees that was the only thing he'd ever known. His father did not approve—he wanted his son to take over the farm—so after a series of increasingly heated arguments he took the books and left home at age 17. His maternal grandmother was a wealthy woman who wanted to see her grandson succeed in whatever path of life he chose, so he received financial help from her.
Unfortunately, although his grandmother's money helped, it wasn't enough for Bailey to truly pursue his goals. For the past two years, he's been living on his own and working part-time jobs in an attempt to raise the money to pursue a formal education. When he heard about this Holy Grail War thing in Cusco, he saw it as an opportunity to prove to his family (and to himself, although he'd never admit it) that he can be successful as a mage. (Kid's in way over his head, but he hasn't quite figured that out yet).

Family History: Bailey is descended from Penelope Bowen, bastard child of Irish magus Marco Alistair and Celia Bowen, a maid in the Alistair household. Penelope was a part of her father's household during her young years and when her half-brother, Marco's trueborn son Winston, went to attend the Clock Tower, he brought Penelope along as his apprentice. She learned the foundations of magecraft alongside the scions of great mage families, but after three years of study, she realized that while Winston was well-suited to the life of a magus, she was not. She left the Mages Association and ended up settling in America, where she married Elijah Clarke, the owner of a New England apple orchard.
Penelope taught her and Elijah's son all she knew of magecraft, and that child got the idea to apply what he learned to apple farming. Five generations after Penelope, Bailey learned the family magecraft from his father. Over the years, while the fundamentals have remained in place, Penelope's descendants have focused more on the practical applications of their magic when it comes to apple farming.

Origin: Growth

Elemental Affinity: Earth

Number of Magic Circuits: D.

Quality of Magic Circuits: C.

Od: D.

Magecraft:

Nightvision
Formalcraft: This was not part of Bailey's training, but he learned all he could from Penelope's books in preparation for the War.
Threads of Consciousness
Floating
Basic Familiar Creation
Transfer of Consciousness
Fixing Glass
Healing Magecraft: Like the rest of his magic, Bailey's Healing Magecraft has been affected by his training. The same transferring of power used to heal people has been used by the Clarke family to keep trees healthy and ripen apples early. He hasn't quite figured out that it can be used on people.
Curse of Self-Healing: Bailey's natural healing processes are sped up slightly.
Growth: A variation on Healing Magecraft developed by the Clarke family. Bailey can transfer power into a plant or seed in order to cause it to start rapidly growing.

Equipment:
- Suitcase: Bailey is well-versed in living out of a suitcase. His current one is a large green rolling suitcase. He keeps all his stuff in there.
- Toiletries: He's got a toothbrush, one of those little folding combs, some shampoo, a bar of soap and a small tube of toothpaste in a bag at the bottom of his suitcase. Bailey is a strong believer in good hygiene.
- Clothes: Bailey keeps a week's worth of clothes in his suitcase. They're nothing much to talk about, just typical street clothes. He tried to dress for the weather, so he's mostly got shorts and short-sleeved shirts, although he does have a pair of jeans and a jacket in case it gets cold. All of his clothes have as many pockets as he could find.
- Dwelling: Bailey's currently squatting in a middle-class apartment. He's not sure where the owners are, but hopefully he'll be able to get out of there before they come back. He's trying not to use too many of their resources besides the place to sleep, though. He's needy, not an asshole.
- Funds: Bailey receives a bimonthly stipend from his grandmother. It's not much, but it's enough to pay for food and some supplies, and he was able to save up enough to cover his initial travel expenses.
- Penelope's books and notes: When Penelope Bowen left the Mages Association and came to America, she took the notes she took from her studies at the Clock Tower along with a few books on magecraft. They lay forgotten in the Clarke's attic for decades before Bailey found them. They're not in the best shape, and the information is a tad dated, but they're still in good enough condition that Bailey was able to learn from them. Like everything else, he keeps the books in his suitcase, although these are under a false bottom.

Skills: Climbing in general, trees in particular; knows a lot about different types of apples and growing them, has a decent throwing arm, herbalism (knowledge of different plants with useful properties and how to make best use of them)

[User]
Charles Dorvain

To say that Charles was a little shocked by the appearance of his servant would be a bit of an understatement, as the surprise was rather visible in the slightly widened look in his eyes and the tilt in his head the coincidentally mirrored that of the little white-haired girl before him. He'd stay still for a second, a small twitch in his eye as his thoughts raced in a thousand directions, before he regained his composure, taking a deep breath before he addressed his new servant, taking note of her strange way of addressing her self.

"I'm your master, though I guess if you wish to address me as your . . . "daddy", then that is your choice." Charles couldn't help but feel a little silly for saying this, but he didn't feel their was any harm in playing along with the girl. Besides, it might instill some greater loyalty if he decided to act the 'fatherly' type, though how he was to accomplish this would be quite the trial. Why do I feel like I've gotten myself quite the troublesome servant. Hmm, I wonder who this child could be in order to be considered worthy for the grail . . . "So, Assassin, what might be your name in life, if you don't mind me asking? I did not use a catalyst to summon you, so I must admit that I have little knowledge of your legend nor your skills, besides those naturally gifted towards your class."

Grail

[Assistant]
Jack the Ripper

The young Assassin blinked for a moment as she took in Charles' reactions to her and such, before a small, seemingly innocent, happy, and somewhat slightly eerie smile appeared on her face after he finished speaking to her. She had a daddy now! It would be something interesting to have, for sure, because she had only ever wanted a mommy to go back to before. Maybe her daddy and her could get the Grail, and then she could use it to go back to her mommy! Maybe she could bring her daddy along with her as well, if she asked the Grail nicely. She had never been able to have something like a "family" before. It has been so cold on the streets of London, the smog and mist hanging in the air and making it hard to breathe or sometimes even see. But she had adjusted to it. Then again, she had never been able to go back to where it had been warm either......that was why she would get the Grail with her daddy. She wanted to go back to where it was warm, that being inside of her mommy, more than anything else. She had to go back to where it was warm...where it felt safe.

But she couldn't dwell on that all the time. She had to kill the other servants to get her wish, after all! She had to make those other heroes go "bye-bye" so she could take the Grail with her daddy! It would take some hard work to do so, but she was not a stranger to that. She had made lots of people go "bye-bye" before! It wasn't even that hard sometimes, though sometimes they had struggled a bit beforehand. Yet this was besides the current topic. People had also even given her, a nameless child, a name of her own for all of her hard work. She liked that name, though now it seemed her daddy was asking her about that name now since he didn't already know who she was since he didn't use a catalyst and all. It wouldn't hurt to tell him, though, right? After all, he was her daddy.

"Our name is Jack, Daddy," she said to Charles, addressing him with his newly-found title as she continued to look at him with her smile still fixated in place on her childlike facial expression, "Jack the Ripper. That was the name the people gave us. It means we're really good at killing people, huh?"

She spoke simply of her identity without even a spark of hesitation on her part. It was as if her true name was a simple fact that she was proud of in the same sort of manner that a young child was proud of some small achievement like being able to build a tower out of toy building blocks, though she knew full well not to tell it to other servant or master. No shame, no regret, no excessive pride, and not even hubris could be found laced within the words the white-haired girl spoke. Nothing like what a normal servant could be expected to have, though it had already been made clear she was a far cry from a "normal" or "traditional" heroic spirit in the first place. Just plain, simple, humble, childlike pride was being expressed in her words, with her sounding in some small part like she was just glad to a certain extent she had been given a name at all in her life.

[User]
KRISHNA

Well if there was one thing to definitely say about his master, it would be that he is very energetic. Not that he could blame him; it's an impressive feat to summon a heroic spirit and for someone to be able to do this means they are worthy to enter the Holy Grail War. It was a one way ticket to fulfill their desires, as well as a one way ticket towards certain death. Hopefully his master was aware of that he may actually die if he isn't careful...but he seemed to be much too naive of how dangerous the war truly is. It only made his job ever so harder to protect him, but alas, that is the role of the servant.

At least his master finally got over his euphoria and finally asked who his servant was. Krishna accepted the handshake, giving him a firm grip though certainly not firm enough to turn his bones into dust. "Clarke Bailey, what a fine name. People have given me many epithets over the centuries and I have been many of them. King, kingmaker, diplomat, philosopher, cow herder, model lover. I am Krishna, the eighth avatar of Vishnu and the slayer of all that is evil. I am of the archer class." He gave him a kind smile, followed by a playful bow. For a hero and being considered to be a god, he certainly had a love for the theatrics.

"So my young master. It's been quite some time since I've walked on the plane of the living. Could you perhaps tell me where we are? Perhaps go out and see what the world is like?" It should've been expected for Krishna to ask that. When one has been dead for centuries and come back to life, there is a tendency to be curious about what has changed in the world.

[Assistant]
Bailey shook his Servant--Krishna's--hand perhaps a little more vigorously than would be normal, but that could be excused given his enthusiasm. It wasn't every day you got to meet a legendary hero. And by that list of things he'd done, a pretty skilled one too. He hadn't heard the name Krishna before, but he was pretty sure that Vishnu was a Hindu god. So if this guy was his avatar, that meant he was kind of a god too, right? So he had to be powerful! He'd really lucked out. One thing, though...

"Actually, it's, uhh, Bailey Clarke, not Clarke Bailey, but whatever you want to call me's fine, I guess." He sure as hell wasn't going to antagonize his Servant, even if it was over something like his name. The Command Seals on his hand gave him the ability to compel Krishna to follow his orders, yes, but only three times. He didn't want to waste any on saving his life from his ally. Besides, Krishna seemed like a nice guy. Hopefully they'd get along and work well together.

