[System]
Charoite

Nickname:
"Chara"

Appearance: Chariote's human form stands at around 5'2", with light purple hair and dark purple. Her body looks rather lolital, and is slightly "underdeveloped" in that department.

Gem:

Gem Placement:
The middle of her left wrist

Gem Item:
Charoite's item (Teluria) comes in the form of a long, well forged, straight sword with a fairly basic, unremarkable design. However, it's defining feature comes across the blade - the strings that line one edge of it. These strings act like that of a guitar, or a lute, each connected on the hilt by one of the protrusions found on a guitar.

Power:
Symphopathikinesis - This ability is a sort hybrid mix of music/sound manipulation and emotion manipulation. By manipulating the music Teluria makes, she can manipulate a persons emotions - making them feel happy, empowered, sad, depressed, or even cause severe emotional pain. Think a Bard, but with a much more malicious side.

Other:
Um... Hail Queen Akaya..?

[User]
"Aqua... Aquamarine?" Another blue skinned figure walked about carefully, the dull, grey ground. She monitored the area carefully, waving a piece of cobbled technology around in her hands. Whatever she was looking for, she didn't seem to be finding it anywhere near. The machine in her hands didn't seem to emit any sounds recognizable by human ears, but her special build allowed her to actually hear the low infrasound chimes that it sounded off. She stopped and dropped the machine at her side.

"I shouldn't have wandered off," She sighed. "Who know's where she is now."

Talking to herself, the gem picked the machine back up in both hands, looking around and waving it in every direction as she walked onward. Why did the Kindergarten have to be so large? Of course she had the entire area mapped out, but she didn't even think to pack with her trackers in the event that they actually retrieved what they were looking for.

It was only when the blue skinned figure heard a set of voices that she knew which direction to move in. Smiling to herself, the small machine was deactivated and set in the backpack that she had brought with her. She recognized one of the voices as the one belonging to her leader, but she other one was one that she had not heard before. Maybe they were lucky. Maybe one of the popped out ahead of the others. With a little pep in her step, she moved forward with a quicker pace to go and meet her leader.

"Aqua!" She smiled at seeing the other blue figure. "It should be soon, but I figure that you already know that since you're talking with one of the new... borns..." However, she stopped when she was able to get a good look at the other figure. She didn't look like a gem at all. What was a human doing out here? Maybe they were dared, like many humans before. Perhaps they were inspecting the area and documenting their findings, another human custom to spread information to others. She didn't not like Humans, but Sodalite knew that it was not safe to divulge their mission, or what they were, to unknowing parties.

"Hello, Human." She smiled and tried to not talk in a disapproving or condescending tone. "What brings you to this place, which has little importance and you should start leaving soon?"

[Assistant] Emerald became conscious. He could hear noises, some sort of thud, followed by what he perceived as chatter. He opened his eyes, casting beams out of a.....a hole? Why was he in this sort of....impression? He dove out of the potentially dangerous hole, and glanced around. Why were the walls changing color as he looked around? Why was it gray, and then not the same gray? This made no sense! He backed up against the wall. Whatever this weird place was, he wasn't going back in the potentially dangerous hole. Or any of the other holes. That are potentially dangerous. I have to get out of here. Maybe this gray and then not-gray place will go away if I do something! Emerald couldn't think of anything else. Emerald let out a crazed shriek. Or two. As many as it took to get out of this stupid place!

[User]
A noise. A pitter-patter of repeating motions that became louder, only to tapper out at a different position from where it originated. Another sound that was similar, but somehow more firm and... confidant? Voices? Another pitter-patter?

The vibrations through the earth created by these noises caused a figure within it to squirm, her pale, delicate hands twitching into motion as if their owner had been within a deep slumber. Deep, amber eyes fluttered open in the darkness under the shade of tangerine glass, a feminine groan releasing itself from it's owner. The moment she awakened, the figure could feel an enveloping pressure laying upon her whole body. What was this feeling? This oppressive force upon her person? It covered her, consuming her every movement, every excess of without reaction. She didn't like it.

Her squirming became a struggle, lithe limbs pushing around in their earthen confinement, an unpleasant, clutching feeling making itself known within her core. Why did she feel this way? What was feeling? How could this daunting pressure keep her here, in this oppressive darkness? She wanted out. Out. Out. OUT!

A brilliant, golden light, the relief of freedom, a loud rumbling that exploded towards the skies, revealing an encompassing fog. Was this freedom she felt, or the workings of a larger confinement? The undesirable tightness of her chest faded away, leaving a bliss coolness that she intrinsically knew was safe. Contentment, she knew it was called. 'But what was contentment,' she thought as she pulled herself from the earthen walls of dirt, the source of the earlier oppression, out of a six feet deep divid in the natural structure. Her eyes focused on the figures beneath her, only ten feet above the three forms. Two strangely familiar in her jumbled mind. Another tightness consumed her feeling, colder than the softness of content, but not quite the same as the feeling she felt underground. It was filled with an intrinsic sense of... loss?  'What was contentment, if I barely understand what is going on?'

@Akayaofthemoon

[Assistant]
Sleep was such a glorious thing. Being able to exist separately from everything else, unconscious, in your own world, was one of the best things to do. Besides looking over a mountain of corpses beautiful scene, sleep was, by far, the greatest of past times and the best of experiences. It granted the ability to soar the skies, shape landscapes, murder your friends and enemies alike, and visit the most amazing of places - real or otherwise.

In the depths of sleep, you needn't worry about anything. Nothing truly mattered, and unlimited bliss was in your hand. But it's limited. Like a drug, it only lasts a short while before it wears off. With every high there's a low, and it just so happened that the low from sleep was difficult. Most are usually groggy, some miss the fantasy hidden in a dreamscape.

And it was such an easily attainable drug. One must simply drift off to the infinite expanse that is sleep. The simplicity of that task, mind you, varied from person to person; being difficult for some, yet easily attainable for others. But simply sleeping is never enough. There are those that find it impossible, or close to, to remember dreams of any kind - instead waking up to that tiredness, with no recollection of their previous murders nights fable.

As was such for one Gem in particular. Charoite, a deep purple gem of dubious stability and snarky personality. Her eye lids wavered and flicked open, to hear a loud shriek; whether in pain or fear unknown. The girl, if you could call her that, had always been a light sleeper - or had she? At any rate, she was a light sleeper now. Her view glanced upwards to the light rays of light trickling through a hole.

Whatever this impression was, it was confining. Small, even, yet oddly spacious. How long had she been here for? Long enough for the place to acquire quite a layer of dust; which plumed up into the air like a mushroom cloud after an atomic detonation sending its spores up.

They scattered and danced in the light - mere particles, yes, but oddly beautiful in their own, strange way. This was a feeling unlike that experienced in a dream. This was reality, correct? The dreamscape she found herself so fond of had melded away into darkness and light, along with any recollection and feeling. The memory of the dream had long since vanished, despite her awakened state only having lasted, so far, for a short while.

Perhaps it was best to vacate this tomb of stone? If the shrieking was any indication, something bad could have been on its way, and being encased in an early grave with no vision of the outside was far from the top of her agenda. The only question being... How did one leave?

~

It didn't take long for the Gem to exit her prison. She stood in some kind of hallway, or passage. Or aqueduct. Or mass grave. Her gaze shifted across her surroundings as she span on an axis, taking in everything around her at one. And then she looked down at herself.

Her body was quite small, likely at the lower end of 5 foot from how high up she was. Her frame was small, as well, reminiscent of a little human girl. Anyone might have seen her as a normal human girl, though the gem embedded in her left wrist, and the deep purple hair and eyes likely gave it away. All features a normal human didn't have.

Her legs took her off to the side, around a corner a-

She stopped, braked, and flattened her back against the wall. There was another person. By the looks of it, they were the one who created the terrible racket from earlier... Maybe it was best not to talk to them. Or get close to them. Or do anything near them that may cause unnecessary interaction or distress. The last thing the Gem wanted was to be responsible for a meltdown so early on.

So, instead of going in that direction, her legs carried her in another direction; feet tapping away at the ground, resounding off the walls as she walked. Perhaps there were others around... Ones less unstable than greenie back there, that was. It was so exciting to wonder and imagine what others would think as they met a legend in the making. They would write songs about the girl, songs!

A lover, a fighter, a singing, a poet and a heartbreaker. She could write a book about it! Bards would sing her name throughout the taverns, writers and romantics would recite her endeavours each and everyday. There would be no one in the land who did not know the name CHAROITE!

