[System]
Age: 20

Gender: Male

Appearance: Short swept hair, and a tall, firm frame keep this man solid in a consistent stance. His shoulders aren't too broad, nor his legs too thick. His pride is apparent on his stance, but he isn't one to let it become apparent. He likes tighter t-shirts and jeans, and bright colours are definitely his style. In fact, a few layers of his hair are coloured in a vibrant pink

 Personality: Austin is confident, but it comes in twofold. On one side he's willing to admit he's wrong and allow other people to take the lead because he's confident in his own skills. On the other side, his pride can often get the best of him, especially when it relates to his talents. Otherwise he has a soft bravado with a quiet presence, as if denying the brightness, he tries to bring to his appearance.

 He isn't afraid of who he is. You either love him or hate him, trust him or deny him, but either way he doesn't care. He trusts that he can handle whatever situation that's thrown at him. If he can't, then someone he knows should be able to figure it out.

 At least until things get dangerous. His confidence takes a serious downfall if in the face of danger. Like his flirting style, any confidence behind his words stumble and fade away when challenged by someone else. He won't run away, per se, but he can find the whole situation to be overwhelming pretty quickly and crack under the pressure.

 Also he's a pretty serious flirt.

Backstory: Being a Psych major with a serious passion for his field, Austin grew up spending a lot of his time understanding people. He'd read up almost any book he could find on the subject, or books based on romance and friendships. Novels were something he'd spend every free hour consuming until he started becoming friends with people.

 His priorities were always pretty straight. First focus on becoming a therapist, then on relationships, then reading. It was around high school age that romantic relationships entered that cycle. He'd end up with many relationships with many different people, but end up breaking them off a month or two later. He searched for the "perfect" relationship, believing that somewhere in all of his empathy and research he would be able to find it.
 That has not been achieved quite yet.

 Currently in the throes of his third year of school, romantic relationships needed to take a backseat for the work he was doing, involving plenty of extra credit doing research for numerous psychology professors. He was going to be one of the best therapists, and that meant he needed to do as much work as possible.

 It was some research into old case files at a ghostly asylum that he remembered reading last.

Talents: Austin is a master of empathy, and he's very good at judging current emotions or sanity levels in other people just by looking at them or sharing a short conversation. He can read and speak in most languages, although he sticks to English mostly (thanks to a lot of time spent wanting to understand books of various different languages). Austin's an expert in language and logic-based puzzles as long as he's given time to figure it out, though he cracks under pressure.

Other: He tends to keep people in his head on various scales. A mental, physical, and emotional chart from 1-10 so he can keep track of how people are doing. Usually he also keeps notes on this, but he can usually keep a decent mental map if he needs to.

Also not really important but Austin's pan so romantic relationships can be with practically anyone.

[User]
"What...what the fuck?" Justin stared blankly at the contents of the box, his hands gripping on the edges so hard that his knuckles turned white. But after awhile one of his wrists started to hurt, and that was when he noticed that it was bandaged. He blinked several times, slowly letting go of the box and turning his hand over, and rotated it gingerly. He winced at how stiff it was, and released an anxious, shaky sigh.

How did he get hurt? Hell, more importantly, where in the world is he and how did he get here? It had only been mere minutes after he had woken up in a panicked stupor, flinging himself out of bed in a stance that was ready to defend himself. But he had woken up to an eerie silence, and the only thing in the room with him was a lonely box that sat in the middle of the room. Unfortunately, after looking through the contents, he was just as confused as ever, if not more.

Slowly, Justin got up and took in a deep breath. When his nerves calmed from a violent trembling to a nervous shake, he slowly spun on his heels and did a 360 degree turn to get his bearings. Of course, he had no fucking clue where he was. But it seemed like he was trapped in a room, surrounded by grim concrete that seemed to have a claustrophobic effect on him even though it was quite spacious. It was also quite dirty, and despite being scared out of his mind, he found a way to be grateful that he had awoken on a relatively...'cleaner' mattress. The room was pretty much bare, save for a door that stood at the opposite side of the wall.

When there was not much else to see around dull room, Justin began to inspect himself instead. First, he patted himself down to check if there were any other injuries that were not accounted for. Secondly, he focused on the clothing that he was wearing. Thankfully, he recognized the attire that he was wearing: a simple navy-blue long-sleeve, charcoal-colored jeans, and white sneakers. Thank God he was not molested when he was knocked out and ended up here. Or if he did...well, he didn't feel particularly violated so he hoped it to be a positive indicator that he wasn't. When everything checked out, he turned his attention to the box on the floor.

Justin hesitated for a moment, but groaned at his own cowardice before clenching his fist and knelt before the strange package. Looking through it once more, he made note of what was inside the box:

Two canned soups, heavy with unspoiled broth, it seemed. A litre of water, tightly sealed an unopened.

Well, this was a good sign - at least he wouldn't have to starve anytime soon. Luckily, he did not feel hungry nor thirsty, and he knew his body to a point where he was certain he could ration the food to last him at least a full day or two. But it was the second, small box that unnerved him the most: a box with a syringe, followed by seven small jars of what seemed to be drugs that could fill it up. Even to someone without extensive medical knowledge like his, they could guess the contents of the jars just by looking at the symbols etched on them: two poisons, two medicines, two soporific drugs and...and the last one, he had know clue. "You Monster"? The hell if he knew what that meant. Lips pursed and jaws clenched, he rummaged the contents of his box one more time before sealing it close. With a sigh he stood back up with the small, peculiar phone in his hand.

He looked at the text once more, then at the skull charm that hung from it. Pocketing it, Justin proceeded towards the door, box tucked firmly under an arm. When he tried the doorknob, he found it to be unlocked - so with determination, he swung it forward with force. He gulped as he peered out:

A door was a few feet in front of him. His room seemed have have been situated in a hallway, across from another room.

Before he could even react to his new surrounding, Kevin could hear a sound coming from down the hallway to his right - was that another door opening? Kevin gulped, his body beginning to shake again as fear crept up his spine and finally he realized how fucked up his situation was. Where in the hell was he? What the fuck was going on? Kevin closed his eyes, groaned to himself, and steeled his body into rigidness.

There was no use standing here and pissing his pants. After all, he had a "mission" to accomplish. Make a friend, huh? Let's damn well hope that the noise he heard was from a kind stranger such as he. He walked out into the hallway, closed the door behind him, and made his way right.

(Justin is heading towards Room 9.)

[Assistant]
The first thing Tim was aware of was a dull ache in his wrist. Then it was the smell. A salty, putrid smell. It didn't smell anything like his heavily Windexed room at home, and so Tim shut his eyes tighter, hoping to escape this dream for another one soon. But instead of slipping back into unconsciousness, the dream continued to flesh itself out as Tim became aware of a stiffness in his joints and the distinct feeling of a toilet seat under his ass. The ache in his wrist turned into a dull pounding, then into a throbbing pain, strong enough to make Tim force his eyes open.
Tim looked down at his hands and shoes, at first not recognizing them in this new context. Yes, those were his knobby, boney pale hands in his lap and, yes those were his plain black work shoes, slightly worn, planted in the ground. But there were no accounting papers in his hands, no office rug under his feet. Instead, he was in a toilet stall. A curiously red, smelly toilet stall. How funny to fall asleep here. Maybe not a story to share on a first date with someone, but it was more interesting then his normal routine.
Tim shifted to stand up and some of the red flaked off of the toilet seat. Tim leaned forward, inspecting the paint. It was uneven and spattered about, somewhat like a Pollock painting. Tim scratched at a bit of it on the stall wall, sniffed it. What strange smelling paint, he thought.
Not paint, replied some working part of his brain. The ache at his wrist continued, but suddenly Tim was more concerned about getting home for a shower. That was when he opened the stall door and noticed the body. What an intricate dummy of a corpse stabbed by a pipe, thought Tim and not a dummy, replied the voice in Tim's head.
There was a phone on the corpse, and as Tim slowly stepped out of the bathroom stall, it rang. Twice. What a familiar sound, thought Tim, though he wasn't sure why. On the third ring, a text message appeared, "Welcome back. Make this unhappy man beside you happy."
 Welcome back. Welcome back? Forget whatever the message said. He could figure that out later. Tim stood up, the phone still in his hand and pressed his weight against the bathroom exit.

[User]
Austin's arm was numb. As he started to wake, Austin noticed he was sleeping right on top of it. Pins and needles buzzed up his arm as the blurry grey background started to come back into focus. His whole body felt stiff and uncomfortable as he rolled into a sitting position on the dense mattress.

 Just as he was regaining feeling in the one arm, sharp pain spiked up the other as his hand brushed the rough bandage on the other.

"Shit…" he muttered under his breath. His hand danced delicately over the edge of it as he finally realized what was going on.
 Grey walls and trashed surroundings hit him like a sledgehammer as he shook his head. His eyes went shut.

