[System]
Margrave
Alias: Margrave
Age: 17
Alignment: Wannabe Antihero, formerly Wannabe Villain
Loyalty: Unofficial Ward
Appearance: A white male of lanky proportions, 6'1", most often clothed in dark colors. His features, from his nose to his jaw to his cheekbones, are angular, and his nose itself is rather prominent. By nature his brown hair is poofy, and he keeps it styled upward. His earlobes are attached, his eyes are a murky brown, and he has slightly yellowed teeth. His favorite attire includes a dark green high-collared trench coat that belonged to his grandfather and a black baseball cap.
History: Elliot came into the world in a rough period for his family. Poor, without a house, and constantly on the move, his parents did their best to love him and raise him while teaching him important lessons about life. Elliot learned quickly, becoming a very serious and reserved child. As the years went by, his family persisted in a state of continuous change. For a few months he and his parents might be living in an apartment or condo, and immediately after be back on the road in a station wagon. When Elliot was four, the trio finally settled, and Elliot went to school. Though not very social at all, he excelled in his classes, displaying streaks of perfectionism. Knowing that he needed something else to work on, his parents enrolled him in a kickboxing class, and he took to it like a fish to water. Eventually he found himself on the receiving end of some bullies, but rather than silently put up with their abuse he displayed a newfound confidence. One bully provoked him into punching, but even though Elliot missed, his enemies decided to find easier prey. All throughout middle school, nothing really changed.

Only in high school did he start to open up, his defensive shell cracking to allow dry humor and the occasional hilarious remark to seep through. Meanwhile, he continued to study, balancing a life of school, video games, and hanging out with friends. He saw no problem in trying beer or a cigarette when pressured to but, finding neither remotely to his liking, he never tried them again. Elliot instead dedicated himself to a new goal: scholarship. Though his family's condition had improved immensely from his early youth, there was not a single sliver of a chance he'd be able to attend college. In scholarship, though, he found a solution: a full-ride to a local university, if only he continue to excel. In his sophomore and junior years he did exactly that, but a dark and brooding foe lay on the horizon. Confronted with Calculus II, a college-level course, in senior year, he was stumped for the first time. Having become accustomed to overcoming every obstacle easily, Elliot grew uncharacteristically distraught disturbingly quickly. He grew more and more crazed in his desperation, knowing that his future lay on the line. Yet his pride would not allow him to cheat. Though he enlisted the teacher for help, he continued to struggle, and at the end of the second semester opened a yellow envelope with shaking hands to discover that he'd fallen afoul of the cutoff for the full-ride scholarship by only a small margin.

Elliot stared at the paper, mouth agape and eyes wide. In his quest to get a passing grade, he'd practically severed ties with all of his friends. He'd staked everything on this—and now he'd failed. With a shattered confidence, knowing that he'd doomed himself to a rotten life and disappointed everyone who knew him, he went berserk. Before, he'd made certain to keep excelling by punishing himself when he failed, so what came next seemed obvious. Seizing a metal pan, he smashed it against his own forehead. The impact dazed him and the held-back tears poured forth, but he did it again. Two more times he cracked the pan against his head, not really caring if he lived or not. The fourth time, however, the pan broke off. Elliot didn't discover why until he awoke an hour later to the sound of his mother coming into the apartment. Deaf to her shriek of fear, he touched the broken, plastic pot that lay before him before passing out again.

After recovering, Elliot was advised to go to therapy, but he shrugged it off. With school over with, he took to spending a lot of time outside, exploring the city. He'd discovered something new about himself, and in doing so he changed. A new attitude had taken him over, forming a sort of persona. He acted strangely and extravagantly without any restraint. He continued to work as a junior instructor for his kickboxing studio, albeit with a shocking new persona that the kids thought was pretty awesome, and he earned enough money to live off of. Out of the studio he sought something different. After a painstaking search, he attempted to get in with the local supervillain gang, only to be conspired against and brutally kicked out for his lame attitude and power. With no other options, he sought the local Wards. Perhaps its leader took pity on Elliot, but nevertheless he finally found somewhere he felt as if he belonged, though he'd never show it.

Personality
Motivations: Elliot wants, more than anything, to be recognized. The road starts with getting attention and ends with getting famous—preferably infamous. He wants people to know his name, and to respect him.
Sexuality: Straight
Likes: * Looking cool
* Beating others at petty competitions
* Taking advantage of others
* Company
* Potato crisps
* Exercise
* Flaring up with no real reason
* Playing 'lone wolf' DPS characters in games
* Action movies, especially martial arts movies

Dislikes: * Being alone
* Being ignored
* Being wrong
* His lame power
* People who are full of themselves
* Goody-goodies
* Artificial sweeteners
* Support players who whine a lot in games

Derangement: To Elliot, the only way to become renowned and respected is to be respected through fear. To that end, he goes to frequently absurd lengths to speak and act mysteriously and threateningly, though more often than not this comes across as acting confusingly and obnoxiously. He cannot conceive of a different way to get famous and is completely ignorant of his own shortcomings.

Parahumanism
Skills: Elliot is a fast runner, with somewhat higher than usual stamina. He's pretty smart, and can produce a sense of humor from time to time, but what he's really good at is pissing other people off. When it comes to ideas, schemes, plots, plans, and so forth that might bamboozle, infuriate, or enrage others, Elliot's the guy. He's also got a hint of a British accent that tends to intrigue people who aren't familiar with it. From kickboxing lessons he's taken since he was eleven, he's got notable fist-fighting ability, as well as the strength to go with it, though his pain tolerance is surprisingly low.
Classification: Striker
Details: Upon touching an inanimate object, Elliot can turn it into a toy version of itself. This may include substance change (for instance, to plastic) size change, and so forth. The rate of toyification is tied to his mental state; when he's calm, the transformations go at an unremarkable speed, but if he's excited or scared, the process can be sped up by several times depending on intensity. Objects will tend to turn into toy versions of themselves that replicate or at least resemble existing toys. Someone's mech suit might, then, turn into a Transformer. A few traits are shared among all of the toys created by Elliot's power: they are simple, they are destructible, and they are harmless. An anvil, turned into a plastic toy, could be easily crushed. Elliot has some control over the change; IE he could choose whether to turn a gun into a Nerf gun, a Super Soaker, or a tiny action-figure accessory.
Limitations: This toy-transformation power can only emanate from Elliot's hands. He wouldn't be able to defend himself from anything threatening to harm his body if he couldn't physically touch it with his hands. Additionally, if one of his toys is moved out of close proximity to him, it will quickly begin to revert to its original form. This also applies to toy versions of things he might want to use himself, like vehicles or hidden weapons. Of course, this power is also of very little use in direct combat with other parahumans.
Equipment: At all times, Elliot has in some pocket or another handfuls of foam knives and action figure weapons. He's also got a little canteen and a bag of beef jerky, which he enjoys. His heavy clothing might also provide a little defense, but it's no substitute for anything resembling actual armor. However, he does wear cloth shin-guards and forearm guards beneath his clothes when out and about, which are valuable when fighting unarmed. As a Ward, he's also got a Protectorate Communication Earpiece and a holographic computer interfacing tool, courtesy of Decoy.

[User]
The PRT Building@Eklispe

Ruben stared at the curtain with a rather curious face, confused whether or not it was an actual trick or just nonsense. He guessed it was nonsense and treated it as such until he instinctively flinched backwards as Jackson shot a fist out at his ear. That genuinely surprised him, as he was expecting something like a rabbit just appear under the curtains. Ruben recovered to a sitting position, clearly agitated, and he responded to Jackson with an appropriate line. "What the heck?!"

[Assistant]
WispSheila Hopkins

Rocker Warehouse

---

Was he telling the truth? That it had been just luck? That would… be extremely relieving, it just meant she had suffered the consequences of staying in a villain-district a bit too long. There was always the possibility that he was a good liar, but he had spoken about it so confidently, she felt it was the truth. Or maybe she was just easy to trick, but she didn't want to consider that.

That said, if that was it, then her initial purpose with coming here was complete. They wouldn't be able to find her again. Their new place was a lot harder to find for the Rockers. So, she could just vanish right now, and then that was it. No more trouble with villains. There was a numerous second silence and nothingness for Shatterpoint as Wisp considered this.

… … … No. Not yet. She had a unique opportunity here. She had to look into what she could find out on this road. Just in case she found an opportunity to cause real damage to the world of villains in Denver. Unearth some conspiracies or so. If it turned bad, she'd just vanish. Yeah. She could always vanish.

As for the difference between Wisp and the robber…

i will say that while i'm invisible myself
i don't have the means to find someone else who is invisible as well

That said. Onto the matter about communicating.

i will not permit you to have a technological link to me
as it could be traced
and so i cannot permit immediate communication
we will meet up at predetermined times
ensuring i know the next time and place before i leave

as such, when and where would you like to meet next?

It was possible for them to put a trap for her if they knew where they were going to meet up. Wisp was aware of this, but, this'd have to do. She wanted no links whatsoever with this team. She didn't know what kind of orders they'd have for her, but their nature would determine her future with this cooperation. There was a very real chance they'd say her orders and then never hear from her again.

[User]
Running, was it? Elliot narrowed his eyes. This new instructor was underestimating him. What kind of provocateur, after all, wanted for light feet? What shadowed emissary of the night did not emulate the majestic wolf of the wilds in feats of endurance? How could such a mighty beast, mysterious and silently powerful, not forge onward at the head of the pack? Yet, when command issued its missions, the capable operator obeyed without question. Without a moment's errant hesitation, Elliot sprinted into action to lead the Wards in their circuit.