Of course he'd want to know what the world was like. He hadn't had a physical form in who knows how long, and although he should've been summoned with a basic idea of the present world--perhaps a bit more than that, if his clothes were any indication--Bailey knew as well as anyone else the difference between knowing something and experiencing it.
"We're in Cusco," he answered the location question first, "In Peru. South America, although I don't know if that tells you anything." He realized as he was talking that a Heroic Spirit from India probably didn't know anything about the Western Hemisphere. Oh well. He'd have to find a map somewhere to show him.

"And as for going out, I would right now, but it's kind of the middle of the night, and summoning you took a lot out of me, so I need to get some rest," he punctuated his point with a yawn, "I guess you can take a look around in spirit form while I'm sleeping, if you don't go too far."


[System]
Age:37
Position:Captain Of the Heart Of Gold
Appearance/Clothing:
(Minus the elf ears)
Skills: Astrogation, Athletics(Endurance, Strength, Coordination), Bribery, Carouse, Communications, Computer, Deception, Drive(Mole), Flyer, Gun Combat(Pistol, Rifle), Jack Of All Trades, Language(Common & Chinese), Leadership, Melee(Blade, Bludgeon), Manipulate, Streetwise, Tactics(Small/Large Unit, Space, Ground), Trade(By Planet), Zero-G
Crimes Against The Alliance:Smuggling, Bribery, Transporting Unauthorized personal, Captaining Without a License, ect
Additional Information:Browncoat
Weapons:Pistol, Shotgun, Katana
Possessions:The ship and everything in it.
Personality:Kind to those that she feels like being kind to, a major pain to most everyone else. Smart wit, doesn't put up with any crap on her ship and has been known to leave people in deep space.
History: Fought in the war against the alliance, has been captaining the Heart Of Gold since the end of the war. Keeps most of her past to herself, she feels the past is best left there. (Character History will be expanded on through out the RP)

[User]
The firefly started to open, black smoke escaping from the hatch. Waving his hand in front of him, fanning the smoke, Rune heard the captain speak. The captain stated that they were alive and wandered who he was. "Name's Jeff. I'm a small time mechanic here. Saw your ship hurling down, wanted to see if you were hurt or not, see if maybe you needed some repairs." As Rune gave a random fake name, someone else came over to the crash site. A mechanic.

Oh damn it! I hope I don't get discovered so quickly. Rune thought to himself, looking over to them. Inside the ship, a hoarse voice called out to the captain. Betsy? Who is that? Looking up at the voice, he saw a young lady, couldn't be older than himself. Seeing her wave, he waved back. "Anyway, exactly what happened here? Do you have a mechanic, Captain? Because it's dangerous being in the black without one." Rune asked the Captain. "If you need some repairs done, I'd like to offer my services. In return, I'd like to travel along to one of the other planets, if you don't mind." Rune demonstrated a full set of tools, ready to be used for the job.

[Assistant]
Hitting the comms Iean set out a word in between coughs. "I'm fine here capin. Cough. Hack. We got problems of the critical sort." Iean sprayed some stuff that tried to spark up and some areas still holding heat. Iean shook his head as he looked at the damage. Thankful to be alive he looked up and yelled at the ceiling in Chinese. "What the devil are you playing at? You'll not get this ship without a fight!" The only thing to do now was to find a place with better air.

Making his way to the cargo hold the high ceiling would allow the lower level to be free of smoke so he headed in that direction and when the ship touched down and the doors opened the air would rush to great him. Iean didn't have to wait long to breath free. "Ah that's the good stuff." He stayed close to listen in on the damage report from the captain.

[User]
Captain groaned deeply as she pushed herself to her feet, pulling a bloodied hand away from the deep gash in her bicep and taking out a cigarette, lighting it quickly and taking a long draw off of it. Looking at the two that had come up to check out the crash.

 "Yeah, we had one and if I find that gorram mechanic I will drop him in deep space before he can say Browncoat," she spat as she held the smoke between her teeth.

 "All injuries report to the infirmary, if you can't have someone carry you," she yelled into the com before turning back to the two new comers and then over to Iean.

 "Preacher, take these two to the problem and have them get to work," she said as she pushed the smoke from between her teeth. "One of you start working on repairs, the other bring me a damage assessment in the infirmary. I'll hire both of you if you can get this gorram ship off the ground in less than a week, if not I'll pay one and hire the other. Who ever is better at the job," she said before storming off back into the ship and making her way down to the infirmary to patch up her arm and see who else got the blue blazes knocked out of them.

[Assistant]
Gideon looked over with a mental groan at the other mechanic, the man was downright unflappable in the situation. He looked back at those that were talking and cast glance back to the other potential rival. He stowed his bike to the corner and came back to the fellow grease monkey to talk to him as calmly as he could while waiting for the preacher

"Alright, lets keep this simple, we can't be in there butting heads or else we both going to be stuck on this rock. One of us needs to do the hard work and the other one do the reports. Have you ever done overhauls to a firefly before?"

He had done a lot of work in the war, scrapping and slapping ships parts that were shot down or captured alliance pieces. Of them he had to appreciate purple belly tech, it was all built around like lego blocks. Push it in, pull it out, ultimate efficiency.

"Alright, lets assume for a second everything is (insert chinese here), We have the the two shuttles and the firefly made by the same people who make Dragonflies, her kissing cousin.
After that we got the bumble bee which is the inbred cousin, then yellow-jackets who are the brother from another mother and hornets that look like you from a ways off but aint got nothing to do with you. with Scarabs limping in at the last.

If the reactor is gone, A dragonfly has the same make we can use, but we can cobble together something that will limp with a long range shuttle to take apart or take a huge risk with finding a bumblebee to take apart piece by piece for what we need like a compression coil or the kin. The engine is in the same boat, either a dragonfly for a full replacement or a shuttle for parts. And again for the thrusters.
Hell we can get her just about anywhere for a spell if we scrap both of her shuttled for parts. But i'd rather not kill the babies to feed the momma-bird, she'll know and she'll let us know her displeasure.

Sensor packs we can get from both of those as well as any bumblebee, scarab, or hornet. Same for the whole computer. If the coms are down, then we can get it from anything but the scarab. What do you say?"

[User]
The captain headed down to the infirmary grumbling under her breath as she held her cigarette between her lips in the corner of her mouth. Storming in she rolled her eyes at the mess that had been caused by the crash and started rummaging though what was scattered about on the floor to find what she was looking for.

 After a while she gave up and opted for doing it the old fashion way. Grabbing a gauze she cleaned up the wound and flicked her lighter, letting the flame build up heat on its steel surface. Once the top part began to glow she took a deep breath and pressed it against the wound, cauterizing it. Her breath held and her fingers curled against the counter. Pulling the lighter back she shook her grip loose and shoved the lighter back in her pocket.

 Pulling the cigarette from her lips she paced a bit as she swung her arm about. Her foot kicking a small box, tilting her head she looked down and narrowed her eyes, it had been the kit she had been looking for.

 "Figures," she said as she made her way back out of the infirmary and headed right for the bridge. She needed a damage assessment go the electrical and the rest of the systems.

[Assistant]
Rune groaned, physically as the other mechanic waffled on about the ships related to the Firefly, referring to those ships literally as family, with Dragonflies being the cousins, and all the other insect named ships. "Never spoke to another mechanic that refers to all those ships like that. I've done an overhaul from a firefly, can't imagine it to be much different. I mean they are practically like lego blocks."

Of course, he had done work as a mechanic before, actually overhauling from a firefly. And it was like lego blocks, but it wasn't as easy as he made it sound, as he didn't have quite the technical skills. He mostly had the technical knowledge. "Anyway, yeah sounds like a good idea, splitting the work and taking parts from those other ships. We could even use the thrusters and engine from the Wren class ship. I mean sure the engine and thrusters were meant for a smaller lighter ship, so they would be a slightly different model, but it will work as a makeshift to get the ship off the ground and to one of the other planets to get some real repairs. This place isn't really the best place to fully repair it so yeah." He mostly quoted things from the books and what he could remember. He only hoped that he didn't make a fool of himself and compromise himself. There shouldn't have been anything wrong with what he had said though.

Starting to make his way into the ship, he looked up at Hannah, who was on the railings. "Anyway, I'll let you decide whether to do ship repairs or reports. Or we could both do some of both. Up to you. For now, I think that lady over there could use some help." indicating to the girl on the railings. "Need some help to the infirmary young miss?" Offering her some help.

[User]
"Good plan, while you help everyone, find out if anyone knows where we can conjure the parts we need. I'd rather not bleed just my contacts, you know?"

With that plan in motion, he set off for the engine to wonder what hell of the holy dragon happened to the engines. He unslung the multi-took from the hook on his hip as he hung the heavy brown coat on a nearby nut like he already belonged. In the left pocket was three goose eggs for anyone who went looking.

The door opened to both a grizzly and lacking sight as he pulled out a bowens miner mask. To anyone else the place was covered in soot, black from head to toe. Those that knew what instantaneous cremation looked like, it was a different story.

What happened was fairly simple: When a ship preps to leave atmo, it pulls in the last air and activates all the vacuum seals to make it tight as a drum. Now if something happens to the compressors, the air grows heavy from the pressure and usually nothing occurs. But, Something as simple as a blocked intake vent, with shorted compressors because someone is defragging the ships hardrive, while someone cooks in the galley... astronomical odds. All the intake of air came to the engine room as it prepped to make the jump and the oxygen rich area compressed into an explosion like the piston in an old car.

Whatever could burn did burn, the old mechanic probably went up like a microwaved battery with instant death being the best thing to hope to Buddha for as his chemical remains painted the engine room in the black oil of his misted body. Gideon started flushing the air vents by blowing the air compressors to bleed dry before starting on electrical to see which wires melted together from the burst of heat. Every wire that had to be replaced was going to be time consuming more than anything else. Hours were out the window, days of they were lucky and could sleep on the ship.