Three… Two… One…

 Okay, he thought to himself, Let's recap. Physical… Two? Three? No, Two. It wasn't too bad, just shocking. Mentally… Mentally he was fine. A little confused and disoriented, but that led more into his emotional score – about a three a four.

 Things were fine right now. It could always get worse… but he needed to keep track of himself. Austin hadn't done all that research into human psychology just to panic the first time he was thrown into an unusual situation. Handle what you could for now, then worry about what's out of your control later.

 He did a scan of the room, brushing messy hair out of his face before his eyes fell to the beat-up cardboard box in the centre of the room. It was frayed at the edges and dented in several places. There was even packing tape peeled at the edges as though it hadn't been applied properly. Slowly, he stood up and walked at a slow gait in an attempt to get the blood flowing again through his stiff muscles. Hands found their way to the edges of the box before they tore at the cardboard to reveal the contents inside.

 The soup got stacked to the side of the box, with the bottle of water next. At least survival wasn't impossible. He didn't feel like he needed it right now. Instead, his eyes went to the phone plastered to the next of the cardboard box.
Austin hesitated as it started to buzz. Carefully he removed it from the box, staring at the friendly text waiting for him.

 Find your soulmate? Okay, Austin could admit he wasn't doing to well in the love department recently, but this was pushing it to ridiculous lengths.

 "Okay, is this some kind of prank?" He scoffed, staring around the edges of the room, "Alright guys, I know I haven't been the best at hanging out recently, but this is a little absurd isn't it?"

 He expected some kind of response, yet nothing came. Austin scrambled for his own phone in his pocket, finding nothing it its stead.
 All he had was this strange little phone with a small half-heart bauble and the strange smiley speaking message.

 Just as he was about to step away, he turned back to the box, seeing there was still something hidden underneath a layer of thin fabric. He pulled it away.

 His reaction ended with his back banging into the metal front of the ugly bed.

 His eyes stared wide at the revolver. It stared back with a menacing gleam.

 Who planted a gun in here? Where the hell did it come from. He'd never seen a gun before, but he approached with morbid curiosity.

 A few fingers picked it up by the handle. A hand moved towards the trigger, but then it led down to the chambers of the revolver.

 It was empty. Heck, most of them you couldn't even load a bullet. Breath let out of his chest like a heavy weight release. He put the gun in the box, back with the soup and water as he pushed the cardboard box back under the bed. He might need it later, but it was too much to carry it around.

 The phone took its normal spot in his back pocket as he looked up towards the door.

 His only lead was finding his "soulmate", whatever that meant. So carefully he opened the door and shut it behind him. He noticed a faded yellow "10" painted on the door. Another door was right across from him, and he heard loud footsteps moving off in the other direction. There wouldn't be more leads until he could find more people, so he followed after the faceless feet.

"Hey," he shouted,  "Does anybody know what the hell is going on?"


[System]
Frost

"Why don't you take a chill pill?"

Vitals
Age: 29

Sex: Male

Date of birth: 22nd May, 1986

Lineage: -

Class/Major: Rogue

Class/Minor: Mage

Occupation: Detective

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Marital Status: Widower

Birthplace: New York, New York

Blood Type: B+

Eye Color: Blue

Height: 6'

Weight: 177 lbs

Hair Color/Style: Snow white, waist length hair tied into a long, thin ponytail.

General Appearance: Anthropomorphic wolf. Normally wears a thick hoodie over a shirt, a grey square cap on his head, jeans and sneakers. His hands are usually adorned with a pair of plain black fingerless gloves.

Skin Tone/Condition: Normal grey wolf fur colours.

Markings: Two sky blue arrows that start on his cheeks, pointing towards his eyes. The other ends of the arrows travels as stripes down his neck, shoulders and onto his arms, where they end as arrows again on the tops of his hands. These markings glow a pale blue.

Combat Stats

Dominant Hand: Right

Equipment:

-Upper Body: Nil

-Lower Body: Nil

Weapons
* Black Blade - A standard length katana with a wholly black blade, the sword is Daniel's power focus. He can channel his ice energy into it to make it flash freeze anything he hits, and it is also bound to him; he can summon it anywhere he chooses to.
* Eagles - Two IMI Desert Eagle pistols with engraved grips. These pistols, born from magical energy, do not run out of ammunition, instead shooting bullets of compressed magic. In turn, Daniel can channel his ice into the guns to make them shoot ice bullets that freeze their targets solid.

Abilities
* Super Speed - 0-60 in 2.6 seconds, max speed 190 mph.
* Enhanced Strength - Able to lift 1/2 ton (1,000 lbs).
* Enhanced Reflexes - fast enough to catch a humming bird in mid flight or an arrow in mid flight.
* Heightened Senses - Smell, sight, hearing, range of 50 meters (100 feet).

Magic
* Ice Elemental - Daniel, once flesh and bone, is now a being wholly made of ice. His intensive training with the element has made him so in tune with it that he has become one with the cold. As such, basic physical attacks to his body cannot harm him, as he will simply refreeze any injuries he suffers. He is also highly skilled in the use of ice magicks. Magical attacks, however, will cut past the ice that once was his flesh and injure his inner being, making him bleed in that sense.
* Mark of the Rogue - Representing the Rogue, Daniel is able to travel at speeds faster than the naked eye can follow, along with being able to easily navigate terrain, staying out of sight and being a very fast attacker. All this emphasis on speed does reduce his ability to hit harder than he's normally able to.

Bio

Voice: Deep, raspy, compelling.

Personality: Cool and collected, cunning and lethal, Daniel makes it a point to let everyone know that he means business and that if you cross him, bad things will happen to you. That being said, he treats his friends with the utmost care and concern; if you are on his good side, you are a best friend to him. Acquaintances that have likewise earned his trust and respect are people whom he will also treat very well.

Backstory: Born in New York City, Daniel Anderson took into his father's footsteps by enrolling in the NYPD and becoming an officer. With hard work and determination, he took up his late dad's desk as a detective and began a long, hard career in the service.

Near his fifth year in the office he was taken over by a powerful celestial force known as the Protectorate, and was transformed into a Protector; a powerful demigod whose sole purpose was to ensure the safety of the world. He trained with the best and made many friends around the world, demigods one and all. Together he and his Guardians went on many an adventure, with the safety of the planet often hanging in the balance.

After several decades, Earth began to decay. Society collapsed, the environment ran rampant and turned the world into a wasteland. Still he persevered, though the more years he spent on the earth, the more of his Guardians fell to the ravages of time, age and injury. It was then that he realised that the world didn't need him any more; it was dying, and soon it would be time for the demigod, now nearly a full god in terms of power, to leave for greener pastures. One of the remaining Guardians suggested that he venture into the multiverse; a plane where worlds and universes collided, an interdimensional highway, so to speak. An endless amount of possibilities lay within, and the promise of more power. So he went, leaving the ailing Earth to the care of the remaining Guardians, and entered the multiverse as a wanderer.

Now Daniel is no longer a god. He considers himself more of an elemental than anything else. His wanderings have brought him far and wide, though recognition is sparse. A run-in with a Dreamer ages ago was the closest he'd been to making a friend in the multiverse.

[User]
As he clambered up onto the platform, before he could even get a shot off, his opponent threw his hands up and cast a spell. Reacting as fast as he could, he broke the thin layer of ice connecting his left hand to the platform and tried to twist to the left so the bolt tore past him, which it mostly did, but it also seared a path straight across the breadth of his chest diagonally downward, along with destroying the section of platform.

With a yelp he fell the fifteen or so feet to the ground and impacted with a thud and a grunt onto his back. Pain shot up and down his spine as he groaned and struggled to stand. The bolt had sheared off a clean section of his jacket and shirt and fur, leaving his flesh underneath burnt and bruised. Add to that the impact onto his back and he was feeling quite worse for wear, but not even close to out of the fight yet.

As he struggled to his feet, he shook his head to clear the cobwebs, bunched himself up and leapt straight upward to what remained of the original platform. His gun was in his hand now, and as he landed he gazed forward and spied his opponent on the floor. An easy target, especially from this distance.

Without waiting, he lifted the handgun, sighted down, aimed for his opponent's center of mass, and fired thrice. The first bullet would fly true, but the second, affected by recoil, would instead fly slightly higher and to the left. The third, fired after the first two, would travel slightly to the right of Metz's center of mass.

He squeezed the trigger once more to fire a fourth, but the pull was met with a resounding click.

Empty.

[Assistant]
Metz dragged himself to his feet as gunshots rang out, confusion slowing his reactions as he immediately dropped and span rightward, the first shot slammed straight into his left side, piercing his stab-proof vest and lodging in the bulletproof padding beneath it. The second was off-target as he span, and the third went straight through the flesh of his upper left arm as he turned, cutting through cleanly and out the other side. Blood spurted immediately but not enough for Metz to worry that an artery or vein had been severed; he was winded and wounded, but he still had fight in him yet.