Scarcely had a few moments passed before a shout diluted his haze of antiheroic determination. Over the pounding of his own feet, Elliot heard the yell of Protean, albeit oddly strangled. Nobody who did the things that nobody else could do, however, could afford waver in their duty, so Elliot kept his eyes ahead. It came as a surprise, then, when something large, feathered, and wholly unexpected hurtled overhead. He flinched on instinct even before the creature's tail smacked him between the eyes, and instantly the toymaker broiled in anger. He reasoned that this bizarre and infuriating beast was Protean, set on bothering the Wards while they exercised, and the combination of surprise and pain twisted his face into a mask of range. The shapeshifter set to laughing, and Elliot could practically feel the steam bursting from his ears. What the hell!? His inner monologue revved up and cut loose. What kind of retarded two-year-old does something like that!? This insipid moron actually thinks it's fun to mess with people like this? I hadn't realized we'd be undertaking special training today—learning how to cope with monumental assholes. A wise Ward kept his true thoughts to himself, however, and Elliot held back his burgeoning rage to persevere in his task. Even if this guy is strong enough to warrant being a part of this organization, who sends the class clown to ruin the day of moping teenagers?

His focus shifted to Protean's ultimatum. With the utter ease of keeping his feet moving and his ears listening at once, Elliot was able to hear the shapeshifter's pronouncement, including the punishment. Beneath his breath, he snarked, "Embattle a tyrant, deprived of backup, with nary a plaything? Not a chance in hell. If my mind falters, he can whale on me all he wishes for all I care. No paragon of twilight could bear to honor this farce." Yet, his keen mind cut into the proffered riddles. The first one he could make neither heads nor tails of, but the second seemed more approachable. What travels around the world and has corners? A box? A postcard? No...no! He laughed out loud despite himself and placed a hand in front of his face as if to shield the onlookers from the splendor of his own radiant intellect. "Hah! Achieved all on my lonesome. Google, where is thy sting? The answer is a stamp!" He returned to his steady jog, miffed that Tulpa had beaten him to the punch. In fact, he was surprised that she'd lasted so long in this exercise. Could it be that one of these goody-two-shoes nearly rivaled him in physical ability? Impossible! Elliot kept up a steady clip, maintaining a position just ahead of her to show her what-for. Now, however, he found himself thinking of who would be forced to suffer a fight with Protean. How fitting was it, after all, that the dumbest wannabe hero would be the one to receive a smackdown from a person she was supposed to look up to? A rude awakening, but a necessary one! Revelation's light falls upon us all, sooner or later.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Appearance:

Rank: Private
Class: Lancer

Weapons and Equipment: Lancaar-SH M01 and an old, far eastern sword

Personality: A peace-loving, flirtatious woman with a fierce sense of justice. She carries with her mannerisms from a foreign land, though her heart embraces the peaceful land of Gallia.
Bio: Regan emigrated from her home to Gallia some years ago, her family seeking to escape involvement in the war. Their home country was one that had decided to take a side in the war. Regan agreed with the move, but for her own reasons. Her father was originally a Gallian citizen, smoothing over their immigration into the country. It's where she obtained her mortar lance.

RP Sample: Fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh. A young woman stood in her yard, swinging a wooden sword overhead and shuffle-stepping forward and back as she did. She'd been at it for ten minutes now, and with a final step forward and swing, she took a deep breath while resting her sword against the ground, her hands laying over each other on the end of the hilt. "Huff... huff... whew." She takes a moment to gaze out over the grassy fields that surround her home now. The change of scenery was really pleasant, but at the same time, it was strange to be in a foreign land. Well... she supposed it wasn't foreign anymore. She was a citizen of Gallia now, this was her home. Though, the foreign martial clothing she wore would have most people fooled. Now that she's done with her morning practice, perhaps she should change and go into town? Bathing might be good, too, before she goes.

"Mama, I'm going to town!" The young lady calls as she slips her shoes on at the door and steps out of her home. They didn't live far, and the walk was very pleasant. She wondered who she'd find out and about today... though she should probably go with some purpose in mind, instead of just aimlessly wandering. She'd start by going to the bakery and purchasing herself something to eat, after her workout. From there... eeeeh... something would probably happen? She'd figure it out, but she had something to start with.

As the young lady walks, she gazes at the river along the road, admiring the clear waters and the fish within. Such a beautiful, peaceful place...

[User]
Corporal James Hunt|Battle of Vasel
@Little_ninja@Kitsune

James had been leading his fireteam behind the tank when he heard the telltale sound of artillery shells falling. And unfortunately, he had no way to warn Snider. "OFF THE STREET NOW!" He tackled the person next to him down and hoped the other two listened. He scrambled for a doorway and kicked it open, pulling his tackled fire team member inside. As the artillery rained down, he watched the tank flip and listened for something, anything, from it's commander and the others under his command. Soon enough, radio chatter came in and he frowned. Snider and his crew needed help, but he wasn't going to let any one else get hurt. "This is Corporal Hunt to all Gallian units that can hear me. Keep pressing the attack and stay in cover. I'll get our downed tanker and his crew." Rushing out at the end of his address, he scooped up Snider first and got him inside, realizing for the first time that the person he'd tackled was none other than Fairglaive. Thank the Valkyrur.

"Start patching him up, I'll be back." He ran back out, avoiding the artillery and getting blown up by the Valkyrur's grace only. Reaching the tank once more, he climbed inside and started working on freeing the other two tankers.

[Assistant]
PFC Colin Nelson

Colin's world exploded, the fiery immolation and shudder of impact drove him into the ground a few feet away from where he had been standing not seconds earlier. He did his best to collect himself and follow Hunt and the rest into the building next to them. He gritted his teeth and let out a few yelps of pain. He nearly dropped his rifle, and needed to reload it. He began to do it methodically as the next events transpired.

Colin gave Hunt an unsteady salute as the Corporal went out to grab the Tank crew. "
Come on, come on, come on,
" he breathed, fumbling for the bullets as he reloaded his gun too slow for his liking. A sudden and swift cocking action, and grasping the handle of the weapon just in time. Crack Crack. Two enemy soldiers that had been advancing upon the fallen tank were shot and killed.

[User]
Private Glaive
@POOHEAD189@Little_ninja

Alex was walking in formation with the other two, her hands clasped onto the claimed SMG tightly as she looked around for any ambushes. However how could she have possibly been on guard for steel rain falling from the sky, sending explosive death down onto their very location! Her ears picked up on the far off tell tale sound of cannons firing, but before she could even make a move she was suddenly tackled to the ground. This combined with the shell shock that rocked the very earth had her dazed for a moment, before she looked up towards James. A small blush had formed over her face from the embarrassment of having to be saved like that, though a glare was also clear as she waited for him to get off of her! "Enjoying yourself Corporal?" She asked before she soon got up after he got off of her.

Straightening her uniform she released the safety on her weapons and then dashed off after Hunt to the end of their address, kneeling down and covering him with some spraying fire down the street. The feeling of the imperial weapon in her hand was familiar, like it was just the right weapon to be holding... She knew why it was, the higher caliber and more kickback was something her body had built a resistance too, that was why she thought Galian weapons to be so light... Shaking her head she looked down to Snider and then nodded to Hunt "Understood." Moving into the near by building she would apply whatever first aid she could, though she was no medic that was for sure, she was designed to be a commando after all.

Grabbing a near by chair she set it up by the window facing the tank, using it to prop her leg so that she could give covering fire down the street without having to lean out too far for support. However of course someone had to try and be clever, as her eyes drifted to the glass of the window she could see a imperial sneaking across the street wall from the other building! The shelling meant that there was no need for knives and silence, so she fully expected a nade soon enough. Pulling back her gun as if she was reloading she readied herself, and sure enough he tried just that! Reaching out with both hands she gripped the hand attempting to peek from the side of the window and drop the explosive. Yanking it free from the unsuspecting hand she tossed it outside while at the same time she pulled the man right through the window using her toned and muscular figure! Drawing her pistol she shoved it into the mans mouth as she leaned down to him, glaring down to him intimidatingly as the nade exploded outside sending glass and shrapnel over her harmlessly. For a moment her finger twitched but... it took pause "Stay, there." Too scared to do much else, she went about stripping him down and wrapping his own belt around his wrists to bind him. With that she would go back to providing covering fire.

[Assistant]
Private First Class Cecilia Rousseau
@Zarkun@Kitsune

Following Hunt behind the tank, Cecilia heard the piercing cry of the artillery shots and instinctively dive rolled towards a building. After closing a lot of distance, and seeing Hunt kick open a door, Cecilia hurried in behind him. The thundering explosions of the artillery shots rung Cecilia's ears. The tank had been flipped, and requested for help. Hunt started by securing Snider. Cecilia started off with returning fire at some of the Imperials in the windows.

As Hunt went to help the other two members in the tank, Cecilia followed, providing fire cover. The artillery was still going, and the the shockwaves upon impact were making her feel unpleasant. The shots were still covering the general area they were in. "Oi Hunt! Can you hurry it up!?" Cecilia cried out, ducking behind the tank for cover, before appearing on the other side to shoot the Imps.