[Assistant]
"Oh, no!" Hannah called back, using the railing under her arm to pull herself along. "I'm quite alright, thank y—"

She paused at the top of the stairs, looking down the seemingly endless expanse with trepidation. She sighed. "On second thought, yeah. Yeah, I could use some help." As the man approached, she pulled on a smile, quickly cataloging his features—Jeff, he'd called himself. Jeff moved oddly for a mechanic. "Pleasure to meet you!" she piped up, leaning heavily on the railing. "Where'd you spring from? Did Captain sign you on board?"

[User]
As the doors opened and let in fresh air from the outside Iean walked out and drew a deep breath of air. While walking up to the boss, "No injuries to persons Captin. The engine looks like some one tried to barbecue on it. Most of the wires are fried." Iean was very thankful for the fire to be over and the ship to be in one piece. No one seemed hurt just a little smoke inhalation. Glad the design put the grave drive in a different location then the main drive. Fire in zero G is deadly.

Looking around the ship the only thought he had was how he just escaped death again. Normally a mechanic half asleep could keep a ship like this afloat. The only issue now was something definitely went south faster then it should. For now Iean would store that bit of insight away. No need stirring up trouble until he had proof.

Normally this would be a shrug of his shoulders but he was on the ship they tried to destroy making it personal. Obviously they had to of done it before they took off, and it being on the inside instead of a hull breach meant that they wanted to keep most of it in tact. But who would want it? These heaps were a a dime a dozen. Maybe the mechanic had enemies. It just didn't make sense. The only thing that was definitive was the damage. Iean had seen the damage but a part exploding looked the same as a small well developed bomb. He was going to have to wait it out....

[Assistant]
The captain groaned as she looked around.

 "Gorram pilot is gone now too?" she screamed before kicking the wall and shaking her head. This was turning out to be one rotten trip, perhaps the Reavers would have been easier to deal with. Turning she noticed one of her crew was sprawled out on the floor, out cold due to the crash.

 "Ugh," she muttered as she headed out of the room and into the kitchen area. Filling a big pitcher with water and ice she stormed back. Taking the pitcher she dumped the freezing water on top of the man and stood back.

 "Wake up!" she bellowed quickly.


[System]
Team/occupation: RMPT
Species: Human
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Handedness: Ambidextrous.
Aura/Effects: A fiery red, the same color as fire. Surrounds him like a raging inferno.
Symbol: Here
Physical traits: N/A
Misc traits: A few long red battle scars along his torso and back.
Nickname(s): N/A

Appearance

Height: 6'0"
Weight: 178lbs
Eyes: Dark reddish-orange. Blazes pure crimson when semblance is maxed.
Face: Fair.
Hair: Crimson.
Physique: Leanly muscular and toned. A fighter's body.
Combat/Casual Outfit: A sleeveless, form-fitting, and lightly armored, dark black combat shirt, with a belted pair of dark brown cargo pants, tucked into combat boots. A dark crimson, highly tattered scarf is generally wrapped around his neck, flapping in the wind. It's neigh unbreakable, and mainly used to cover his mouth and nose against wind-resistance, or disgusting scents/poisonous gas. It can also be used in combat, as a strangulation device.

Characteristics

Personality: Ranulf comes off as a cold, rather abrasive young man with intense, fiery, and piercing eyes, He has an intelligent, razor-sharp mind, that comes in handy with his quick-thinking prowess and incredible instincts. He seems to have a lot of street-smart and unorthodox methods of dealing with his problems, and due to his life, he has absolutely no problems with killing either Grimms or humans. One thing about him is his immense, comet-like intensity and determination. If something intrigues or interests him, he won't stop until he quenches his interest and intrigue. Once you manage to become close enough to him, most can often see that his personality hides a more...softer side of him, although he'd threaten you with bodily harm before admitting it. He has a short fuse, and will explode in anger whenever said fuse is lit on fire and sliced to it's limits.

For all intents and purposes, Ranulf is a rebellious delinquent, and absolutely ruthless in battle...almost demon-like. Due to this, some people find it impossible not to be intimidated by the young man. He will speak his mind if he feels the need to do so, and underneath all of his toughness, there's some inkling of kindness. He won't let bullies bully weaker people, although if it's someone being pushed around, and they're strong enough to do something, he won't help, figuring it will 'toughen them up'. However, if it's multiple people against one person, he'll instantly leap into the fight. That's another thing...he loves fighting. It's where he can let out all of the stress and anger of the day, and just stomp mudholes in asses. The adrenaline is also a fulfilling factor. This means that he enjoys other such adrenaline-high things, such as fast vehicles, and dangerous situations. To put it into key traits, for Ranulf, it would be;; Cold, abrasive, violent, rebellious, and battle-lusty. There's an inner kindness, that comes out as 'tough love'.

Background: To be revealed.

Combat info

Position/Class: Close-Combat Warrior.
Landing strategy: To be revealed.

Weapon: Demon Magnolia, named rather ironically. It's a pair of gauntlets, harder than even steel, that amplifies Ranulf's natural strength to immense levels, while also being able to be used to block different attacks, due to the gauntlet's durability. There are small, thick steel barrels on the front of the gauntlets, which can blast out explosive rounds with only a punch. The recoil of these shots are immense, with Ranulf using the recoil to increase the force and speeds of his attacks and movements. Different types of rounds can be inserted and taken out through the bottom of the gauntlets, where an unnoticeable 'slot' is located. The 'dormant' form of Demon Magnolia are dark red rings, and they transform into Demon Magnolia by only slamming the rings together, or onto something solid. He can, of course, just click the rings as well, since they're pressurized...but where's the intensity in that?!

Semblance: The best term to use for Ranulf's semblance, is 'scary'. Basically, the more he fights and gets hit, the faster, stronger, and generally tougher he gets, and the higher his 'power-bar' builds. He can feel his 'power-bar' building whilst fighting, and at it's maximum, he can release and harness all of this pent-up power, usually evident by him slamming his fist into his palm. When this happens, his crimson, fiery aura blasts out around him like a bonfire of power, and his eyes becomes pure crimson, sclera included.

In this form, his strength, speed, and durability/agility is heavily increased, and he can use his aura in a tangible form, which comes out as a sort of Hell-Fire, which is hotter than the normal dust fire. He can cancel this state anytime he wants to by simply cutting off the flow of power, and people with Aura-Siphoning semblances can cancel it by siphoning all of his aura. It is called his 'Demon State'. The 'Demon State' can be passed if he gets angry enough while in it. It's called his 'Devil State', and it's the highest form he can currently reach. Not much is different, appearance-wise, other than the fact that his strength, speed, and ferocity increases even more.

Fighting style: Something you should take note about Ranulf, is that his strength, speed, and agility is high above average. Due to the close-combat style that he has heavily trained himself in, he needs to get close fast, and defeat enemies faster. Ranulf is incredibly strong and quick. This, combined with his specialized skill in hand-to-hand combat, and his crackshot, makes him an extremely dangerous opponent. His fighting style is something between Street-Style, brutal Boxing, combined with some freestyle Wrestling and Muay Thai thrown in, creating for a very unorthodox, unpredictable, and endlessly ruthless and destructive style.

Trivia

Relationships: Other than some people in his past, there's none he currently knows of. [Open]
Notes: He owns a very fast, aerodynamic motorcycle,Inferno. The material is flame-retardant and bullet-proof. It's engine is composed of fuel-efficient steel, embedded with self-revitalizing Fire crystals, allowing it to temporarily go 'turbo' mode, where blazing fire is blasted from it's back pipes, and it's speed is increased exponentially. It's blue-toothed to a set of curved keys Ranulf always keeps on him, and with a click of the key's button, the motorcycle will hone in on Ranulf's heat signature. He mainly uses it for when he's in Vale.

[User] Legends, stories scattered through time. Mankind has grown quite fond of recounting the exploits of heroes and villains, forgetting so easily that we are remnants, byproducts, of a forgotten past. Man, born from dust, was strong, wise, and resourceful. But he was born into an unforgiving world. An inevitable darkness, creatures of destruction. The creatures of Grimm set their sights on man and all of his creations. These forces clashed and it seemed the darkness was intent on returning man's brief existence to the void. However, even the smallest spark of hope is enough to ignite change and in time, man's passion, resourcefulness and ingenuity led them to the tools that would help even the odds. This power was appropriately named, "dust". Nature's wrath in hand, man lit their way through the darkness and in the shadow's absence, came strength, civilization, and most importantly, life. Even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die. And when they are gone… darkness will return. So, you may prepare your guardians… Build your monuments to a so-called free world, but take heed… There will be no victory in strength.

[Assistant]
Buried amidst the crowd, an extremely young looking girl fights to reach the exit
"Get out of my way, stupid giants."
 she mutters angrily, diving between a much larger students legs to reach the door before rolling to her feet on the other side. Kanika pushes her brightly died hair back out of face, adjusting her armor and wiping dust from her small shoulders. the tiny huntress looks back into the crowd, scanning for familiar faces and finding none
"I wish those guys had agreed to come to Vale with me,"
she complains internally, slumping back against one of the main doors, her rather unique aquatic outfit and technicolor hair making the dark-skinned girl quite visible in spite of her statue. As the crowd empties into the hall, Kanika silently examines the other students, aqua eyes studying their armor and weapons quite closely.
Wonder who I'm going to end up teamed with?"
she ponders, occasionally seeing a person of interest, be it a weapon or odd feature that catches her eye

[User]
Ranulf Edom ;; Location - Gardens of Beacon Academy

That speech...was surprisingly short and concise, something Ranulf was pretty content about. He hadn't been impressed with long-winded and sugary speeches at the age of five, and he wasn't even more impressed at the age of seventeen. As the other students drained out of the speech area, Ranulf waited a few more minutes, allowing the crowd to simmer down before he exited. He didn't have a real destination in mind;; He had wanted to unpack and familiarize himself with the dorms, but there were no announcements concerning such things, and he was in no real hurry to find them in the first place. It seemed as if they were supposed to familiarize themselves with the Academy itself, first, which he had no troubles with at all. Exploration could be fun...especially if you ran into an enemy along the way.