Luckily, Metz was right handed, so as he jumped to his feet he could still fight, spying his enemy on the far platform, his weapon apparently out of ammunition, which had fortunately spared the Mage's life. Still his foe showed no serious damage, his bolt had been unable to slow him down long enough for himself to even recover. What could bring the wolf down?

Mana was still pulsing, giving him an unnatural strength, alerting him to his ability to use more magic if necessary. Perhaps it was time to mix things up a little. He began to chant, his left arm weakly waving the necessary symbols as his right hand drew the pistol at his side. He cocked and fired in one motion, as he readied a bolt, so far the only thing quick enough to hit his foe and a prelude to a greater attack. The shot was only a distraction, but amazingly it was still accurate, destined for hitting centre of mass on his at least momentarily stationary foe.

[User]
He saw, from a distance, his opponent wriggling his left arm about as he readied his gun in his right. Reacting to the motion of the draw, Daniel dropped down to the ground, stowing his empty gun in his underarm holster as the bullet fired at him flew just above him, missing any fleshy damage but blowing through his ponytail and scraping his cap as it sped past him.

The mage was casting another spell, he was sure of it. He wouldn't give him another chance.

Switching hands, he drew his other pistol with his right as he channeled ice into his left arm. As he stood he took aim and fired three more shots at Metz in quick succession; the first was aimed at his center of mass again, the easiest target. The second, affected by recoil, went low and right, speeding towards the mage's left hip. The third, also affected by the recoil of both shots, went high and left, heading for his right shoulder.

And, along with this, he focused all the ice he'd gathered into his left hand and released it at the platform the mage was standing on. The bolt of ice wasn't aimed at him though, it was aimed at the surface of the platform. The bolt would impact the platform like a snowball would, but the magics contained within would flash freeze an area about twelve feet circular, underneath the mage's feet. If he didn't avoid it his feet would be frozen solid, but if he did the ice would be like an oil slick under his boots, with nary any friction to speak of.

[Assistant]
Metz was on his feet by that point, allowing him to get moving and provide a more difficult target for his foe as he was forced to duck, stow his pistol, and draw. In that amount of time Metz was more than capable of cocking his pistol and firing, while strafing quickly rightwards, his shot was off a little to the right rather than dead centre, but still likely to hit the stationary, albeit crouching, Wolf. His opponent had drawn by the time Metz could fire his second round, hopefully his aim was thrown off by his own dodging manoeuvres, if he even bothered to avoid the rounds at all.

Metz was burning mana quickly, two bolts in rapid succession and an abundance of quick manoeuvres was going to cost him dearly. However, he still had some energy left in him, enough to strafe to the end of his platform in seconds, at which point he would have to stop. Only one shot was on target due to Metz' movement, and fortunately for him it flew underneath his raised right arm barely grazing his vest, adrenaline allowing him to ignore it momentarily. He reached the edge of the platform as he saw his foe's ice coming in. However, his own ministrations were complete at that point, and with an effort born of pure determination he raised his left arm sufficiently to shoot the bolt, launching it underarm so that it cut right through the ice, blasting into the platform his foe stood upon. The bolt was unlikely to threaten his foe directly unless he had remained standing behind the Ice as the bolt flew through it, but it had saved Metz from its freezing effects.

As he reached the edge of the platform however he did not stop, he jumped, seemingly into open air as the nearest platform was in front of him; his hand furiously weaved as he flew through the air to activate his levitation spell before he fell more than ten feet below the platform, cocking his pistol to prepare his final shot. The main benefit to falling through the air for Metz was it took him briefly out of his enemy's line of sight.

[User]
As Daniel's bolt flew through the air, the mage's lightning bolt tore through it and blasted a chunk out of the ceiling, at the same time as he stood and fired a single bullet at him. The round travelled across the expanse as he swiveled to avoid it, but the bullet tore through his side, shattering the ice that made his magical barrier as it sped through and past him. The impact knocked him to the floor with a grunt of pain but it otherwise did not harm him.

However when he stood the mage was gone. He'd run off to the right, last he'd seen. The wolf ran to his left, matching the direction as he ran to the edge of his platform where he saw the errant caster, floating downward by magic as he readied a shot straight at him.

Upon seeing the gun he dropped to the floor again, raising his pistol in that general direction as he stood again, in a crouch as he caught sight of his opponent once more. With gun raised, he emptied the magazine at the floating mage while channeling a simple ice magic into his left hand. The first bullet went straight and slightly left of Metz's center of mass, the second flew high and right, and the third went low and right, most likely to miss.

And immediately after that, he flung the gathered ice in his hand at the mage. The magic expanded in the air, forming sharp shards of ice that flew like shrapnel towards the mage in a cloud of ice.

He kept in a crouch, minimising his profile to the gun mage. Hopefully he'd finish the fight with this.


[System]
Age: 22

Gender: Female

Disposition: Incisive, Guarded, Stoic, Pensive

Ryder was never one to be called outgoing. Throughout her short mercenary career, she has made little to no friends. No one has really discovered Ryder's driving force. Some have speculated she's got some family ties in the mercenary business, while others think she is in it solely for the money. She never cared to tell anyone. Ryder is a very guarded and cautious person, not opening up to anyone, but she has been known to show a little more respect and emotion around her commanders. Ryder focuses on her job and little to nothing else.

Around her fellow mercenaries in the Preying Panthers, she finds herself taking risks quite often, almost to the point of compromising missions for the sake of saving her teammates. Hannah has always put herself in harms way to protect another's life. That is one of her defining features that got her known around the mercenary community.

Ryder has been known to have quite radical political beliefs, but she is not one to vocalize them, so it is usually a mere rumor. She was raised with a belief that there would be a utopia had the Emarran Council remained the same before the conflict.

Background:

Originally from the Emarran Council, Ryder found herself in the midst of a small rebellious cell or cult as some called it, attempting to rise up against the newly reformed government. She was brought up to be one of them, training often with the simple military skills with the according anarchist beliefs. That was how she was raised for many years under the Emarran Council's reformed government. Her true parents were never known as the cell never really worried about that. It was all about "You are part of the cause," but Ryder knew the commander cared for her much more than the other children in the cell. She was treated well, given the best training, given the best food, and accommodations. It was as if Ryder was more special to the group as a whole and particularly the commander, who had the followers of the cell in his pocket. At the age of 17, Ryder found herself working in the cell to carry out menial sabotage missions at the side of her commander. This part of her life went on and on for the next two years. She never really questioned her superiors, it was her upbringing after all. That was until the 'Big Job' as her commander called it.

Ryder and her cell were to go after one of the Emarran Council's major military tech manufacturers. Inside their target was a large cache of military grade equipment of all varieties as well as the tech required to create it. The goal of the group was to cease any gear and tech that they could, damage the rest, and escape while causing as much havoc as possible along the way. For some odd reason, Ryder found herself paired with the commander, Edward, he called himself. The two of them went solo into a warehouse while numerous explosions rang around the compound as distractions by the others. The two of them rejoiced as they looked over the numerous vehicles, arms, and armors. Edward found himself an old ACS-3G Zaruga FRAME. It took him a while to get it working for him while Ryder stood watch, but soon enough he was ready to go. Of course, after the two of them had loaded all the stolen equipment up, the warehouse main doors flew open. One of the rebels was caught and gave the Military Police their plan. Thoughts of running were immediately crushed as the Military Police were gaining on them. Fighting was the only option in the panicked head of Ryder. Her commander skated off in his suit, leaving her for dead. The fight was short, ending with Ryder on the ground, an arm mangled behind her back and her body bruised and beaten from being deterred by the machine-clad enforcers.

Her eyes squinted to look upwards at the helmeted faces of the enforcers that leered down at her, weapons pointed every direction. As her eyes blinked in and out of consciousness, her last memory was the explosive yellow light from the roof of the warehouse. After that, Ryder woke up in some sort of hospital. Her arm felt different, her entire body felt different. After a groggy questioning session, she discovered that she was 'an innocent bystander' in the attack and an 'unknown benefactor' paid her bill so she was free to go within a few days. Her nurse led her out to where her belongings were store, and much to her disbelief, her 'belongings' contained the Zaruga FRAME as well as a large fund. She set out with what she had, fleeing the Emmaran Council under the cover of a mercenary for hire. It worked perfectly as a cover up and she made money too.

[User]
A while after the pilots had entered the FRAME bay and gotten themselves situated, Cecilia emerged from the bowels of the landcruiser. Over her black BDUs, she wore her FRAME harness, cradling her helmet in her arm. Immediately, she snuck her way to Bernard's Handou and gave the chassis a few hard thumps with her knuckles.

Clang, clang clang!

"Rise and shine, gramps!" she shouted up to the cockpit. Unlike her interaction with Harold earlier, there was little menace in her voice. In fact, her tone was almost playful.