[User]
Private Durandal
Had her senses been dulled from all the gunfire? Had she let her guard down, letting an attacker sneak up on her? Or, perhaps, it was not something she could have perceived, after all? Whatever the reason, Regan found herself face-first in the dirt, pain radiating in her body. Her eyes rested on the armor protecting her wrist and forearm, and she felt thankful. But... what was she doing again? She was fighting... right. Recks and Houzer and Ladmour had reported in from scouting the last location for Imperial ambush. They were on their way back to base, and they hit a mine that hadn't been there before. Humiliating... they had been ambushed, when they specifically were looking for ambushes. All but herself had perished... Another squad picked her up, and here she was. She wasn't ready to die here.

"Nng..." Sword... check. Gun... check. Hokay. Time to get up She took a breath, carefully, and began to push her hand into the ground, rolling herself enough to one side to bring up a knee. She paused, catching her breath before she repeated with her other hand and leg, and then she pushed herself upright. "Aahg. Gah." Little more. With effort, she swung her mortar lance around and used it to push herself to her feet. She could hear Jatmoore... She followed the voice, pushing herself to relative safety where she would collapse. "Nnn..." She coughed a few times, ending with a bit of blood. "Ooh... that's... not good."


[System]
BASIC
Goes By (Nicknames): Maleficent (alter-ego); The Winged She-Elf; She-Devil, Devil's Incarnate (by Thorin); Delva, God-Mother (by Fili & Kili).
Royal Titles: Lady of Ambaróna/"Fangorn".
Other Titles: First Commander of Isengard, Sauron's Most-Trusted Servant (as Maleficent); The Watcher; Guardian of Durin's Folk.
Age: 5,739 (Looks 37-38)
Gender: Female
Race: Elven Hybrid (Sindarin and Noldor Bloodlines)
Other Bloodlines: Silvan and Teleri (Through her grandfather's relatives)
20/20 Elvish (10/20 Sindarin, 6/20 Noldor, 2/20 Silvan, 2/20 Teleri)

APPEARANCE
Face Claim: Angelina Jolie
Hair Color: Medium Brown
Eye Color: Yellow-Green (Boldly-luminous when furious/angry)
Skin Tone: Creamy
Height: 5' 8"
Weight: 119 lbs
Body Build: Slim

Finger Claws:

Curved Daggers:

Combat Outfit:

Dresses for Two Towers/Return of the King

Wing-Cloak

PERSONALITY
OVERALL PERSONALITY
Likes: Humans, Elves, Dwarves, Hobbits, Ents, Happiness, Animals, Peace, Music, Plant-Life, Training, Flying/Sightseeing, Yearly Seasons.
Dislikes: Death, War, Chaos, Greed, Spiders, Maleficent, Orcs, Sorrow.
Strengths: Fighting/Combat, Flight, Knowledge, Wisdom, Harsh Temperature Resistance, Protective/Affectionate Nature, Keen Senses, Agility.
Other Powers: Wallcrawling, Banshee Scream, Enhanced Strength, Telepathy, Telekinesis.
Weaknesses: Stubbornness, Loneliness, Anger, Vindictiveness, Split Personality.
Fears: Sauron, Losing Family.

Elegant | Unpredictable | Capable | Headstrong | Mysterious | Maternal | Observant | Intelligent

Everyone believed Saeril to be born as a creature of chaos and pure evil, but they just do not know the true story. In actuality, Saeril is a good-hearted, nurturing individual, who highly valued the peaceful natures of Middle-Earth, whilst having the passion to support and protect its various realms and inhabitants. Born during the First Age, Saeril is a strong-willed she-elf, and the last of an ancient Elven clan from Fangorn Forest. A very intelligent, loyal-to-the-bone perfectionist, who stays true to her word, she focuses on finding the best intentions for others, to the point of making great judgment calls, as much as willingly risking her life, in the process.

From the despair of her devastating past, following the Deceiver's corruption upon her mind, Saeril is truly hurt and very lonely inside, having to be caused by the guilt and horror of her cruel and malicious deeds, as well as the amount of pain and trauma she had to endure. After being rescued by Gandalf the Grey, she was left "more Orc than Elf", while her other alter-ego "Maleficent", a psychopathic representation of her corruption, still lingers within her mind. However, after Sauron's defeat, this other personality dissipated, giving back her natural Elven beauty.

The ultimate goal was to redeem and dissipate this inner darkness from within, but she never anticipated it to be a challenge when she rekindled herself with her Dwarven godsons Fili and Kili, whilst having to closely bond with a young she-elf named Yavanna, whom she had grown to love and deeply care for, as if she were her own daughter. Determined to protect both the Sons of Durin and the Bright Star of Middle-Earth, Saeril will become extremely aggressive and violent, whenever someone threatens, or has inflicted any sort of harm to them; as this contrasts her more-gentle nature, she will be blunt and gladly let the offenders know the price. In addition, since witnessing the death of Fili, she will go to great lengths, if it means to prevent Kili and Yavanna from falling under the same fate.

Both as "Maleficent" and herself, Saeril is a ruthless, immensely-formidable warrior in her own right; despite withholding a certain elegance, she's truly a very deadly foe for anyone who'd dare challenge her personally. A vast majority of her strength came from the enchantment Sauron had placed upon her, as well as the supernatural connection he was able to forge between them; even while she was formerly his chief of the Isengard legion, she possessed a number of abilities that have allowed her to stand her own, and even overpower the most skilled of individuals. Due to this connection, she's able to enhance these abilities. She also shows herself to have great telepathic power; either taught or naturally inherited from her parents and/or ancestors, she can read the minds of others, conjure up visions through physical touch, and receive thoughts from a certain distance.

Saeril will not hesitate to comfort, guide, or advise others when they seem to need it. Proud, proper, and almost-completely fearless, she will never bow to anyone she disagrees with. Evident by her relationship with Thorin Oakenshield, it's complicated when it comes to terms of the trust; she betrayed him (as he claimed) by "stealing" the starlight jewels from his treasure hoard for King Thranduil. Although she was claimed as not "trusting", Saeril openly showed that she cared a great deal for him, saving his life multiple times on different occasions.

BACKGROUND
Place of Birth: Fangorn Forest (Also known as Ambaróna).
Family:
- Kili Durin (Godson; Alive) (Dwarf)
- Fili Durin (Godson; Deceased) (Dwarf)
- Dis Durin (Co-parent; Alive) (Dwarf)
- Vili Durin (Co-parent; Deceased) (Dwarf)
- Hermia (Mother; Deceased) (Noldor Elf)
- Lysander (Father; Deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Ulla (Aunt; Deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Kinloch (Uncle; Deceased) (Sindarin Elf)
- Kriva (Grandmother; Deceased) (Noldor Elf)
- Disgla (Grandfather; Deceased) (Silvan/Teleri Elf)
- Fidnai (Great-Grandmother; Deceased) (Teleri Elf)
- Sahov (Great-Grandfather; Deceased) (Silvan Elf)

Other Relations:
- Gandalf the Grey/White (Mentor/Friend; Alive) (Maiar)
- Thorin Oakenshield (Friend; Deceased) (Dwarf)
- Aragorn II Elessar (Friend; Alive) (Man)
- Lord Elrond (Acquaintance; Alive) (Half-Elf)
- Tauriel (Acquaintance; Alive) (Silvan Elf)
- Haldir (Acquaintance; Alive) (Silvan Elf)
- Gimli (Acquaintance; Alive) (Dwarf)
- Thranduil Greenleaf (Acquaintance/Friend; Alive) (Sindarin Elf)
- Legolas Greenleaf (Acquaintance/Friend; Alive) (Sindarin Elf)
- Yavanna Undomiel (Friend/Daughter-Figure; Alive) (Elven Hybrid; Mortal/Sindarin/Noldor)
- Bilbo Baggins, Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrine Took, and Meriadoc Brandybuck (Acquaintances/Friends; Alive) (Hobbits)
- Azog the Defiler & Bolg (Enemies; Deceased) (Gundabad Orcs)

[User]
Saeril may have been the only one who would tell Yavanna about Gandalf's plan to depart early that morning. She, Kili, and Fili were probably the only ones thrilled that the princess was able to join them albeit secretly. Though the winged she-elf did wonder on what Lord Elrond would think about her daughter sneaking away. However, she was internally proud that their talk last night inspired her. Or did it not? Fili smiled at the newcomer, and his heart fluttered to see her smiling once again, apart from last night's experience. "In that case, your grace, be on your guard", Saeril advised once again, before the company continued moving.

A few hours later,

Across great terrain, they came across a moutain pass. The winged she-elf was nowhere in sight with them, at least not at the moment. Since this violent thunderstorm started, the conditions have turned highly dangerous upon the treacherous mountain. Now the she-elf has been here before, and it would be best if they stuck together on this one. Appearing from the deep chasm, she hovered at the cliff's edge, wearing her black horned headdress to protect her hair. As Saeril had said that previous night, her wings never tired, and she didn't struggle with pain.

"Look out!", Dwalin howled as the giant rock came flying towards them, hitting the edge of the mountain, shattering. To give them better protection, Saeril hovered herself over the group, and her huge wings covered most of them like an umbrella from the falling debris. A few rocks hit her back, but she didn't let her strength wane.

[Assistant]
It wasn't the first time, Yavanna had sneaked out on an adventure. Even if her father would worry; she was sure that Gandalf or someone would reassure him; she was doing a good deed. And she had longed to get out of Rivendell...seeing another bit of the world, she had not yet seen. Yavanna smiled warmly at young Fili and his brother. Before her smile was aimed at Saeril. "Of course." she said softly; with a nod towards Saeril's warning.