It was one of the reasons why he enjoyed RPG games. If only, in life, you could run into a group of Goblins while walking down the road. By now, the crowd had simmered away from the Assembly Hall, and Ranulf approached the large wooden doors that blocked him from the outside courtyard. With a minor flick of the finger, the doors were opened widely, and Ranulf walked through the gap, hands resting in his pockets. Dark orange eyes gazed around, honing in on the large, statued fountain a ways away, before Ranulf sighed and began heading in a random direction.

"I guess I'll walk 'till I drop." He grumbled. He really wanted to release the stress of the day by doing some 'light' training, but with no room to do it, he could only do...well, nothing. His walking unwittingly took him to the Beacon Gardens, and as he walked passed the different roses and tulips, he paused at the crystal-blue pond. A cool breeze was floating through the air, and a half grin began to form on his face, showing slightly elongated canines. "I might be able to get in some light training, after all..." This was a pretty calming and solitary place, after all. Taking a quick break to take off his scarf and sit it on a nearby bench, Ranulf unshouldered his dark black and crimson backpack, letting it fall to the same bench with a loud, metallic 'thump'.

The boy began stretching, eyes closing as he felt his drawn bones pop into place. "Ah..."


[System]
Age: 20

Powers: Pyrokinesis. Monica is able is able to control, manipulate, and create fire with her mind. She can also control her fire's color, temperature, size, and what is and isn't burnt by its flames.
Weapons: Other than her fire, she has a hunting knife, and a machete which she leaves at her apartment. (She likes knives.)

Bio:
Monica came from a family of non-normal people her mother and father both having powers which they kept hidden in fear of what would happen if anyone found out. Because of this she grew up in a very sheltered home one that seemed almost like a prison with toys. Luckily she had an older brother, and for awhile she wasn't stuck there with her parents all alone. At least that is until they found out they were blessed with a normal child. After that he left her, allowed to go to normal school with other kids, have friends and parties. All while she was stuck being home schooled by mother and father. When they found out that she non-normal, her parents were disappointed hoping both their would be normal.

By that time she was a teenager, and starting her rebellious stage. She wanted to get out of her house, meet people, have parties, have a life. So she did, she started sneaking out of the night and coming back before morning. It didn't help for them board up the windows, because she would burn the wood. Bars didn't help, because she would make hot enough they could bend. So they let her out of the house, when she turned seventeen having no safe way to keep her in.

Monica enjoyed her new found freedom a little to much however, and it was all fun and games until she accidentally burnt someone else's house down, while they were in it. It was after that her brother had enough and he waited until Monica was home alone to tell the police what his sister had done, she was taken to Miss Dawson's House.

Dreams/Wishes:
Right now all she really wants is to get out, and to be accepted for who she really is. As for dreams, other than the nightmares where she burns herself alive, she doesn't ever seem to remember them.

Evil, Good, Walking the Line:
Walking the Line. She goes back and forth whenever it suits her. As long as she gets herself and her friends out she doesn't care.

Siblings: A brother, but he is a normal.

Pets: She has two cats. Ember and Nightshade.

Name: Zaniel "Zan" Edwards
Age: 19

Powers: Shadow Manipulation, Creation, and Absorption.
Weapons: Two long black shadow swords.

Bio:
Zaniel grew up in a troubled and poor home, his mother was a heavy drinker and he didn't even know who his father, nor did his mother. Despite his home life, he actually exceeded in school and sports, anything that kept him from having to go home. It wasn't until he was eight years that he realized that he was different, when he was hiding from one of his mother's drunken fits, and faded into the shadows. After his mother finally passed out, he caught out of hiding and that is was when he figured out about his powers.

As he grew up and started practicing his powers, he started using his powers to his own advantage. Doing things like using other peoples shadows to punish the bullies that picked one him, stealing whatever it was that he needed to get by and survive, and some that he didn't need but wanted. Sadly it was that stealing that got him the attention of Miss Dawson. Then one night from the shadows he tried to pickpocket an undercover cop, when the cop tried to arrest him, Zaniel folded the shades around the man giving him a chance to run away.

Though he didn't get ever far before someone kicked him out from behind. The next day he woke up laying on the grass in the fields, it was after making his way into the town, and he talked to Persephone. One of the girls that were already there, that he found out where he was.

Dreams/Wishes:
Getting free from Miss Dawson, he hates that annoying woman.

Evil, Good, Walking the Line:
If he has to pick between being good and evil. He picks evil.

Siblings: None

Pets: None

[User]
Trumpets, as usual, kicked Rebecca's morning off. Groaning, she got out of bed, mentally preparing for a new day at the Home. Beginning her short morning routine, she wondered if today would bring anything new. She glanced at the lesser pile of library books on her nightstand, recalling the previous night. Throwing on a nearby dress, she pondered what to read next time she had an hour - or more - to kill. Life at the Home was... alright, but it sorely lacked freedom. Rebecca missed the freedom of her old life, her friends, her parents. Rebecca was ripped from her thoughts as a suddenly heavy towel slipped from the counter. Sighing, she put it in place, finishing up her morning routine with a simple ponytail.

Rebecca began making her way to the mall, stomach subtly growling at her, as if telling her to hurry up. Walking, she looked around the Home, admiring the plants and nature - such things were nearly almost pristine, no doubt thanks to Persephone. In a way, the perfection of the Home was comforting. In another, it was deeply disturbing and clinical, like taken out of a children's book. A light shudder ran down her spine. No matter what, she couldn't quite shake that feeling of being watched like a common pet, something to toy and experiment with. Not that that was entirely wrong - as far as she could tell, it certainly seemed as if Miss. Dawson was watching, waiting, at all hours.

Oh well, Rebecca thought, that's not easily changed, and I'm starving.

[Assistant]
Alex was already awake long before the trumpets sounded the start of the day. Just like always, he was swimming in the lake, training his body. Just to be ready when the time was there. When he had to save someone. He knew he shouldn't wish it, but he hoped it would happen. Only so the nagging guilt would start to diminish. Only just a little. Once he heard the trumpets, he stopped and swam back towards the sandy shore, dried himself off and got dressed. But he didn't go towards the mall. Instead he looked over the lake one more time. The Cherry blossom trees were flourishing. Soon their petals would fall and the lake would be colored pink. Alex smiled. The place was so calm. Not just the lake. He liked it here. He knew that could change. But for now, he had no real wish to escape. Not yet. Though he knew that opinion was popular. So he kept it to himself.

After that he started the walk towards the mall. He was already later than he should be, taking his time to look at the serene lake. To make matters worse, Alex had gotten a craving for bacon. And he liked his bacon sizzling hot.

[User]
Artemis grabbed a tray and looked at breakfast, cringing as she looked at the bacon and eggs, knowing that bacon used to be Donald the Pig. Yes, she knew all the names of the animals she raised, she communicated with them every day. This was why she was a vegetarian, though she made it a point to not eat eggs as they were really unborn chicks and she felt bad for them that they never had a chance to be born and see the world. At least the calves and piglets had a chance, but those chicks didn't.

Artemis loaded her plate with fruit salad and toast with grape jelly, getting some coffee with milk and sugar. She sat down at a booth, feeling disgusted by what she had just seen. Those animals were her friends, and now they were dead. She pushed away her breakfast, hating Miss. Dawson for putting her in this job. She crossed her arms order her chest, not feeling hungry anymore.

---

Persephone's smile disappeared from her face as she saw a giant shadow appear over her head, knowing exactly who it was the minute he used his powers. "Good morning Zaniel.... What the heck did I say about shadows on our plants?" She asked, hiding her anger as she was not about to let him win. She knew how much he loved seeing her get angry, calling her anger cute which pissed her off even more. She couldn't let him win.... She just.... She couldn't.

"So, not eating breakfast again I see. You know breakfast is the most important meal of the day, right?" Persephone asked, looking up at him and the smirk on his smug face. She hoped that he hadn't seen her tattoo, feeling her hair move against the mark that told exactly how she and Artemis ended up there.

She let out a quite sigh, Persephone knowing that at any time she could have flash backs of what had happened though she prayed that it would be back in her room so that nobody could see. She pushed back her thoughts, deciding that right now was not the time to think of all these things. "Hope you're ready to work!" Persephone said with a small smile, hoping she didn't have that dark look in her eyes like she usually did when she thought about the base.

[Assistant]
Lina Evangeline
Lina awoke to the sound of trumpets playing reveille over the loudspeakers and the cheerful voice of Miss Dawson greeting the day with her usual infuriating enthusiasm. The girl grumbled discontentedly as she dragged herself out bed. She'd been in this "Home for Truly Gifted" for almost two years now and she still wasn't used to being awoken like that. Infact she believed that she never would get used to it. "If I wanted to be woken up like this, I'd have joined the army..." She muttered, giving the speaker mounted in the upper corner of her room a black look as she pulled on her clothes. Once she was dressed, gave her hair a quick brush and tied it up into her usual twin-tails before slinging her violin case over her shoulder. She never went anywhere without the instrument. As she was getting ready to leave for breakfast, her eyes fell on the open book lying face down on her bedside table. She been reading it before she fell asleep last night and she decided to take it with her to read on the way to the mall.

It was a book of classical poetry from various authors, each piece concerning love, and when she discovered it one day in the mall she'd felt an almost physical compulsion to get it. Now, as she walked towards the mall for breakfast, she opened the book to her favorite passage and read aloud to herself.

"Stephon kissed me in the spring,
 Robin in the fall,
But Colin only looked at me
 And never kissed at all."

