[System]
Appearance:  (Preliminary image. 30 minute sketch.)
Class: Myrmidon
Age: Unsure, appears to be early 20s
Sex: Male
Weapon Rank: Sword E
Equipment: Ancient Sword (Basically a Bronze Sword)
Skills: Avoid +10, Amnesiac (Poor Skill and EXP Growths)
Plot subjective: Yes
Personality: An odd mix of humored and indifferent. He often does his own thing, but the moment he's pulled into conversation, his true nature of a complete space case tends to show. He's not unintelligent or careless, but rather off in his own world. However, in the face of a pretty woman, he tends to lose all focus. Basically, he's an idiot.
Biography: A swordsman who can't even remember his own name. The first memory he held was waking in a Plegian cell. He managed to escape and gather a sword that he'd apparently had with him when he'd been captured, and he felt an odd affinity. Since his escape from Plegia into Ylisse, he's been working as a piss poor sellsword. It seems that it's only through a miracle that he has not died due to his own lack of skill with a blade. Or perhaps there's something more. Either way, the man cannot tell. He was conscripted into the military more for his own protection than for any semblance of skill he might have held.

Over the past 6 months, he's proven to be somewhat capable, or at least durable, able to support others in combat without becoming a liability himself. As of late, though, he's been plagued by odd dreams about dragons and a far off land. Trying to push his concerns to the background, he's started to become more focused on his tasks as a combatant. Perhaps there's hope for him yet.

[User]
Chloetta went around the Church Camp tending to the wounded. "Wounded" made it seem a little bit less serious than it was as most of these men were able to fight through the pain for Bern and the Church of Naga overall. Some wounds though could not be most easily healed through magic and made them unable to fight.

Still, it was the desert and Plegia was not the most caring of places, with neither the landscape nor the natives. Regardless of Grima worship or not, the people of the country were not happy to have their citizens attack. If Chloetta could do anything more to stop the violence she would, but sadly there was little she had the ability to do.

"The main army will leave with me in thirty minutes, the scouts report heretics to the south of us. We will teach them the error of there ways to save our children and all future generations pain that the Fell dragon has caused." A voice called from the center of camp. A voice she was all but too familiar with at this point.

"So it's another slaughter, is it Bern?" The troubadour asked herself. If she were to say that to Bern himself. . . Well, she didn't want to think of that branch of fate. Still, she thought that she needed to stay behind to make sure the injured didn't try something stupid and told one of the soldiers to spread that she would stay back in the camp. As they left, she wondered just what horrible atrocities the soldiers would commit in the name of Naga.

---

Hours later and Chloetta had mostly finished all that she could do for her patients. For now, she just needed to keep a eye on them and sit back for a bit. The injured that were awake were thankful enough and praised Naga for her abilities. In their place, she'd have done the same but could only wonder why Naga continued to allow those that called themselves her servants to go about executing others for their beliefs. "With everything calm, perhaps now was a good time to check on Franz." Chloetta considered to herself before letting the conscious soldiers know what she was doing and to call if something happened. Some gave a smile and let her know they'd call if needed. The horse hadn't been fed much, so now was as good a time as any to make sure that happened. She placed out his food when she heard noises from one of the entrances to the camp.

"So the army returns." She muttered to herself and grabbed her staff, ready to heal the injured. To her surprise though, there was no army. Just a few people. Bern, the stubborn and malicious man he was, Genna, his archer, and a priest. So many things could have happened but she only needed to ask. "What happened? Though, I guess before that I should ask if any of you are injured." She showed her staff to them offering aid if they needed it.

[Assistant]
Guillame deRossane

---

 Really, of all the places to land, it had to be Plegia. It wasn't like that was the exact opposite of where he wanted to go. Not at all. When he left the army, he had done so to get away from that blasted crusade, not towards it. Of course, he hadn't really bothered to ask the Captain exactly where they were going. In fact, he hadn't asked him much of anything. He had just hopped the first boat across the ocean he could find.

 He hated the term 'stowaway'. He much preferred the term "Clandestine Passenger". Far less callous.

 Still, he couldn't change the past, so as soon as he was in Plegia, he made the decision to be out of Plegia. Easier said than done, of course, but people were happy to point him towards the border ("East!" seemed to be the general consensus). It had been some time since he had landed, but he had managed to find his way from village to village, stopping at night to rest. People were more than willing to accommodate him, which wasn't that surprising, really: Nobles were a varied sort, and one could be a saint while the other starts a 100-year war because some bint looked wrong at him. Folks, though, were always the same. They don't much care for who's king so long as they can live their lives away from the wrong end of a spear.

 That's why he couldn't bring himself to stay in the military any longer. He had joined to live a life of glory and wonder. Even when those dreams had worn off, he stayed for the camaraderie and prestige soldiering brought. But when news of a crusade spread, he knew he couldn't, in good conscience, stay. People believed things because that's all they've ever known. Besides, there wasn't ever really a question to Grima's existence, even if he did try to destroy the world.

 Not, of course, that he'd be willing to stay. Plegia was hot, and not in the "My, what a day out! Make sure to bring water before you go a-tilling!" sense, more of a "Stay inside, the sky itself is on fire". And the sand! It was course, dry, and it found itself into the most cumbersome of places. Part of him understood why the Plegians must've wanted to end the world; it had to be better than living here.

 He kicked the ground in frustration.

 The desert regarded him dryly.

 At the very least, he took some solace in the fact that he was, apparently, awfully close to Ylisse. The last place he had visited had told him that the border was only a few days away. He could stop at one of the smaller towns on the way, and be across the border in a day or two. Or, at least, that had been the plan.

 But even from a distance, he could something was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the town as a whole just didn't seem right. Whether it was paranoia or providence, he elected to march ever towards the border, praying to whatever god was listening that he wouldn't catch ill-fortune on the way there.

[User]
Matthew was making his way towards Shepherd barracks, he'd decided to go around into the town first however then make up to the old part of the castle. He was constantly moving through alleys and only talking to the few shopkeepers he trusted. Collecting his book orders, he'd put out of several volume's on heroes of old like Marth, Mark, and Ike. It was mostly for a study he had been doing before hand, however now they would be useful for him to learn to lead soldiers in the field.

As he made his way down an alley, when saw a rather strange girl trying to push a table back into the alley. The back legs snapped and she fell face first, then went the back legs. It left her laying on the ground covering her face, poor girl could be hurt. Matthew jogged down the alley, carefully. "Miss are you alright? Are you injured?" He asked in worried tone, offering her a hand up. That's when he notices the time, past midday, he'd taken to long getting these books! Saya could already be waiting for him at the barracks, it would be rude to keep the Exalt waiting, worse so if you were supposed to be her family. "I'm really sorry miss, but I'm very late reporting to Shepherds barracks!" He said before running off in a hurry, he hoped he wasn't to late he didn't need a repeat of Saya's birthday party.

Out of breath the tactician managed to get there in just a few moments, what he saw surprised him. The place was being cleaned up some it seemed while a large group of people milled about. "Uuummm hello?" He said to the whole group in particular, wondering if they were bounty hunters or people who wanted to help. "I'm the Tactician put in charge of getting the Shepherd set up... Who are you all?" He asked carefully looking into the building some as he stood outside. If anyone had seen the wanted posters, well there was you perfect match to the description. He looked between them putting his weight on his back foot and his left hand on his sword hilt, his right hand held about six books clutched under his arm.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Bern looked between what remained of his camp. "Plegia's forces countered attacked us. They trapped us into the town and began slaughter the healers then continued the rampage. The Raven Lord himself and the Queen of Bandits led the attack." He answered Chloetta. "They teleported their soldiers in used dark mages to attack our normal units and sent barbarians and mercenaries after monks and healers." He said walking towards his tent.

"Genna let everyone know we are packing up camp and reuniting with the bulk of our forces along the border. With our plan in Ylisse about to be complete we can take our best troops and the and good number of the recruits back into Plegia. It's time we killed the Raven Lord before he causes us anymore trouble and pain." With that Genna put up a sign and instruct other to help move the wounded or ready them for transport.

Bern sat in his tent writing up his next speech, cursing about the Grima loving dogs and their stupid sand filled backwards country. He hated it here, just because he was native didn't mean he wanted to stay here. In truth when they returned they would attack the Raven Lord and then go south. He Chloetta one of the commander with the force in Ylisse, perhaps she could bring down the Heretic champion and make Bern's life easier. With that little tactician around it would only undermine the Church's power. Lady Tiki may have named him that but the whole backing of the bishops and cardinals were behind the Crusade and how could they be wrong? He scoffed chuckling to himself knowing that if he could just make sure Plegia fell easily then he could probably receive a sainthood.

_______________________________________________________________________________________

Sules had wandered out from the town, mostly bored with the corpse looting and giving his ravens a chance to eat before he continued. He danced a little, bored until he saw someone walking towards the town a new friend! Or someone to murder violently! Both were of equal joy. He skipped towards the man Sules swung his arms like a school as he did humming until he neared the man. "Hello mister! What's your name and what are you doing here?" He asked as one of his ravens landed on his shoulder. "I'm Sules, this is Pinky he's actually the smartest of the Ravens I own but he's kind of a grumpy gus." Smiled the Dark mage as he extend a covered hand to Guillame. "So are you just passing through on your way to Ylisse or are looking for somewhere to stay Plegia? Cause if you keep going the way you are now you'll reach the border." He finished now waiting for the man to reply, he silently wondered what his screams sounded like compared to his voice. No, he couldn't waste time on random wanders, black magic torture was current reserved for any who survived he and Vera's attack.