It's a better love story than Twilight, in any case ;P


[System]
Racial/Ethnic Background: Caerbean (faint orc ancestry)
Grapple: Standard
Unarmed: 5
Melee Skill: 3
Ranged Skill: 3
Strength: 4
Toughness: 3
Wounds: 1
Initiative: 3
Will Power: 3
Morale: 6
Combat Sense: 6
Attacks: 2d6

Weapons:
Net (grapple 10ft)
Studded greaves (bashing)
Brass knuckles (bashing)
Punch dagger (piercing)

Armor:
Buckler (light shield 6)
Light chain shirt (B 20% / S 50% / P 30%)
Steel greaves and bracers
Leather wrappings.

Special Rules:

Caerbean Deck Hand - Saltwater runs through your veins. Adrenaline is your drug of choice. The only thing better than a good fight is a good fuck - the only thing better than a good fuck is a good fight after a good fuck. Caerbeans are natural sailors, fighters and are generally at the heart of any bar-room party. They are also quick to fight just for the fun of it and are natural showmen.

Orc Blood Rage - Anybody with a trace of orc in their lineage has a chance to be afflicted by the Blood Rage. When your blood burns hot and your vision turns red, few things can stop you. After preparing for one hour, the character gains a three-hour window in which they can voluntarily go into a Blood Rage. Alternatively, after three active rounds engaged in combat, the character will go into an involuntary Blood Rage. A Blood Rage may be ended with a successful (strength 3) Will test or upon the character taking a debilitating wound. While Blood Rage is active, the character gains +1 Initiative, +1d6 on attacks and Die Hard on a 6 (Die Hard is rolled after all normal saves and, if successful, ignores all wounds that the character might have taken at that point).

Background:
One of his Grandparents were high nobles from Hecate, an important person of position and wealth. All was lost when they mingled with a Caerbean woman. Ezlan does not know the full extent of this story but blame of his families poverty and struggles have fallen to the uptight laws and law keepers of the Hecate.
Two generations later Ezlan, a proud follower of the storm maiden, a bringer of chaos and a notorious brawler from the docks, is interested in his family history. But to learn of such he must first make a name for himself.

Currently residing in Caerbea and calling it home, a fair amount of his childhood and past struggles occurred in the Iron Harbour. Growing up there he fought, fought a lot. He still proudly wears the scars to prove it. While he enjoys a good skirmish, his blood often boils intently with rage.
It was there, because of this, lost in a blind rage he accidentally murdered his best friend during a petty brawl.

It was a life changing moment that sent him to the church to study and grow. Eventually he found his way back to the path of the Storm maiden, became a great dock hand, was good at entertaining company and quite a knowledgeable story teller. But his short temper, violent tendencies and highly competitive reckless streaks caused him to be cast out time after time. The same reasons he has held so few friends or lovers long term.

Despite being a keen brawler and always eager for a fight he is also quite intelligent.
He has a wide curiosity and a special interest in history and biology, wanting to expand on what he learnt at the church. As such he enjoys reading and collecting.
It is that curiosity that drew him to the sea and docks where he could meet interesting people and learn their tales.
For this he has many stories to share and a knack for telling them.
His favourite stories are of history, battle or feats of strength and ingenuity. He incorporates these lessons and other gained knowledge into his fighting style to gain every advantage he can.

He is almost as good as aiding the injured as he is at injuring people.
Helping is now in his nature, and while he tries to be content with what he has, deep inside he has always had a yearning for more. To be something more. A feeling or desire to be destined for some sort of greatness. He constantly tries to prove his worthyness to himself and the Storm Maiden who guides his path.

[User]
Loran

---

Strange looks followed the two men as they walked barefoot down the city street, sopping wet from head to toe, slightly muddy and playfully shoving each other as they walked, the only relatively dry items in their possession were the boots they were carrying in their hands, otherwise even the fishing rod slung over the one's shoulders was dripping water! Unphased by their wet state and the looks they were receiving, Loran and his friend continued on their way, laughing as they exchanged jokes about the others' incompetence as a fisherman.

Honestly, when Loran had bumped into Teagen early that morning and the later had invited him to join him on his fishing trip by one of the rivers on the outskirts of the city, neither was planning on jumping in. The wettest they thought they'd get was their feet when they ventured deeper in on the narrow side, which was why they had removed their boots beforehand. Plans changed however, when after about an hour in a fish finally took the bait only for it to be stronger than Teags was able to handle, causing him to lose his balance.

Naturally Loran had to laugh. It was the only thing to do.

Teagan got his revenge though, needless to say fishing was the last thing on their mind whilst trying to pull the other under.

It was a blast though, and they eventually managed to recover the fishing rod from the river, so all in all the experience was a worthwhile one.

The two friends would have continued their walk, probably make a stop at Teags' place since its closest to dry off before parting ways, had they not come face to face with an out of breath and extremely frustrated runner. The poor man had been about ready to give up and return to the guild empty handed, but the second he laid eyes on the wet human being in front of him his face turned red with annoyance.

"Finally! Where the hell have you been? I've searched nearly the entire city for you!"

A sheepish smile immediately crossed Loran's face as the runner yelled at him, while the hand of his not in the process of holding his boots immediately went to sheepishly scratch the back of his head. "'Pologies mate, me an Teags weren't in the city till just recently. If we'd a known you were lookin for me, we'd a come back sooner, right Teags?"

Nodding in agreement, Teagen was about to open his mouth to attempt to aide his friend in diffusing the man's temper, but one look at the stink-eye he received from that motion alone made him rethink his next actions more carefully. Giving Loran a wave with the hand holding his boots, along with a cheerful smile, he quickly started walking in a random direction, completely unfazed by the look of utter betrayal that crossed his friend's face.

"Sorry, pal, tis gettin late, I still got some errand ta do. Catch ya later!"

Resisting the urge to gape at the metaphorical knife now wedged in his back by the retreating traitor, Loran swiftly returned his attention to the still annoyed runner, who was in the process of eyeing him before letting out a sigh. "Never mind that now boy. What on earth happened to you anyway? Did you actually go and jump in a river?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, causing a squelch noise due to the wet material, an expression of indignation (aka a pout) crossed Loran's face. "Firs of all, I'm not a boy, mate, I'm on me twentieth year, an I did not jump, I was pushed." In spite of his attempts a grin broke through as he recalled the incident and he puffed up slightly. "I did a right good job of gettin im back though!"

Rolling his eyes at the young man, the runner merely chose not to engage in the topic any further and went back to the real reason he was there in the first place. "Yes, yes, all right, back to the reason I was looking for you. Your presence is required back at the guild immediately."

Some of the colour immediately drained from Loran's face as his eyes widened and grin dropped. He gulped, surely this couldn't be about what he thinks its about, could it? I mean after all, he's still new, only been part of the guild a little while…'sides, its not like that one thing is really all that of a big deal…is it?

"If this is 'bout that broken window I heard people talkin about, I don't know nothin. In fact I even got a alibi for-"

"It's not about the window." Loran visibly slumped with relief. Oh well, the runner has other things to do than to be concerned over a window right now. "You and some others are being called for a meeting, chances are its to receive some kind of mission."

A grand total of three seconds passed before Loran let out a 'whoop' of excitement and set of running towards the guild with a wide grin, leaving a confused runner in his wake, before said man took off after him.

"Oy! Wait up!"

[Assistant]
One of the guild's few elves was sitting with his back against the wall a few feet from the inside of the guild-hall's gate. He had a pipe gripped in his teeth, while one hand scribbled with a sharpened, charred twig in a journal held by the other. Every so often, a look of consternation crossed his face, and he scribbled something out, as if he had made an error in some calculation.

He was a curious creature. Social by nature, he only sought solitude when he chose to write. This privacy seemed to extend to the writing itself, as those snoopy enough to open it without his permission found they couldn't read it. Some joked that he was actually illiterate, and was writing nonsense to look smart. Some thought Erevan might be a novelist, perhaps a famous one under a pen-name, and he used a code to keep his identity a secret. There were even an odd few who kept a wary eye on him, thinking him some kind of spy using a code.

Erevan never answered to the rumors, and kept happily writing away in corners of rooms when he had tired of company(this usually took quite some time).

A strange sound caused the elf to tilt his head, trying to hear it better. A sharp, damp slapping, like wet feet running on cobblestones. This turned out to be exactly correct, however unlikely that was, as a young man barged through the gate at a run, sopping from head to toe.

"Keep rushing like that and you'll burn yourself out before you get whereever 'tis that you mean to be." Erevan spoke in a pleasant drawl, carrying the accent of one who speaks low elven as a first language.

The young man was followed by another, a guild runner, Erevan recognized. He greeted this one more simply, "Evening."

The runner leaned a hand against the wall, puffing hard, and looking at Erevan unclearly for a moment.

"You too," he finally got out.

"Beg pardon?"

The runner waved a hand in "wait up" gesture, then expounded. "Gathering folks for the guildmaster. You're wanted too."

[User]
E Z L A N
At the guild

---

The coincidences of life n fate.