She suppressed a sigh and looked up at the sky as she walked, a dreamy look in her eyes as she imagined what Colin must have looked like. The others must have been handsome and confident, but she imagined Colin as small quiet man, unassuming, with soft eyes. He rarely spoke, she fantasized, but looked at you with a passion beyond the others. He didn't just see a girl, but everything that the girl was. A little smile crossed her face, the discontentment of the morning long forgotten, and returned her eyes to the book to finish the poem.

"Stephon's kiss was lost in jest,
 Robin's lost in play,
But the kiss in Colin's eyes
 Haunts me night and day."

She lowered the book to her side, enjoying the slight tingle that the final line of that poem always gave her. Belatedly, she realized that she'd reached the mall and, after tucking the poem book into the violin case, she went to go get herself something to eat. Food in hand, she went and sat down by herself, picking at the food on her plate as her mind wandered. "Where is my Colin...?" She questioned softly.

[User]
Monica took a deep breath of fresh air as she stepped outside of the building, if that was one thing that she didn't necessarily hate about this pace, it had to be how beautiful and peaceful it was here. Far from the gasoline filled air and loud crowded streets of the city she had grown up surrounded by. Here she could hear the birds outside and see the stars at night. If only she wasn't once again caged up behind walls, in this case the wall being the force field, it would be perfect. Even though one could say that maybe her not having freedom again was a good thing. However, she shook her head of the thought, she was going to try and not be a downer today. Sure that was something she told herself every day, but this time she meant it.

Her eyes looked down at her stomach as it growled, reminding her of the reason she even bothered not to go back to sleep after the trumpets stopped playing and Dawson had finished talking. With a bit of a frown she continued her way to the mall. She was slightly surprised that she was the only the third one to get to the mall, with how late she was getting out of the apartment. Quickly she grabbed one of the plates filling it with eggs, bacon, and a couple pieces of toast before getting a glass of orange juice and sitting by herself as she usually ended up doing anyway.

---

Zaniel's smirk only widened at Persephone, he didn't need to hear the anger in her voice to know he was getting on her nerves, her question already something it all. "Who knows…you get all squeaky when you're mad." He answered with a slight laugh, still getting a little bit of enjoyment out of picking on her. Over the three months that he had been at Dawson's, he had become a little fond of Persephone and how cute she got when he pissed her off. Even though she insisted that he was going to ruin her plants, he only shaded them because he knew full well that she could fix whatever he did damage to them, if he ever did any.

"No." Zaniel answered before shaking his head a little at her. "I know, you tell me that every morning. I'll get lunch later. Why aren't you getting something to eat?" He asked though he wasn't really enough attention to notice her tattoo before she looked up at him, his smirk only growing a bit. Still he sighed, it becoming clear that he wasn't going to get her all mad and sneaky. Before letting shadow slowly fade, letting the sun hit down on them both and the garden. It wasn't easy to keep it up and he didn't want to kill the plants and get Persephone in trouble anyway.

He noticed the dark look in her eyes when the shadow went away, and stared at her for a second before laughing. "Not really, I had planned on lacking off while everyone was at breakfast. Though since you would me here so badly." He said smiling a bit at her before picking up one of the garden shovel. "Alright where did you want dug out so you could plant?" He asked before he started digging out rows for her plants.


[System]
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Race: Human

Weapon: Unlike the majority of Hunters that dwell the broken world of Remnant, Gratia wields two, separate and completely distinct weapons due to her poverty, which has prevented her from obtaining more advanced weaponry. She wields a dull, grey mameluke sabre named Valens, furnished simply with the imprint of her emblem on its hilt. It is utilised alongside her other weapon, an automatic carbine named Valentinian, black and silver and also light enough to be used with one hand.

She also owns an SUV that she acquired from a mafia family after a mission.

Specialty: Capable of dealing with enemies both in close combat and mid-range, Gratia's role on Team VGNB (Vignoble) is to draw the attention of Grimm as she cuts swathes through their ranks in her berserk rage. As such, she is quite the durable warrior, and if time passes, she will only grow stronger as her semblance drains away at the energies of her enemies, making her perfect for her position as the 'tank' of the team.

Semblance: Bibere Vinum - Gratia's lust for battle and power is translated into a semblance that allows her to drain the aura of others in the area in order to strengthen her own physical abilities. In particular, her speed, strength, and endurance. The effects compound over time, and thus while they aren't too noticeable in the first few minutes of combat, the longer one fights her and the closer they are in proximity, the stronger Gratia gets.

Following her conversation with her mother on what it meant to be a Huntress and what she meant to those close to her, Gratia's semblance metamorphosed into a new form, gaining an additional ability based upon her existing powers. Her ability to detect and sometimes recognise other lifeforms in the area has become more powerful, allowing her to inject a tiny portion of her own aura into people upon contact, creating a connection between her and her victim that allows her to track and identify them no matter where they go, and will not be broken unless either of them are dead, or if Gratia wishes it to end. It also provides her basic information on the victim's status, such as their health, mood and general condition.

Personality: At first glance, Gratia appears to be quite a solemn figure, impassive and quiet in the majority of situations. Restraint seems to come easily to her, and there is an aura of professionalism that permeates her every action. It would be obvious, then, to assume that she is a rather serious person, one who devotes her very being to work and believes that everything else is a waste of time. In actuality, this is mostly inaccurate. When she speaks it is generally to insult others, particularly her aggravating teammate Napoli, and her speech is peppered with gratuitous swearing.

She is extremely sarcastic and is quick to point out when a situation does not strike her as favourable. She is also rather arrogant and has a haughty sense of pride that dictates her actions. If someone starts annoying her, her impassive aura is quick to drop and Gratia will instead begin with a spewing out insults. However, she is not entirely horrible, being actually fairly kind to those who she deems as respect worthy and more importantly, not annoying. While she is quiet still, she is more than willing to offer them a helping hand on assignments and other problems.

In addition, Gratia possesses a strong sense of loyalty to her loved ones. If you piss her off or take advantage of her friends she will make your life a living hell. Of course, do what you want to her annoying teammates, especially Napoli, she'll only save them at the last minute when they're about to die. And you're not allowed to kill them. She gets to when they screw up.

When in combat, her normally solemn personality completely disappears, replaced by a crazed bloodlust that seems to consume her entire being (and probably those poor Grimm that she'll murder). In this state, it can be quite surprising to listen to her cackle loudly like a hyena as she terrorises her enemies.

Color: Chartreuse Green (66CD00)

Emblem: Gratia's emblem has a certain religious flair to it, with a solid sabre sitting upon a champagne bottle, which is a chartreuse green to contrast the black and grey of the sabre and background.

Appearance:

Source | NarayanK's Interpretation

Standing at a height of one point seven five metres, Gratia is relatively tall for most girls her age, a trait that is magnified by her rock solid posture. With long, flowing brown-black hair, onyx eyes and a well-defined face (though usually seen bland or scowling), and an athletic build, she can be described as rather attractive (though her compatriot-in-arms would argue the opposite), but few dare comment on her appearance in case she takes offence.

Due to her status as a student from Haven, she dons the snazzy uniform of her "beloved" school when attending class, completely unmodified and always super tidy (it comes at a surprise that to many that she is willing to wear the skirt). When outside of class however, she can always be seen with her signature black turtleneck, brown jeans and her green winter coat, which she is highly possessive of (and possibly willing to murder for, though that's a rumour). As a music aficionado, she frequently wears headphones in order to enjoy her smooth jazz and drown out the incessant chatter of her fellows and her teammates in particular.
Name: Galla Mindaro
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Race: Human

Weapon: Steel Construction I-Beam (W18X40)

Specialty: Without needing the use of a semblance, Galla Mindaro possesses a ridiculously immense amount of physical strength, capable of carrying even the heaviest of construction materials with ease. As such, her lightest blows can easily hit as hard as a freight train, sending her targets flying with little effort on her part. Similar to her more infamous older sister, she is incredibly durable, her numerous years of acting as Gratia's training partner having developed her defenses dramatically.

Semblance: Nemo Curat - Galla's apathy and sense of detachment from the world has been translated into a semblance that allows her to essentially detach a part of her own self, preventing it from interacting with the outside world. She can only induce this state in one thing at a time, and if she wishes to stop another part of her self from being observed by reality, she has to first reattach the originally detached part. An example of her semblance in use would be detaching her scent, thereby preventing anybody from smelling her.

Personality: The younger Mindaro sibling possesses a quiet and stoic demeanour, staying impassive in the face of any situation to the extent that one could easily mistake her for a stone statue. Restraint marks her every action, with each lifeless movement utterly lacking in any form of energy or emotion. To Galla, the rest of the world simply isn't important at all, and it is through this lens of utter apathy that she engages with life.

So great is her sense of detachment that absolutely nothing is capable of fazing her. Everything is met with the same bland air, as if there was a distant chasm between her and the rest of the world. She cannot bring herself to care for it, finding little that can stimulate her dulled emotions into responding. At times, it appears as if Galla lacks a presence beyond simply 'existing', seeming more akin to a cardboard cutout than an actual human.

She doesn't see it as a problem in any way.

However, that is not to say that Galla Mindaro is simply an emotionless mannequin that is utterly incapable of being human. The truth is actually the opposite; the younger of the Mindaro sisters is surprisingly empathetic, capable of understanding the feelings, motivations and experiences of other people to a great extent. It does not change her utter lack of interest and care for them, but if the whim were to come to her, she could interact with others with little difficulty.

It is because of this that, despite her eerie detachment, Galla possesses a bond with her family. Although she rarely shows any sign of concern for them, the younger Mindaro acknowledges her parents in their entirety, and it is evident that she respects her older sister in some fashion. She is also not devoid of friends, being able to, even in her bland and uncaring manner, work amicably with a number of her classmates. Whether or not she is a good friend is debatable, especially when she does not exactly care too much for them.