Yavanna had kept beside the two Durin boys, and Saeril at the front. As she led the company through the paths she knew. A few of the other Dwarfs, were glad to have new company of Yavanna along with them. But they probably would not show it, like Kili, Fili and Saeril did.

The young she-elf talked among their little group. Kili was curious about her life in Rivendell; telling him a few stories, The time seemed to pass.

---

---

With the thunder storm gaining on them. Yavanna had her hood up again. The path across the cliffs were rather tight...so they had to go one after the other...carefully. Keeping their backs to the back of the cliffs. As a few rocks crumbled beneath them...Biblo's footing slipped...almost knocking Yavanna down with him...whom was beside him.

Kili was one of the few whom reached out, grabbing a hold of the Princess and Bilbo. Balin caught Bilbo pulling him back towards them. "Careful Master Baggins." Just then, the rocks came hurling towards them. Yavanna gasped, as she looked at Saeril worried, seeing the debris falling on her back. "Are you alright?" The young elf asked her.

"This is no thunderstorm..." Balin breathed out. Just then in the not so far distance...they could see it. A giant made of rocks, was hurling another stone.

"My god...the legends are true! Giants! Storm Giants!"

[User]
Saeril was doing her best to shield the company from the majority of the damage. Had she not swooped in as she had, they may have suffered a few casualties. Having to hear the worried voice of the princess, the winged she-elf kept herself her hovering, before acknowledging the girl with a nod, almost tiredly.

It only got worse from there. The first giant threw a boulder into the air; a second giant appeared from behind the company, and was hit in the head. A few of the dwarves yelled at each other to brace and hold on, but the rocks beneath their feet started to give way from all the vibrations, and from the impact of the falling rocks. The ground then began to split; part of the group was separated to one half, the rest on the other.

"Hold on!", Saeril shouted over the thunder as the mountain around the company began to break. "Kili, grab my hand!", she heard her eldest godson shout to his sibling, as she just saw the rock between them begins to separate them. Yavanna was stuck with Fili; just as she saw the crack between her godsons, Saeril knew that they couldn't protect each other now.

The mountain they were on starts coming to life, and starts fighting with another. With the company split in half, she didn't know which one to protect more. Seeing that the moving rock Kili was on, made his situation even more risky, which resulted in her making up her mind: she flew over to the swaying dwarves, and gripped the youngest's coat, so he was at least in her line of sight, and not falling off the moving rock.

The she-elf looked in fear as they were just about to collide into the mountain. Thinking fast, she tucked Kili in against her to shield him from their upcoming fate. However, when they finally hit the mountain, there was no pressure against them, only making them fall off and land on the more safe-like part of the cliff. She still had Kili tucked against her chest as they landed. Unraveling her wings, she could see the others safe as well, which was a relief. Panting from exhaustion, Saeril allowed herself to catch her breath, and attempt to stand, although she didn't get far, and landed back down to one knee, feeling an ache in her leg.


[System]
"One of the biggest sicknesses this world has is expectation. We all expect other people to be a certain way or to do a certain thing. Most people, they spend their whole lives under the wants of other people."

Age: 11
Gender: Male
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Date/Place of Birth: October 7th - Ennismore Gardens, Knightsbridge, London
Currently: Hogwarts
House: Gryffindor
Wand: Aspen, 9 ¾", Dragon heart-string
Patronus: Grey Wolf

Personal

Childhood: George grew up in a modest London home. His first years were spent in constant tension. Although he remembers very little, being only five when his criminal father was finally arrested, George remembered the arguing and the hushed voices. He could remember the masked faces in the living room before his parents would disappear for a few days, leaving them in the care of their relatives. George's relationship with his father is based merely on what he knew of what he'd done. His relationship with his mother had been close, not completely, but enough to substitute a healthy childhood. However, his relationship with his brother was closer. They stuck together and supported one another, despite the distance in location and now the distance in House.

Personality: George has a furious temper. Often people will find him stubborn and irritable, although this is rare at a young age. Whilst young, George is anxious and cautious, although friendly and outgoing once comfortable. He fears a great deal and expects much more of himself. Protective of his friends, he will prove to be more protective of himself and sometimes just plain selfish.

Hobbies: Duelling, Chess, Card-games and quidditch.

[User]
As the term had continued, George had grown ever more comfortable, even though such had only been that way within their tiny triangle of friends. Now, with the news the morning had brought, he felt small, out of place and afraid. The Wizarding World was going to change before their eyes and the dense pit in the young boy's stomach only suggested exactly how much worse this was becoming.

"Do you think it's going to happen again?" The scrawny blonde asked through a mouth that barely opened. His words were almost inaudible, sapped away by the dread and fear hanging over the school; pungent. Whilst he greatly feared the loss of his friends, the lingering apprehension within twisted around a fear of his own. Before, it had always been a family affair, two or three generations at a time. Once their world shifted back toward the chaos, exactly how long would it have been before Theo and himself were presented as willing volunteers?

Sadie's arrival frightened the remaining colour from George's face, leaving the ghostly complexion to outwardly compete with the unpigmented and chalky shade of his hair.

"You can't blame him really. We've all had a shocking morning." Seine added with a smile. "They would have sent us home if it were anything serious. I'm sure they'll catch them soon." He paused before apologising to the impish kid to his left.

"Hopefully, they do," George added in a defeated murmured. He loved his parents, although he wasn't going to outwardly admit that he missed having his own father at home. George Snr was a murderer, but he was still a parent; someone George longed to return home. They all knew capture meant the end of the line: a duel to the death or the Kiss. His Dad hadn't been able to avoid them forever before, it was unlikely he'd be able to do so again.

He trudged alongside his two friends in silence, occasionally adding a note or comment to Seine's attempt at altering the mood. As they climbed the staircases towards the Third Floor, the milling crowds had begun to disperse. Transfiguration stood as their first lesson of the day and George was entirely grateful for the possibility of quietly taking notes instead of being forced to communicate.

Seine, however, had spent their entire walk trying to engage Sadie in conversation entirely separate to the news they'd received that morning; for all their sakes.

"Did you manage to finish the essay Professor Thirmin had asked for? The one on foreign object transfiguration? I was barely able to manage the two sides and we were expected to cover three." It was a rushed conversation but entirely expected considering the state of their previously comfortable schooling day.

[Assistant]
George looked as scared as Brennan had, but where Brennan's temper had flared, George just seemed to shrink into himself. It hurt, seeing her best friend like this. After a moment, she realized it was the first time she'd thought of George like that, but it rang true. George and Seine were the closest friends she had here. She missed her girlfriends from home, but they didn't know about this part of her, and it was difficult to feel close to them with such an enormous secret in her heart. But George and Seine always waited for her, always had a joke and a story, and she looked forward to every day they had together.

Still, best friends or not, Sadie couldn't understand why they seemed so bored by their homework.

"Um, yeah," Sadie laughed a little nervously. "It's not like it was a lot?"

One of the things that had struck her was just how more relaxed Hogwarts was. She hadn't gone to the world's most prestigious school, but her workload had been ramping up as she had been getting older, and her muggle teachers had assigned far more work than this. Sadie usually found herself going comparatively overboard with her work, but she was used to a far more aggressive pace.

"Ugh," Seine grumbled intelligently.

"I must once again remind you that you are always welcome to join me in the library after class. We can do our work together," Sadie offered, but Seine pulled a face at her.

"You spend hours there," He complained. Sadie rolled her eyes.

"We are literally learning magic, breaking the laws of physics and doing impossible things. That should make you want to study nonstop," Sadie reminded Seine. They'd had this argument half a dozen times, and she suspected they would have it until they graduated.

They'd reached the Transfiguration classroom during their bickering. Seine pushed open the door and they filed in, taking their usual spots. The atmosphere in the classroom was like a coiled spring, ready to explode with energy. Other students were shooting George dark looks, whispering, and Sadie simply held her head high. She and Seine sat on either side of George in a show of solidarity.

The whispers were silenced upon the arrival of Professor Thirmin, and Sadie sank into the rhythm of the lesson.

[User]
The school seemed muted compared to the excited volume it lingered on most days. Such was to be expected considering the news they'd received that morning. Just like Sadie and Seine, the halls were still echoing with the sound of students discussing what mattered in the present; School. Regardless of the situation at hand, their world certainly didn't feel like it was in danger. Perhaps, however, it was. To students like both the Nott children and the Dolohov siblings, their families were finally returning home. The smallest sense of happiness lingered within, a smile he wouldn't have shared in public. All George could do, was hope his parents were still reunited as Christmas arrived.

The Transfiguration classroom felt far more constrained than it usually did. The walls felt unnaturally enclosed, despite their previously large size. He turned his eyes to Sadie and followed suit; letting the glares fall within his peripheral vision. This would all blow over soon, surely. People would forget, surely?

George was more grateful than ever and allowed himself to focus entirely on the subject at hand, in an attempt to ignore the burning sensation in the centre of his skull.

"We should explore some more of the grounds this evening," George muttered whilst the room was preoccupied with the notes at hand. "There's the east side of the Black Lake that we haven't had the chance to see yet."