[Assistant]
"Nah, nothing like that," The resting man said to the axe holder. The thing looked grisly. It had been recently used by his reckoning. He didn't care, but it was worth notice. "Bunch of military types told me to come clean up this place because someone heard that her excellency and the... Uh... Dragon boy? Mack or something? Yeah, told me to clean up this place because there was a rumor one of those two were going to be setting up shop here." He explained as another person slipped through the front door. "Huh... That's different," he mumbled, a bit surprised that there was so much activity going on all of the sudden. He guessed the rumors must have been true.

It was not long after that another arrived, immediately going into some rant or another.

"You imbeciles, the Shepherd's garrison has long been a testament to Chrom and his companions' ardor. I will not stand idle while you and your goons desecrate the greatest reminder of their actions. Your men and yourself will disperse from here and now, regardless of where your orders come from, lest you wish to incur my wrath."

"Eh?" The man looked up, a bit confused by the sudden hostility. "Yeah, so I'm the appointed ground keeper here as of today, so it's less desecration and more cleaning this place up for her excellency and Mack." He said, taking a look at the speaker. A smile crept across his face. "Though I'd be happy to show you all the work I've done, milady," he said, standing with a small bow.

Before any chance came for more discussion, yet another arrived, this one carrying more books than was reasonable for someone. "Ah, I've seen you before. You're Mack, then," the swordsman said with a small wave and a smile (Though not one as big as he'd given the threatening woman). "Guess you guys really were going to be using this place then. Still with all the books, eh?" He asked. He'd met the tactician and the exalt exactly once during some joint meeting of the Ylisse military divisions. The most interaction he'd had, of course, was accidentally stealing a meat pie from one of them and getting chewed out, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember if it was Mack's or the exalts. The two had been stuck together like glue, after all. "Been a while."


[System]
G E N T L E
The humans called us monstrous, so monsters are what we became.

B A S I C S

---
AGE

128

RACE

Minotaur

CLASS

Cleric/Barbarian

OCCUPATION

Lay Brother of the Temple of Apollokeos

ORIGINATES FROM

Achea

IF OUTSIDE TORVELT

The Human Republic of Achea is a loose collection of city states far to the South-West of Torvelt. The climate is hot, and the terrain mountainous, though the people have risen to the challenge of taming such an arid land, becoming famed for their exports of grapes, olives, gold, and marble. The Achean's stand proud of their achievements, proclaiming that their society is the greatest in all the wide world, pointing to their democracies, philosphies, music and art as evidence of this, though it is whispered in courts around the lands that the prosperous country wouldn't be half as impressive as it is if it wasn't for the broken backs of the monstrous slaves it has all been built upon.

P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Large even by Minotaur standards, Gentle stands taller than eight-and-a-half feet, over nine if you included the tips of his gently curving horns, which you probably should when measuring a Minotaur. He's broad too, as the 'proverbial' bull in fact, and hasn't he heard that one more than once since coming to Torvelt. His once bulging muscles and steely thews are running to fat a little in his old age and relative indolence, but he still possesses the kind of physique that would give even the most confidant pitfighter cause to pause.

To his intense consternation his lustrous black pelt is being invaded by unsightly streaks of iron-grey. Swirling blue-grey patterns are tattoeed across his arms, shoulders, chest and back, intricate patterns of some hidden meaning which Gentle hasn't shared with anyone since arriving in Torvelt. Age has also stolen some of his vim, and the spring from his step, but his hands are still strong and his horns still sharp. It will do, he tells himself.

STRENGTHS

* Physically powerful
* Experienced combatant
* Access to divine magic
* Rough wisdom

WEAKNESSES

* Large and heavy
* Moderate rheumatoid arthritis
* Fading eyesight
* Rage

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PERSONALITY

Pragmatic – Melancholy – Ponderous – Wistful – Studious – Mercurially violent (though working very hard not to be)

SEXUALITY

Pansexual

FEARS

* Heights
* Deep, fast moving waters
* Large canines
* Small, enclosed spaces
* The ghosts of his past

GOALS

To find the prince, stop the Fog, and achieve personal salvation.

S K I L L S

---

Labyrinth Recall

He can perfectly recall any path that he has taken.

Great Weapon Fighting

Perhaps unsurprisingly giant bull-men are pretty good at swinging large, sharp pieces of metal with the intent of hurting people. Who knew?

Sense of Smell and Hearing

A Minotaur's sense of smell and hearing is several times more advanced than that of a humans. Gentle has found himself relying on his more and more since his eyes started failing him.

G E A R

---

ITEMS ON PERSON

* Heavy iron bracers
* Travellers pack (sleeping roll, tinder box, dried rations etc)
* Icon of Apollokeos (Small golden pendant featuring a rising sun over a river)

WEAPONS

* Large wooden post (Functions as a quarterstaff/club)
* Great Sword

H I S T O R Y

---

The Minotaur known only as Gentle first walked into Torvelt about fifteen years ago, with nothing more than the clothes on his frame and a rolled bundle of leather upon his back. From there he wound a slow and gradual path towards Koprust, eventually arriving in the capital city and taking on a slew of odd jobs, seemingly happy with working hard manual labour for minimal pay, simple food and somewhere dry to sleep. On those rare occasions that he was approached by those not intimated by his monstrous visage he was found to be polite, but distant, seemingly happy to nurse his ghosts in solitude.

He eventually found himself working for the Abbott of the Temple of Clean Waters, a holy place that venerated Apollokeos , Lady of Dawn and New Beginnings. Gentle quickly fell into life at the Temple, becoming a lay brother and settling in for what he imagined would be a life of quiet contemplation and honest labour.

The God's, it seemed, had other plans.

He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember, horrible and twisted visions from his past that tourtured him nightly without reprieve. However one night, when the horror had reached its zenith, he found salvation. The Lady Apollokeos visited him, in all her golden splendour, and explained that his redemption was in reach. She tasked him with joining the quest to find the Prince, and that through that labour he might just find the peace he so desperately desired.

When Gentle awoke he thought the dream no more than that, the fantasy of a tired mind, but later that day he met a man who introduced himself as Minoas, the fabled absent father of the Minotaur race. Minoas reinforced Apollokeos commands, urging Gentle to join the quest before disappearing.

One visit from a God he could ignore. Two would have been pushing it. Collecting his belongings and making his farewells, he made his way towards thee castle.

[User]
O L A A L - F A R E S

---

Ola drew the sword fully through the trolls leg, the sharpened steel parting the rotting flesh and bone with barely a tug at her arm. It made her shudder inwardly and her nose wrinkled at the stench of the beast. Severing its tendon had a two fold effect; it slowed the troll down, but also caused it to lurch sideways and slam a hand down to maintain any semblance of balance as it launched the vile, green and black loogie she had ever seen.

She was unable to follow the projectiles flight path, she was top busy dodging the crashing fist. She was close, maybe to close, the only danger of being a melee fighter when you ran into something undead. Mud spattered her face and cloak and she spat to try and clear the taste even as she scrambled back to put a even a few feet of distance between herself and the huge rotting hand.

Only once she had gained a bit of purchase in the mud did she flourish her sword, sending the remnants of her first cut splattering into the mud away from her new allies, and then hack two handed at the arm that was in the mud. If she could sever another limb it might bring the creature down low enough for someone to destroy its other brain. Unless she was mistaken, and had certainly happened from time to time, if they destroyed the brains, the undead would cease to function.

[Assistant]
STUR
__________

The familiar jolt of the axe burying itself in flesh and bone rattled its way up Stur's arms and across his body, causing his teeth to click sharply together. At the same time, an unusually cold spray of blood spattered his face.

Ordinarily, the mercenary would have welcomed a little blooding in a fight. But the strange wrongness of the stuff caused him to flinch away in disgust, and then a half-second later in pain. The cursed ichor began to burn and almost sap the strength from his body as anger and bewilderment continued to grow inside his heart. Eyes momentarily blinded, Stur instinctively yanked on the haft of the longaxe to free it from its resting place in the ruins of the troll's second head, but instead found himself tripping backwards in the mud as his hands failed to find a grip on the blood-slicked haft. He cursed loudly at the thing, throwing himself into a clumsy backwards roll, coming back to rights with his dirk firmly gripped in one hand and his right side splattered in mud, but now blessedly free of the troll's poisonous blood.

Cautiously opening one eye, he took a moment to survey the situation. The troll was down a leg, scrambling for purchase in the mud with one hand thrust out for balance. His wayward axe was serving as a fair replacement for the abomination's missing head, haft jutting straight out to the side like a sapling grown into the side of a mountain. The new arrival was, to her credit, right in the thick of things, hacking away at limbs seemingly without a fear in the world. Stur felt a brief surge of respect for the woman, though whether she was to be trusted remained to be seen. The troll's ire was focused on Brynan, who was still knelt in the mud after her initial strike.

Deciding that the quickest way to finish this was to get the enemy on its back, the battered warrior took advantage of his being behind the troll and undetected, slipping carefully up to its unprotected flank and plunging with the dirk towards the back of its one intact knee.

[User]
---

I M A L E S S A S H A R I S

---

Imalessa's arrow had hit its mark, and yet the troll still had some fight left in it. Cursing under her breath, she marveled with a sick curiosity at how the thing was still kicking. But the arrow had seemed to do something, if not kill it. She nocked another, watching as it reached out and grabbed at Gentle, preparing to bite. There were no gods she believed in, let alone bothered to pray to, but she hoped she could get lucky once more and loosed her arrow.