She is also highly observant of her surroundings, whether they be social cues, appearances or the shape of the world. Information is immediately captured and stored in her photographic memory, although much of it fails to affect her in any manner. She holds few opinions on them, but there are times when she does judge, usually through an arbitrary rating system. When taking action, there are also moments where she may seem rather excessive, unaware of whether or not something may be too much.

Galla may or may not have a sense of humour. It's extremely hard to tell.

Color: Chartreuse Yellow (DFFF00)

Emblem: Galla's emblem has traces of religious iconography, with a pitch-black profile of a rooster, one of the holiest animals of the Mistralese Church, imprinted upon a champagne bottle of chartreuse yellow, its brightness a contrast to the colour of the bird.

Appearance:

Source

[User]
Luke Schwarz -- Investigation

He blinked.

Priscilla Montgomery.
One of the three missing members of Robert's old team--
For some reason, is here.
Stuck in the Distillery, of all places.
The plot isn't just thickening-- it's growing stranger.

He mentally made note to keep a track of these things in the back of his mind-- if nothing else, this mission would be quite the story to tell around the lunch table, or campfire, or text back home. It certainly never hurt to keep track of a mission's progress in any case, and should something continue the trend of "new factors in the game", it would behoove him to take note, and perhaps even use it alongside previous evidence to attempt to determine a pattern.

Would this be a time where Mom would tell me I'm beginning to think like a Hunter?
Or perhaps I'm putting too much though into it...

While it would be neither the first nor the last case in either respect, he returned focus to the matter at hand, Gazing through the low light of the facility hallway into the junction room beyond.

With a small start, his eyes widened as they laid upon an old man, slumped against the wall. Someone was in there! Granted, it wasn't certain if they were dead or merely unconscious, at least at this distance, with this lighting, and this lack of overwhelming evidence. If he wanted to properly understand the old man's circumstances, he would need to take a closer look.

A closer look that would require going right up to him. This far away, he could even properly tell if the old man was breathing. With this in mind, he aired the idea simply.

"There's somebody in the room ahead. If someone could keep an eye on me, I can go check it out real fast."

A risky maneuver, undoubtedly. Splitting off from the group was by far the number one way to offer oneself up on a silver platter. He knew that, for despite his general, habitual, almost natural penchant for erring towards the incompetent and foolish end of the scale, he was still not so uncultured as to hold any belief that ran counter to what was commonly understood by those as young as toddlers to be a bad move.

Which is why he had prepared for the extremely likely occasion of having the offer refused with a compromise: he would be to maintain visual and verbal contact at all times during the short trip to and from the junction room, perfectly willing to narrate his actions to the group as a whole in real time while never leaving the watchperson's line of sight.

You have to admit, that's at least the token step further than the bar set by fiction.

---

---

Sterling Johnson -- Teammate Defense.

"On it!" he gruffly barked in response, spilling out the entire pouch of ball bearings into the air. Snapping Nuada's fist back into place, the robotic limb unsheathed it's blade with a swift click, adding a new dimension of deadliness into the constructed limb, which would serve him well as soon as something got past that familiar whirlwind of steel that was now surrounding him.

In the meantime, even as he latched on with a free hand to the "floor", he kept his eyes squarely upon Estelle as she made a quick bid for safety, ready to fire off more of the little bullets as soon as something even appeared to consider going after the two.

[Assistant]
Cian Kuze -- A brewing Storm

Hearing what Luke said Cian couldn't help but blink she heard some odd ideas and some pure stupid ideas but that was something she did not know how to classify. Logically speaking it was wise to check up on the old man making it a sound idea however on the other hand splitting up in a situation like the one they were in was a pretty dumb idea since you don't know what might happen. Things was either or at the moment and right now she did not feel like staying and seeing how it plays out because a conclusion could not be reached. "Luke while I can understand where you are coming from with a idea like that I can't help but think it would be best for a better solution than just sending two people to check on someone given the situation. So in this case I am going to have to say that it would be best left to a vote on how things should be played out." Cian said as she let her eyes dart around the room looking for any sudden movements.

[User]
Gratia Mindaro - Zephyr City Outskirts

"Triggerhappy?"

Gratia Mindaro laughed. A low, harsh growl of a laugh. It was not a particularly nice laugh. She threw her head back, her hissing cackles escaping into the air. What an utter fucking joke. Oh, she was relishing the opportunity to punish every single one of the rabid dogs in the facility, but she could wait for that. Oh, yes she could wait. The bastard was delusional if he thought she would cross the entirety of the Dodici Cosca head-on without thought. They'd all fall to her eventually, but she could wait. She could wait as long as it was needed. She knew what was at stake, and he should fucking know that she knew as well.

"Oh, I'm not letting you sit this one out, you shitty excuse for a prettyboy," she snarled, onyx eyes piercing into her partner's with immeasurable intensity. "In fact, you can have aLl ThE FUn yOu WAnT with that sissy little knife of yours~"

He was, no matter how one saw it, the most suited to this task. A task in which he could actually be of any fucking use. She could share, let even a cheese-eating son of a bitch like him carve a pound of flesh from the rats they were to exterminate. It would be fun. Really.

"I desire to see to the success of this mission," continued the Mistralese huntress, her grip tightening against her weapons. "Make yourself useful, Napoli Fiordilatte. Show me that you aren't a pathetic waste of space. Show me the very best of your mediocre abilities. Show me the supposed skill that placed you on this team."

She bared her teeth in challenge. The edges of her mouth curled upwards into an animalistic grin.

Her eyes smoldered with fire.

"Show me that you can save Bianca Nuit."


[System]
Alias: Gravitas

Position: Grade 11

Abilities/powers: Localized Gravity Manipulation, attraction, repulsion, complete resistance to G-Force on his body

Sex: Male

Age/Date of Birth: 17 - 14-02-1982

General appearance: He is of medium length, with short, slicked back brown hair. His sedentary lifestyle has left him slightly overweight, something that does not bother him as he does not see the point in being or trying to be attractive for others. He wears his tailored suits, often in muted browns and grays. He also likes wearing his handmade leather shoes, which he has made each year for Christmas as a gift to himself. He wears glasses, something his is used to since he had needed them since he was two. His skin, especially that of his arms and legs are very white - since he seldom goes outside.

Additional Appearance/costume: N/A

Personality & Brief History: Christopher comes from a reasonably well off family - who own both gold and diamond mines, where most of the characters that make up the group were either exceptionally brilliant or brilliantly ruthless. While he did inherit their prized intelligence, he was loathe to use it - preferring to be delightfully average. Unlike the rest of his brood, he is a reserved, gentle person who chooses to recognize the dignity in others, rather than seeing them as potential exploitation sources. As such, his parents chose to ignore him for the most part, grooming his brothers and sisters into the corporate demons of tomorrow. He in turn chose to spend his time reading the classics when readable, listening to them when not - and when the local Theater showed something beautiful - he would take one of the family cars and spend the evening bathing in the splendor of the opera. It was on one of these evenings, where he was dressed in his favorite overcoat and embroidered scarf - when upon his way out he heard his parents fighting. Being a Pacifist for the most part - he would have closed his ears and simply passed them, but when he heard them screaming about him - about how he would not amount to anything, how he lacked the nerve to do what must be done, he felt his heart constrict. He knew they preferred the others, but he had taken their ambivalence to be some quiet sort of acceptance. Now he knew they simply did not know what to do with the family's big disappointment. Later that evening, after having fled the house, he sat in the theater - his eyes glinting in the dark, his hands shaking and his heart aching. When the final few notes of the Queen of the Night Aria concluded, the queen mother threatening her daughter with abandonment should she disappoint her... should she fail her... that it felt like a wave broke, as if all things that held him to the earth let go and gravity no longer mattered. When everyone left the theater later the evening, it was to cars and street signs and other objects in disarray. It took him a few more days to realize it had been his fault. He speedily contacted the family lawyers, had them contact the school of Xavier, and transfer all his credits and finances to another account. He was also to get Christopher's travel documents in order. A casual lie about his current school not providing enough cerebral stimulation pacified his parents - who seemed relieved that he would be leaving soon. He got on their plane by the next week, having said goodbye to the two or three people he would actually miss - before setting off to America.

Special Skills: He can play the piano, and can read and type beyond average speeds. He can speak Four languages and understand three more.

Place of birth: Johannesburg South-Africa

Weapon(s) of choice: N/A

Medical information: His left eye is near sighted and his right is far sighted and malformed. As such he has to wear rather thick glasses if he wants to see in more than blurs. He is also rather unfit, and can't run far or lift heavy things - his powers however make up for this, as he can make things as light or heavy as he want's them to be.

Relatives: Father and Mother - Gold and Diamond Mining magnates - two bothers and one sister - All non-mutant.

[User]
Any other form? Obviously this young many did not seem to think that Booker could have been a part of the administrative board. Funny, yeah, how the one man in charge of counseling, therapy, and one of the few staff members on campus with an actual degree, would not be on the admin board to help decide if they should be admitted into the school or not, and how well they might get along with everyone else from just a look at their life without talking to them.

The only one who was really exempt from that was Yeti, who Booker looked after and taught until only about a week ago before he started clearing things so the young man could go to class with other students, rather than just be hulled up in his room all day.

Christopher Harris, Booker knew the name well. He wouldn't be a good advisory for the school board if he didn't snoop around in all of the applicants lives before contacting the school, or being contacted, in some cases. However, he knew about the Harris mining family and how ruthless they could be. Something akin to Harry Potter and his relationship with the Dursleys, if Booker remembered the Philosophers Stone correctly.