Ezlan, bare foot and chested casually stroll into the main guild hall, shoving the main doors open wide with a fierce bravado and gusto as he entered. His movements were very aloof and without any urgency at all. He carried with him an air of confident surety often reserved only for those in positions of power, the elite and important, those otherwise considered untouchable.
Having found an apple on a nearby table, ignoring the current bite missing from it or the ownership therefore implied, he threw it into the air a couple of times, bouncing it in his hand before crunching deep into it, the juices running over his swollen lip and down his bearded chin as he carelessly devoured it, core and all.

Meanwhile a few rooms away, with dishevelled burgundy hair and in ruffled twisted leathers, the runner was slouched over herself hurriedly re-lacing her boots. It was considered improper of her not to be present at her wards arrival. As a long standing guild member she prided herself on her service and contributions to the guild that literally saved her life. Failing this frustrated her, a frustration that steadily grew and was aimed at Ezlan.

"Where's the old salt hiding?" Ezlan called out aloud to some passers by, only swallowing the last of his food after he spoke.
"The guild master." He quickly added after realising their confusion. He had not been away from the sea for long, and had been at the guild for even less, since then he had been finding language and mannerisms that he needed to adjust, customs that needed to be learnt, but for most parts it was something he cared little for. Fitting in was never really his thing.

Never having received a formal summons to the guild before, Ezlan looked around for someone he might recognise. Although to be fair, due to lifestyle choices, unless there was a big breasted guild member, Ezlan was more likely to find a familiar face at the local brothel or tavern over his own guild hall. This was not a representation of his loyalties (or lack of), but rather an indicator of how he'd rather spend his free time.

Spending as little time at the guild as possible also had helped ensure the longevity of his relationship and membership. It was a sign of value and respect that he had kept away.
Even a dog knows not to defecate where he sleeps. Or as the Caerbean commonly say, 'Don't soil your own nest.'

So his time had been spent exploring and getting to know his new city. To him this was truly a wonderful town, it still held that new undiscovered excitement that came with the unknown. Much wonder was hidden down the old and shabby streets, he was still finding many new holes to drink at and fill...
He was a sailor after all, a Caerbean of high ego and low standards.

With an eager excitement in his eyes, he wondered upon what new adventures and challenging dangers may unfurl from this highly mysterious meeting. Only time would tell.


[System]
"Come now, we're only outnumbered ten to one. I'd say the odds are in our favor!"

Sprite:
Nicknames/Title:

Gender: Male

Marital Status: Single.

Age: 25

Sexuality: Straight

Family Ties:
Petros Argyris - Uncle / Only living family member not associated with Mustaf's treachery and subsequently current head of the household.
Carmela Argyris - Mother / Former Lady of the house / Currently serving a prison sentence for her actions in the war with her husband.
Gavriil Argyris - Father /Former Head of the Argyris family/Former advisor to Emperor Mustaf/Believed to have died during the war.

Class: Mage

Weapon Mastery(ies): Tomes

Inventory: Arcwind
 Arcfire
 Arcthunder

Personality:
 Tybalt is a flirtatious scoundrel, a free spirit with a swagger about him. He is bold, gallant, and practically exuding charisma. Unusually outgoing and sociable for a mage, he never passes up on a potential adventure or an experience and will jump at the opportunity to try something new. With a never say die attitude about life and carefree machismo to his actions, he possesses a sharp wit and a silver tongue that makes him extremely charming, though it can occasionally come off as insulting. Heroic and daring, Tybalt is quick to deliver a quip and a smile to brighten even the most somber of situations, making it easy to see why the people of Alistaf have warmed up to him.

However, beneath this outgoing and bold personality lies a man of compassion and kindness as well as impressive tactical acumen and magical knowhow. He may not act like it, but he is a very experienced and talented mage and tactician, brilliant and knowledgeable in his craft. While he more often than not spends his time using his magic to do simple parlor tricks and goof off, he truly has a untold brilliance when the situation demands it, revealing his intellect when the situation demands it. A cunning and calculating strategist, he is more than capable of assisting his unit when the time comes, both with his mind and his magic.

Biography:
Tybalt comes from the desert town of Alistaf, he hails from a noble family of dukes disgraced by their affiliation with the former dictator Mustaf. Once the city was annexed to Jotenvarr, his family immediately fell into bad standing with the new king. Even at a young age, he was very aware that the people of Alistaf despised his family's affiliation with a monster and also expressed shame at their defeat. They were only a noble house in name, prisoners of their own city and targets of their people's hatred.

This was something Tybalt refused to stand for. He began to feel it was his responsibility to give Alistaf back a member of nobility they could respect, and a noble house they could feel pride in. He worked tirelessly to assist his people, spending days in town trying to rebuilt broken homes and defend the city from bandits. He won their respect though hard work and determination, enough so that he caught the eye of Jotenvarr's royal guard. Already Tybalt could see that this was his chance to truely redeem his family's name by coming the Royal Guard to the king, to make up for the horrors his family had done during the way. He departed for the Capital on the very same day he received the invitation, intending to give it his all and prove he can be more than just some noble.

[User]
Palace Jotenvarr

The Garden of Blades and Grand General Davos

The squad of Trignita was led by Illian to a courtyard that was closer to the north end of the castle, but equidistant between the east and west sides. The halls of the palace that the sqauds stayed in wrapped from the main hall in the south where the main entrance was all the way around the east and west ends, meeting at either side of The Garden of Blades.

The training grounds of the royal guard seemed rather appropriately named, as the wide grassy courtyard had several areas where old weapons and shields had been stabbed into the ground. These placements of arms actually appeared artistically pleasing, and were each surrounded by beds of flowers, and finally labeled with a plaque. Inspection of these signs would depict the names of great fighters and leaders in Jotenvarr history, including their birth and death dates. The bright sun shone with unforgiving intensity upon most of the courtyard, save for the southern end, where the walls of the palace would block the light if one was to stand against them.

Standing in the center of the garden alone when Trignita entered was a rather tall and heavily armored man with a long blonde ponytail, and a spear. Upon arrival, Illian explained that the man in the courtyard would be the issuer of their second trial, and that she would meet with them again afterwards, leaving the team in the presence of the knight. Those familiar with history and those who have trained in the knight's academy knew him as Grand General Davos, the leader of the Jotenvarr armed forces. As Trignita approached the center of the garden, Davos looked upon them and spoke.

"If you have passed the first of Illian's tests, then you already have an expectation to meet." He stated with the blunt force of truth as he stood at attention towards the group, his hands folded in front of him and his spear impaled into the ground beside him. "For those of you who do not know, I am Grand General Davos. And I will be overseeing your second exam. At the conclusion of your testing, you will all participate in a tournament by order of his Majesty King Alexandro, to determine whom shall be awarded a position in the Royal Guard. It is for this reason that I believe that a test of your combat skills now is necessary. If you cannot match the might of a Royal Guard, then you do not deserve to join their ranks." Davos rose one hand and let lose a loud snap between his fingers, and the shuffling of feet and clanking of armor marched its way from the southern doors to the center of the courtyard. Standing before Trignita now was six guards, clad in the royal crests of Jotenvarr and carrying various different weapons. The first three wore metal armor not dissimilar to that of Davos's though less decorated. One carried a sword, one an axe, and one a lance. Two of the other three wore lighter armor made of studded leather and plate straps. One stood with a bow stowed across their torso, and the other had several daggers tucked away along the outsides of their legs. The last of the guards wore lavish robes and held a tome in one hand, and a staff in the other.

"You shall each test your skills against one of my soldiers. Those who best or hold their own in a duel here will move on to the second stage of this exam. Let us begin." Davos nodded towards the assassin guard, who nodded in return. The other five guards took a large step away from the soon-to-be arena, and the assassin drew a dagger, pointing it at Claude.

"Give me this one." He demanded as he pulled his hood over his head, obscuring his eyes as he tilted his face down. "A lumbering fool like him will not keep up with me."

[Assistant]
Claude

The challenge from the assassin made the mercenary smile, showing all of his pointy teeth. Like last time, the man was wearing his large brown coat, wasn't wearing a shirt and was still wearing his sunglasses.

"Well, this lumbering fool will cut ya down to size." He cracked his knuckles as he approached the assassin.

He then took the sword hanging from his hip and pointed it at the man before him. "So, your gay little knives against my sword? Now, I wanna see how that goes for you. They are gonna BEG me to be in the Royal Guard after I'm done sweeping your ass across the floor!"

The man declared and then hunched his back as he prepared to leap at the assassin before him.

"Then... let's get wild." Despite his excited smile just then and boisterous behavior, the mercenary's smiling face soon faded away and he turned quite serious.

His eyes narrowed, his muscles tensed. The grip on his sword tightened. The muscles of his legs tensed as he prepared to leap forward towards the assassin. Any lesser man would feel intimidated by the sheer power his skill and experience gave him. Almost like fighting a bear, once someone said that to him.