"It would be cool to see if we can spot the Merpeople beneath the Lake." Seine smiled encouragingly, furthering their friend's request to remain entirely out of the view of the remainder of the school. "It's a shame we're not old enough to leave the Grounds yet. My Dad says Hogsmeade is cracking." The boy's positivity was appalling and contagious.

"I've heard good things about Honeydukes. I could ask my brother to bring us back something next time he goes." His tone quickly slid off into one of instability and self-doubt. The last few weeks had been nothing short of enjoyable; yet now George felt the mist of dread settling uncomfortably along the edges.

"You should definitely try Pepper Imps, Sadie." Their more cheerful friend returned with a grin wider than necessary.

George let the two of them speak for a moment as he uncomfortably considered the day's news. Had Sadie and Seine not remaining his friends, he likely would have been sat alone. He'd thank them one day; when he thought as much to do so. For now, however, he meerly clutched at his least healthy thoughts and made an extended effort to remain focused on the lesson; one of which ended much longer after George had hoped- or his preception of time certainly felt off.

[Assistant]
Sadie frowned as George and Seine whispered during the lesson. Had the morning not been quite so awful, she might have shushed them and gotten annoyed. But with things so raw, she couldn't muster the will to be so sharp. She was already several chapters ahead in the textbook, frustrated by the snail's pace Professor Thirmin seemed all too content to set.

Suddenly she could hear the Hat humming in her head, Plenty clever…what a thirst to prove yourself. It had flashed images of eagles swathed in bronze and blue with those words in her head, and it seemed all too ready to name her a Ravenclaw before it found whatever had tipped the scales so firmly to Gryffindor. Privately, Sadie wondered if she had been sorted wrong. She loved her house, her friends, but it was frustrating, feeling so alone in her wonder.

Sadie shook her head to clear it. What was done was done—there was no resorting, as far as she knew. She'd just have to make the best of it.

"I'd like the see the squid again," Sadie murmured. She arched a brow at Seine's insistence she try some unheard of sweet. Pepper Imps? "Those do not sound good."

"Would you like to share your conversation with the class?" Professor Thirmin called suddenly. Sadie flushed scarlet, dropping her gaze to her notes. Seine had the good grace to look uncomfortable and manage a quiet 'no'. Professor Thirmin frowned but, mercifully, did not dock any points and continued on.

The rest of their lessons passed by in a rush. Sadie led the way to the lake, chattering with Seine about music. He was filling her in on the classics of the wizarding world, and seemed amused by the muggle artists she named in return. He offered to lend her records and look bemused when she burst out laughing, calling them quaint.

"Records. What are we, hipsters?" Sadie snorted, "I mean, they've got great sound quality and all, but come on. Digital is so much more convenient."

Seine looked at her blankly, and Sadie sighed.

"It's like this world is trying to stay backwards," She said theatrically, tossing her hands in the air.

The three of them were following the banks of the lake, the castle growing ever more distant. The black forrest seemed to almost beckon to her, trees rustling, and it took Sadie a great deal of willpower to remember that it was forbidden.

"We're not backwards," Seine said, sounding a little defensive. Sadie snorted again.

"You use owls for mail, Seine. Owls. Back home, I can email or text and get a response instantly. Or call someone instantly, without having to shove my head in a fireplace. I mean, magic is great and all, and I'm super happy to be here, but it's like I was shot back fifty years. This is so weird."

"We've got quidditch! And dragons!"

"I'll give you dragons."

[User]
George was as glad as anyone to see their school day finally over. There was only so long he could manage to keep his head from spiralling over the morning's headline until it became ingrained in his brain, word for word. It wasn't as if it was only his family who'd willfully taken part in the two most recent Wizarding Wars, voluntarily murdering muggles and wizards alike; Theo's continuing bigoted options weren't helping George's case.

He followed along behind Sadie with a handful of pastries he'd quickly taken from the Great Hall: pumpkin pie, sausage rolls, and a traditionally sized Cornish Pasty. Tonight would just be the three of them, at least until time grew too late.

"Quidditch is great, normally," George added to the two's current discussion. "I'm not looking forward to the next three years of Quidditch here, mind you. Friendly competition is one matter, but I don't think things are going to be friendly." He passed a tiny chuckle as he spoke. Round Two of the Battle of the Brothers rang low on his list of events he wished to revisit.

"Quidditch is fantastic! I still can't believe you don't like it. The season has already started and you'll see your brother play in a few weeks; you'll be a fan before too long!" Seine continued with his family smile, wide and genuine.

"Did you follow any muggle sports?" George pulled his robes from his shoulders and laid the collection on the fabric between them. "Don't muggles have lots of sports? I remember seeing one in a pub once where the players were throwing tiny sticks at a target. All the crowd seemed so serious, it was incredibly daft." It was the first time all day his tone hadn't sounded entirely defeatist. "I just don't get it, a lot of muggle things don't make sense." He even managed a chuckle.

"Wait, what were they doing?" Seine asked with a snort of utter confusion.

"These men were dressed in waistcoats and were tiny sticks-" He paused and motioned the throwing of a dart. "against this huge target, covered in numbers. There was another target in the pub itself since most of the muggles were watching it on a rectangle." George fumbled over his words. His childhood might have been far from sheltered in terms of the Wizarding World but George had little knowledge when it came to the world of Muggles. "It really weird, the sport, not the rectangle, paintings have moved for years."

Siene cracked a grin behind his hand and soon found himself roaring with laughter, much to the confusion of his friend. George glanced at Sadie and Seine with panic and bewilderment plastered on his face. His skin shifted in tone, rolling from pale to an uncomfortable red hue.

"I'll let you explain this one, Sadie."


[System]
19Class:
Pegasus KnightWeapons:
Iron LanceFighting Style:
Can for the most part be summed up as "Move fast and break things", charging with his pegasus and stabbing things with his lance at high speeds.Personality:
Fairly friendly, though he always looks like there's a bit of sadness behind his eyes. He is cautious about trusting people, but he is just as cautious in trusting himself. He holds himself to a set of moral lines he refuses to cross.He tends to offer his opinion even when it's not asked for, especially on topics he feels strongly about.History:
Dylan was born as a bastard child of a (relatively) rich ranch owner that bought and sold trans-nationally, though he was technically in Bravura. He was lucky enough not to be disowned by his father, but he lived with his mother and his twin sister instead of with his father, who never played a major role in his life besides providing his mother with a job and home. Both Dylan and his sister were good with the farm animals, especially the horses and pegasi. When Dylan 10, one day after another, their father gave them one of his best pegasus colts, a surprising and unexpected gift. The pegasus was named Andromeda, due to an offhand joke from one of the other helpers on the ranch that the colt had the potential to fly above the stars.

For the next seven years, they took good care of the colt, and Dylan discovered he had a talent for riding pegasi, and he joined a small mail-carrying business for a time, enjoying the trips around his home country, and often taking his sister with. However, at some point, a band of rogues attacked him and his sister while they were resting for the night between deliveries. They killed his sister, but Dylan and his pegasus managed to get away mostly unharmed. He still feels like it was his fault his sister had died, and he had suspicions that the rogues that had killed her were actually very unfortunate refugees from the warfront with Panoply.

After this incident, Dylan began teaching himself how to fight, though he didn't join the army in fear of leaving his mother alone in her time of grief. He used his savings to buy a lance- he had heard this was a weapon common to those who fought on pegasi- and he taught himself to fight while atop Andromeda. Stabbing makeshift dummies he had made himself while both he and his horse were wearing cheap armor, unbeknownst to his mother of course. He never had any formal teacher however, and so his skill is effectively limited to charging and stabbing sloppily. It was during this time that Dylan began calling himself by his mother's family name instead of his father's.

Upon hearing of the reclaimers, Dylan wanted to attempt to join immediately, however his mother refused to let him join, as she had already lost one child and didn't wish to lose the other. This didn't stop Dylan from training more in his free time however, and in his mailman job, he offered to take more of the ones that would take him near the front, hoping he would get to meet the Reclaimers, and possibly show enough promise that they would invite him into their ranks. How could he turn them down if that happened?Rationale:
Dylan feels like ending the war, or at least helping end the war, would honor his sister and give him repentance for not doing more to stop her from dying.Appearance:
Standing at 5'11", Dylan is lightly built, lean but he does have some muscle tone. His hair is a unique white-silver color, and his eyes are a light sky-blue color. His skin is very white, due to the fact he has to wear a lot of clothing when flying at high altitudes, which he spends a lot of his time doing. He usually wears layers of clothing that he can easily take off or put on to stay warm. His riding is moderately sloppy, but he can keep himself on a pegasus during a rough ride. When bored, or anxious, he can be seen tapping his fingers on whatever his hand is resting on.

[User]
Dylan Caercot, Courier Dylan readjusted his goggles as he pushed Andromeda towards the ground. He was getting close to his next stop, a village if he remembered correctly. He checked his mailbag, making sure that it was attached to the saddle securely. He would hate to lose it just before he arrived. Looking down, he saw how worn our his pegasus was, and he gently stroked the side of her neck. "Don't worry Andromeda, we'll get to rest at this next place for a while. It's our last delivery for a while." He smiled a little, and continued stroking the neck of his Pegasus as they came close to the ground, landing just out of the town.