[Assistant]
---

B R Y N A N I A N Y R E

---

Having sliced deeply into the trolls legs, Brynan came to a sliding stop in the mud, her lips pulled back in a grimace of grim satisfaction. She watched as it buckled, trying to regain its balance, only to have one of his legs cut out from underneath it by another blade - that of the sodden stranger.

"Beautiful, woman!" she cried out. But she didn't pause to celebrate. The fight was far from over. She adjusted her grip on the scimitars and tensed her body in preparation for another attack.

Aiming to slice at its throat, she looked up at the troll just in time to catch a face full of loogie. It covered one of her eyes, entered her parted lips and slid easily down her throat. White-hot pain immediately accompanied it, but Brynan cared little; all she felt was disgust. A primal scream tore from her burning throat and she launched herself at the diseased creature, both blade tips pointed at its distended belly. She would run it through.

[User]
Gentle brayed in pain, skin burning, eyes watering. What kind of diseased sack of poison was this thing? His hands itched, eager, he felt, to grip a sword pommel. Slide back towards being the monster of his youth, that's all that would achieve, he told himself. He had to keep a grip on the person he was now, even if that person was like to end up troll-food in the next few minutes.

He stepped backwards, dodging snapping teeth, not so lucky when it came to sharp claws, feeling them peel through the skin of his chest. Felt the wound burn hot, probably infected, no time to worry about that, his feet were slipping from under him. He put a hand to the ground to steady himself, palm gripping on worn wood. His staff, the one the troll had knocked from his hand. It wasn't a sword, but it would do.

Surging back to his feet he thrusts the staff like a spear, aiming straight for the ugly fucks chest, snarled curses on his lips, heartfelt prayer in his mind. Apollokeos, he intones silently so only she can hear, Goddess of second chances, help me make this one count.

Help me bury this fucker.


[System]
5'9 | 145 lbs | Green | Blonde

"In this world, there are many sorrowful things. Feelings that cannot be expressed. Thoughts that I cannot come to understand. Even so, I will venture forth."
Age:
23

Gender:
Female

Appearance:
Standing at a height of 5"9', Eila is a lovely girl with flawless skin, long, luscious blonde hair, and sparkling hazel-green eyes. She has a fairly curvaceous figure, tends to move gracefully, and carries herself with pride as a woman who is keenly aware of her own looks. Her clothing leans towards elegant yet fabulous with a preference for clothing that flows with her. Her current ensemble consists of a simple white dress accompanied by a dark green shoulder top with a pair of trailing, translucent capes. She uses a floral hair pin to keep some of her hair pinned back and wears a pair of short boots. She carries the symbol of Lady Azaiza around her neck at all times.

Classification (Aetherborn Only):
Animas - Physical (Healing Specialty)

Abnormality:
For the most part, Eila's features are unaffected. However, the color of her irises changes color depending on her mood. Stronger emotions elicit brighter colors, and while the intensity varies, her eyes reveal the truth of her feelings.
Hazel-Green - Default, as well as her natural eye color
Red - Anger
Orange - Anxious
Yellow - Focus
Blue - Sadness
Green - Happiness
Purple - Curious
Pink - Love in the form of tiny hearts
Grey - Emptiness

Personality:
Eila is a proper and prim young lady, unflinchingly polite and formal to a tee. While some may be put off by her formality, in truth she is personable and generally open-minded, making her easy to talk to. Her sunny disposition is accompanied by an endless amount of optimism as she does her best to find the silver linings in even the worst situations. She gives it her all no matter what and tries to help in any way she can, quick to help those in need.

Under the surface, however, there is an unsteadiness. The thought of disappointing someone makes her give her all, and as a result, she puts a lot of pressure on herself even if she is told to take it easy. Despite having an overall warm and gentle nature, she avoids opening up to people even though she likes it when people confide in her. Her tendency to keep people at a distance is somewhat contradictory, often confusing people, but it's clear she has a lot of trouble expressing her true feelings.

Bio:
The Aurelios family has lorded over several mines of gold and jewels for a long time, their name coming from an ancient word once used to describe gold. The Stirgios family has designed each Grand Marshall's ceremonial jewelry since Buscon's beginning, their name known even outside of Relfin. Both are well respected in family and duty, so their union was not only convenient but made logical sense. And so Ellowen Aurelios wed Lorelei Strigios, and the marriage resulted in Eila. The elf has exhibited a thirst for knowledge since the day she learned to read on her own. To call her a prodigy was an understatement; there were few subjects she couldn't grasp, and she was christened as a gifted child. Her enrollment into the Mage's Consortium wasn't a question, it was a manner of when she was ready to take that next step.

Entering the Consortium at the age of five, Eila was introduced to the world of magic. Of course, the Consortium had a reputation for being aggressive in its curriculum, forcing her to focus on nothing but her studies. Her 'gifted' label quickly faded as she was surrounded by the best of the best, though she refused to let herself drown in a sea of mediocrity. As both her mother and aunt were of the guild--the former one of the twelve and the latter the Grand Sorceress--there were great expectations placed on her. Said expectations hung over her every day, threatening to crash down with every mistake made. With time, however, she thrived, falling in love with magic and aether.

There were three main things that helped her keep her sanity during her tenure, with the first being her loving aunt's endless amount of encouragement. While she would never question that her parents cared for her, her aunt was the one that she looked to for familial affection. The second was a slow-growing archery talent. Focusing on something that wasn't related to her studies and could be taken lightly did wonders for her mental state, providing a nice escape and fresh air to accompany her. The last was her worship of Lady Azaiza. When all else failed, knowing that everything she was going through was the Empress' plan for her comforted her in a way.

Once she graduated, she made up her mind to do the impossible: her life's goal would be to create an instrument to measure aether. She was keenly aware of the monumental task in front of her, and so she spent a few years getting her hands on anything that would teach her about aether in order to better understand it. However, her father seemed to disagree with her decision, feeling it was best for her to turn her talents elsewhere. When the two couldn't come to an agreement, Eila decided to strike out on her own and see what the world had to offer. This decision was also met with opposition, but after gaining her mother's reluctant blessing, she decided to head to the new Bounty House, hoping to find adventure.

Likes:
* Books are basically like sweets to her. Storybooks, biographies, fiction, non-fiction--if it is something she can read, she will like it. While she has a preference for anything that can add to her arsenal of knowledge, she does enjoy a good story once in a while
* Her family. While her father is distant and she relates more to her aunt than her mother, she still loves them dearly.
* Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is eager to prove herself worthy of them.
* She adores the theatre and used to attend nearly every show from her favorite troupe.

Dislikes:
* Not finding what she needs.
* She understands why merchants require their coin up front, but she's spoiled from simply flashing her family's crest so that the estate would be charged. Also counting money gets old after a while...and it gets heavy.
* Being compared to her mother or, more likely, her aunt. She is also acutely aware that she has a massive legacy to live up to.
* Commentary on her aether abilities. Yes, her aunt is one of the most renowned Water Primordial Aetherborn, yes her mother is also a powerful Air Primordial Aetherborn and it would have been nice to have Primordial magic, but she was not born with those abilities and she is not upset about that at all but she would very much like it if people stopped bringing that up. Please.
* Dirt. No explanation needed.

Habits:
* Her handwriting is absurdly small, yet legible...if you squint.
* Once she is on a roll verbally, it's hard for her to stop talking.
* Has mastered the art of multitasking during her reading sessions.

Inventory:
* Her trusty longbow and quiver of arrows
* A satchel for her belongings
* A mostly-blank book and pieces of charcoal for writing
* A silver dagger
* A second necklace adorned with a golden crow used for prayer
* Her coinpurse is currently carrying 3 gold, 7 silver, and 6 copper.

[User]
---

Huh. The theory about their heads had been correct. Or they were waiting for a chance to spring up again, but the boy solved that quickly enough. Ceolfric would've preferred to keep the body where he could see it, but he'd settle for removing it from the equation altogether. The rest of their team didn't quite fare as well; they looked to be in varying degrees of distress - Freckles was a goner, Eila would probably join him soon enough - but then Kyreth veritably exploded. The bandit thought it a trick of the necromancer at first, a last ditch effort to kill them now that they'd discovered the trick to subduing the wolves, but given that the wolf already had Kyreth dead to rights and there was no reason to waste a corpse like that, it finally clicked that the fire might've come from the boy underneath.

Cerric finally moved into action after Storyborn tossed the beast with her mind, only to douse the flames and nothing else. They could all fucking die, but gods forbid a tree burn down. Piece of shit. The damn horse didn't help either, it strained against its mental shackles just enough to keep Ceolfric consistently annoyed. The final nail in the coffin was Esvelee's pointless shrieking. Useless woman couldn't even control her own pack animal and she had the audacity to critique them while she cowered inside the wagon.

Speaking of useless women, Eila still hadn't made any progress on her assailant and Ermes seemed to have noticed that he was evidently incapable of handling the wolf himself, given how he'd summoned Ceolfric to help. The bandit rushed past the cart, giving him opportunity to release the snare he held on the horse's mind now that he was no longer in stomping range. It would give Esvelee something to content herself with since she had time to whine. As the wolf reared back to lunge again, Ceolfric thrust the rim of his shield into the side of the beast's head, hoping to exploit its earlier show of poor balance and at least keep it from ripping another chunk out of Eila, if not collapse its other orbital.