Certainly, he knew never to understimate an opponent, no matter who they were. Even if he was arrogant, he wouldn't let his arrogancy become the end of him.

He could afford one or two knives digging into his skin, so he wasn't too worried. He would simply jump forward and crush his opponent with overwhelming force. He had always done it like that and would continue to do so until he was actually half dead.

---

Joan Croce

Of course, she too was kind of tired from the training, but she definitely had it a lot less harsher than the others.

Her horse was trying her best to keep her balanced on her back. Joan constantly brushed her hair with her hands and praised her. Without a doubt, this rocky trail was hard on her.

"Don't worry, dear, we are almost there. Hang in there for a little while longer, all right?"

The squad that was left in tatters was definitely unsettling. Joan's eyes widened at the sight of it.

She offered a small prayer for the dead before going on her way. Perhaps the other bandits were still near? Certainly, that possibility was kind of frightening. Even more so if they only took female prisoners.

Joan held her staff tightly against herself. She was reminded of how her own squad was annihilated. She hadn't tell the others, but the sight of the bodies still hunted her every night. She even held one of her stuffed animals under the covers so that she could fall asleep.

The feminine shout from the mountains made her turn to the source of it. A blonde girl.

"Don't worry, we'll save you!" She shouted. "Let me accompany you, sire Hiro! Unworthy as I may be."

[User]
It had been a hard month for Tybalt, training had been a hellstorm of activity for the young mage. Every morning he would be up at the crack of dawn to Lady Hirotsuka's orders to be suited up to train with the cavaliers. He had tasted dirt many times from falling off of the horse to a training spear leveled into him by a cavalier. This would continue until Tybalt could no longer hold himself upright on the steed and he would be excused from continuing. From there he would either lose consciousness from the endless beatings or struggle back onto a horse. To improve his physical stature to maintain such training he was given intensive physical regiments to condition him. jogging, leaping, crawling, jumping, any physical activity that Lady Hirotsuka had thought up before the afternoon came. He found new bruises lining his body every day, his skin now flecked with cuts and lacerations from the intensive physical exercise his indignant noble form had not been used to.

And yet every morning Tybalt woke with a smarmy, enthusiastic grin on his face. He knew this was for the greater good, and no amount a pain would ruin his optimism. Even after he was excused from the cavalier's training area, his training did not stop. He would force himself to keep conscious after the physical strains, spending time in his room studying spells and memorizing tomes on battlefield strategies that won wars. Every day Lady Hirotsuka would physically destory him, and every knight he would rack his mind with new insights, and it had left him with impressive results. Not only had his spellcasting improved, but he was physically improved as well. He actually had muscle definition thanks to the training with the cavaliers, his body now displaying a toned muscular frame. His hands were calloused from using the training lances given to him by Lady Hirotsuka, making his physical stature just as ready for combat as his magical prowess. Every day brought new improvements, moments that he savored as a learning experience, from throwing a fireball to taking another plummet off of his training steed to the floor, Tybalt had worked extremely hard to continue improving himself.

One way or another, Tybalt was only strengthened in his resolve that he would be on that Royal Knights roster, for himself and his family's sake.

And yet, even with all this improvement, the Dragon's Back was still a grueling hike. The rocky terrain made any face quicker than a crawl exhausting, the terrain not really allowing for any cushioning of their feet. Nevertheless, Tybalt made every attempt to press on, his unwavering confidence pushing him forward even as he sweat through his fine silk tunic.

Upon hearing Hiro's suggestion, Tybalt nodded in agreement. "I agree, Sir Hiro, that is a sound plan. We have no time budget for this quest, it's best we take the safer route and come back alive from i--"

His words were cut off when the bodies came into view, the squad known as Septem laying before them in a mangled pile of blood and limbs, their faces marred in fear. Tybalt's features softened, it had not been often that he had lingered around after a fight, to see its remnants was truly a gruesome and saddening sight. What were the last thoughts these men had before they were killed? Was it family? Lovers? Regrets? Truly it did not matter, but the thought alone was ever so haunting, a reminder of the consequences for failure.

"Poor souls…" Tybalt murmured as he grabbed his trusty arcfire, advancing on the pile. "At least a cremation will be a better end than rotting out here…"

However, before he was able to throw the spell, there was a chorus of screaming and shouting, causing the mage to abandon his remorseful action and look to the sounds. There was a figure coming their way, screaming for help. It was a woman from the sounds of it, screaming that she was a survivor running from bandits. Tybalt raised a brow, lowering the rag as he left the corpse pile to face the woman. He had heard that Septem squad consisted of six, and there were only five bodies to speak of. Was this the survivor?

However, Tybalt was not one to blindly trust anyone in this environment. He had been warned by Lady Hirotsuka that this had been an area run by bandits, and there was no guarantee this was even the survivor of Septum, or a bandit. Not to mention that Septem was an all-male squad, and this woman was saying she was a survivor. Even bound, this could still be some sort of ruse to cause them to lower their guard, and Tybalt was not looking to take chances.

"Wait, Sir Hiro, Lady Joan," Tybalt murmured to the pair. "I agree in investigating the claim, but Septem was an all male squad. We don't know who this woman is affiliated with. Let's all investigate together, but keep your distance with her and keep your wits about you. I'd rather not find out she's part of some bandit ambush the hard way."

He took pace after the archer and Valkyrie, calling out to the woman. "We're on our way up! Try and make your way towards us if you can!"


[System]
Gender:
Woman

Age:

36

Height:

5"7

Weight:

139 lbs

Staff Role:

Frost Desk Attendant and Secretary, as well as occasional Guest Teacher and Class Supervisor.

Personality:

There's an air of mischief about the former supervillain. Her eyes are seemingly always shut and her mouth is always sporting a sly or bemused smile. She revels in teenage drama, and gets a kick out of watching the sparks fly, though she doesn't stir the pot herself. She's found that the pot gets stirred plenty without her input.

Though she does her job well and takes her responsibilities seriously, she does not do so at the cost of her personal enjoyment. She finds this job fun, and during after-school hours, even enjoys a cheeky beer or two at her desk as she sorts out the paperwork.

Just because she's not a hero, and that she enjoys drama, that doesn't mean that she is lenient with those who misbehave. If you think she'd go easy on a student who must be punished on her watch for acting villain-like, you'd be mistaken. Her punishments are cruel, but each designed to help you grow as a hero, rather than just to teach you not to do it again. Akane's stern, serious face, when she stops her perpetual sly smile, and opens her golden eyes revealing their angry spark, is one of the more troubling sights a student can see.

Supervillian Name:
Madame Obsidian

Quirk:

Akane's quirk is an emission type quirk. She can heat up anything she touches. The scope of this quirk is so vast that she can warm up her coffee if it gets too cold, or she could superheat stone to it's melting point, breaking a hole in a wall in the process. She has incredible control over it.

Talents:

Due to her six year career of thievery, Akane is very acrobatic and flexible if the need arises. With the weight of hero-fighting experience and knowledge on her side, she'd actually be a match for most students without even using her quirk.

Background:

Akane, even as a child, had a sadistic streak. While not a bully as such, she loved nothing more than to manipulate other students to cause drama and revel in spectating the chaos she'd caused. She was worryingly sadistic, and intelligent and cunning enough that she never received her righteous blame.

She never used her quirk in public ever since she discovered what it did. That's because she knew what it could be used for. At first, the plan was simply to do wrong, but as she got older, she set her sights on one career path; stealing.

When she left school, she immediately started to use her quirk to break into buildings and steal the valuables without anybody knowing she had committed the crime. All they knew was that it was the same thief, and they were using their quirk, which by its nature burned any evidence which might be traced back to her, and nobody knew anybody with a quirk that could do this.

By the time she was 22, she was rich, and wanted for only one thing; infamy. Seeing the heroes and villains on television, she realised what she wanted; she wanted her deeds known, and credited to her. She wanted to be a supervillain.

She fashioned herself an elaborate costume using her ill-gotten gains, and started offering her services to clients under the name 'Madame Obsidian'. The more challenging the robbery, the more appealing that job was for her.

Thus began the eight-month career of the professional thief Madame Obsidian. For a brief window of time she was THE supervillain all the Heroes were trying to catch. THE supervillain that everybody was talking about. It felt amazing.

She knew that it was inevitable that she'd be caught eventually, and sure enough, eight months into her career as Madame Obsidian, there were Heroes waiting at her target. She didn't even put up a fight or tried to flee. She accepted defeat, and played up to the media during her entire arrest. supervillains who fight back until death, or act like once they're caught, it's game over. They're never remembered, yet to this day the people who watched the news around that time still remember the witty and charismatic interviews given by the captured villainess.