There was something off about Christopher's eyes, but Booker made it a point not to comment. It would be quite rude, and probably would not make this introduction any better than it already was. Instead, he reached out to hopefully shake the boy's hand. "Doctor Blake Smith." He smiled kindly. "Resident Therapist, Counselor, Substitute Teacher, and member of the Advisory Board." He took a step back and motioned the boy inside. "Please, this way. Vice Principal Monroe or Miss Karma should be able to help you get sorted better than I can." Xavier was probably still having that important meeting with their supposed to be dead contact, which Booker was pretty sure did not want to be seen, especially around people like Christopher, who probably knew who Emma Frost was, or at least, his parents probably did.

---

Shawn left the room silently and returned to his dorm room to set his things away. It was a bit of a controlled mess, how everything was everywhere, but just were Shawn knew where everything was. If the little display in Drama was anything, it was a signal that he should probably take a step back on some things. He worked hard for his grades and his chance to become an X-man, but it was taking its toll on him.

There was no time for that, though. After throwing his things back onto his bed, Shawn left his room to go and get some food. He was sure to see some familiar faces around the lunch room, or wandering the halls. The school was only so big, and maybe he could get back at Hive for sticking him with all of that fresh silk. He was so lucky that it wasn't the first time that he had been hit with the stuff. Had it not been for that, maybe the trick would have lasted longer. Shawn would have made an even bigger fool of himself by overreacting to the situation, but at least he was able to cut everyone's satisfaction short.

Now, time for lunch. Shawn's favorite time of the day, just long enough for him to get some food in his stomach and calm down a little so he wouldn't be in such a bad mood. It was his fault though. Overworking one's self did lead to exhaustion and falling asleep in a class full of smart mutants with a penchant for pranking.

[Assistant]
Christopher Harris

Christopher's eyes widened and he forced himself to look the other in the eyes. "Forgive me. I only assumed... (he cut himself off and placed his hands behind his back, gripping the palms together - firmly - before taking a breath) Assumptions, as my father always says - Ass out of 'u' and 'me' - (he offered a sort of reluctant grin, the joke clearly practiced behavior taught to cover up awkward situations - He stepped into the house, with a polite nod.) I will be glad for the assistance though. The transition, while not very much trouble in so far effort it concerned - is something of a watershed moment for me. Leaving the nest (ironically he thought, a perfect idiom for the now rather obvious Cainism in his previous home) has provided me with far more psychological challenges than I had first anticipated. I might yet need you to lend me your shoulder to violently sob on. (He laughed lightly, the first real bit of emotion he showed - He looked around the entrance hall) This style... it's Elizabethan for the most part right? It's rather exquisite. Highly unusual for the area." He waited for the main to lead them to where they were supposed to meet the Vice Principle - Ororo? Swahili for Delicate... or soft? Curious. Perhaps he is not the only one who comes from the African Continent then.

[User]
Jacob simply shrugged and chuckled when he was called out on by Shawn. He probably should have tried to do something to make his silk look more futuristic-y but it was too late for that now. By the permission of the teacher, Jacob began packing up his stuff and headed off to his room to drop off his stuff and pick up some food.

Today was gonna be a great day, Jacob could feel it. He just finished playing a prank on Shawn and now he was going to be able to try out a tomato from the tomato plant he'd been growing in his room all semester. Jacob's room was pretty clean but that was mostly because he didn't have anything to make his room dirty with. All he had was his tomato plant, a bunch of silk sweaters with various designs made out on them ranging from floral patterns to reindeer, his clothes and an alarm clock. After dropping his gear on his bed, Jacob picked his tomato and headed out to the cafeteria.

Jacob got there early so he got pretty close to the front of the cafeteria line. Hive got mostly vegan choices such as some tofu and a salad but he also accompanied it with a delicious looking ham sandwich. Jacob went and sat down by himself and began to dig into his lunch.

[Assistant]
If there was one thing that Shawn would have on his person at all times, it would have been a pair of gloves. Even though Shawn was learning how to use his mutation at the right times, as well as minimalize its effects, His mutation was always active. His body had a constant electrical charge, and there was no way that he could simply not shock everything that he touched. He made it a point to avoid metal as much as he could, wearing his insulated gloves and an anti-static bracelet as much as he could so he could still enjoy things like television, radio, or video games. He just needed to be careful and not get too excited, lest he risk destroying nearby electronics.

As he left the room, Shawn slipped his gloves back on and left for the cafeteria. He wondered what was on today's menu. He didn't quite get a look at it when he passed through that morning for breakfast.

A little scheming for revenge pranks didn't hurt to kill time while he was was chowing down. Just as he passed by the foyer of the mansion, Shawn was treated to en eyeful. Doctor Smith was talking to what he assumed was another new student, the door to the Professor's office had just opened, revealing Scott Summers and an unknown woman leaving the room.

Something about that woman seemed strange. She was drop-dead gorgeous, not to mention walked with style and power, but her eyes flicked all over, looking for something. Maybe she was trying to find someone, maybe get away. He couldn't tell. However, just as he looked at her eyes, she looked right back at him, a calm yet intense look shooting right back to him which almost made him stutter and fall. He suddenly didn't want to be there. He could feel her eyes all the way through him, in his mind, peering through his soul. His eyes darted away, and he picked up the pace to walk to the lunch room.

"Him, too."

He could just so faintly hear it, but he was almost completely sure that she was talking about him. What had he done to get on her list? What did this even mean?

On the other end of the room, Booker motioned for Christopher to follow him. With Emma out in the open like that, she seemed to be doing a little more than what she had been asked to do. It was inevitable, though. Booker knew that she was going to ask of something in return for coming all this way to help him out. He couldn't refuse her, not because of looks or history, but because it was only fair for her to get something in return.

He ushered Christopher forward, hoping that he wouldn't pick Emma out of the crowd. It was going to be a little more packed, in between classes, but if anything, it made Karma only easier to find.

"It's quite alright, Christopher." He smiled and forgave the boy. "I know I'm not the most presentable person when it comes to being an official. And yes, this mansion was build by Professor Xavier's history long ago, just after they had traveled all the way from England. The entire building has gradually been retrofitted over the past fifteen years to find a great merging place between classic and contemporary."

[User]
Prowling through the halls, she moved quickly towards the gardens and their screens of greenery. For all she looked human, the girl moved more like a prowling cat, stalking prey. It warned more than one person away, especially when she was going some where. Once amongst the branches and hedges, she let got the tension she had been carrying. Tossing off her sandals, a long hand snatched up a book from the satchel that joined the shoes. Looking pleased, she tossed herself down at the base of the tree with a satisfied thud. Sorting through the pages, she found the diagram she wanted. Propping it amongst the roots, Ayita stretched lazily. Oh, yes... This was much better than learning fancy formulas.

Frowning she studied the picture of the Siberian tiger, she was going to attempted. She would have gone farther away, but she wasn't in the mood to fly far before attempting the new shift. Taking a breathe, she leaned back against the tree, and focused. Dark eyes watching the foliage above, as she sorted through the muscles, veins, and bones. Forming the beast layer by layer, ever so carefully. Each muscle and bone would be used. The instincts of the large cat. The hunting, the feel of the earth beneath large paws. She breathed slowly, with her raven form it was simple as breathing. Practice made perfect and gave speed. Unfortunately this would be a long one. She shifted loosing the thought process. Snarling, she tossed the stick that had been jabbing into her side. Beginning again, Ayita hoped no one would interrupt her any time soon.

[Assistant]
Christopher's eyes widened at the man's herding, almost reminiscent of his mother who would move him out of the room when the important guests would arrive. Immediately his eyes scanned the room - spotting the woman he was so obviously being directed away from. She stood out. Clearly this was not her turf - but she wore it like it was. A slight twinge of envy, before her face registered. The supposed White Queen. Was she not a wannabe super villain - who was constantly circling more interesting and powerful people. What would she be doing here... This was the home of Charles Xavier. She was here with his permission - whether she repented, or whether he is on her side. Either way - Nothing Christopher could do about it. He noticed he had stopped walking for a moment, staring at her -before he began walking after his guide.

"It is rather beautiful. Is there anything that I should know about who I am meeting. Quirks I should take note of, or prepare myself for. I do Like being prepared. It serves to make a good first impression." He made sure to focus on the man, his expression conveying his true interest.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Appearance: Fina is shorter than average in height, with a slim physique and just enough curves to look good when dressed up. She also keeps her dark blue Darcsen hair waist-length usually braided in a single braid. Her bangs usually obscure her dark blue eyes whenever she's looking down (which is frankly, a lot of the time). She usually keeps a handmade shawl with Darcsen patters over her uniform. Whenever she's off duty she prefers one-piece blue dresses with a long skirt, her Darcsen shawl and a sash that matches the patterns of the shawl.

Rank: Private
Class: Scout (although she can fill the Shocktrooper role in a pinch).
Weapons and Equipment:
Gallian S-1
Ragnaid
Viper-E-9
One B-Type M1 Grenade
A set of two Trench Spikes, for climbing and stabbing imps.

Personality: Fina can be likened to a kicked puppy or a deer fawn, a person with a rather skittish disposition that even struggles to make eye contact with acquaintances and apologizes compulsively. Fina is so used to discrimination as a Darcsen that she doesn't even try to fight back when treated poorly, instead making apologies and trying to make herself scarce. Beyond her crippling shyness and low self esteem, Fina does have a gentle, generous personality, and she is much more intelligent and perceptive than she lets on. She also remembers the people who make bonds with her, and the gentleness received... and woe betide who tries to harm her friends or loved ones in her presence. For every inch as apologetic and as shy fina is, she has another of steel-clad temper. Fina's hand does not tremble when it comes to fighting for her squad, and she will not relent no matter how long it takes or how difficult is the adversary. She also likes to be out of focus from the general socializing, and more than often people will fail to notice her presence, or she herself will inadvertendly sneak up on others. She is also fond of climbing and outdoor activities in general.