"Really, Bernard - you're setting a bad example for the newbies," Cecilia hissed. Asides from Richard, Bernard was one of the few Panthers that had the luxury of being spared the sharp end of Cecilia's stick. Part of it was his seniority; Cecilia disciplining a man who was over twice her age seemed a bit silly. However, Cecilia knew the things the old man had been through. He'd seen the worst of the war with the totalitarian Emarran government, even seen the rise of the FRAME as a machine of war when he was a humble infantryman. No, Cecilia certainly respected the veteran, despite his unpredictability... and habit of missing critical briefings.

Cecilia threw a small notepad up to the cockpit, which she'd prepared just after the briefing. It told the old vet everything he'd need to know about the operation. "No sleeping on this one, Bernie." She turned away to head back to her own FRAME, meeting the gazes of several other Panthers and newcomers, who'd been taken aback both by Bernard's napping, and Cecilia's exchange.

"What're you looking at?" she barked. "Suit up! We leave in ten!"

-----

The control panels of Cecilia's FRAME glowed as they sprang to life, bathing her in a green haze. She punched the keypad in front of her, and diagnostics scuttled around the main panel before the cameras adjusted and captured the FRAME bay on-screen. With her helmet on, Cecilia's HUD was superimposed against the camera's images. A quick runthrough affirmed her checklist was in order, and tinkering with the control yokes told her her controls and weapons were functioning properly.

"This is Lang," she said over the radio. "Make any last-minute adjustments to your machines. The mission objectives have been uploaded into your FRAMEs, if you happen to forget what we're doing out there." She said that last bit in a snarky voice, clearly intended for a select few. "Newbies - I want you to find a Panther and stick close to them. Nobody does anything stupid."

The umbilical cables keeping Cecilia's Handou in place detached from the machine with a hiss, and she maneuvered the FRAME from her dock toward the bay's exit ramp.

"Everyone, report in!"

[Assistant]
Well. That was an overly familiar tone if she'd ever heard one, Maia thought. It wasn't actually that surprising, considering he probably had more than a bit of history with the company, and the rest of them were pretty much fresh meat picked up from the grocer. Still. Something to note, if this arrangement became long-term.

"Nothing I shouldn't. Ma'am." With that, Maia turned away, strolling up to Mad Dog. Sterling new machine, even with the bit of wear on it. And her customization. Well... if you could call it customization. Aside from the snarling dog face on the chest piece, there were other eclectic bits and bobs to it. Doodles, put down during a boring day of recon. Motivational sayings from former squadmates she refused to admit were near and dear. A bunch of inane scrawling that crossed down her FRAME with little rhyme nor reason, like she was looking at the walls of some loony in an asylum, defacing the walls of their prison.

"Mad Dog" indeed.

That brief bit of introspection and admiration finished, it was time to actually get to work.

The cockpit wasn't exactly cozy. It was just the stock model, with the scent of cigarette smoke clinging to every nook and cranny. She'd thankfully cleared out all the bottles and cups from earlier, when she decided to enjoy her down time before the briefing. Having a bunch of crap rattling in your cockpit was possibly a safety hazard, and definitely a distraction.

Speaking of distractions, the hangover was kicking back into full gear, pushing back against the aspirin with full, unrelenting force. SHe was never a fan of the whole "hair of the dog" technique, but hey, some things can't be helped.

Maia took a belt from her hip flask, some low-quality rum she couldn't name in a lineup. She was so used to liquor of its caliber she was able to actively suppress her body rebelling against the toxic crap she was pouring into it. With a shake of her head, she surveyed the controls. Gauges were all normal. No overheating, readings were normal, reactor was as fresh as it could be. She remembered loading up with her guns and her rockets before the mission. No need to change, they probably weren't meeting anything heavy enough to need the extra firepower.

"Leventis reporting. Mad Dog online."

[User]
"Gah!"

Maia's sharp surprise woke BFF up a little more completely, and he crumpled his expression in exaggerated irritation as she asked how his nap had gone. He was about to respond with a joke about his arthiritis when Avice interjected. He unfolded like the paper tiger he was, and was about to animatedly explain about his psychic powers, maybe tell the story about the Mantis that his kids used to like when a sharp rap at the side of his Handou distracted him further. To this he began to chuckle to himself-- not the first time he hadn't gotten a chance for a word when it came to the ladies in his life.

"Rise and shine gramps!", oh shit it's the boss lady, "Really, Bernard - you're setting a bad example for the newbies!"

A pad and paper landed in his lap as she stalked off like the angry kitten
Bernard had come to respect her as, hissing all the way at all the other chickadees. He would follow the kitten's orders with his life, the resolve of a diamond dog; Bernard caught that as his cue to start meaning business. With an amicable shrug, he stood and stole an apologetic look at Maia and Avice before he started to batten down the hatches. As he began to pull, he saw-- Elaine.

He gave her a nod. Morgan's girl. Elaine. Smoke and dust had hardened his voice, his face, but she knew that Old Snake could understand what a hard life was. He closed the hatch with a metallic clang, and shook his head. His systems were already up and grumbling of course-- BFF was more like his machine's heartbeat than anything. Yeah, he needed to he there, but the Snake Eater? It was his body. He sat back into his seat, comfy as Satan as he snuffed his cigarette into it's metallic case. He turned on the coms with a link to everyone, turned on his smile. He felt more comfortable talking from here anyhow. His words were for the ones he'd seen so far. Faces that he wanted to see smiling again.

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" Bernard's voice was a jovial rasp, like sandpaper would sound if it liked you and wanted to buy you a drink. "Wish I was this popular when I was a younger man! Don't hesitate rookies! Make sure that when you see your path in front of you, make it yours!"

It seemed he was in good company, and the team grandpa was in fine spirits as he spoke to his family. His smile made comfortable wrinkles in his face like familiar leather, and he addressed each of his teammates with a little laugh in his voice. It would be just as well, maybe he could put some spirits more at ease before they had to pick up their guns. Yeah. That would be enough for him. A crackle of static, and he was online with the kitten.

"Emmerich reporting in, Snake Eater is ready for battle!"

[Assistant]
Ryder gave a quiet "Hmm..." as she watched the exchange between Cecilia and Bernard. That sure was a different side of Cecilia. Perhaps the hardened exterior was something to frighten the newcomers. Ryder shrugged this off and quickly shut the cockpit on her Zaruga with a creaking hiss. If their captain was here it must be time to go. Of course, Ryder had to fix her hair first. With a quick movement, she brushed aside strands of her dyed hair behind either ear and looked at her displays, making one last check to make sure she didn't fall apart the moment the Panthers left.

Ryder strapped herself into the seat of her Zaruga as the screens and systems came alive with a whirring. Ryder glanced about, checking each screen, display and control panel as Theta fired up to life. A smile crept across her face lasting a mere second as her main screen illuminated with a pixelated smile itself. It was just an extra feature Theta had.

With her systems primed and ready, Ryder's gaze fell to her right arm. She flicked the mechanical fingers back and forth as if testing them to make sure they still worked. It's shiny metallic plating glinted in the glow of her displays. She wasn't all used to her new 'features' as the doctors called them. She thought about all the little mechanical pieces inside of her body that were keeping her alive and wondered how they would fair in a taxing FRAME fight, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Her prosthesis reached down for her headset that lay by one of her monitors.

"Ryder and Theta online." She said in a calm, almost dry tone into her headset. It might have even come as a surprise to her fellow pilots. She doubted most of them knew her name, let alone had heard her voice. Of course, Ryder had no thoughts about this. She quickly reached a hand up to hit the mute button on her headset and used her free hand to clear any dust off of her viewing monitors. With hands wrapped around Theta's controls, she was ready to go.

She readied herself for Theta's drop. Once Theta was free from the wall, she could finally work his controls a bit and get ready.


[System]
Age: 23
Ability: Remote Possession (Multiple Host Possession, Animal Possession, Non-Contact Possession)

[User]
Louis didn't sleep that night. Or the night after. It was a full three days before he finally found a restful sleep, his dreams once again filled with smoke and fire. The three of them sat around the apartment for as long as they could stand it, ordering pizza and having an Uber bring them groceries. It wasn't long before they couldn't stand it, or afford it. They played around with the idea of training. Their arguments about it always came back to the destructive nature of Louis's power. Eventually, they agreed to leave everything behind and head for a more open area.

 Ryan preferred to drive his bike, lest he ride in the with the others and put the driver to sleep. Louis rode with Isaac in his mid sized truck. It had been an hour of drive time when Louis demanded they pull over at an outdoor super center.

 Ryan swung around and flew into the parking lot, "bathroom break?" Louis shook his head. He stuck his hands in his pocket and shifted on his feet.

 "Listen, we don't know how long we'll be out here and we're low on funds. It may not be the best way to start this training session but if we're going to make it out here, we're going to need to liberate a few things."