"And here I thought elves were nimble," he grunted tastelessly as he raised his sword and slashed wildly at the neck, "Another restraining spell would be nice, one of you."

---

[Assistant]
✧ Location: Snakeburrow Woods ✧ Purse: 4 copper ✧ Interactions: ✧

Irrigans femur what the fuck was that? A burst of flames emerged out of Ermes's periphery. Where once laid one of the tainted entangled with a wolf, now was a ball of flames and the scent of burnt decaying flesh that began to permeate the air. He froze as images of his past flashed behind his eyes. The scent of burning flesh reminded him of the raids he'd encountered when he was younger. Scenes of oil lanterns being spilt over as it enclosed families within their house flames, parents braving the fires to rush their children's out to safety only for the parents to be struck down by the Sahagin menace, leaving nothing but an immolated corpse behind. This temporary lapse made him slow, unresponsive as the wolf had already chosen its new target. Whereas before he was prepared to strike, now he just stood there in the same pose, seemingly not there.

Esvelees shout was enough to snap him back, shaking off the memories he'd tried to bury with the dead. Ceolfric seemed to have made it towards them, the fire had been handled, and for the most part the tainted twins were fine. Eila on the other-
Dear gods. He nodded towards Ceolfrics request, but it'd be a waste of Aether to consistently conjure up solutions for their own shortcomings. He had a limit, one his perception made him gravely aware of. So Ermes beckoned his creation over, the large skeletal hand using its fingers to drag itself and crawl like a nightmarish creature towards them. Once it'd reached the wolf it came down, piercing its sides as it lay on the ground knocked over by Ceolfrics advances. The fingers went through and into the ground, pinning in place with the pinky through middle fingers while the thumb and forefinger pinned either side of the head to keep it straight and from moving.

"You have your restraint, now finish the damned thing." Ermes replied, a slight edge to his usually melancholic voice. He went over towards Eila, his pointer finger out as he spun it in a circular motion, moving it backwards to create a spiral of Aether around Eilas calf before solidifying it into a bandage. "Enwrap. There, that should help with the bleeding, though you may want to readjust the pressure. I'm not exactly skilled at bandaging others yet." Ermes got up from his kneeled position making his way towards the wolf and Ceolfric, the head would fall faster if they alternated chops. So he pulled his sword up, aligning it with the extended neck and began to help hack away.

[User]
It was the Goddess herself that must have protected Kyreth. He was not burned to cinders as the cloak left him and the creature and left to...set the forest on fire. Oh dear, that could be bad. That must have been Liliann, bless her and her brilliance in the heat of the moment. Eila was ssurprised to see the fire put out rather quickly--so their lives were of little consequence to be lost but heavens forbid some plants get set on fire! The thought alone made Eila bristle. Kyreth could have died! Why didn't he help him?! But the poor child likely needed her help, and despite not being physically adept, she could help him in another way.

Of course, she was not only lacking in strength but also in awareness. A lifetime of being sheltered by city walls dulled her sense of safety, only for it to be torn down by the pain in her calf. She let out a squeak of shock, tripping over her own boots and landing on her knees. The pain had been sharp but it was nothing to the realization that she was a sitting duck. She looked at the wolf with wide eyes, the reality of the situation hitting her hard. She froze, body stiff as she watched the creature ready itself to attack her again. Her bow was already cracked, it wouldn't protect her neck a second time. She needed to move. But her legs refused--if anything, they clammed up further as she shrank back.

Ceolfric came and bashed the wolf aside. He made it look so easy. His comment was entirely dismissive but it still hit whatever pride she had. She lowered her gaze, fighting back tears prickling the corners of her eyes. She was sitting there scared like a child instead of being dependable.

Letting out a shaky breath, Eila did her best to collect herself properly. "Thank you," Eila said quietly, not wanting to seem ungrateful. She watched as Ermes' bandage wrapped itself around her leg, and she felt the shame creep up on her again. How humiliating. She placed her hand over the bandage, directing her aether to heal her wound. Ignoring the shaking of her legs, she forced herself to get up, ignoring the pair stabbing the wolf and walking over to Liliann and Kyreth.

"Are you alright?" She asked the pair. "You must have gotten burned. Show me, I can heal your injuries at the very least."


[System]
Rank (If applicable): Major (Swords of Sanghelios)

Species: Sangheili

Appearance: Standing at 252 cm (8'3") and keeping his brown eyes to himself most of the time, Yalu is the model of any Sangheili soldier. His average grey complexion only conforms him further. Without his armour, he barely sports a somewhat wide chest and mandibles to give him an individual appearance. His combat harness at least allowed the expression of his lineage; a refurbished assault pattern harness he brought out from family storage shortly after The Great Betrayal ensued.

Skills: Close to medium range combat, vehicular combat, and just about any situation requiring improvised solutions under pressure. Not the strongest or most resilient, but fast of body and mind.

Preferred Weapons/Equipment:
- Type-57 Carbine [T-57 C] or Needle Rifle [T-31 Needle Rifle], though any good marksman's weapon will do
- Concussion Rifle [T50 DER/H]
- A Brace of Plasma Grenades [T1 Antipersonnel Grenades]
- Wrist-mounted energy dagger
- Whatever else is at hand

Background: Yalu began his career from an unassuming life on Sanghelios, indoctrinated like many of his peers into the Covenant dogma and piped into its military training. It quickly became clear that he was a fast fighter and a faster learner. Merit in training carried him into promising early missions for his masters. He distinguished himself enough to earn respect -- a reliable soldier with strong initiative, a level head in a crisis, and always looking out for his team mates. His superiors saw enough potential in him to present fitting challenges, but he generally fell short in one key aspect. His kill count was low for a soldier of his capabilities. He was promoted to major only when most at his cohort and skill level were already each majors for at least three years, and he never earned the right to carry a sword.

Those Yalu worked alongside could not begrudge any lack of skill or courage. He knew when to strike and was a fantastic shot in amongst any firefight, not to mention no one could recount a time he seemed to panic or give any indication of retreat. When the time for slaughter came, he simply feigned advance when everyone else rushed forward to take scalps for personal glory.

Superior officers spoke with him about his reticence, but there was always an excuse or a dodge he had. They most eventually tolerated his behaviour as a lack of ambition. That was until he was assigned to an Ultra with a deep seated bloodlust during the Human-Covenant war. Yalu faced the most dangerous months of his life in that time, as he was thrown into mission after mission with the tacit (and sometimes clearly stated) objective of killing as many as possible. It was in this time that he grew resentful and empty. He might have lost himself completely as he justified the missions as a path to the Great Journey.

Then the prophets stole away everything. The Sangheili were replaced by the Jiralhanae and the truth came out about the Halo rings' purpose. Yalu's commanding Ultra tossed aside any notion that the prophets were in the wrong as if there was hope on the other side for any of them. Yalu, with the support of the soldiers around him, called the Ultra out, accusing him of dishonourably feasting on blood rather than granting mercy to worthy opponents. The Ultra drew an energy sword and a duel followed. Yalu won out by taking a cheap strike at his opponent's jaw to shed one drop of blood, before claiming it was the only honour he had to spill. The Ultra lost his temper and fell into all of Yalu's traps until he collapsed into a battered heap, beaten to within an inch of his life by the butt of Yalu's carbine. In one more act of mercy, Yalu obliged the Ultra's next order to end his life to cover his shame.

Thankfully, Yalu was not the only one resentful of their position and betrayal by the prophets. The battlegroup agreed to find and defect to the separatists. Once again, Yalu fought for a cause in a way he could agree with.

After the war, Yalu's body count was still abnormally low. While respected by his peers, his new leaders resented his lacking approach to his personal honour and glory. The prospect of Aegis Team was the perfect way to dispose of Yalu while still providing a top notch fighter with a cooperative spirit to joint operations.

[User]
Tasumameyofaxre<< Mgalekgolo Hunter >>
<< Autumn-class Heavy Cruiser - UNSC Chorus of Thunder >>

 The Mgalekgolo was pensive, entire wars had been fought over these Forerunner structures. The Covenant itself went to war with the ancient Lekgolo over the Forerunner structures over Te, and after the Covenant brought the Lekgolo into their fold. The Great War had many objectives tied to Forerunner artifacts and ruins, and after, the Covenant was destroyed. The Sangheili took their freedom back from the San'shyuum, and forming a friendship with the humans that they fought against not long ago. It seemed to Tasuma that whenever Forerunner anything was involved, great change would follow.

 When the team assembled to the hanger, Tasuma felt particularly alone. Before, it would always be with his bond brother. They were in constant communication, and while it was some consolation to know that Iteyi was alive and healing, the colony missed its brothers. The ODST Platoon was strange, Lt. Horn kept his troops on a tight leash. They were all so used to fighting alongside each other that they seemed more akin to a Lekgolo colony, than a unit of human warriors. They were often so rowdy, loud, and many of them liked to crowd around Tasuma. With them, it felt connected, feeling so many familiar entities around it. It reminded it of Te, a little. The Hunter looked at the Mammoth. Human war machines. They were beautiful in their own way. Practicality and usability seemed to be at the forefront of human design doctrine, and Tasuma could appreciate that. It sometimes sat down with some of the ODSTs, and listened to them discuss the many vehicles of the UNSC. It had heard of the Mammoth, supposedly a rolling firebase in of itself, armed with a 'mini-mac', a massive cannon that could fell spacebourne warships. This particular Mammoth was missing its weapon, to make it lighter and quicker. But its thick armored shell and massive wheels still provided protection and speed.