Bio: Fina was born to a Darcsen peddler and a flower seller, and as such she enjoyed a lot of freedom during her childhood. She however, learned all too soon to not start trouble, and always adopt a submissive and patient attitude, judging from her parents interactions with other people. Fina was bullied in school, but she didn't even try once to fight it back. Instead, she just tried to avoid her tormentors the best she could, and seek refuge outdoors. She eventually became so good at hiding and being scarce her bullies grew bored of her, and started to pick on other targets.

Fina did get good marks on school, although she preferred to spend time with her family and enjoying the peace of nature rather than any serious occupation. Her teachers did react somewhat as her stating she wanted to be a "housewife" or a "woods witch" as future career, though. As she grew up, Fina started to help both of her parents business as well as doing some babysitting for her two younger sisters. Unable to be a saleswoman due to crippling shyness, she nevertheless was rather helpful at handwork and child rearing.

And then, the Empire came to her town. Caught before they could evacuate, Fina could only watch as her parents and siblings all were separated and sent into concentration camps. It didn't matter how much she begged and apologized, they wouldn't let her family go. Or let her go with her family, as some of the soldiers had some plans to keep her as the garrison's pet servant. Fina apologized one last time, before growing silent. She then made herself scarce and unnoticed, and grabbed one of the rifles of the Imperials. Before they could react, she had already killed two of them. The remaining Imperials were felled by a timely intervention of the militia. Out of a feeling of gratitude, Fina actually signed up for the militia as well, with the hope of eventually finding her missing family.

RP Sample:

Fina kept her head lowered, her hands clasped together in front of her as some sort of apologetic bow. Her feet kept drawing circles on the ground and she was biting her lip, obviously struggling to try and get a grip of her temper and failing to do so. The street was crowded, far too crowded. She grasped tightly her basket, a fragant smell of narcissus hitting her nostrils.

"Um...flowers, does anybody...want?" She finally managed to piece together, in a rather nervous and low voice. She knew she wasn't cut for it, but she was still trying her hardest. She gritted her teeth. "FLO...wers for sale." She tried raising her voice, but she gave up halfway. She kept staring at the ground, shuffling beneath the crowd. But eventually she bumped into someone.

"Damned Darcsen filth! Watch your steps!"

An irate man's voice rang in her ears, as her basket was forcefully swatted from her arm, its contents scattering everywhere in the ground, only to be treaded upon.

"Aaah.." Fina let a small, weak wail upon seeing the flowers whom she had been entrusted being mercilessly ruined, as she struggled to get whatever was still intact back in the basket. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..." She was quick to put an apology as she doubled her pace picking the flowers and putting them back into the basket.

A child's cry rang into her ears. Surprised, she raised her head and managed to find the source of grief. A couple of kids were playing with a ball, which had gotten stuck on a tree. Fina quickly raised to her feet and rushed to their side. Without thinking twice, she left her basket in the ground and grasped the rough bark of the tree. Even with her skirt on, she was a deft climber, and it took her almost no effort to reach the ball. Jumping off the tree deftly, she presented the ball to the astonished boy.

"Um...your ball." Fina said before breaking eye contact rather quickly. "I'm sorry..." She finally added, back into her meek persona, her cheeks suddenly reddened upon the realization of what she had done. Grabbing her basket, she ran away from the market, not waiting to find out the young kid's reaction.

[User]
James kept his rifle level with the girl, listening to her explanation. Squad 11...odd that someone else would be ahead of them, but then he wasn't in Squad 11 so he didn't know their orders, and from the sounds of it, if this was true, he should be damn glad he wasn't. Still, he wasn't sure how legitimate this was...Bah, to hell with it, Can't risk getting caught. Lowering his rifle, he beckoned with a jerk of his head to follow him, after Lilly suggested it, and led the quartet of soldiers back to the APC where he addressed the Sergeant.

"Says she's a survivor of an ambush that hit Squad 11, Sarge. Want me to take another Scout and make sure the way is clear?" Already he was remembering his training over the last few years. Scouts were the best choice for, well, scouting, and they stood a better chance at spotting an ambush before it happened than anyone else. Besides, two scouts left plenty of people to keep up watch duty and PFC Hunt could get out of staring at the landscape while blazing through it and actually try to see the enemy. "If there are Imps in the area, we gotta neutralize 'em anyways before we can move on."

[Assistant]
Brenna
Lilly came by shortly after, though Brenna didn't turn her head to acknowledge her presence. Keeping her head and gun trained on the private, and unless the sergeant said otherwise, she wouldn't lower the weapon. Even though Hunt lowered his, she wasn't about to be caught off guard. It was obvious she was now very cautious of lone Gallian soldiers proclaiming they are the last member of another squad.

She followed the private, ready to react to any sudden and out of line moves. And it was plainly seen that Brenna still had her gun and eyes trained on the person is question.

Celeste
Celeste had completely spaced on everything till now, and felt it was a bad impression of her abilities when she fumbled her lance around as she scrambled to an alert state. The gunshots seemed to have varying effects on the squad, some like Hunt and Sykora had both quickly scrambled off the side to investigate, others like The Mountain had taken up arms and started scanning. Then there was those that were like her, off guard and scrambling to even hold their weapon. But as suddenly as the shots happened, they stopped after what sounded like Hunt getting into the fray. Either he stepping in wrong, or he finished them.

And it seemed like he finished them as not only he came back, but Sykora and Lilly also came back to the APC. But with a fourth person, and Brenna's current attitude told some of the story before Hunt spoke up.

"A survivor?" Celeste looked to the Sergeant. "How do you want to go about this? PFC Sykora doesn't seem all to trustworthy of this person, and Private Hunt wants to take another scout and go scouting ahead." Celeste's attention turned the survivor, she only looked over the girl. Nothing seemed out of place to her, except the missing weapon and the sword. "What's with swords today?" She whispered to herself. "Hey PFC Sykora, lower your weapon would you? If she does pull anything stupid, there are more than enough people here to retaliate." And it seemed to have a small effect as her face didn't look so angry anymore and her finger slid off the trigger. It's something I guess...

[User]
The man that had confronted her first relented and signaled her to follow him. She knew how suspicious she must seem under these circumstances, but... she wasn't really in the mindset to think about that. She missed her squad, and she wanted to retrieve her father's Lance.

The man that had 'greeted' her spoke of sending a scouting party. She addresses the man Hunt addressed, assuming him to be the commanding officer, her. "Private Regan Durandal, sir. 11th squad was scouting ahead to make sure your path was clear when we were ambushed. We were... ambushed... if you decide to send a scouting party, I'd like to go with. I left my Lance, a Laancar-SH M01, and I'd like to retrieve it. I'd be dead if I didn't leave it."

[Assistant]
As the APC came to a stop, Andrew didn't seem to react in an overly major way. While others jumped over the sides or scrambled to get weapons ready or even just kept a look out for hostiles, he placed his Lance on his shoulder and seemed to relax a little bit as he waited. His logic on the matter was that until someone shouted 'Tank!' or 'Lancer!' all jumping out of the APC would do was make him a target.

When the scouting party returned plus one, PFC Macdonald listened in silence until the matter of what to do with the new girl came up. Her suggestion to go with the scouting team to recover her lance finally caused him to speak. "Sergent, if I may we should disarm and tie this girl up and keep her under watch until we can get in contact with the powers that be and confirm that she is who she claims she is. For all we know she's an imperial spy that will murder our scouts once they are far enough away and lead us into an ambush... at the very least she could report to the Imperial forces that we are in the area."

[User]
James listened to the MacDonald, mulling over what he'd said in his head. He'd already considered the possibility of her being an Imp saboteur who would sell them out the first chance she got, but had decided against it for two reasons; the first was that sword, it was foreign enough that he doubted they could get one easily. The second was in all the stories he'd been told about and all the videos he'd watched, the saboteur was packing standard issue Gallian weapons. So rather than risk them tying up one of their own, he spoke up. He did agree with her not going though, last thing a pair of scouts needed was a Lancer playing tag-a-long. "This doesn't feel like an Imperial set up. I mean, for starters that sword is too foreign. No way they'd get that easily and then field it to fool a bunch of Gallians that may or may not be coming. Then there's the fact that if she was a set up and this an ambush, they're waitin' an awfully long time to spring it."

James shrugs and rests his rifle against his shoulder, barrel pointing up. "Not to mention we don't know the other Squads' orders. But, I do agree with not takin' her along. Scouts move faster in pairs. Besides, what Imperial would take a piece of Gallian equipment when they're positive their stuff is better? We can get the lance, we just need the all clear to get going."

[Assistant]
Fina kept fidgetting all the way inside the APC, her own weapon rattling muffled by the APC's engine. She had shrivelled to the max, obviously hesitant and wary of the others inside the cramped space. She could start hyperventilating at any given moment, she never liked people this awfully close. And then, two things happened. Sergeant Harald spoke, inquiring about what they thought. Fina felt conflicted. On one way, she couldn't bring herself to break from her shell with so many people, on the other the sergeant was a nice person. At least at face value.

"I-I'll dodododo...my best." was Fina's sudden yet hushed and barely noticeable answer."Looks preprepretty hard. Peopeopeople might die today." She said, clutching her weapon.

And then gunfire shots were heard, following by a small commotion. Fina gripped her weapon tightly, her eyes gazing at the people who had jumped out of the APC without a second thought and then to a certain newcomer. With a rather uncoventional getup as well. And then some of the other people were dismissing her as an imperial spy. While others wanted to get the lance this girl claimed she had lost.

She slapped herself hard, trying to get a grip. "Are we re-really sure? We couldcould re-really use another lance bebecause of the tatanks. But we couldcould lose two scouts, too." Fina added, eyeing the over eager Hunt. "I'm sosorry, but it had to be sa-said."