He stopped, and blinked as he saw bodies at the edge of town, Andromeda reared, and it was all Dylan could do to not fall off. "Calm down, we'll go in carefully, figure out what's going on, okay girl?" He started gently stroking her mane again, and eased her forward, pulling the lance off his back. It felt somewhat unnatural in his hand, and he shifted a bit on the saddle, quietly and continuously consoling Andromeda. Continuing to ease her forward he didn't see anyone immediately about. "These guys don't look like normal citizens. Be careful girl." He whispered this softly between Andromeda's ears, and he felt he stir a bit while he made sure the mark on his suit that said he was a courier was visible.

Who was fighting them? A detachment from the army wouldn't of bothered come back here to a village instead of fighting at the front lines. He thought to himself, continuing on, looking out for any sudden attacks. Curiosity was getting the best of him. Maybe it was the Reclaimers he had so wanted to join a few days ago. If he remembered right they would've left the capital fairly recently, so maybe they had been staying here when raiders attacked. That though made Dylan excited, and he gripped his lance tighter as he pushed his Pegasus into a canter, much to her dismay. He knew he would soon be in sight of the fray, and he couldn't help but wonder if the Reclaimers had their own uniform, or if they dressed like the rest of the army.

[Assistant]
Gaius Secondus

 While Gaius waited, he could feel himself calming down into his battle mindset. He took deep, slow breaths, his heartbeat slowed, and his mind calmed. He took every non-essential thought and emotion and tucked them away, concentrating on the coming battle. He heard the combat start to rage everywhere. As soon the archers broke and ran, he and Bubbles were ready. With a nod they attacked, Jeane came out first with a taunt. While their attention and aim, was on her, Gaius stepped out, wordlessly and silently, and cast the magic he had held ready. A bolt of Elthunder struck the rear archer. He had time to cast once more, hitting that same archer to make sure he was down, before drawing his sword and charging the confused archers. He closed on the nearest archer. Gaius's first slash shattered the bow the archer was attempting to draw, and the second beheaded him. Jeane got the third. Without acknowledging their victory, Gaius ran off "Come on there are still more enemies!" he shouted over his shoulder at her. He came upon two fallen, but still alive, thieves. He swiftly and mercifully dispatched them both and waved to acknowledge an nearby dark mage, he recognized as Smiles, who he assumed had caused their wounds.

[User]
Reflexes saved Taene at that moment, with the considerably dangerous fireball sailing through the air towards him. Without even thinking, his wings flapped very heavily upwards. The collection of frosty aura was halted very suddenly as Taene quickly lifted himself up into the air, only barely avoiding being turned into roasted scales and horns. But of course, that wasn't the end of the onslaught. Taene silently cursed when he saw him. The kid flying in on the beast, with an ax raised above his head.

"If you stand down now, I will not harm you greatly." He said in a massive voice, before beginning to prepare another breath for an attack, hoping to simply disable the kid or his beast and avoid great harm. Having hit the mage from earlier quite badly, which Taene gathered by tone of voice and word choice, the importance of precision weighed on his mind much heavier than it did previously. But if this.. child. Moved and somehow caused harm to himself, it wouldn't be of Taene's worry.

As he was deciding what he was going to do specifically, and how, the breath that was being readied for attack finished itself and Taene opened his maw wide in preparation for the shot. A gust of frosty air flew from his mouth, which was the only warning that the attacker coming from the sky had before the ball dislodged itself from Taene's throat at speeds that would make an unladen swallow jealous. The magic was aimed towards the hand and arm area of the boy charging. The hope was to cause him to drop his weapon, maybe retreat so as to avoid major injury.

[Assistant]
The dragon's gust of wind caught Kel off guard, but Druug was in his element. The wyvern took matters into it's own hands and narrowly evaded the ball of ice, using it's aerodynamic body to cut through the wind and only slow a bit. Kel's last site after the surprise evasive maneuver was a pure, glowing cyan followed by the most intense cold he had ever felt. To make matters worse he was now flying on a wyvern, who seemed to be flying through some heavy winds and he was getting a taste of frostbite too. Not the ideal situation. The ice grew it's way to the inside of his mask and helmet before he hand to rip it off while holding desperately onto Druug. the mask popped off and fell to the ground, shattering on impact as Druug continued his approach.

His face now fully exposed to the winds and elements was not holding up. his eyes were watering and drying out and he was nearly blind until he pulled Druug to a stop a few feet from the Dragon's face. Kel wiped away the tears running from his eyes straight back to his ears and steadied the shrieking Druug before realizing just where he was. "Last chance buddy." he said with a tinge of fear in his voice. He wasn't in this army to die, he was just looking for his sister. And if this monster was in the way of that he had to either take it out or run around him, and with all eyes potentially on him, running wasn't an option. "Counting to 3 and if you don't surrender I'll, you know, do the thing that I get paid to do." He gripped the pole ax and raised it above his head once more, and on each count, Druug flew a bit higher and further back to prepare for a dive to enhance the blow.

"1..." He backed up more.

"2..." He backed up again, putting the ax further back to get more swing.

[User]
A confused look passed the archer's face as a metal point appeared to sprout from between his lungs. He choked and breathed his last, and Hugh maneuvered him off the point of his lance and to the ground. Killing was not something he thought he'd ever quite come to terms with, but it was a necessary evil. The feeling that he got from a dying man, the spark of life ebbing from his body and finally vanishing into whatever ethereal river guided him on...it was enough to make a man sick, at times.

Another moment, and the archer squad was all but wiped out. A single one of them surrendered, and Hugh sent the least-wounded member of the current group -Jeane- to escort him toward the convoy and tie him up. A momentary respite settled over the group as Marcus rushed to heal the last of their wounds. It wouldn't be long, the knight knew, before Nick's leg got the better of him, and they needed to make these last few minutes count. He caught a glimpse of Sanguin, Lilith, Habeen, and Kuur between the buildings, mopping up the last of a unit of thieves. For a moment Hugh dared to think that the attack had gone off without a hitch.

Then he heard and excited neighing.

Hugh whirled around to find a Pegasus and its rider just coming between two huts. Though his first instinct was to toss a javelin first and ask questions later, a quick examination accredited the idea that there was more to this one than met the eye. He leveled his lance at them and shouted, "Who goes there? You haven't the manner of a bandit."

[Assistant]
Dylan Caercot, Courier Dylan pulled back on the reins a tad sharply when he heard a voice call out for him, and Andromeda launched herself several feet into the air before Dylan managed to coax her back down softly. She was certainly jumpy today, but he couldn't exactly blame her. He looked over to the individual who had called out to him, but his eyes ended up fixed on the spear Hugh was carrying, gripping his more tightly, but he tried not to look threatening with it, that would only get him killed. Assuming these people weren't going to try anyway, that was.

Swallowing, Dylan answered Hugh asking who he was. "I'm Dylan Caercot. I'm a courier who just happened to be stopping by this town when I saw, well, this, going on. I assure you I mean no harm." That was the truth, and he pointed to the little emblem on his shoulder that was supposed to confirm this story. "If I may ask, who are you? And why are you here?" Dylan carefully kept his Pegasus partially turned from the group, so he didn't look like he was about to try and run them down. He gently leaned down and whispered to Andromeda that it'd be alright, as she was still acting skiddish.

Looking back up at the group, and the person that had made him top, Dylan wondered what their affiliation was. Were they in with the army? Or just a group of vigilantes who had come to this town to stop bandits. He had heard Hugh say that he didn't have the manner of a bandit, that meant that was who they were looking for. Maybe these were the Reclaimers? Shaking his head imperceptibly, Dylan dismissed that, thinking that the Reclaimers wouldn't be quite this miss-matched and the most unlike anything he had seen in the army. After a soft breath, he held his tongue from speaking. It was likely that Hugh would introduce himself as well as what affiliation he had with the rest of these people.


[System]
Age: 16
Gender: Male
Race: Cyborg (Human/Machine)
Specialty: Medical
Pic:
Additional: Has a bionic arm and pack on his body. The pack holds all the essentials for Advanced First Aid. The arm contains a cauterizing laser, bone saw, and x-ray scanner, including other doctor tools.
Bio: Hero grew up in a hospital owned by his family. Since the age of 4, his dad has been teaching him medical knowledge, and having him watch surgical procedures. At the age of 14, Hero is still too young to join any group to become a professional doctor, he was however, accepted into the famed Team Nova as their Medic when he skillfully saved one of its members. During that mission however, Hero lost his left arm. Team Nova's lead mechanic and bionics expert created a special arm for him, complete with all medical essentials.

[User] Hero had just finished wrapping a crewmate's burn received from working on the reactor. "You need to be careful around that reactor. You were lucky this time." He sent the crewman off and cleaned up the supplies he had pulled out. Not much had happened on the ship. It was quiet for a long time. It seemed the universe was at peace. Hero didn't know what else to do. His med bay was spotless, everything was re-organized, and the most trouble he had to deal with were minor burns and cuts. Life didn't seem to be too exciting at the moment. That was, until the captain of the ship called everyone to the bridge. Saying that we had an emergency response job and he needed to debrief all his head staff. Hero smiled, finally, there was something about to happen, and he would be on the front lines to see it. He walked to the bridge in a comely fashion, expertly hiding his emotions as he went. He wondered what it was going to be, but no matter. He would go. Once at the bridge he saluted the captain and told him that he was ready for duty.