She spent seven years in prison, in an isolated, reinforced cell, and frankly, the peace and quiet to think wasn't that bad. The question she came back to a lot was 'what would she do with her life now?' She'd had her fun as a supervillain. It was time for a new life direction.

To the media's surprise, the famous thief went straight out of prison and into a secretary course. Despite that being the whole purpose of prison, it was still rare to see a supervillain actually turn over a new leaf! The press anxiously awaited her relapse in crime, and many Heroes kept a close eye on her.

What she did next surprised everyone; She applied for a post at Komei Academy of all places! Her reasoning, as many news sources quoted, was to have some of the best Heroes in the world keeping a close eye on her as she started a new, honest chapter in her life.

She has been working at the academy for three years and she has given none of the staff any reason to trust her. She loves her new job, and she loves seeing all these confident young Heroes-in-training aim for their dreams, just as she had once aimed for, and achieved, hers.

[User]
Mako Akane

The bombshell was dropped. Mako sighed, and poured herself another cup of coffee. "I'm sorry about putting that question on the test. I wasn't thinking about you when I made that paper, but that question was based on him, yes. Facing him was...the first time in my life that'd I had ever been truly terrified. If you have specific questions, I'll be to answer them directly, but if not, i'll just tell you about him.

His name is Kensai. He's a very fearsome and skilled serial killer. He was like the original Stain, though he didn't have an agenda that I know of and was just trying to prove his strength, or increase it. Or both. When I was a foolish little girl of nineteen, trying to prove myself just as much as he was, I stole...something of great value, that he wanted, and he pursued me relentlessly until my fear was greater than my pride and I left the sword behind and fled. Kensai is the sole reason I decided that the ability to sneak wasn't enough and I also needed to train in combat and dodging."

[Assistant]
Dulga Tarata

Dulga listened to Mako tell her what she knew. The man, her mother's killer, was a man named Kensai. Sword Saint. Dulga's eyes narrowed at this name. He was no saint and for someone who wanted to become a great swordsman, what business did he have to go after her father? he was strong, certainly, but he was no warrior. Not by choice. None of this made sense. But then Mako said that she had met him before while she was still a thief. Then things started to fall together. Dulga had already come to a conclusion by the time Mako had finished speaking, and Dulga looked furious. All that Dulga needed to confirm it was when Mako said she had stolen a sword. That damn sword that started all of this. "You... You're the one who stole the Murakumo-no-Tsurugi? My father's masterpiece!?" Dulga's voice rose as she took steps towards Mako.

In a moment of weakness Dulga slammed her four fists into Mako's desk, breaking through the table. She didn't seem to care. "My father has known nothing but shame since that sword was stolen! His pride and joy, the best thing he's ever made, and you're the one who stole it!? Worse still you left it in the hands of a madman who has killed countless heroes, including... Including my mother..." Dulga went through so many emotions at this moment. Confusion, anger, sadness, just to name a few. Dulga covered her face as she started to cry. She tried to stop but all of these pent up emotions were just too much for her to handle. Ever since her mother died Dulga had just.... Stopped feeling. Emotions ebbed and flow around her. Even when she felt annoyed or embarrassed they were always just faked, because she felt she was suppose to do something. That was what her mother taught her. But hearing about Kensai and knowing Mako's involvement in all of it, there was a certain relief in Dulga that she couldn't beleive.

She was getting closer to achieving vengeance.

"I need to know everything. Why was he after my father's sword? What do you know about who he is, how he fights? Do you know where he's at right now? Who does he have as allies? What are his quriks and abilities?" Tears were still streaming down Dulga's face. She was so close now. Dulga can't let this chance slip out of her fingers.

[User]
Roy Kusayanagi

The boy smiled back when Kaida said she was alright, he turned back over to Tomoe who didn't recognize him right away. Roy slumped his arms a bit, the boy did go threw some drastic physical changes, she then started rubbing on the boys stomach Which made his eyes shot open as she invaded his personal space. Her hands were ice cold compared to the boys warm skin, "Tomoe stop your hands are cold!" he said as he tried to fight against the girls icy assault.

After assaulting the boy she identified him as the kid with the weird tattoos who snuck into her bed, and she said it quite loudly that anyone in the classroom would hear her. Roys face immediately turned cherry red, why would she yell that so loud. She then hugged the boy while rubbing her head against his chest. "Nice to see you too" he said before wrapping his arms bacjk around her body. To Tomoe it would feel as putting on clothes that just came out the dryer. They enjoyed the moment for a second before Roy picked her up and squeezed her hard trying to get every ounce of Air out of the little girl. He growled at her as he squeezed, "Don't say such personal thing so loud in public alright?" He snarled at the girl before letting her go. He smiled satisifed and also relieved that everyone who would give him a hard time about his past had already left. "Anyway Tomoe I have to bounce, we should catch up later I wanna know how you've been" he smiled before gathering his things and heading for the dorms.

 As Roy reached the boarding room he took a good look at the outside and smirked before walking in amazed at the boarding house, "Damn" he whispered under his breath, it was really nice..wait was that cookies he smelt? He was gonna go into the room where the cookies were but stopped himself, he wanted to change out of his uniform. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny note card, the principal had handed him a notecard after speaking to him in the morning. The boy hummed as he read it and made his way up the stairs where he met up with Acion. Mr.Icarus himself, what's up" he said as they both walked over to the dorm room. "What room number are you in?" the boy asked.

@Conscripts

[Assistant]
Mako opened her eyes, and studied Dulga's face for a while, before putting the coffee down, opening her desk and opening a can of beer, which began to 'grow' frost around it as Mako down the whole thing in a single sitting and then chucked the can in the trash. "In my entire career, there are only a handful of things I regret, but the biggest one is giving up that sword and letting that murderous bastard use it. I can't be too hard on my past self. She was just a dumb nineteen year old kid. And hindsight is 20/20. But even so, blood is on my hands, and I hate that. It may seem odd or hypocritical of a thief to say this but I abhor people who maliciously injure or kill others. I always have.

As for your questions, he was after that sword because t was an incredibly strong sword that could handle his power. Kensai is a lone wolf who's out to prove how much strong her is than everybody by fighting to the death. At least that what I've gathered. If there's any deeper meaning to his motives, I don't know it. I don't know where he is right now, now who his allies are. He's an incredibly strong and fast opponent but I'm not sure if that's his quirk. If it isn't, he never used it."

Mako's sad eyes suddenly flared up again and her hand shot over the desk like a bullet and grabbed Dulga's nearest wrist. There was no anger in Mako's expression, just desperation. "I'm not going to tell you to give up on revenge. Lord knows you deserve it. But DO NOT do anything until you are ready to face him, and that will not be for years at the least. Trust me. If you want to see him dead, letting your emotions get the better of you will result in him seeing you dead, and that's the exact opposite."


[System]
Gender: Female
Sexuality(optional): Bi
Age: (19 - 30): 19
Job/Career: Fashion design major; part-time model
Personality: Mia tries hard to be nice to people, to others it seems fake and try-hard but she genuinely is trying to be a kind person. She is oblivious to how she talks sometimes, which most of the time may come off rude or condescending but she doesn't mean it in that way. Because she was surrounded with delinquents she has a rough and wild side by nature and tends to attract trouble wherever she goes.
Background: In High School, Mia had a bad rep for getting in trouble with other girls. Because of her nature, people take her words and tone the wrong way and label her as a bad person. She attracted the crowd of gossip and mean girls which inevitably caused her to innately act the same way sometimes. It didn't help that she was never committed in any of her relationships. She got the reputation of being a heartbreaker and delinquent. Ever since graduating she's been trying to reinvent herself, going out of her way to being nice to others and making a good impression. In her first semester of college, she landed a modeling contract with a fashion magazine which helps her pay off her student debt.
Likes: modeling, fashion, friends, when people call her kind
Dislikes: violence, bullies, coffee, gangs, when people get the wrong impression of her

[User]
The smell of smoke and coffee lingered in the air as the song "La Vie En Rose" produced through a record player softly. A woman clad in an elegant black dress was seated in one of the chairs in the café looking out the window smoking a cigarette.
"The sunset here is really sad isn't it?" She sighed.
 A man who was very well groomed and dapper for his age turned towards the window and raised an eyebrow,
 "Whatever do you mean Ms. Diane?" He asked her, not stopping once from cleaning cups and silverware. The women takes a long draw from her cigarette before talking once more, "It's always covered by these dreadful buildings, you only get a glimpse of its beauty and if you really want to see the whole thing, you have to work for it." She exhaled and as the smoke escaped from her mouth and clouded the air, it covered a "No Smoking" sign that was placed over her head. "It's sort of like people I suppose. Covering their hearts with locks and walls, you only get a sample of who they truly are and if you want more… you're going to have to work for that as well." She picked up a piece of paper that was lying on the table and looks at it. "Well there's always people who don't have their hearts locked down, and there are the ones who can't do anything with theirs." She takes one final draw from her cigarette blowing the smoke towards the paper.
 "You should really stop smoking here, I put that sign up for a reason." The man scoffed causing the woman to laugh.
"I guess I should, since you're letting me use this place to bring them together after all." She puts out her cigarette and stands up from her seat. She puts the paper up against the window, facing the content to the outside and tapes it.
The paper was a flyer for a group counsel class taught by Ms. Diane. Normal people wouldn't have any interest in it, the advertisement was specifically designed to be noticed by people with a unique problem: The inability to love romantically no matter how hard they want to or try to. Complete strangers with incomplete hearts, is what she likes to describe it as. She leaves the shop feel content with her work. "Tomorrow will be the start of it all…" She smiles warmly as she cranes her neck to the sky watching the sunset disappear.