[Assistant]
"Liberate. Ok, I get it." Isaac sighed, "I know I've been overbearing."

Isaac walked towards the super center, the dramatic scenery change from the towering skyscrapers to the barren outskirts of the city.

"We all gotta control our abilities. So let's just start."

Isaac focused for a split second and his vision split into a few fractals, allowing his view to see through Louis' and Ryan's eyes. Both looking at Isaac for a bit, then looking at their surroundings.

"I see what you guys see."

Another fractal began to form, this time, it was far more blue. Isaac pointed his head down to get a sense of direction, and the fractal showed an overhead view of the super center. A birds eye view watching over the entire area.

"GUYS. Is there a bird flying above?" He asked with his head pointing straight to the pavement.
"I see the entire roof of the store, the cars. A rabbit in the brus- oh, nope. Not gonna watch the bird eat. Ok." Isaac blinked out.

Isaac could see through people and animal eyes. He had practiced watching through eyes while isolating the three in his apartment, just before bed or when the others were asleep. He had previously seen the few people on the boardwalk near his apartment, watching the sunset through stranger's eyes, or deep diving into the ocean in a scuba suit, but this was a new level.

Wonder if I could control animals too

Controlling people, even a little bit, required a fair bit of concentration. However, it was becoming easier and easier to use his ability. Controlling Louis days prior took barely enough, but now blinking into different views was as simple as a blink. His power was somewhat easy to practice with, but he wanted bigger. He knew he could expand to multiple views, but he wanted to test out his ability to control. Isaac wanted more.

"Well, you guys start. Not many people are here."

[User]
Ryan was unsure where to begin. His ability seemed to be a little more focused on specific targets, and there was only the three of them at the edge of the parking lot. It wouldn't be right for him to use his ability on Issac or Lou, especially when he was still learning to control it.

 He heard a short honk in the distance, someone locking their car in the lot before going in to shop. He saw the headlights flash once, which showed him what vehicle it had come from, and a young woman in a pink sweater throwing her purse over her shoulder as she walked toward the shopping center.

 Well that would just be mean. he told himself.

 As he watched though a man walked toward her, an acoustic guitar across his back. He looked her up and down as he approached, the woman unaware as she stared at her cellphone while she walked. Just as the two passed each other the man turned and pinched her ass, and muttered something Ryan couldn't hear from this distance. The woman shook her head in disgust and and flipped him off, then marched toward the shopping center while the man laughed.

 Sorry Guitar.

 The man continued walking backwards toward his vehicle, admiring the woman's rear end. Ryan directed his focus on him, trying to recreate the feeling he had at school. He imagined the man collapsing, and tried to bend reality to his will.

 Before the man could turn back around there was a loud crash as he fell on top of his guitar and onto the pavement, leaving the guitar in pieces. The man lay still in the parking lot, sound asleep.

 He probably couldn't play anyway.

[Assistant]
Louis sighed. This was a turning point for them. Perhaps this is the path that Curse had referred to and Louis was foolishly following it. It was too late now. They needed this and they had no money.

 Alright, my turn. Louis walked to the front door and lowered his head. This was the important part. Lou dropped his hands to his side. He channeled his power as much as he could, as much as he had learned how, and released the energy. A thick smog billowed from his palms, black clouds enveloped the entry way. Louis focused again and grabbed at the wisps with his mind, pushing the haze further into the building.

 "The smoke is moving towards the cameras. Ryan, sleep the security; Isaac, we need an insider to bring the gear to us."

[User]
Isaac grinned devilishly, "With pleasure."
Isaac leaned up against the wall, next to Louis. He blinked a few times, like switching channels on a tv, he transferred view to view. One was writing a check for a fair amount, another was bagging items, and another cruising around a small aisle with outdoors equipment.

Let's start here

Isaac barely had to think about grabbing items off the shelf before the person he was, for what Isaac could think of as that of a parasite in a host, was grabbing some tent gear, spikes, a lantern, and then realized he couldn't carry it all. Isaac's instinctive actions were being acted out by the host. The man gently placed all the items in a pile on the shelf, and swiftly walked around the aisle and grabbing the nearest shopping cart while another customer had their back turned, and then proceeded back into the outdoor gear. Without missing a beat, the man grabbed the pile of gear and placed it in the cart.

"Do we need a tent?" Isaac asked
"More than likely" Louis replied
"Ok, well, what about..." Isaac began to list of equipment after equipment, Louis nodded or shook his head lightly as to not break concentration. With the cart nearly full of various gear, toiletries, and some clothes, the host moved into the food section and began grabbing bulk after bulk of various non-perishable food and bottles of water.

The host pushed the cart steadily towards the door, but stopped.

Can't make this too obvious

The host reached into his back pocket and retrieved his wallet, only to see a few crumpled ten dollar bills. Yet while inspecting the wallet, Isaac noticed a shiny card. A debit card. Despite being in the middle of nowhere, a little stroke of luck.

Isaac led the host to the cashier, and as he inserted his card into the chip reader, it asked for a pin number.
Ah hell

"Do you take credit through debit?" Isaac spoke aloud
"Do you t-take cred-d-dit through d-debit?" The host stuttered aloud

"No sir, only debit with debit." The cashier said through a mouth full of chewing gum.

"Shit." Isaac muttered
"What?" Louis quietly asked
"I don't know this guy's pin num-" Isaac was cut off as he saw the host type in four various digits.

Transaction approved.

I didn't tell him to- I don't even know-

"Well, alright." Isaac whispered
"What?" Louis asked somewhat annoyed
"He put the code in by himself."

[Assistant]
A man exited the building entrance, coming through a slight fog designed to obscure any camera that could see their faces. The man brought them a cart chocked full of what appeared to be a jump start for a hardcore camper. Louis looked at the receipt. Glad I'm not that guy. Have fun explaining this to the bank. They wheeled the cart and loaded their ill-gotten supplies into the back of Isaac's truck. "Let's go!"

 Ryan peeled off on his bike as Isaac and Louis followed in suit in the truck. The feeling he had was exhilarating. The excitement made his fingers quake; Louis felt like they could get away with anything they wanted. They drove for a few hours before cutting off the beaten path and taking a winding road to the vast empty desert. Eventually, Ryan's bike bogged down in the sand and he refused to drive it any further or leave it.

 In a rare moment of ingenuity, Louis pulled out one of their new tarps and set it on the ground behind the truck. Then, he rolled Ryan's bike onto the tarp and gently laid it down. "If we go slow enough, it should be alright." Right?"

[User]
Ryan sighed, "It'll still be pretty bad but I've got to replace the plastics from the crash anyways. Just, watch out for rocks?" He groaned. In any other circumstance this would be unacceptable, but they needed to keep moving and he wasn't leaving His bike behind.

 Sorry Grace, he thought as he climbed into the truck, It won't be anything I can't fix.

 He watched as the truck pulled his bike along the sand, leaving plumes of dust as it trudged along. He settled into his seat and started a mental checklist of motorcycle parts and conversions. If this is the way they're going to be living, Grace was going to need a few changes.

 "So where exactly are we going?" He asked, leaning forward between the front seats.

[Assistant]
Louis watched the desert hills aimlessly as they traveled. It would be much drier here than they were used to it being by the sea but they needed an area clear of bystanders to train. It was Ryan that broke the tense silence in the truck. "So where exactly are we going?"

Louis stirred in his seat. He had apparently begun to nod off again, "We're just trying to find the perfect spot to lay low right now. Get some more practice in and figure out our next step." Louis turned to look behind them. "Not to mention, we need to decide if it's smart to keep me around now that there's a manhunt going on."

[User]
"We'll keep you around," Isaac reassured, "I won't lie, it's mostly to make sure we all have an alibi."

A couple of cop cars drove past the trio towards the city, "If something goes down, we gotta make sure we get our stories straight."
Isaac looked back towards the cops, one car in particular began slowing down. He blinked once and saw a birds eye view of the cop car from a vulture circling above a carcass. He blinked again and saw the interior of the cop car, hands frozen above a small keyboard and terminal on the dashboard.

"That truck, looks familiar eh?"
"No idea, I just wanna go home."
"Huh, something doesn't feel right about it."

"Shit, we need to get off the highway." Isaac began to slightly speed up and turn onto a dirt road hidden by brush and began driving into a random desert field.

"Whoa, where are we going?"
"Those cops, they're trying to track us. I don't think it matters a whole lot at the moment where we go." Isaac blinked back into the cops view.

"Nothing's pulling up, stupid computer's slow as shit."
"You got the license plate?"
"Yea, we'll do it at the station."

Isaac noticed the cop scribble the license on a piece of paper, a small cup of what smelled like coffee, a lonely cigarette, and the tiniest scratch on a wire connected to the computer, exposing a small slit of copper and a metallic wire. Isaac spoke through the cop.