 Tasuma walked over to a small stack of crates near the Mammoth, marked with the symbol of the Swords of Sanghelios, and spray painted with the ODST's flaming skull droppod. It instantly knew what it was. It gently removed the tops of the three boxes, revealing its Assault Cannon, Pavise Shield, and a pouch with straps. It opened the pouch, and removed one of many rolled pieces of cloth. Tasuma unrolled it and draped the grasslands camouflage cloak over its head, shoulders and back. It wiggled its spikes, revealing that the camo cloak was cut in a way that allowed its spikes to move freely. Tasuma then strapped the pouch to its leg, and looked at the Assault Cannon and Shield. The Assault Cannon was a more modern variant, it had been using it for a number of months before joining Aegis, and along with the newer cannon, it had been given a newer version of the Pavise Shield. While Tasuma accepted the newer equipment, he only replaced his pauldron for the newer one. Opting to keep the older, longer and heavier version of the shield. It grabbed the pauldron and fastened it to its left shoulder, then placed both of its hands into the shield and cannon. Lekgolo worms flowed forward, filling the space.

<< Shield World 006 "Sarcophagus" >>
 Inside the Pelican, Tasuma's spikes were flowing freely. It was sensing its teammates around it. It was familiar with most of what was around it... Spartan-IV, Human, Sangheili, Unggoy. But some of the Spartans were different... very slightly different, but the differences didn't escape Tasuma. Were they from a different Spartan clan? And the one Tasuma had apologized to before, Aviza, it noticed the addition of something that wasn't there before. Perhaps it would ask later.
"Contact!"
Every Lekgolo in Tasuma's body tightened together, and in an instant the Hunter brought up its shield arm, slamming the tip of its shield into the ceiling of the Pelican, denting the metal plating. Tasuma took a step forward and braced itself, its spikes pressing flat against its back, and its gun arm pressing against its chest. Tasuma felt the drop ship rock back and forth, then there was a lurch.
"We're hit strap in!"

 Not long after, the Pelican hit the ground. Another lurch, with violent shaking as the Pelican skidded. All the while Tasuma stood unmoving, having braced itself well. When the shaking stopped, Tasuma removed its shield from the ceiling, then approached the rear exit in a combat stance, assault cannon at the ready. Tasuma's spikes slowly rose to a threatening height, and it growled. While it didn't know how Aviza or Vael would command the team, it did know how a common Sangheili Commander in the Covenant Era would face the situation... likely with Unngoy and Kig-yar moving out first to attract fire, leaving the Sangheili, and Sharpshooter Kig-yar to destroy the Sentinels. It also knew how Lt. Horn would react, likely having some of his troops rip out armor paneling from the Pelican to use as shields, and then to destroy each Sentinel with focused massed fire. But with Tasuma...
"Enemy, I attract. On your ready." Tasuma spoke.

[Assistant]
Spartan Lucas Ryker

Admittedly, Lucas hadn't anticipated any issues arising as the team boarded the Pelican and each found seats. As he settled into his own pre-mission flight routine, he pulled his sidearm free of its holster and started to disassemble it in his lap and reassemble it. He proceeded to do this several times over the course of the flight before finally reassembling it one last time and holstering it again before pulling one of his modified energy daggers free and activating it, letting the crimson colored energy hum quietly as he flipped the blade around in his hand.

It was a joint Sangheili and human design that had only been issued to a handful of specialist SPARTAN-IVs with orders to give regular updates on things such as strange fluctuations within the blade, if it cuts out mid-combat, performance against other shielded enemies, such as Sangheili loyal to the Remnant, and other such odds and ends. Sending the regular reports back to the eggheads was somewhat obnoxious, but making the design more stable, and therefore more readily available to the rest of the Swords and Human military, was an important thing to do.

Finishing the usual non-combat observations, he deactivates the blade and stores the hilt and starts filing away the usual report to be sent at mission completion after he'd had a chance to confirm the usual combat effectiveness when the pilots shout "Contacts!" Report filing forgotten, Lucas is already moving between members of the team to make sure their harnesses are secure before swiftly moving and securing himself.

"Fireteam secure, Team Leader!" And not a moment too soon as he felt the Pelican shake from impact. The sound of the Mgalekgolo securing itself in place was startling, but not unexpected given it was too large to actually use the seats in the transport, but it was certainly unorthodox and an issue that they should address before the next mission. Bracing in his seat, the SPARTAN-IV rattled a bit with the rough landing, but other than that was fine and as soon as the ship quit sliding, was unhooked and had the twin SMGs in his hand. Vael'Virisusai made a good point about the issue with the precision weaponry against the Sentinel plating, but then, there was always another option, which admittedly required an answer to his question. "Are we looking at a group of Sentinels or a swarm? If it's a swarm, we may want to just get to the Mammoth and hope it's got enough turrets on it."

[User]
Yalu's hands tightened on his seat. If there was any downside to human flight technology, it made Yalu feel the sudden lack of weight as they descended. He recited a mantra courage in his mind that kept his emotions level and cut off for every moment out of his control.

They landed, roughly. They were jostled. The screaming metal ran out of momentum. One second passed before Yalu unbuckled himself in a precise flurry. He pulled his carbine out from his back when he joined the others scanning the exits, but had an idea when Vael gave his orders.

"Noted, commander!" Yalu said, slinking over to the tripod-mounted machine gun secured to the loading ramp. While his comrades-in-arms before Aegis were content to tear such weapons from their swivels, Yalu took the extra second to squat and pull the quick release loose to slide it free. He hefted the three barrelled weapon around to stride heavily towards the door. "Ready."

All Yalu needed was a moment to spin up while the hovering sentinels were distracted.


[System]
Age:
16
Race:
Human (?)
Nationality:

Personality:
Stalwart.

If there were ever a single word that could aptly describe Aurelius's character, it would be stalwart. Steady and sure, Aurelius stands as impassive as a looming storm cloud, towering and lumbering over all those around him, being as constant and power-exuding without the need to mutter a few words. While capable of antics of frustration or irritation, Aurelius's true emotions never surface unless he's truly sincere about his resolve in committing to it. Like the rumblings of ominous thunder, Aurelius would often quell arguments by brief flares of rising temper to settle meaningless debates even within a town, whether he knows them or not.

Whenever someone challenges him outright, Aurelius often displays dispassion towards the challenger. However, if they goad him through taunts or threats towards his comrades, or have actually aimed to harm an innocent, Aurelius's instincts of protecting the innocent would surface. As if the sound of thunderclap, Aurelius's determination and killing intent would rise dramatically and would not hold back a single ounce of pity to those who have challenged him so willingly.

Backstory:
Born to the bloodline of King Arthur Pendragon, Aurelius was destined to rule the Kingdom of Camelot. From a young age it was noted that the young prince had a higher than average willpower, not due to his bloodline. His father, Arthinus, plunged his son into the role of up and coming knight from the very moment that Aurelius could walk. There was never any consideration to Aurelius's feelings, instead his father manufactured the boy's manufactured love for their families' legacy. Aurelius saw King Arthur as a true hero which helped his father bring him into training. Even though Arthinus took precedent over Aurelius's training, Gwyn, his mother, stayed strong willed about keeping their son on a path to choose his life first and foremost. Aurelius bonded with his father like master and student, giving them a stunted parent-child relationship; Gwyn instead fostered a relationship built off the love for his child, a love that would stay with him forever.

Aurelius was only twelve when he went through one of the most traumatic moments of his life. During one of their secret training sessions, Gwyn and Aurelius were betrayed by their own butler. Forced to run farther into the forest, Aurelius and his warrior mother found themselves at the lake of legend where Arthur was said to meet the Lady of the Lake prior to acquiring Excalibur. Gwyn, injured and bloodied, could barely protect her son from a large scale fire spell, burning and knocking Aurelius into the lake behind him. That's when he met.....her. The Lady of the Lake aka Lala helped the young prince, her being a child of roughly the same age for reasons unknown to Aurelius. His burns covered his chest and left arm,left eye damaged,his mother sacrificed her life for him, his father distant, and now he had an annoying chick following him every where, what more could get worse?

The years only passed as Aurelius trained and lived through his mother's memories, his father still unable to bond with his son, instead deciding to sign him and Lala up to a certain school. Aurelius would soon learn to be the man that he always wanted to be, the king of heroes.

[Stat System]
END: 65 (D)
STR: 30 (D)
DEX: 90 (C)
AGI: 65 (D)
INT: 35 (E)
WIL: 50 (D)
CHR: 30 (E)
SPT: 15 (E)
LCK: 20 (F)

[Combat]
-Equipment-
Weapons:

Gwyn- A sword crafted for his mother prior to meeting her husband. The blade was damaged during his last stand to save her child, and Aurelius applied wraps from one of her dresses to cover the scarring like he does his own arm. A tough metal allows the sword to clash with others and carries a deceptive weight.

Gear:
Light Spellbook

Other:
N/A

Independent:
Unknown Blood - Aurelius holds something that is neither Arcanis or Earth human within him. It only seems to activate whenever he is pushed in a corner, increasing his STR and INT by 20% until he is healthy again.

King Arthur Descendant - He holds the right of kingship over the lost Kingdom of Camelot. Is this mere boasting, or was this myth true?

Stalwart Sword - Aurelius is able to avoid being knocked away by bracing himself for an attack, as long as he's using a sword. Doing so increases his END by 10%. This increases further to 40% (only while bracing) if he is protecting someone. The bonus will only activate when he's bracing.