[Assistant]
"Beep!"Beep!"Beep!" "All crew members please report to the bridge." Adrian panicked and banged his head on the table he was hiding over. Wow some master of stealth. Everything has been so peaceful on the ship recently and when it's peaceful it's boring. So being the generous person Adrian was he decided he'd steal some extra food from the cafeteria every day and give them a detective case to have fun with. Sadly this only satisfied his boredom for a little bit. There was nothing worth enough to actually steal and get a rush. The only reason he hasn't gone crazy is that he hasn't had to delve into the demon world recently to sneak into somewhere so he's actually gotten to get to know his own team for once without being in extreme pain. He's also had a lot of time to practice with his shadow blades and now he can summon them almost instantly.

"Come on a boy's got to have a little fun." Adrian pleaded to the guard that looked like someone just ate the last cookie. Probably because the last cookie is stashed away in Adrian's room. "I mean it's probably a good thing I stole some food so know you can loose some of that weight." He said while poking the guards belly. The guard was setting his plasma gun to stun, his face as red as a tomato. Then "Beep!"Beep!""Beep!""I said ALL crew members get on the bridge NOW!!!" "Saved by the bell or alarm I guess." Adrian said to the guard, that Adrian didn't think spoke English, judging by the lack of responses.

[User]
Spinning slowly in his incredibly comfortable pilot chair, Aura lay back as he watched the bridge spin around him. Closing his eyes, he silently prayed for a chance to take the ship off of auto-pilot, before slowing his spins to a halt to stare out the cockpit at the dark, empty void of space. "Blegh," he grunted under his breath; whereas others would sometimes be scared, or driven insane, by the vastness of the void, Aura simply felt disgust and boredom. It's never good for a pilot to be bored; that's when crazy stunts happen. Come to mention it though, Aura wouldn't mind a bit of crazy to replace the current dismal mood.

Fortunately for the rest of the crew (who probably weren't wearing seat belts), Aura's prayers were answered as the captain entered the cockpit, explaining that he would be calling everyone in for a debriefing, and something about an emergency response job. Though Aura was calm and silent, simply nodding and activating the captain's intercom, his thoughts were screaming and cheering with joy. No random barrel rolls today! Giving the control panel in front of him one last look over, checking that all the lights that should be on were on, the meters that should be working were working, he signaled the captain that all was good as he relayed his message over the intercom.

[Assistant]
The captain stood on the bridge waiting for his elite members to rally. After an acceptable amount of time had passed the captain looked upon the present members. 3. "There are only 3 members here!?" The captain rubbed his brow and sighed. Standing before him was his medic, Hero. His pilot, Aura, and his infiltrator Adrian. Though, this current line up wouldn't be bad considering the message he had received. "Alright men. We recently received an emergency communication from a military group a few sectors from here. Turns out that they received a distress signal from a colonizing planet and are trying to find someone to rescue them. They can't go because there commander insists that his mission is far more important and can't spare the crew. He was however, willing to pay us a decent sum of money to see if we could do anything." He looked at his little group in front of him. They all looked so excited, he guessed that they would go even if they didn't get payed. The captain kept this in mind as he played the distress signal.

"Hello?.. an..on..there?..S.S we need immedia...evac...help us plea... (Indistinct screaming in the background)"

 As you can see, you will be flying in blind if you so choose to accept this mission. If you do accept, then take the "Mighty Light" (a small fast ship equipped with photon beams and a generous docking bay) We will wait around orbit in case you need to evacuate. With that, he dismissed the motley crew and ordered Aura to take them to the corresponding sector.

[User]
Aura had dutifully got out of his seat to join the others, leaving the ship on auto-pilot for the time being while he listened to the captain. Standing beside his fellow crew-members, he listened intently to the distress signal as it played through the speakers. Difficult to pick out a lot of information, he thought to himself, his mind trailing as he tried to piece together what was going on. It's clear they're in a tight spot; after all, something had to have blocked out most of that message.

He was brought back to reality all of a sudden when he heard the captain mention the Mighty Light. Aura had always had a good time with that small ship. Oh, the manoeuvres I'll pull off with that bad boy. After having been dismissed, he nodded his head to the others before they left, and then quickly returned to the helm, leaping back into his chair taking the ship out of auto-pilot. Hearing the captain's order, Aura designated the sector in question, prepping the ship's drive core and readying it for lightspeed, following a resounding "Aye-aye captain!".

[Assistant]
Giza was surrounded by machinery and the so called operators who were supposed to work them. They kept buzzing around telling her not to touch the vital power source or don't mess with the engines and recently they came up with some bull about the captain needing her. That last part ticked her off, "We're in empty space and about to jump, don't make up stuff about distress calls!" She snapped at them and was about to upgrade their fuel lines when a higher up stepped in and gave her a look. "Heh looks like you weren't lying at all and I'm in trouble now..."

Giza scrambled into the main bridge looking the part of a mechanic, grease smudges and oil stains all over and a smell that was fairly unappealing. "So distress signal, thats real huh? I assumed that the guys just wanted me out of the left engine room.... They don't like how I keep upgrading things." She chattered nervously until she realized that she was either being ignored or stared at by everyone in the room.
"I think I missed something?"

[User]
Boarding Mighty Light and Preparations

 After the captain had dismissed everyone from the briefing Hero left for his Med-Bay. He would need to stock up on all the usually essentials seeing that there were probably going to be a lot of casualties when they got there. He was so busy preparing that he almost didn't notice the ship go warp speed. "Let's see. Medical Tape, check. Extra casings of pain killer, check. Torch and bone saw operational, check." Hero had to make sure that his whole kit checked out before every mission. He couldn't afford for there to be malfunctions with his mechanical parts. He remembered that day so clearly.

 His parents and family were dead, killed in the initial invasion, all he had left was his father's med bag and a first aid kit inside. With that in hand, Hero stood there in a shattered building looking on the warzone before him. A group of people were desperately trying to hold their ground against an oncoming invasion of aliens. They were successful, but one of the members had suffered substantial injuries that would have been fatal. Hero, knowing the danger that man was in, stupidly ran across the short expanse nearly getting shot. When he arrived, everyone in the group was confused. There before them, was a teenage boy with a med bag in hand. One of the members, thinking that he brought the bag reached for it. He was even more surprised when Hero stopped him from grabbing the bag and opened it himself. He examined the injured man's body, multiple bullet wounds were in his shoulder, which weren't fatal. What he was most afraid of was the large amount of shrapnel that peppered his body. Hero took out some sterilized gloves and began to operate. The man was obviously in pain, and the crew stared at Hero dumbfounded as they watched this teenage boy expertly save their captain.

 Hero smiled, then rubbed his robotic arm. His life had changed in more ways than one that day.

 Finally finished with his check log Hero left the med-bay and made his way to the cargo bay where they stored the Mighty Light. Hero wasn't a fan of flying, but he did enjoy space travel. He was pretty happy about the mission, what bothered him the most was the pilot, Aura. He shuddered knowing what was in store for him. Hero had gotten much better at not throwing up during the random barrel rolls and flips Aura would pull off, but it still made his stomach churn. He made it to the docking bay only to see that the pilot was already going through his mandatory flight check list inside the ship. Hero boarded the ship, said Hi to Aura, then sat down in one of the designated chairs. Once seated, he gave himself a weak sedative to help him survive the inevitable flight down to the planet. Once that was over he sat back and began to relax. Waiting for the other members to show up. He hoped Giza would sit next to him. Hero was very grateful that Giza had built this special arm for him. He also thought her attractive, but he would never admit it. What really grabbed his attention were Giza's eyes. He was very curious why the way they were, but he never bothered to ask her why. It was a mystery to him, and something about it being a mystery is what intrigued him.


[System]
Age: 23

Gender: Female

Appearance: At a slight and lean 5'2, the unseeming African American woman is rarely pegged as a threat. Her hair is in a small afro, though it's often kept under a hat or a hood. Her left shoulder down to her wrist is covered in tattoos of vines and flowers.

An orphan abandoned at birth, high school dropout, and foster home runaway, Arlene had always considered herself an outsider. At 16, she was living alone on the streets of Chicago, getting by on petty thievery and handouts from generous passers by. It was on those streets where she learned not only how to fight, but when to fight and how to run away when she chose not to.

She became notorious for her graffiti work throughout the city - Arlene would often paint over corporate logos or government insignias and replace them with oddly vibrant illustrations of fantastical scenes, usually incorporating mythical creatures. Her work, she would explain, was both a response to the bland machine that was mainstream society as well as the overwhelming pessimism and nihilism of anti-governmental movements and activists. Through her graffiti, Arlene was able to form numerous connections with members of the criminal underworld of Chicago as well as with the local homeless and vagrant population.

By 18, Arlene was forced to relocate out of Chicago due to increasing pressure from both the police as well as the public eye calling for her arrest. However, the only contact that could get her out of the city was a Mafia boss she had become acquainted with during her time as a rogue graffiti artist. Arlene negotiated a trade: he got her out of Chicago, she did a job for him in Ankora, no questions asked. She agreed, seeing no other methods by which she could leave the city successfully. She took all her spray cans and what little money she had in a backpack and fled for Ankora.

Upon arrival, Arlene was given a silenced handgun, an address, and a note with only five words: "Kill everyone, take the money." Arlene had killed a man before, but it had been a self-defense situation when she was in Chicago. Murder in cold blood was new to her.

Arlene tried to run and hide, hoping the Mafia would just forget about her and get the job done with other means, but within two days she was found and captured. She was given one more chance to complete the job before they had her killed. As she was out of options, Arlene had no choice but to oblige.