"Mind if I bum the last one?"
"What? You don't smoke."
Isaac's eyes grew wide, he knew he couldn't say that he wanted to try or something similar because it would throw caution to the other cop. He began to think, and a thought, an unknown voice began recalling a woman criticizing and drunkenly patronizing a male voice.
Alcohol. Impotence. Lust. Sadness.
"I just need something to take the edge off, Bev is off the wagon again and she-"
The other cop raised his hand "Dylan, you gotta leave her. She's literally toxic. And a massive bitch."
The cop known as Dylan chuckled, "Yeah, I know."
The other cop grabbed a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette as Dylan rolled the window down. The piece of paper caught wind and flew out the window.
Isaac forced Dylan to smoke, drag after drag, then later tossing the butt out the window. The city limits sign passing by.
The computer was next.
"Y'know, I got the tests back. I have a good count of, um, soldiers." Isaac spoke through Dylan. How do I know any of this?
"Oh yea?" The other cop chuckled "Told ya so, it was her all along. She's blaming you for literally everything, even her cheating on you because she thinks you can't pop out a tyke."
Isaac made Dylan grab the cup for a drink.
"Dude, my coffee." The other cop seemed annoyed
"What? I'm thirsty." Isaac hated to do this, but had to fake a sneeze or something. As he began, the other cop drove into a pothole, making Isaac force Dylan to drop the coffee forward and onto the exposed wire, short-circuiting the computer, and blacking out.
"Are you kidding me? You made me spill the- Shit, the computers dead."
"Me? The hell are you talking about!"

Isaac blinked out mid argument. "Done."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Ryan asked

Isaac eventually coasted to a stop. Empty desert. The thin outline of the city skyline in the distance, the highway miles away. He drove aimlessly into unmarked desert, a few trees spotted around.
He parked underneath a tree, "This could be good to have a makeshift cover. We should be good here, for now."


[System]
Gender: Male
Age: 128
Race: Wood Elf

Sitting at a comfortable 5' 10" Lanithil is deceptively thin. His race is revealed in his pointed ears and pure pale skin while his woodland heritage is given away by his piercing leaf green eyes and long flowing oak brown hair. Casually he wears a deep green tunic with dark brown pants. In battle, he dawns leather armor with distinctive leaf patterns and the blue cloak of the inquisition. He also paints his face with markings long believed to help conceal their wearer.

Personality:
Though he moves and speaks with the grace of most elf kind, you will soon find the soft smile of Lanithil is a mischievous one. A jokester at heart, Lanithil will often say or do things to cheer up the bleak moods of his comrades, even if it causes him some trouble. Even to an elf like him Lanithil sees life as too short to be taken serious all the time. One must learn to laugh and enjoy life for it to be worth it. And yet, you will not find such foolishness with Lanithil on the field of battle. Once his bow is drawn, the ranger takes hold. He will follow orders without question, move with silence and haste, and kill without hesitation.

History:
The son of two woodland rangers, Lanithil Valkas was destined to take up the bow for his people. From an early age he was trained in a number of skills from guerilla warfare to wilderness survival. He had daily weapon practice with bows and short swords becoming deadly proficient in both. While many of his kind we're trained in the same arts, Lanithil was exceptionally gifted, but to his superiors, this was not always a good thing.

While Lanithil took his training seriously, he often found entertainment in using them for pranks and other practical jokes. One of his favorites was discreetly suspending a bucket of water from a rope, hiding nearby with his bow, shooting the rope once someone walked underneath, and stealthily leaving the area while a fuming elf looked for him. At least that was the plan. A few times he chose the wrong target for his pranks or made a mistake in his getaway that ended in his apprehension.

By the time he graced one hundred and entered adulthood, Lanithil had grown out of his prankster ways but retained the knowledge of his mistakes. With this plus a century of training under his belt, it was no question if he was ready for the rangers. He spent the next 25 years serving faithfully until one day mysterious tracks were discovered just outside Ilanas. After several days following the trail, Lanithil and his squad came upon a group of skinnui blight.

Though it was an easy fight, their very presence in the elves forest disturbed Lanithil. Having read the stories of what these creatures had done before, Lanithil decided to leave the rangers and join the Inquisition so that he could better protect his homeland. Having now spent 3 years with the Inquisition, Lanithil has learned a great deal about this enemy and is ready to face them.

Equipment:
Elven longbow - Crafted from the wood of the ancient trees in Ilanas and made custom to fit the needs of its user. Such a weapon is only made for the rangers of Ilandell, and the Inquisitors upon request.

Elven short swords - Dual curved blades made by the finest Smith's in Ilandell. Their sharpness and outstanding durability are only matched by the craftsmanship of the dwarves.

Hard leather armor - Standard for all rangers. Provides some protection without cost of mobility.

Blue cloak - While Lanithil preferred the dark green cloak of his people, he finds the blue of the inquisition to work well when hiding under the glow of night.

Magic: N/A

Extra:
Deep in the great forest of Ilanas lies the tree city of Ilandell, home of the wood elves. Centuries ago, for one of non-elven decent to even enter the sacred woods bore the penalty of death. While their woodland brothers were only permitted to come and go under cover of night as to avoid detection. Such strict ruling kept their people and secrets safe from the greed and blood lust of the other races for a time, but the same reclusive nature nearly lead their demise.

Trusting themselves alone and holding little care for anything outside their borders, the wood elves refused to join the inquisition when it formed as they had not yet been hit by the blight. They had repelled countless attacks from other nations before, why would this foe be any different? If only they had listened.

There are many accounts of how the blight made their attack on Ilanas. Some say they crept unnoticed in the night and struck in surprise, while others claim it was a large force that mercilessly assaulted the forest. Either way, the outcome was the same; for the first time in history, the city of Ilandell had been taken.

Those that remained quickly saw the error in their ways and pledged allegiance to the inquisition. With the full support of the other races, the wood elves led a three day campaign to reclaim their homeland. Once they had succeeded, the wood elves continued aiding the inquisition until the land was finally cleansed of the blight. To show their gratitude towards the other races, the wood elves opened the forest and city to all and have since remained loyal to both the inquisition and the council.

[User]
The battle seemed to have stretched so long for the Tiefling. Though in reality, it was shorter than she had perceived. "Excitement can do that to a person," she found herself thinking. The prior show of light and magic was a sight to be seen, for sure. But she would rather not see them again though she knew that it will never be fulfilled. She was definitely impressed by the courage, or perhaps idiocy, of the one called Gilead despite being nothing more but a mere small human; the group of men and women that trailed behind the dark skinned man; the giants that called each other brothers though halves of their races are the only ones truly joining them; and the rest of their magic users who was equally impressive in their own rights.

With deep breaths, she drops the spear that she dislodged earlier and joins the others to listen in on their comments about the creature which was apparently supposed to be human. She internally grimaced as she absorbed the information that the others were speaking of and found herself looking towards the dead city before them. She was not anxious, but she continued to patiently wait for those with better heads to finally make a choice.

[Assistant]
Kharne growled low in his chest when the giant someone got flexible enough to kick his chest which had been pressed to its back. Still he and Genthok were knocked away but oddly enough their bodies weren't damaged to much. At most a bruising. He had been to focused on lifting and holding the giant to notice what the others were doing. Shortly after getting kicked Gil struck the final blow, shoving a spear through the partially ruined cuirass of the giants armor.

When the giant finally fell though that voice from earlier showed up, making the bestial man bare his fangs at the air. As it went away, with a sound like marching, Kharne turned his attention to the others. They were examining the giant, who was apparently a human, or taking guesses at what the ethereal entity was. It said its name was the prayers on the walls and the fields. Looking around all he could see was death and carnage. He'd say war but there was only the bodies of the people who had lived in the city.

" Death...or carnage? Possibly murder?" He sound aloud to the people making speculations about the entity. Looking to Lilianna after her examination of the corpse. "I could use some healing. I can feel some of the muscles in my arms and back are torn." He stated before crimson eyes turned towards Gil. His eyebrow cocked up, he wasn't a glory seeker so he wasn't particularly concerned on who killed the thing so long as it was killed and stayed dead. He gave the smaller man a brief nod before returning his attention to Lilianna as if he were waiting for her to say or do something. It was an oddly...animalistic trait to just sit there and wait. The only movement the rising and falling of his chest.

[User]
Keeping his bow drawn and pointed at the metal beast, Lanithil kept a firm gaze until a faint whisper from the trees let the wood elf know the battle was over. With a sigh of relief he eased his bow string back and slipped the arrow back into the quiver. The archers following him did the same, each attempting to steady their breathing as the monster had finally been downed.

While Lanithil felt his contribution had been minimal, the front line warriors and mages had done a fine job in felling a creature never before encountered. Even with the loss of two comrades things could have been much worse had they not worked to discover it's weakness. Their dear commander Ardur thought differently, however, as he made his opinion of their work very clear. It didn't take the eyes of an elf to see the sour faces on everyone as they were told to expect a scolding for their efforts.