Philophobia
[Janurary 3, 2017]

In this seemingly fast world everyone around you is getting married or having babies. Yet at this moment you're what they call a "single pringle." Your friends tell you that you just haven't met the "right" person. But deep down in your heart you feel as if you can't love anyone romantically. New Years has just passed and you feel as if this year will be the same as before. More friends getting married, having babies, and more people asking if it'll be your turn next. But New York is full of "mysterious wonder" is what they say to get people to more there. You never felt any mystery or wonder from this place, it's always the smell of exhaust fuel and the fear of being harassed by a hot dog vendor that seems to define the city. It isn't until one day you stumble upon a poster/internet ad that read:
Ms. Diane: The Famous Love Guru
"Do you feel like you can't love anyone romantically? Like a hole in your heart? Are you not able to ever imagine a future where you settle down with someone and have kids? Then this group counsel class is for you!"
"Meetings take place in Love-More Café Tuesday and Thursday 7:00 pm!"
"Sign up for free!"

Although you shouldn't be taking relationship advice from a mysterious single woman, you give it a shot. What else do you have to lose?

[Assistant]
The wind blew with a surprising amount of force, causing Derick to steady himself against the unwavering gale. Unbeknownst to him, a plastic bag floated by his side, tittering between calm, gentle floating and rapid successive movements. Along with the shift in the air came an aroma that Derick knew all too well: a strange combination of coffee, an incredibly powerful aura of calmness, and the scent of exhaust that covered every inch of the concrete jungle. The scent of a cafe.

Derick calmly glided in a random direction, eventually finding his way to the edge of the curb. Tapping the side of the curb, Derick slowly made his way to what felt like a lamp post. Careful inspection with large, calloused fingers revealed the thing he had been searching for - The crossing button. Derick lightly pressed onto the button, as numerous thoughts passed through his head, shifting and turning from a slight anxiousness, to a small glint of hope, before eventually returning to the usual apathetic and nihilistic thought process he usually followed. His leather jacket hung loosely off of him, but then again, it didn't really matter how he looked. After all, he wasn't interested in a relationship any time soon, and he wasn't able to appreciate how he looked anyways. Besides, It's not like it mattered anyways. Music was blind, and it was the only lover he needed. The slight comfort and familiarity of the strap around his torso reminded him of this, before the honking of a horn alerted him to remove the headphones, which he was always told to never wear when he was trying to go somewhere. It appears that Derick had not managed to make it to the other side of the street in time, and he hurried, a soft clacking emanating from his cane wherever he went.

Derick had began to wonder why he even decided to come here in the first place. It was probably some trick to scam people who can't hold a relationship into wasting their time and money. After all, the advertisement was on some random YouTube video, and even though it said it was free, these kind of things always said they were. A soft sound escaped from Derick lips as he hoisted himself onto the curb on the opposite side of the street. He was never quite as in-shape as he would have liked, but then again, being unable to see always made things seem more dangerous than they actually were. Derick lightly contemplated the idea of simply returning home. He still had time, even though he has essentially wasted a perfectly good Thursday evening. His phone buzzed slightly, alerting him to the fact that he had made it to this "Love-More Café", and quickly ushering any thoughts of retreat from his mind. Derick gently pushed open the door, using the same soft force he would for cooking. A small bell chimed, and the sound of rustling could be heard nearby. Derick called out with a calm tone.

"Excuse me? Could someone please lead me to a woman named... Ms. Diane?"

The last part of his question had wavered slightly. Of all the times to forget someone's name... A somewhat elderly voice called out, responding to Derick's request. A soft grip enveloped his hand, and he was led to the corner of the small establishment, tapping his finger against the handle of his (now retracted) cane, matching the beat of the song with perfect rhythm. Eventually, he made his way to a seat, which he slowly lowered himself into, knees making a slight popping sound as he did so... He really needed to get in shape. Derick sat still, practicing the patience that blindness had cultivated in him for many years. Derick made sure that the instrument strapped across his back was safe from harm before relaxing slightly. If this wasn't a scam, others like him would show up soon, along with that mysterious "Love Guru". Unless, of course, they were already here. Derick chuckled slightly at the thought; it would probably be incredibly creepy for someone to just sit down and not say a word, their eyes closed the entire time. Even if this was fake...

...Well, there was always more places to search. Derick leaned back, jeans hanging loosely off of his legs and sunglasses tucked inside his jacket pocket. Worst case scenario, he just had to keep looking. And if that's the case, it probably wouldn't take too much longer.

How long can it take to search for your heart anyways?

[User]
"Mia try putting one hand on your hip...perfect!"
The sound of shuttering cameras filled the air with people bustling in and out of the studio. This was her 5th photo shoot for the magazine "Perfect Looks" but she has yet to perfect her own style. After a few more shots they wrapped up for the day and Mia headed back to her dressing room to gather her stuff. It was 6:20, the class that she saw an advertisement for the other day was going to start soon. She was a bit embarrassed for even thinking about going but if she was going to reinvent herself she had to learn not to be a "heartbreaker". One of the many labels that was branded on her in high school. She had heard of this "Ms. Diane" before, but only in rumors. Some say that she controls half of New York, others say that she's a widow of an eccentric billionaire. Either way, her name carries a lot of weight so everyone wonders why she teaches relationship and romance counsel classes.
One of the other models from the company knocks on the door of the dressing room,
"Hey Mia some of us are going out to eat you want to come?"
Mia has only been here for 4 months but she has barely held a conversation with any of the other models due to her busy schedule with college.
"Uh, no thanks I actually have something to attend to in a bit." Mia felt unsure of herself, she could go and socialize with other people but for some reason, she felt as if she had to go to this class.
There was no response instead there were footsteps going away from the door and some other voices can be heard in the hallway,
"If she doesn't want to be friends with us she could just not make up some lame excuses."
"Yeah, she's such a b*tch sometimes, I heard she was a delinquent in high school."
The conversation continued to fade as they kept on badmouthing her. It didn't affect her though, she was used to people talking about her like that. She left the studio and made her way to this "Love-Cafe" hoping it will be the solution to her image and relationship problems.


[System]
youtube.com/watch?v=hwOD52uS_2Q
'If I ever let my head down it will only be to admire my shoes'
Age: 22
Lineage: Half-Blood
School/house: Ravenclaw (although she would often be seen sporting a Slytherin scarf to support her boyfriend, a Slytherin Chaser)

Appearance: Radiantly beautiful and poised, Mandy would never be caught in anything but designer robes and some stunning heels. How she managed to duel and run in them was something of a secret.

Magical strengths/weaknesses: Gifted at charms, hexing and much to everyone's astonishment she was the Auror schools best dueller.

Patronus: Abraxan Winged Horse

Personality: Although blunt and headstrong, she has the ability to make many friends and lead them with ease. Underestimated due to appearing vacuous, few know of her calculating nature. Her motivation for becoming an Auror remains a mystery to all who encounter her, perhaps even to herself. Mandy will occasionally mention it's because she enjoys being the best, knowing this is a lie, she hasn't taken to time to clearly delve into why she would risk her life for a wizarding world she doesn't particularly feel any passion for. Her uncaring personality made her a perfect recruit for the office, in spite of this, she possesses an inconceivable charm that allows her to make a person believe they are special to her.

Bio: Born to a squib mother and muggle father, Mandy was raised in Oxford and attended Headington private girls school until Hogwarts.
Her great-grandmother was Sacharissa Tugwood, the first woman to use beauty potions which earnt her a place on the chocolate frog cards. Her mother, Perpetua, was very close to her sister Felicitania Tugwood meaning Mandy grew up with a certain level of magic around whilst visiting her Aunt, who made magical knitting patterns. Despite being told about the world of magic, Mandy was never interested in learning. Her muggle father however took a great interest, mainly in supporting Quidditch. Her mother was quite content in being a squib, although when describing her lineage, it's something Mandy never mentioned, deciding to concentrate on her famous Tugwood relatives for which she was very proud of and more importantly left the Ellisons with a full bank account. She is presumed by most to have grown up in a wizarding family, due to her knowledge of the Wizarding world prior to Hogwarts. During the second wizarding war, the Ellison's emigrated to Chicago, USA to avoid slaughter, they stayed there until 2000, when Mandy started to show magical signs, deciding they would rather her attend Hogwarts than Ilvermorny.