Soul of the Duelist - When directly challenged, or when challenging someone directly to combat, his sword strikes are more potent and more likely to overpower. This will not activate during a brawl against multiple enemies, but it can work against a boss if he manages to be the sole fighter.

Major Skills:

Magic Circuit 1: Tidewalker - The basic circuit for the Abyssal Knights. The water-based circuit is the most basic, and it's purpose is general-purpose combat, increasing speed, power, and durability all in equal measure. It also allows the use of all spells in the Abyssal library.
Incantation - "The waking waves hide no lies, let the waters wash over thy soul"

First Form - Arthur
Execution - The blade is lifted vertically upwards, pointing the blade essentially at the sun as if to gather strength. Eventually it is brought downward vertically with intent to split the helm. Even blocked it can push through with the help of gravity.
Principle - The basic style taught to knights of Camelot. Arthur is the go to form that teaches a balance of offense and defense. Can use all sword techniques.

Second Form - Lancelot
Execution - The sword is held upward parallel to shoulders, blade pointing forward. Quick thrusts are initiated through this stance, focused primarily on using precise thrusts to target vulnerable areas of the body.
Principle - A full offensive form meant to use reach and speed.

Third Form - Galahad
Execution - A quick step to the right, using momentum to carry the sword through the abdomen. A fast movement that is followed by flips and rolls to strike from various points.
Principle - Created by Aurelius to utilize his environment, flexibility, and footwork for a offensive style that teaches him to attack at different angles and not be predictable.

Fourth Form - Gwyn
Execution - Placing the sword to the side of the body, exposing the whole body to an attack, preparing for a counter attack.
Principle - A form created by Aurelius' mother, Gwyn. It works by feinting and baiting and helping Aurelius learn to read body language.

Minor Skills:

Studied: Wild Blade Style - Form 3 Galahad

Spells:
Wave Sword - A simple swing of the user's weapon will cause a blade of water to extend their range. The range can be controlled and this move used frequently.

Tidal Dragon - A sword technique where the user does a spinning overhead slash. They can spin in a somersault or horizontally, the entire point is to obtain momentum. The move has a dragon trailing the attack.

Frost Javelin - The user will summon a javelin of ice and throw it. If the user uses a spear, the spell will have more piercing power.

Lightdash Stride - A simple spell that moves the user quickly on a path of light. The user need not make an action but are free to do so during this.

Flash Barrier - A quickly cast barrier that can negate spells or deflect melee attacks. Not particularly strong but can be disruptive.

Magic Missile - A projectile with no particular magical alignment, cheap and effective, but requires technique and proper application to execute properly. It can also be attuned with an element, becoming <element> Missile. Uniquely, it can be case a huge multitude of times without the need for modifiers, but modifiers do increase the maximum. (Starting maximum is 10 missiles plus 2 for each point in Intelligence).
Incantation - "Answer my call, <number> spirits of <element>, strike true upon my foe"

Fire Ball - Form a ball of fire that can strike with concussive and burning force.

Techniques: (Techniques are unique to characters, and while some may learn techniques from their masters, they can absolutely invent their own techniques, essentially their own 'interpretation' of their forms)

[User]
Edward Lachance

Edward would never forget last night, but simultaneously, many of it's details were... hazy to say the least. Seeing that ice palace, for the first time, and when it became bathed in crimson, those vistas were seared into his skull. Aresvius being pierced, almost watching another young man die... that too, would stick with him forever. But the fight in between, while it seemed to last forever in the moment, he couldn't place much more than the emotion of it all. Fear. Complete paranoia as these magical forces he had just begun to understand clashed right in front of his face-- even trying to kill him! Luckily, Lorelai and Rodrick were there, along with a variety of other students, that ended up protecting him, along with the teachers that swooped in like Power Rangers. Their P.E. teacher's entrance is also something he'd remember forever.

But if there was one thing to take from yesterday, it was that Ed was out of his depth. He'd never been in a fight in his life until Rodrick came along, and the princling who just two days ago seemed to want his head was about all that stood between him and a cold, cold casket. Hopefully Ed's complete ineptitude in that fight helped show Rodrick just how wrong he was about Ed being special. Or at least, intentionally special. Previously, Ed had felt out of his element in a very positive way. He was being introduced to this amazing new world that he had always dreamed of... but last night Ed felt the flipside of that. Being new, and weak, and powerless and confused. It kept Ed up all night. He just wanted to hold onto Ramyu or Rodrick or Lorelai and never let go, because otherwise he'd get squashed like a bug.

This paranoia followed him through the rest of the day, along with his lack of sleep. For once, he couldn't take any notes in his classes. Ramyu and Rodrick were also no where to be found, but as his afternoon P.E. class rolled around, he noticed a peculiar coincidence. Or at least it was framed as a coincidence, but it couldn't be. Everyone present during last night's... affair, sans the other teacher, was here. All beat tired, obviously, but here nonetheless. Ed listened as intently as he could, expecting some kind of follow up on what had happened, or at least a confirmation that Aresvius was still breath, but it never came. Coach just talked about ki and chakra and what not. Normally, Ed would be all over that but he just couldn't focus on that today. Even if he wanted to get stronger.

He could gab at Lorelai or Rodrick but for some reason he didn't feel ready. Maybe it was the shame of not having participated in the fight, or how tired they were, but he struck up a conversation with Mr. Bakusatsu instead. Pretending to be working on his Kata, Ed slowly inched closer to the coach, and waited for an opening, when he wasn't instructing any students, before semi-whispering to him.

"Uh, hey, coach Bakusatsu, Is Aresvius okay? Is that Noah's descendant guy gonna show back up again soon?"

[Assistant]
Silver Gate Academy Grounds - Soccer Field
Komedy@Lonewolf685

---

Kaidan oversaw the class, giving some brief instruction once in awhile, though to varying degrees of success. Some students seemed to understand his hot-headed way of explaining things, while others struggled a little, but it was clear he was quite sincere in his methods. As everyone began to settle he noticed some were not quite completely there today... He pondered for a bit before he pulled out from a satchel what appeared like a protein ball, and walked up to Lorelai,

"Here, try some of this", he offered. Whether or not she would eat it, she would find herself taking it either way. What this was in fact, was a shinobi medicinal ball, which should revitalize anyone who eats it. There were recipes for it included in the Iga-ryu scrolls too. As he handed that off, he was approached by Edward, who asked out of concern of what happened last night. Not many people knew of the descendants, and frankly they preferred the students didn't learn of such high level beings so early in their lives or even ever at all, still, what happens, happens. Kaidan furrowed his brow and rubbed his chin,

"Hmmmmmm, well Aresvius will be okay, he's just out of commission for awhile. Being what he is, he'll recover with just some rest. As for the other guy... Well, I'm not sure. Then again, it may not be best to talk about him here, but please rest assured! The teachers and even the principle are onto that guy, let us handle him", it was a vague answer regarding the latter but there was something reassuring about this gruff and buff man giving a friendly smile.

[User]
"Shin-Ganryu."

A dark skinned female with bright white teeth gave a toothy smile to the young dark skinned male standing beside her. She knew exactly what her friend would love the moment their teacher finished his speech. Her friend was always the type to go straight for the sword fighting techniques and if anything, he would be over-joyed even if he didn't show it. The young man stared at his friend, a smirk forming in the corners of the mouth. Only she could get him to smirk like this out of him. "Come on, Aurelius." The young girl laughed as she grabbed his arm, pulling him as hard she could toward their teacher. She just couldn't help herself.

"Lady, calm yourself." Aurelius calmly spoke, his stoic tone taking over. He placed his hand on her head, ruffling her around like a parent with their child. Aurelius knew she was right, as he took a few steps to the wooden swords placed for the students to use. He slowly gripped the hilt, his mind racing as he began to think back to the past. The more kenjutsu he was able to learn, the more capable he would be to avenge his mother, and become the man that she always preached he was.

"Sensai, I would like to learn Shin-Ganryu." Aurelius spoke in an almost commanding tone, pointing his wooden sword at Bakusatsu.


[System]
Character Sheets
Alias:
The Profaned Blacksmith
Demon Blacksmith
Real Age:
321
Age Appearance:
60
Gender:
Male
Rank:
None
Sexuality:
Straight
Village:
Unknown
Alliances:
Akatsuki

[User]
Amegakure no Sato | S-rank | Leader of Amegakure

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TIME: Present Day - Morning | LOCATION: Konohagakure - Medical-center, room 201,  | INTERACTION: Kaito Chosokabe, @Ganryu; Sayuri Nisshoku, @Write, Koma Hitsugi, @GlitchyBugger

Yogensha's mind calculated every single option presented to her by her protege and assistant and within a second had an answer ready. Her speed of thinking was "None of Amegakure's students are in the forest of death. I don't think it is a coincidence that whoever attacked us decided to do it on this day. Whoever or whatever is behind this, they are surely to be found in that forest too. Although charging towards the danger seems like a fine idea any other day of the week, I think we should pass just this once."

Shrewd as she may have been, she was not entirely stupid. She would not throw her life away in favour of the Tsuchikage or Hokage either. In fact, under the same circumstances she would've escaped the fight to retreat and re-arrange her thoughts to formulate a new strategy. It seemed that that was out of the question now that they had picked up an Iwagakure nin as backup. Though Yogensha was calculating and cold when needed due to her pragmatic approach to leadership, she was not so cruel as to leave this new girl to her fate as they ran away back to Amegakure. "Sayuri, map a route to the highest point in this village. I want to feel the same breeze I can feel when I stand atop my residence in Amegakure."