Once their orders had been given, Lanithil motioned for the archers to huddle before they dispersed. "I'm not one to say this normally, but pay no heed to the commander." Lanithil said in a hushed tone. "This fight may not have gone smoothly, but now we know how to fight these things if anymore show up. For now, the beast is dead and our losses were minimal. In my book that's a win. Now, let's see if anyone needs our assistance. And keep an eye out for any unbroken arrows out there. Those things aren't free, you know?"

With that, the archers spread out all going to different parts of the field. Before he too took his leave, Lanithil was approached by Gil who thanked him as well as the Luna Falcons for distracting the beast. "Please, you and the others did most of the work. I should be thanking you for keeping that thing at bay. Now go see a healer and get yourself patched up. Women may be impressed by scars, but not infected wounds." He said giving Gil a firm pat on the back.

After that brief conversation, Lanithil decided to follow Cyterius and the Luna Falcons as they approached Ardur. Upon hearing their request to scout the city, Lanithil let out a fake gasp. "Cyterius! Don't tell me you were planning on scouting without the ranger? If you and the Falcons are going anywhere near that place, then I hope you have room for one more."


[System]
Age: 24
Height: 6'-0"
Weight: 170lbs
Allegiance: Aspirian Royalty
Distinguishing Traits: Wherever the party is, Cas is bound to be there also. He's a free spirit with a tendency to act without thinking through the consequences, although due to his cushioned upbringing and high status, he rarely has to face them. Despite his wild lifestyle, however, he has a soft side and has been known for taking in stray and injured animals he finds in the streets of the capital city.

Short Bio: As the son of the reigning king, Atlas Maydestone, Caspian has lived the entirety of his life in the capital of Aspiria. He was born with a silver spoon in hand, enjoying the finest luxuries the country had to offer even when he was as young as five years old. This experience shaped him as a person. He grew up seeing the glass half-full and believing Aspiria was every bit as perfect and amazing as his father wanted him to think it was.

As a child, he spent most of his education being groomed to take over as the next king but never really took his future duties seriously. In his mind, it was so far off, there was no reason to worry about it. That is, until his father's health took a sudden decline when he turned eighteen. Suddenly slapped in the face by the reality that he was actually going to be the next leader of an entire country, he began to pay more attention to his teachers and did his best to understand all the different jobs he would have when his father died. However, the more he studied, the more he realized how unqualified he was for such an important role.

To deal with his rising sense of insecurity, Cas delved back into any and every social event he could find around the capital city. Partying and drinking with friends took the edge off his fears and helped him to forget about the impending future of his kingship. Deep down, he knew his coping strategy wouldn't change anything, but for now, it was good enough to keep him from getting absorbed in the weight of it all. He would just continue to put it off until he had to face it, the same way he handled the Scourge.

The rebellion (better known as the Scourge by everyone who lived in the capital) was the other big, glaring problem he tried not to think about. To make the enemies seem less imposing, he and his friends would make crude jokes about them and discuss all the creative ways the king could punish them for treason when they were eventually defeated by the state, but secretly, he was always on the lookout for anyone who seemed suspicious. As the crown prince of Aspiria, he'd heard the threats the rebels spat about himself and his family, and he was concerned about what could happen if they ever managed to get inside the stronghold walls.

He just hoped the military was strong enough that he would never have to find out.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________

[User]
The instant the first gunshot had been fired, every soldier in the building had changed course to sprint upstairs. Meanwhile, Jacob clenched his jaw as he watched his target's hand fly to his leg where the bullet had made contact. It was satisfying, in a way, to hurt the man who had tortured Iris, but it still didn't make up for everything he'd done to her. One wound wasn't vengeance for a life lost. His eyes flicked to her unmoving, bloodstained body on the floor just as the security team's drone hovered into the line of sight. He didn't need to see his king to know what the scene in this room was going to do to him. That was a situation for the men in the palace to deal with.

And they did. When Iris came into view on Caspian's screen, he had jumped up from his seat with a shouted 'no,' only to be restrained by the shoulder immediately by the nearest guard. All the color drained from his face, and his eyes were as round as disks as he stared at her crumpled form on the screen, the knife protruding sinisterly from her middle and the blood that had pooled around her on the floorboards. This couldn't be real. There was no way. He refused to believe she was dead, even as Ethan grinned and said so on the other side of the drone.

He parted his lips to demand that Jacob check her for a pulse, but before he could get the words out, there was a second bang, and suddenly the screen went black. "Wait. No. What happened!?" Tearing his arm out of the guard's grip, the king lunged at the monitor, checking it over as if he would find a loose cord that he could plug back into place to fix the issue.

"It looked like he shot the drone, Your Majesty." Behind him, the guard frowned as he watched his ruler obsess over the darkened screen. "It wasn't built to withstand bullets."

"Shit!" Cas, raked his fingers through his hair. He still needed to get ahold of Jacob even if he couldn't see… He still had his comm device. It wasn't the drone he'd been using to communicate with his security officer. He needed to focus. Gathering the pieces of his composure, he lifted his trembling hand to the earpiece he was still wearing to tap into the line. "Jacob, check to see if she's still alive!" he ordered.

"I'm a little busy right now, Your Majesty," the guard hissed back through gritted teeth. In the time it had taken the king to remember his comm device, the team's target had started returning fire, and Jacob had ducked for cover just outside the bedroom door. Luckily, he was wearing the same standard bulletproof uniform as the rest of the soldiers, but he'd still taken a shot to the sternum that had winded him on his way to safety. He pressed a hand against the afflicted spot as he fought to catch his breath.

Unsurprisingly, Caspian had started arguing with him through his earpiece, demanding that he check on Iris right away to make sure that they could get her medical attention if she needed it. However, he ignored the shouting to focus on the more pressing issue at that moment: the man waving an automatic weapon around like a madman in the next room over.

He took a breath and leaned toward the door frame with his own gun. It was starting to seem like 'nonlethal' wasn't an option here. He wasn't going to sacrifice any of his men just to take an unruly hostage—especially one who didn't appear to be in his right mind—so, raising the pistol in his hands, he braced himself to take another shot and whirled around to plant himself in the open doorway as he fired back, this time aiming at the other man's head.

[Assistant]
The laughter of his could be heard throughout the home, a crazed madman who had felt like he had won everything. Plans upon plans, getting them all to this current place and of course it wasn't over, for him it was the end of the line but there were still whispers and rumours of the rebellion now fled from these walls. People would still join the cause, especially now a young King was on the throne who was full of inexperience. Things would only get worse and hopefully go downhill, but right now Ethan would at least leave his last mark by firing off the last bullets of his gun aiming for the soldiers that had come tonight.

Eyes wide and wild as he watched the soldiers all scramble, jumping out of the way of his shots and the impact against the old house was causing structural damage. One gunshot went right through the ceiling causing a chunk of it to crack and fall with a crash to the floor, dust and debris scattering across the room as the last few shots had been fired and his gun now empty. Blood poured down his leg from the gunshot he had received earlier, adrenaline wearing off as pain started to seep through, but it wasn't long now until they would assess him as a threat to kill.

It was then he saw the guard in the doorway, quick and fast and he held his own composure the sinister grin plastered on his face as the gunshot went right through his head killing him in moments clearly expecting this. For a few seconds he was sat grinning madly on the bed, blood seeping out of his new wound in the head before the body crumpled falling forward to the floor in a heap. Ethan was dead and in his last moments he hoped that they truly believed the rebellion was finally over by killing him.

Silence now greeted them and some of the soldiers started to move from their positions entering the room now the target was dead. Harry was one of the soldiers who had accompanied Jacob on this mission, and he had previously guarded Iris in the hospital after a rather sour interrogation. Things had certainly changed for them now to be completing some sort of rescue mission for her, but their efforts appeared to be in vain as he stepped into the room looking at a rather bloody scene before him.

Carefully he stepped over the falling debris of the ceiling and knelt down in front of the girl he had once guarded and placed two fingers against her cold skin looking for a pulse. In the background he could hear shuffle of feet of the other soldiers approaching the madman, one of them calling out to the room confirming he was indeed dead, and no threat remained. Shaking his own head, he was about to call it himself for the girl on the floor until he paused, pressing his fingers harder as he felt something so faint, he had almost missed it.

"Jacob." Nodding his head down to the girl to get him to check, "I'm probably imaging it. Ignore me" Shaking his head he put it down to false hope as he rose to his feet eyes sweeping over the body, he couldn't be sure if he had felt a pulse or not, but she had been here for a while he doubted she had survived.