She was an extremely popular girl before Hogwarts and frequently begged her parents to withdraw her, missing her previous lifestyle. Devastated at not being a Gryffindor like her maternal grandparents, she was an outcast in Ravenclaw. The girl clique in the house very much resembled her muggle friends, except they did not admire her stunning looks and blunt humour, instead she was left aside as she had no interest in being book-smart. Mandy was known for often storming away from the Ravenclaw Tower, not caring to think too hard for the answer to the riddle.

She discovered a natural talent in charms which she used mainly to enhance her natural beauty. Mandy wasn't noticed by most until she befriended a group of popular Slytherins. By the end of her fifth year she was known as the school bitch, people soon learnt that it wasn't worth crossing her. Her looks and womanly charm were surely envied. Mandy spent most of her time with her boyfriend Zachary, a Slytherin chaser, which made many girls envy her even more. He was the subject to many love potions for a short while, until it was obvious Mandy wouldn't hesitate to hex anyone that got too close to him. While she had many girls following her around during her last two years, she cared for very little people. Zach was the only person she seemed to have genuine affection for, but she was very hard nosed during their break up.
The relationship broke down shortly after graduating from Hogwarts, due to him being signed to the Wimbourne Wasps and not being able to keep himself from doting fans.
Everyone seemed to be stunned at her N.E.W.T scores, despite hardly ever revising or even seeming to care at all about the exams, she came second in the year and the ministry of magic leapt at her application for Auror training.

For those three years she spent most of her time training physically for the job, she was naturally talented at duelling and excelled at the fitness aspects. It was perplexing how she managed to maintain a perfect manicure, hair and makeup, all barely out of place even after the most gruelling of training sessions. She became close to a few trainees, however her two closest friends on the programme dropped out due to injury. After this she had trouble deciding whether she would prefer to be feared or loved, she had intimidated one Gryffindor so much they transferred to the Magical Maintenance Department. During the end of the three years, every one knew of her name and long dark hair and not one trainee had beaten her in a duel. She had decided not to care about her peers after graduation, but to further her career no matter who she stepped on.

[User]
Lucrica ran a hand through her soaked brown hair as the rain continued to pour. Unlike what was probably a couple of her… were they colleagues or teammates? Sure, they 'worked' together hence making them colleagues but teammates seem more… how should she put it? Kinder? Co-operative? Lucrica shook her head. Not time to focus on such things, she definitely will ask the others on their opinion later.

Crouched in her spot behind a small collection of low green bushes. Their leaves swayed in the breeze as they were shot by the bullets of fierce rain from the heavens. Iz stood seemingly lonesome. Lucrica almost wanted to stand behind him in silent support. Almost. Sure, her skill of Apparition hand served her well thus far, putting her ahead to silently survey the area prior to the scene, she knew she would be of little use in this part, the beginning. As her fresh-faced and fierce team erupted out of their hiding spots she would stay in her place, awaiting something useful to do. Sometimes she worried she wasn't the greatest asset in such a job, she was probably right, but her role head importance too! Right? Lucrica shook that thought out of her head. Another thought for another time.

Iz's speech, as expected, was not effective. They were dark witches and wizards, fat chance they'd go so easily. The rest of her group jumped into action as Lucrica stayed put, watching as her group fought the collection of witches and wizards. She gripped her wand (ebony, unicorn hair core, 13 1/4", rigid) and pursed her lips, awaiting a useful task to do. For the meantime she looked around at her group and silently hoped for their safety, trying not to flinch and their every new bruise or fresh cut.

[Assistant]
The rain didn't seem to be letting up, which really, was fine with Celio. He was crouched next to a fallen tree towards the top of a low hill. He'd never really minded the rain, and it usually gave him an excuse to warm up in front of the fire with a glass of wine. The rain would probably keep the Muggles away too. The last thing they needed was a bunch of defenseless Muggles to get curious and come check out the light show that would surely happen soon.

He watched and waited as the rest of his team took their positions, wand at the ready in his left hand. He didn't envy Iz's task. He was just going to make himself a target. Celio's eyes wandered back to the cauldron at the center of the circle. It was hard to see exactly what was going on there through the downpour, the Impervius charm on his head only helping slightly. Nobody on his team seemed to have any idea what this group was up to or what they were brewing, just that it was illegal and drawing attention.

As Iz walked out to try and make the arrest, Celio popped a Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean into his mouth with his free hand. He'd become fascinated with them on moving to Britain, and had taken to eating (or attempting to eat) one before each training exercise. Though he was more excited than nervous, the ritual helped ease his tension. His face contorted and he immediately spit it out. Wasabi. As expected, the wild group didn't bother to let Izaiah finish, and the fight began.

Celio stood up and pointed his wand at the fallen tree next to him and cast a Banishing Charm which set it rolling down the hill. He calmly followed after it, smirking as it knocked over two unsuspecting wizards before rolling to a stop. He disarmed them both, then increased his movement. His opponents weren't exactly expert marksman but he wasn't going to give them a clear target for any curses. The rain meant eye contact would be difficult, which would make it that much more difficult to use his Legilimency. Best to not waste time trying it.

[User]
Mandy couldn't help but marvel at the prehistoric stones, protected by an impervious charm cast the second a droplet fell on her face, she was a lot less miserable than the others, and could only wonder why they didn't learn such magic in order to make their lives easier. She felt that by being more comfortable she could concentrate on the task at hand. Whilst slightly scared at their first mission and what it might reveal, Mandy was confident in her own abilities and despite her personal issues with them she knew that she had been placed in a fairly competent lot. Dex made her feel fairly safe knowing he'd do anything to protect the rest, and having Izaiah step in first seemed like the only logical thing to do, he was the only one mad enough to want to do this. The whole team was beautifully talented, and she could only hope they would all come together at the right time.

As they edged closer and first saw the mysterious cult, she couldn't help but think it looked like fun, except perhaps the potion making, she always was terrible at potions…
*Crack*
"Damn!" she whispered as her left heel had broken from getting caught in the mud, snapping her out of the dark train of thought. With a small flurry of her wand beneath her robe the bright red heels snapped back into place and dirt flew off the surface. "I really must work on my unbreakable charms" she thought to herself. Annoyed she had let this distract her she saw Izaiah move forward and her heart skipped a small beat with excitement.

Mandy sparked into action the moment Izaiah had opened his mouth, although the team had startled the opponents, she saw the dark wizards immediately defend themselves with magic she would only dream of attempting.

Mandy saw Izaiah head into the action and anyone be damned if they thought she'd leave him to fight it all out himself. "Always the glory hunter!" she muttered shortly before sprinting towards him.

Izaiah darted behind a column of moss covered stone as he advanced towards the centre of the clearing, keeping his footing despite the mudslide of their increasingly damp surroundings. The din of conflict was all about him, the other aurors had struck and seemed to have their individual battles well in hand. He was now going for the centre, to see what lurked between the increasingly dense spread of stone monoliths.

He was swiftly joined by the robed form of Mandy, 'of course' she didn't appear even remotely wet or sodden. For a lesser wizard, he'd probably see fit to chastise her for bothering with such magic in the situation, but he knew well enough she could still function at the peak of her ability. Shortly after her arrival the other side of their cover was struck by a pair of magical detonation, shuddering through the rudimentary structure. At least two hostiles then.

"Pincer then, strike fast." He nodded to her, before shifting around the stone. For all their conflicts, the two wizards were intuitive together in a way that would suggest years, not hours, of mutual experience. As Izaiah turned the corner, drawing the fire of the two dark wizards deeper into the clearing, Mandy apparated, becoming as much a ghost as anything short of being one, darting past him in the low light undetected.

"Expelliamus!" Izaiah's wand was up and ready before the twin bolts of magic struck him, rebounding instead off the defensive shield of his spell, just about holding under the onslaught. That was all it needed to do, for in the next moment, the twin dark magi found Mandy appearing in their midst, caught off guard, they were made short work of.

"Good work, we should make-" Izaiah jogged towards her, speaking as he went, before a scream cut him off, and his eyes were drawn further into the centre of the clearing, right to the heart of it, now in view of both the Aurors. Among the ritualistic markings drawn into the ground, knelt an adolescent girl, one of the robed figures of the dark wizards standing over her, a wand pressed to the side of her neck.

"One more step, and justice comes to this one."