It was the truth, although Sayuri would have troubles finding a building that reached as high as her own residence. Amegakure was renowned for it's tall buildings and towers that seemed to reach into the sky endlessly, with smoke bellowing from each and every one of them as the industry roared. Yogensha's residence was the highest of them all - an apt vantage point, and a good place to meditate. But, the tallest building would have to suffice. It mattered very little that neither the Tsuchikage or the Hokage were going to be at that precise building.

They would prepare to leave, with the team being a topnotch team of Amegakure nin and a stand-in Iwagakure nin. But Kaito had a different idea, it seemed, as he proposed to stay behind. Of course, normally, she would have denied such a request. It was unthinkable for her to abandon her students in the face of a threat. But Kaito was right - he was limited in his mobility and there were places where he would've been better off. She glanced away from the group, diverting her eyes as she weighed the options, before looking back. She sighed deeply before speaking up about his suggestion. "If the Sage of the Six Paths wills it. Very well. But I will ask you to divert your attention to a new goal I am setting for you."

She paused, either for dramatic effect or to decide on how to word things. Even when the hospital was, quite literally, crumbling around her, she still seemed to find times to word things eloquently or in a motivational manner. Then, her voice boomed. "I hereby declare this hospital to be part of Amegakure! I am annexing this hospital!" Her eyes turned serious, and she looked at Kaito as if she was imparting him with a mission that would either safe or destroy Amegakure. "Remember the Amegakure code. In the defense of Amegakure we give everything. The defense of this hospital is now your sole purpose!" She was right - the utmost loyalty and sacrifice was expected from Amegakure shinobi in the defense of their land, their country, their people. And now she had officially ordained the hospital as part of Amegakure, effectively annexing it. Normally, an act of war. Now, a sign of preparedness to defend the innocent people that were stuck in the hospital. Effectively, Kaito was now ordained to give everything, even his life, to defend this 'piece of Amegakure.'

She gave a firm, astute nod at the boy, before turning around and heading for the hole at the far end of the hallway. Sayuri and Koma were expected to follow, and then Sayuri would be given charge of leading them through a safe path to the highest point of the city. "Sayuri," Yogensha spoke to her, hushing her voice slightly as she surveyed the area around them. Her eyes spoke of alertness, though her body spoke calm and peace. "Make sure to avoid places where we might be ambushed. I get the feeling that whoever did this will probably hang around. And if you can locate the Tsuchikage or other Iwagakure nin..." She glanced back at Koma, who was a bit away from her and Sayuri, before continuing.. "Please inform our friend here to their location. She deserves to fight side by side with her fellow Iwagakure nin."

[Assistant]
Amegakure no Sato | B-rank | Assistant of Amekage

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TIME: Present Day - Morning | LOCATION: Konohagakure - Hokage Mountain | INTERACTION: Kaito Chosokabe, @Ganryu; Yogensha, @Odin Koma Hitsugi @Glitchybugger

Sayuri looked at Kaito, as he asked for an explanation about her eyes at a later date. "The next time we see each other." She said in response to his asking Yogensha's permission to stay behind. She looked at him hard. She didn't need the Byakugan to know that he'd have to be resourceful to survive. She placed a hand on his should and her fingers gripped him lightly. Her pale lavender eyes glared at him unwaveringly. If this was war they could not afford to lose a single soldier. It was his turn to make it up to Amegakure, and more importantly, Yogensha herself. As Sayuri, Yogensha and Koma took off from the hospital she was commanded to find the highest point in the village, so that Yogensha may feel winds not unlike their own back home.

"Byakugan." The phrase showed her the entire landscape, as if it was a painting. She could inspect the canvas from any and every angle, almost simultaneously. "You're right my lady, the forest is a war zone." Sayuri noted, seeing a massive amount of chakra signatures in the small area. Taking her position as the leader of the group by immediately taking off in a sprint, knowing the others would have to keep up. The village had descended into chaos already, people were screaming, there was so much horror. As she climbed up onto a building and she scanned the leaf village she rotated, looking for a point that would eclipse all others.

"That will do, my lady, please follow me." She said pinpointing her route between where they were and where they were headed. She saw conflict on the streets and as such she easily transitioned onto the rooftops. Her movement skills were some of the best in her village and it showed when muscle memory kicked in. But the young girl gasped when she saw the forest. She watched as nearly 4km of the forest was destroyed and its radius covered by sharks. It was just as they thought.

This was a full scale assault. While avoiding conflict and escorting Yogensha to the highest point in the village, her other tasks came into play. The first was the location of the Tsuchikage, and Iwagakure ninja. As she felt comfortable with her current course, her vision immediately focused on the observational tower. She could make out a few figures, but due to the explosion and the debris it was hard to see anything too specific. But there was a few figures flying on what looked to be a chakra-based creation. She could make out three distinct chakra signatures as they approached the foot of the mountain.

Immediately, she took off climbing up the stony citadel, while reporting her findings back to her leader as they reached the summit rather rapidly.

"My lady, there is a full assault occurring on the forest, as you can see from this vantage point it appears to be two techniques as the base of the assault. I cannot see that far, however I can tell you that there are at least fifteen, perhaps more people in that forest currently. The Tsuchikage is most likely at the observation tower as there are currently three Iwagakure ninja departing from there, the most probable outcome is that they received instructions already. This is the highest physical point one may reach in the hidden leaf. I apologize that it is one-hundred feet underneath your request."

[User]
TIME: Present Day - Midday | LOCATION: Forest of Death | INTERACTION: Everyone

Sano and Havoc had made the most extravagant entrance. Both of the deadly shinobi using great zoning techniques. Shinra Tensi and Dai Bakusui Shōha were both dangerous moves on their own but together they were enough to nearly decimate the Forest of Death. In the distance, you could see the fires of Jaakuna's bombs going off, everything was going according to the plan set by Seijuro. As the water started to settle on the forest floor, Sebun decided to make his entrance but not without some flare. Sebun emerged from a black portal as he was coming from his personal forge, looking upon the glorious destruction Havok and Sano had created. After weaving several hand seals the blacksmith muttered the words "Armament's of the Heavens." Several smaller black portals formed as dozens of weapons appeared. With a smile stretching across his face, Sebun raised his left hand. The smile faded away as he dropped his hand. The weapons that were sitting still in the portals began to fly in every direction covering the forest in weapons. They had no targets so they flew every impacting the ground, creating many dust clouds. For ten seconds straight all you could hear was the weapons cleaving through trees and slamming into the ground.


[System]
Nickname + Alias
Trixie
Age
18
Gender
Female
Rank
B-
Physique
Trixie is 5'3" with bright red-orange hair and amber-gold eyes. She has a wide, overconfident smirk on her face about ninety-nine percent of the time and walks like she's the Queen of the entire planet. Besides her giant battle-hammer, a crimson cloak is the most notable accessory to her appearance. Her Guild Mark is at the center of her right hand, below her knuckles and just short of her wrist.
Personality
Trixie is a young girl who has for the majority of her life triumphed with little struggle. She's cocky, headstrong, and opinionated to a fault. These traits often make her seem abrasive and conceited – and for the most part they are correct. Trixie believes she knows everything that she needs to know, is often ruled by her impulses and sense of right-and-wrong, and socially inept with a lack of perception or intellect for manners, boundaries, and sensitivities. This makes the young red-headed girl seem rather brash and insensitive, though in most occasions, it isn't that Trixie is completely apathetic to the feelings and insecurities of others but rather that she thinks it is her divine right to push people and make them react.

"The weak let anything happen to them." she often declares like some flamboyant catchphrase. With that said, it does describe how Trixie looks at society and people as a whole.
Likes
→ Alcohol
→ Apples
→ Being Intrusive
→ Fighting
→ Having Fun
→ Honesty
→ Lawlessness
→ Music
→ Parties
Dislikes
→ Backing Down
→ Books
→ Cowards
→ Lectures
→ Manners
→ The Past
→ Prudes
→ Pussyfooting Around
→ Rules
→ Spicy Food
Fears
Trixie is afraid of "being weak". In the dog-eat-world that she lives in, she's come out believing that weakness is the worst thing ever. It is the source of her unruly personality and compounds everything else she cannot stand bearing the thought of including being killed and allowing yourself to let down the people you care about.
Brief Bio
Trixie was orphaned at a young age and effectively raised by the streets and her magic.

Her father, Marko Blackfang, was killed by an old enemy when Trixie was twelve years old. A man whom Trixie remembers for his crimson red eyes and unique battle scars. She still wasn't sure why she wasn't killed alongside her father, but the man's words about her father's weakness bore lasting damage throughout her life. Eventually Trixie fell into a gang of delinquents in the streets of Rosa Blanca and up until she was sixteen years old that was where she stayed. But as with most things it was a temporary existence. She still isn't sure why she bothered wandering to the doorsteps of the Dragon Heart Guild, nor does she care about the circumstances. But perhaps things are more complicated than she wants to believe.
Magic
Metal Magic
Description
Trixie's magic is a variant Caster Magic revolving around the manipulation of metal. The biggest crutch of this ability is that it is limited to what she can physically touch.
Spells
Hammer Time! - Channeling the magical energy through her hammer, Trixie slams the weapon into the ground causing a magical reaction with the earth itself causing a powerful tremor.

Onyx Strength - Using the magical energy in her bones, Trixie increases her strength by making her bones in her hand as dense as steel. With enough effort this can be applied to her legs and in theory her entire body.