The address led to a house in the suburbs of Ankora, a wealthy and quiet neighborhood. Arlene slipped in through a window on the upper floor, finding herself in the master bedroom of the house. A couple was sleeping in the bed - without a second thought, she killed them both. She found the money she was supposed to take in a safe downstairs, and left the house. Arlene met up with the Mafia, who took the money and disposed of the gun, and just like that she was free in Ankora.

The following day, the news broke of her crime - Arlene caught a TV report in the diner where she was eating breakfast. The couple had been head executives at two different corporations, and the repercussions their deaths had on their companies would be devastating, but not fatal for either business. The money was allegedly drug money owed to the Mafia, which the couple had been tied to for several months already.

As such, Arlene found herself haunted by her actions, but somewhat relieved at the outcome. She had expected much worse, and was surprised that she had seemingly just tied off a loose end for the Mafia. Weeks went by, and as it became apparent that Arlene wasn't implicated in the murders in any way, she became more and more comfortable with killing.

She resumed her graffiti streak in Ankora, but it was different this time. Her art, while still fantastical in appearance, began to be darker in theme. Where once the colorful images were of peaceful landscapes and images of mythical creatures, those landscapes were becoming more and more absurd, the creatures more and more grotesque.

Arlene still stole to survive, but she found herself tending to be more violent when people got in her way, whether it was the owner of wherever it was she was stealing from, or a police officer that caught her in the act. Her violent beatdowns slowly became more and more damaging to their victims, and she had no qualms killing out of necessity or even by accident.

As time went on, she expanded who she attacked from people that got in her way to people that got in the way of others that she deemed fellow outcasts - namely, the homeless or lower-income citizens of Ankora. Be it overly aggressive police officers or petty criminals, Arlene stopped at nothing to keep "her people" safe. Often when she killed, she would display the bodies as pieces of her artwork, surrounded by her increasingly bizzare graffiti. As such, the underbelly of Ankora views Arlene as a protector, calling her "Graffiti" after her trademark. Threw this in a hider since it's a lot longer than I anticipated it to be.

Personality: She's a bit of a firecracker - a free spirit with the will and ability to just about do whatever she wants to. Graffiti doesn't really like it when things don't go her way, but unless you're trying to stop her from doing what she wants or threatening her or someone she wants to protect, it's hard to find yourself in a position where your interests clash with hers.

In recent years, she's become increasingly violent, and Graffiti is open to exploring that side of herself. The few that know her personally in Ankora think she's becoming more and more of a loose cannon, though not yet to the point where she's out of control.

Vigilante Name: Graffiti
Costume: If you can call a black hoodie, stolen black military-grade combat pants, boots, and a gasmask a costume, then that's Graffiti's costume. Sometimes she has a backpack if she needs to carry a little extra. She has a holster for her pistol on her left side, and a "holster" for a spray can on her right. Her knives are all sheathed along her left leg.

Abilities/Skills: Her main ability is that she has the speed, agility, and athleticism of an Olympic level, which allows her to move freely and quickly. Graffiti isn't inherently very strong - much of her power in a fight comes from outmaneuvering her opponent and maintaining an element of surprise in doing so. She gets overwhelmed when she's greatly outnumbered, in which case she can almost effortlessly run away.

She's a skilled fighter, if her technique is unorthodox. Without any formal training, Graffiti has learned to resort to dirty fighting in order to win. Low blows and cheap shots aplenty when Graffiti gets into a fight. Her knives come into play here - she keeps anywhere between a dozen to two dozen knives on her at all times so she can use them liberally in a fight, should she have to.

Throughout the years, Graffiti's also become quite a good shot with her pistol. She's no marksman, but she can hit a target with military precision.

She's also one of the most talented graffiti artists of all time, despite the oddity of her work.

Equipment: The pistol Graffiti carries is a silenced Sig P226 - the pistol itself was stolen from a police officer she killed, and the silencer was stolen from an illegal weapons deal she snuck in on. Her knives are mostly simple throwing knives - she doesn't use them for throwing too often, rather she uses them when she's close to someone and has the jump on them. The only knife that isn't a throwing knife is a military issue combat knife, also lifted off that weapons deal.

But while that's all fun and games, Graffiti's most prized pieces of equipment are her spray cans - in particular, the cans in which she's mixed a little chlorine gas into the paint. Typically, the spray can holster holds one of these "tainted cans," as she calls them, meant for easy access when she needs to play a little extra dirty.

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral/Chaotic Good, though it's all down to perspective really. Ultimately, Graffiti serves herself first, and others second, and she'll do just about anything she can in order to protect herself. But since she also has a sense for protecting others, there's a case for calling her good.

Reputation: The outsiders of Ankora love her, but the wealthy and the government are calling for her arrest.

Accord Compliance: She doesn't like laws.

[User]
The moment Lily opened her eyes, she realized she was lying on a cold, wet surface. With a painful groan, she pushed herself up to sit on the ground. The dark graveyard scene sparked her memory, one that she wished wouldn't resurface. With a trembling hand, she touched the back of her head. The caked blood was a tangled mess within her short hair, and it was then the sudden realization hit her. Jack wouldn't be there anymore to patch her up, or give her the same advice he did every time she came to him for help. She now felt cold, although Lily wasn't sure if it was because of what had happened to her or if it was due to a temperature drop. She stood up without much trouble, looking in all directions to make sure her attackers weren't there with her. After deciding it was relatively safe, she started walking back through the same path she'd used earlier to visit Jack.

A few minutes later, Lily found herself on the sidewalk, directly across a diner that appeared to be closed due to the dim lighting, but had a customer sitting on one of the tables. Or maybe it was an employee? She paid no mind to it, and instead, dug inside her bag to fetch her phone. Lily sighed and shook her head when she found out that her phone was dead, and looking up at the diner again, she decided she might as well ask them for a small favor. She crossed the street at an increased pace, even though there were no cars around. Once she reached the other side, she proceeded to walk around to the main entrance and knock on the door.

[Assistant]
Graffiti had watched the woman emerge from the graveyard and approach the diner as she munched on her sandwich. The woman didn't seem like a threat, and Graffiti had a semi-biased personal rule that women always got the benefit of the doubt, even in Ankora. If anything, Graffiti admired the woman's bravery, walking alone in this neighborhood with what Graffiti guessed was a dead phone, from the looks of it. And, hell, she was her type. Graffiti closed her eyes, simultaneously blessing and cursing whatever god made her gay in a world with such few women to reciprocate. This was a song and dance she was all too familiar with; there had been enough women in the past for her to know that her chances of striking out early were high. She did the quick math - Graffiti was maybe batting just under 0.100. She'd keep herself low-key; besides, nobody appreciated any kind of romantic advance at this kind of night. That shit was just rude.

It took Graffiti a few seconds to realize her little dive into her relationship history had distracted her; the woman was knocking on the door of the diner. That was a first. Usually people steered well clear of others in the area around the Blocks. She looked a little shaken, too, now that Graffiti had a closer look at her. She jumped up from her seat, grabbing the key to the door from behind the counter and rushing to open the door.

"Honey, are you alright? Can I help you?" Graffiti questioned, concern in her voice as she gave the woman a once-over. "Is that blood in your hair? Come inside and take a seat, let's get you put back together, yeah?" Graffiti stepped back, holding the door open and her arm out in an offer inside. By no means did Graffiti have the right to invite guests into Arthur's Diner, but Arthur would understand, she was sure. Well, he'd never know, and that was just about the same thing.

[User]
"Thank you," was all she could say as the girl showed more kindness to her than she was expecting. Lily thought that given the late hour, she'd get cursed out, or at the very least turned away. She proceeded to take a seat like the girl suggested, looking around the empty diner.

"I've had a rough night, actually. I was in the cemetery visiting a friend when I was attacked from behind after chasing down some creep. You know how that goes, right? I woke like 5 minutes ago, and aside from this wound on my head, I'm unscathed. I mean, I even have all my belongings with me. Weird, right?"

She smiled at the girl, glad to be able to interact with someone who wasn't trying to hurt her. "So you work here?" Lily asked purely out of curiosity. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meal, but I'd rather not be roaming the streets alone at this time."

As she interacted with the young girl, Lily wasn't aware of the fact that she was in the presence of Graffiti, someone she's heard about and at times admired. But the odds that Black Widow and Graffiti were to be caught together in a diner after hours were pretty slim, so the possibility never crossed Lily's mind.

[Assistant]
"Well... not an employee, no. Arthur tends to forget to lock up properly, so I help myself to some food when I'm working at night. I'm a painter, do buildings and stuff," Graffiti motioned towards her gas mask resting on the table. It wasn't particularly a lie, and it had gotten her by well enough before. Nobody really doubted the black woman with the gas mask claiming to be a laborer. She double-checked the door to make sure it was locked, and retook her place at the table. "And trust me, I know all too well what this neighborhood is like. I'm just glad you're okay. Normally girls like us end up a lot worse."

Graffiti tilted her head slightly, examining the wound on the other woman's head. "I'm no doctor, but the wound doesn't look too deep. And you're walking and talking straight, so I think you can rule out a concussion." She looked down at the table, finding a sandwich with but a few bites of it left. It was gone quickly. She wiped her mouth, disposing of whatever crumbs might have decided to stick around on her face.

"You've got a friend in the graveyard, too, huh? I'm sorry," Graffiti said solemnly. She knew far too many people in that graveyard, and did her best not to think about it. "I can walk you home, if you want. I'm just about done here, but you can take as much time as you need to get yourself settled."