[System]
18-20, to guess.
Apprentice Blacksmith

Lady Priska Steiber
22
Woman of Noble Birth, en route to a marriage.

Jurgen Wolter
Greatsword, bodyguard of Lord Waldo

Lord Waldo Seidl
13
Lesser cousin to Count Seidl

Count Egon Seidl of Hochland
Ruler of the Province of Hochland

Count Gerad Wendl of Talabecland
Ruler of the Province of Hochland

Lord Gerwin Wendl
Son of Count Gerad Wendl

In Memoriam
Sgt. Hoefler
Father Gerwig

[User]
The only sounds were the guttering of the two torches and the discordant slap of their feet on the cold dry stone of the floor. The darkness and quiet of the tunnel gave Brandt a chance to calm his pounding heart and think. They'd failed to hold the keep, which ruined the heroic image Brandt hadn't realized he'd had for himself. What was he going to do, stand above the gatehouse, waving Hochland's banner like some balladeer in a play? Unlikely. It was only chance that he hadn't been butchered with the rest of the men, and a Sigmar-given miracle he'd gotten off the wall unharmed. Well, not completely unharmed.

Held tight by his shield, his arm had started to throb in time with his heartbeat. Untreated, he worried about infection. He muttered a prayer - uncharacteristic for his only moderately pious self - and wondered if Roderick had any skill in healing. There wasn't time to worry about it now, anyway. They proceeded through the tunnel, Brandt unable to see past the torchlight, but taking regular glances backwards for any sign of pursuit. None came. By the time they'd traversed the underground way and Jurgen pressed open the door on the other end, the battle fire had left Brandt's blood and the dull pain of his shallow wound had taken its toll. He was exhausted.

They took time to survey their surroundings, and Lord Waldo exchanged a few words that Brandt couldn't hear. Maria glanced back at him and nudged Roderick. They shared a concerned look and the priest was about to speak to him when Lord Waldo turned back towards the group.

"I have conferred with Jurgen," the boy said as if they hadn't been standing right there, "and he agrees that it's too dangerous to simply hail a passing riverboat - who knows what allegiance they have. We'll head north north-east towards Hergig. A town or village might be in our enemies hands, but the provincial capitol will still be in my families control. Excellent, let's go."

As soon as the river was clear of traffic, Jurgen took point and lead them away from the riverbank. Once above the water, he looked about and quickly determined the direction. Brandt found a newfound respect for a man he had thought was a dullard, but it seemed he was elevated to the ranks of the Greatswords due to some skill at soldiery. They moved away from the river, and into the Drakwald.

[Assistant]
There was a saying, one that Jurgen had quietly muttered to Roderick and Brandt, that if you have the perfect plan, make sure you tell the enemy so he can follow the plan too. And so it quickly proved with Lord Waldo's plan to make for Hergig. It seemed that Lord Gerard had not taken long in discovering that they had fled Lorch completely and already patrols of Talabec Outriders were so thick on the main roads that Lord Waldo despaired and his small party were forced Northward in the Drakwald, toward Estorf.

Lord Waldo had no friends in Estorf, his refusal to allow them to use Lorch's small port without paying a hefty tax had earned him their ire, and he was quite certain they would happily turn him over to Lord Gerard for a few gold coins. Because of this, and because he refused to admit his was lost, the sunset found the small party blundering through the thick brush.

"M'lord, we will have to make camp soon." Jurgen spoke up at last. As the only actual soldier in the group he had become Lord Waldos undisputed deputy whether he liked it or not.

The young man sighed and nodded, even he could no longer pretend that they were going to make it to Hergig that evening. Even with friendly weather, clear roads, and no enemy hunting them, it would still have taken the better part of a week.

"Very well." His voice was high pitched, still unbroken in youth. He halted as they came into a small clearing and glanced around. It would do as well as any.

"You," He pointed to Brandt. "You were a smith, make us a fire."

"You," He pointed at Priska and Jurgen. "Make me a shelter."

"You," He pointed at Roderick. "Find us some water and food."

"You," He now pointed at Maria but she shot him a look that could have killed him on the spot and he faltered. "Um... Help someone...."

The directions given, he threw himself down on the ground under a tree and wrapped himself in his thick cloak, watching them over the edge of the fur collar.

Roderick and Brandt moved off together only to have Maria hurry after them. She didn't say anything as she did, and neither man was going to tell her off as they certainly welcomed her company. The three moved into the woods, lured to a small stream by the sound of running water. It bubbled from a steep hillside and formed a small pool large enough for someone to bath in.

"I might, um... Wash, if you don't mind." Roderick ventured at last as they stared at the clear water. He was indeed utterly filthy. "And I could take a look at your arm, Brandt."

"I'll wait over here." Maria said, not missing a beat, and stepped behind a large tree while the two men approached the water. Roderick stripped off his filthy robe and tossed it into the pool before lowering himself into the freezing water. He scrubbed violently at himself for a few minutes and then managed to wring the worst of the filth from his robe. He pulled the garment back over himself and gave a silent prayer of thanks that it was mid-summer and not winter as the wet cloth settled heavily over him.

"All clear, miss." He called out and Maria joined the two, watching as Roderick washed and dressed Brandts wound using the bark of an Aspen tree and small but sturdy vines as a bind.

"The sap on the backside of the bark has some healing qualities we don't understand, but it works." He offered as he finished lacing the vines. "And the maggots will eat the dead flesh. Please don't let them go when you take the binding off."

His last words were to Brandt. The maggots had been in a small tin in one of his pouches. Father Gerwig had taught him the trick and had saved more than one wounded man during the siege. Maria had frowned at the small white creatures but said nothing, only nodded, when he explained why he used them.

The light was fading fast now and together they quickly gathered a mass of wood and then, using Brandts helmet, some water from the small waterfall. It wasn't much but it would serve them for the night.

[User]
That first night was cold and for most, rather sleepless. Jurgen had made a sort of lean-to for Lord Waldo without any help from the Lady Priska, then after some heated whispering from the woman made one for her as well. By then Brandt, Roderick and Maria had returned with water and what semi-dry wood they could find. It took a bit of effort to get it going, but eventually they had a small blaze going in a ring of rocks. It had been too dark to find any sort of food, and so after copious, and not entirely authentic apologies to Lord Waldo and some guilty looks from Jurgen towards Priska, they settled in for the night.

Lord Waldo, though he'd been trained for combat as all Imperial lordlings are, was young and was unable to keep up with the excitement and effort of the day and so fell asleep first. Brandt, despite an obvious effort to stay awake soon followed, his wound and the exhaustion of battle taking him. Roderick, Maria and Jurgen arranged a watch schedule amongst them, while Priska turned over in her small shelter. She made a show of sleeping easily, but her over-tense movements searching for comfort gave it away. Nobody mentioned it.

Jurgen offered to take the middle watch, and they agreed that Maria would take the first and Roderick the last, unless Brandt woke up. Before they settled in, the Greatsword glanced at the smiths bandaged left arm, then at the priest.

"Is that your handiwork, priest?" he asked genuinely.

"It is, sir," responded Roderick, unsure how to address the soldier but proud of his efforts.

"I've seen many firebrands amongst the Warrior Priests of Sigmar," Jurgen said, making the sign of the hammer across his chest. "Not many healers, though."

"Father Gerwig, the old priest of Lorch taught me," explained Roderick as he turned, trying to dry off parts of his robe on the fire. "He said that Sigmar's faithful trust in the divine to heal their bodies… but that it didn't hurt to give their healing a bit of earthly help as well."

The big greatsword smiled broadly at that and gave a nod of approval that touched Roderick more then he thought it would. The warrior then hunkered himself down with a clatter of armour, keeping his massive flamberge across his chest as he closed his eyes. Maria placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and gave a smile of her own, then moved to sit with her back to the fire, that she might see a bit in the dark of the wood.

That night was filled with unease for all, for even the exhausted and injured Brandt woke with a start on more then one occasion. Once, the quiet sounds of sobbing caused them to glance around, though in the smouldering light of the glowing coals, none could quite tell if it were Lord Waldo or Lady Priska who was the source. Still, there was a sense of dread that only the Drakwald could muster, and a distinct feeling amongst them all that they were being observed clandestinely.

The next morning, however, Brandt had regained some colour and his wound was looking clean, by gentle decree of Roderick. Jurgen destroyed the two makeshift shelters and scattered the remains of the fire so that any casual inspection might not notice their passing, though any skilled tracker would see past the ruse. Lord Waldo was quieter that day, and miserable. Jurgen took point again and they all kept an eye out for anything to eat, with Maria keeping a bolt ready in her crossbow in case of game. They wouldn't last well if they couldn't find some form of sustenance. They continued north, and as the sun rose past noon, the sky clouded over and a light drizzle came down upon them. It was going to be another dark night.