Mend - With her magical abilities, Trixie mends and repairs a metal item. Usually her hammer.
Items
The only items Trixie typically has at her disposal is her crimson cloak – a heirloom made out of a regenerative magical cloth that is as durable as steel and her steel battle-hammer of which she has surprisingly not named.
Miscellaneous Information
The biggest thing that is of importance that isn't covered in the above information is that due to the nature of her style of using her magic Trixie is a skilled weapon-based combatant and occasional brawler – though when in fist fights she tends to use her size and speed to her advantage.

[User]
Vega Ashcroft
Dragon Heart Guild Hall

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Vega was the last to be frozen by the Guild Master's magic, his cloak and weapons disappearing as that magic simply overpowered his own, though it did afford him just a few moments to... Be frozen in a way where he's flipping everyone off. All this really did was make the Guild Master sigh briefly. In any case, as the events transpired, Vega could feel the proverbial spears and swords skewering him as each complaint was put to bear. A very significant chunk of these were... Probably his doing, but he didn't care about that. The jobs were still done, maybe not to full satisfaction but he gets it done.

Soon as that was over he as normal was called to his office, along with Muko too, likely for the fight earlier. Which was getting good until the Guild Master came along. In any case, new jobs on the board too... Well looks like it won't be right away, so at least he has time to pick up a good job before someone else could. He dusted himself off and walked over to the board to see what was there.

"Oh yeah Muko... Know what, nevermind, just get outta my sight", what was he going to say? Well even he wasn't so sure. Kukan the Guild Master ruined the mood completely, so there was no point in continuing further.

[Assistant]
Valishin Elias
"The Least, the Lost, and the Last"
Interaction/s: @Crimson Raven

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There really was no point in arguing with an idiot.

They would infinitely beat him with experience.

If the point was a bullet, it would have soared past Vega without a second thought. It mattered little to Vali who started the fight; heck, a brawl started in the guild almost every day, but it was the more powerful mages' responsibility to end them. To those who have more power, more was expected of them. The woman relaxing and conversing with Victoria, another of the top dogs, was a living testament to that responsibility. While the other top mages desired to just observe for entertainment or, worse, join in the destruction of the guild, Mis genuinely tries her best to put a stop to it. The rule on avoiding brawls was there for a reason: to reduce guild expenses with the constant replacement of resources. Emeralds were hard to come by in times of need. For now, the guild had more than enough to sustain them through a fortnight's worth of brawls, but there was only so much oaken tables you could break before they become loose board trestles with termites gnawing at them.

If anything, Vali didn't want Master Kukan to have to worry about the expenses of his guild house. The man was already working hard as it is, and at the very least, he wanted the master to return home with a clean and organized home. Bonding over fights was a good thing, Vali had no qualms about it, but they had to follow the rules. These legal bindings served as the wall separating the guild and the darkness which swirled in the hearts of the darker troupes whose wars against the Magic Council burned ever so brightly even until today. He would be damned before allowing this family to fall into chaos and anarchy.

His thoughts were interrupted although supported when Master Kukan himself took the reins and ended the fight with but a show of strength from his space-time magic. Immediately, Vali felt his entire body freeze with unnatural energy. It was similar to how one tried to run away from the monsters in their nightmares, but desperately feeling their limbs unwilling to cooperate. The unnerving weights seemingly pulling their limbs down always sent a shiver down the sniper's spine. The master himself seemed busy, and spared just a few words for them, mostly towards Vega and frosty over there.

There was no point in dawdling any longer in this tumultuous scene. In any case, he should probably wait until the sharks feasted on the good ones. As always.

"Thanks, Mis," Vali turned to the knight as he took a swig and downed it. "Though, I'll have to take some jobs just to replace the bullets I lost today. Sooner or later, I'd have to make my own bullets. See you, around, yeah?"

The sniper hoisted his rifle on his shoulder before ascending the stairs. The statement he said with Mis was true, though. The ammunition he bought from Valiant almost everyday siphoned a good sixty to seventy percent of his earnings. Crunching the numbers, by learning how to make his own bullets, Vali theorized that he could potentially save a thousand emeralds a week which would go to his apartment. After all, his cuckoo clock was now a weird sounding avian from hell, and he was frankly getting tired of being woken up by a bird injected with too much testosterone. Not to mention his wooden boards creaked to his steps or breathing. Or, existence. He planned to study bullet smithing and creation, and he had been doing this for a month now. Whenever things began to settle down after a brawl, he retreated back to the library to study the science of the bullet creation for a good portion of the hour.

Thus, as he reached the sanctum of knowledge (or, as Vali liked to call it, Anti-Vega Barrier), his sharp ears twitched at the sound of books, papers, and tools hitting the floor or tossing in the air. There were only a few people who regularly visited the library, and from the time he spent here, he could already piece who it was.

A gentle hand pushed the door leading to the library, seeing notes strewn about the carpeted floor. The stream of discarded research led like a breadcrumb trail to a certain girl resting her head on her arms as her back bent at the table. Flavia.

She was one of the constant denizens of this place, and in the time that Vali spent here studying, he only had a few successful conversations with her. The girl was absurdly timid and shy, but by the looks of things, she was quite the opposite. The sniper bent to pick up one of the scattered parchments, crouching as he scrutinized the topic before his orbs widened in surprise.

The Study of Advanced Photokinesis by past wizard-saint Pos Emon. The Anatomy of Magical Locuses by chairman Bora Yalis of the Magic Council. Photopropulsion and Enhanced Barrier Studies by wizard engineer Shivan.

"The hell," Vali grimaced, realizing that these were advanced texts meant, supposedly, for A or even S-class mages. When the sniper was studying for the Spider Bullet, he had to focus on the element of light and he encountered these researches on his way to completion. He didn't even read the entire thing. The complexity of the language and terms used confused the former bandit, and he settled for just a rope to help him move around instead of his intended piercing light shot.

One look at the exhausted girl, and the marksman knew that she was pushing herself the most out of everyone in the guild. A C-rank, she was, but, perhaps, her heart proved stronger than Muko. Maybe, she wasn't shy or timid all the time.

Maybe, she just remained strong for far too long.

Valishin knew exactly how that felt like.

Silently, he gathered the materials and the books she let go of before putting them on the space opposite her. Then, he took out a magical quill, a set of parchments, and his reading glasses from his bag. With a quiet sigh, he sat opposite of Flavia before unfurling the scrolls and opening the books she researched on. He didn't really know if she was soundly asleep, but he would try to help her. He saw himself in her when he was nothing more but a glorified poacher.

Putting on his glasses, Vali went to work as he jotted down the important things and notes from the complicated texts that he could comprehend. Based on these studies, he figured that she may be going to improve her barrier capabilities. When Vali first came to the guild, he also made the library his home where he studied his craft more and more. He was acquainted with almost all of the books and scrolls here, and as such, he listed an outline of a series of books and researches he recommended for her to read.

The sound of his quill scratching at the parchment served as a gentle melody in the library, and as his auburn eyes caught sight of his favorite bullet smithing text, he shook his head in favor of continuing to write notes for this exhausted young lady. Soon, the handmade notes began to pile on one another, the legalistic and formal language transformed into simple logic and ideas.

Vali was thankful that he had some friends like Mis, and that, he was able to interact outside of the library. However, he figured that Flavia may not be the same. It was no use to throw a fish into a new pond without a gentle hand; if the mage had dragged Vali back to the guild after that skirmish at the village, Vali would have flipped since he could not have adjusted quick enough. Instead, Valishin had to adjust slowly to society, to cast off his crimes and ways until the mask was no longer a shadow that he hid his face under. It was now a reminder, a constant sigil of vigilance.

It had to be a slow, gradual change. Like small waves forming into one big sweep.

To talk to her immediately like a friend or to toss her in the middle of the guild may be detrimental.

Thus, Vali decided to talk in her own language. A scholar's language, as it seemed. Starting off from where she could relate with him.

It was easy to say that the guild was a family, but if the only thing they knew how to do was to fight each other without adjusting to the needs of the least, the lost, and the last, then, what kind of family would they actually be? Guilds can easily be judged by the way they treat their weakest, and while Flavia was by no means weak, it went without saying that she did need help.

They weren't friends... yet. That much was certain. But, Vali was tired of ignoring others. He always spoke about the laws and the rules, and yet here he was, breaking the first rule of the guild: to treat each other like a family.

This was a small step, definitely, but it was progress nonetheless. There were a lot of weaker mages in their guild, and Vali decided he would be there for them. They may be slow like molasses, but he'd be there for them. Sticky with their molasses.

A guardian. An overwatch. A sentinel.

[User]
Gᴜɪʟᴅ Hᴀʟʟ - Rᴏsᴀ Bʟᴀɴᴄᴀ

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Sawsaw2
"Oof!" Trixie exclaimed as Illedrith tackled her out of the cart, the gleam of her mirror magic blinding her before the impact.

As she landed on the floor a wide arrogant smirk remained on her lips, almost like despite being caught "red-handed" by the cart's owner she had gotten exactly what she wanted. Whatever item she had grabbed from the cart rolled back from her fingers. Though Illedrith might've thought she had stopped Trixie from making off with something valuable, Trixie had no idea what she had been rummaging for in the first place.

"Maybe you shouldn't make it so easy!" She laughed, taunting her guildmate despite being essentially pinned to the floor. "One of these days you're going to fail to tackle me, y'know!"