[User]
"Sick fuck," Jacob curled his lip in disgust as he watched Ethan's lifeless body crumple to the floor. While his team filed into the room to investigate it for anything useful, he lifted a hand to, finally, respond to Caspian, who had been verbally barraging him since the drone had been destroyed. "The obstacle is clear now, Your Majesty. Harry is checking for signs of life." As he spoke, he watched the other man kneel at Iris's side, slipping two fingers under her chin in search of a pulse.

"And?" Cas pressed immediately, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He wished Ethan hadn't destroyed the drone. He couldn't see anything, and the last thing on his screen had been Iris with a knife sticking out of her middle. His hands were shaking as he waited, hoping against hope that the other man hadn't killed her—that they weren't too late to bring her back to the palace. He didn't know what he would do if she was dead.

Meanwhile, Jacob arched a brow when Harry said his name. He'd expected the other man to pronounce her gone, so when Harry acted like he might have noticed something, the security head stepped over to see for himself what was going on. "Stand back," he ordered, dropping low to the ground to press two fingers against Iris's throat. He stayed still for a few seconds with eyes narrowed in focus. Just as he was about to agree with the other man that he'd imagined a pulse, he felt a faint thump underneath his fingertips. She was still alive.

He almost parted his lips to tell Caspian, but before the words could leave his mouth, he hesitated. Iris was alive, but there had been a reason why he'd separated her from the fledgling king. Instead of reaching for his comm device, he considered the situation. Iris wasn't going to last much longer without immediate medical attention, and he wasn't cold-blooded enough to leave her to die. However, he also knew that bringing her back to his ruler would just put them back at square one—perhaps even lower, since he imagined Caspian would be ten times as protective of her after everything that had just happened. Even though the part of his that was bound to serving his king squirmed at the thought, he knew deep down that it was better for the people of Aspiria if their current liege moved on. He was going to have to pull some treasonous strings.

An idea formed, and he touched his device, taking a deep breath before he finally answered Caspian's question.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

"No way." The color drained from Cas's face, and he collapsed backwards into the seat he'd earlier abandoned. "A-Are you sure? She can't be dead. There's no way."

"She no longer has a pulse," Jacob lied. "I truly am sorry for your loss… If you'd like, I can stay behind to give her a proper burial."

Cas pressed a hand down over his face. He didn't want Jacob to bury her. He didn't want anyone to bury her. He wanted to bring her back to the palace to be by his side, where she would be safe and they wouldn't have to worry about these kinds of sick attacks by the rebellion. In the time they'd been together, she had become more important to him than anyone else, and now she was just gone? He bit down on his lower lip as it started to quiver. "This is my fault," he whispered, unable to raise his voice any louder without breaking it. "I shouldn't have left her all alone in that place, without anyone to protect her. If I'd just ignored the people who would protest, I could have brought her into the palace with me sooner, and she wouldn't have ended up with him again—"

"It isn't your fault," Jacob interrupted his spiraling. "You didn't know he was looking for her. No one did. The way this ended was regrettable, but you did everything you could, you hear me?"

For a few beats, Cas didn't respond. At that moment, he couldn't bring himself to agree with the guard. He felt like he could have done more—should have done more—to prevent Ethan from doing this. He'd let Iris down again, and this time, there was nothing he could do to fix it. "Bury her in the capital cemetery. Please," he murmured, his voice cracking on the last word as the emotions finally spilled over along with his tears.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

With their assignment over and the house cleared as vacant, the soldiers filed back out to the crafts they'd taken to return to the capital. On their way out, one of the men stopped by the top floor to get Jacob. "Are you coming, sir?" he asked, pointing down the stairs toward the front door.

"Go on without me. I just have a few more things to wrap up here before I leave," Jacob shook his head. "I'll take another vehicle back."

"If you say so," the soldier shrugged, turning to leave him to his business.

The security head watched him go for a few seconds. As soon as the other man was out of earshot, he spun around and took the sleeve of his shirt between his teeth, giving it a sharp tug to tear and pressing it down against Iris's midriff, where the blood was pooling around the blade of the knife. "Come on," he muttered as he worked to staunch the wound. "Stay with me, Iris. You just need to hang on a little longer now…"


[System]
Merchant

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Level 3

-------STATISTICS-------

-------MASTERIES-------

| VIT -- 22 | 75% | BLADES -- E
| MGT -- 6 | 50% | POLEARMS -- D
| SKI -- 8 | 55% | AXES/BLUNT -- E
| SPD -- 9 | 55% | BOWS/RANGED -- C
| SRT -- 2 | 20% | THEURGY -- N/A
| MND -- 0 | 5% | MYSTICISM -- N/A
| LUK -- 5 | 40% |
Secondary Statistics

WGT -- ?
ACC -- ??
AVO -- ??
RES -- ??
CRT -- ??

---

Traits:

- MOUNTED: This unit rides their favored mount, gaining +2 MVT, while being subject to mounted weapon restrictions as well as being disadvantaged by certain weapons and skills. Similarly, a mounted unit may spend whatever MVT remains to reposition directly after attacking. A mounted unit may dismount at anytime. While mounted, a character may use the 'rescue' command to carry another unit to safety.
- CELERITY: Movement +2.

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* Bronze Short Spear

	+ MIGHT | 3
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 3
	+ CONDITION | 24/30
	+ RANGE | 1
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 190

* Bronze Short Bow

	+ MIGHT | 2
	+ ACCURACY | 80
	+ WEIGHT | 2
	+ CONDITION | 18/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | +5% Critical Rate, Cannot be used with shields
	+ COST | 275

* Bronze Sling

	+ MIGHT | 1
	+ ACCURACY | 85
	+ WEIGHT | 0
	+ CONDITION | 10/10
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 60

* Bronze Crossbow

	+ MIGHT | 5
	+ ACCURACY | 90
	+ WEIGHT | 7
	+ CONDITION | 30/30
	+ RANGE | 2
	+ SPECIAL | NA
	+ COST | 470

Possessions: Vulnerary (1/3), 190 AU

Personality/Appearance
Zarif is a man of 22 years and 7 moons, standing just under 6 feet tall, and never seen far from his Camel, Salador. With skin paler than most and strange clothing, Zarif is one who attracts a passing interest in some, and a scornful look from others. Not accustomed to the lands of Akkad or their strange gods, Zarif tends to appear bit naive about its ways and customs, though this is often a ploy used to lower people's guards to his cunning. Still a salesman at heart, Zarif always does his best to strike a good deal.

Backstory
Born in the distant lands beyond the endless desert to the west, Zarif was raised to be a Merchant like his father, and took to it quickly. When he was old enough, his father bought him his own Camel, and Zarif quickly bonded with the animal, whom he named Salador, and has been inseparable ever since.

Having heard stories of a mythical "Golden Land" beyond the desert, with cities paved with gold, armies so large that drank rivers dry, and a king who was both a god and a giant, Zarif joined a merchant caravan to cross the seemingly endless desert. After many moons, with the lands they had been traveling to, with the destination almost within grasp, the caravan was set upon by raiders. Nearly dead and robbed blind, a mercenary company crossed paths with the bloody scene, and managed to save Zarif and Salador. Trapped in this strange land, and with no way to return home, Zarif joined the company, and has been with them for 3 years.

[User]
Iddin smirks a bit as he sees Lyun fighting in the distance. Well, the plan didn't exactly go as intended... but it didn't exactly not go as intended. The priest manages to neutralize his expression by the time he finishes reaching the middle of the band. His glass whistles, screaming with the priests' dash, announce his presence next to Lyun. Iddin gets to work immediately, guiding his staff over Lyun's wounds as dust fills in to the cacophony of wind. He is cautious during the procedure, making it less painful than usual.

Well, the burning glass turned to flesh is still painful. Just less.

Iddin: Zuzu grants his blessing to the righteous who ask! Let his power be seen, for no living man is too damaged to be made whole by grace. The dust will be taken in by wounds and not mouths. In the glass god's presence, death is but whispers on the wind! Blood, bend to his vision!

The priest finishes his ritual and makes one comment before catching his breath.

Iddin: I am glad to see you alongside and not against.

Iddin moves 6 tiles to 18-21 and casts Heal on Lyun.
Lyun gains 16 VIT (22/22).
Iddin gains 29 EXP and 1 Theurgy, losing 1 Heal durability.

[Assistant]
The surprise soon led to a sigh of relief as makeen made quick work of the barely living archer. He couldn't be upset because things like this happen. No one owns a kill if anything he felt Makeen was looking after him. He lets up a small wave towards makeen from the tower. Whether or not Makeen was not determined.

Etor: "Thanks! "

Now that the the squad was back together Etor pushed forward into the city. He was eager to get whatever mysticism budding within cultivated for the sake of the hellions.

Etor moves 6 tiles to 18-20

[User]
The priest catches up and Lyun is healed once more. Vulneraries might taste weird to some, but the brute could never prefer the burning of glass and scraping of sand. Nevertheless, Iddin is giving him renewed vigor to aid their fellow Hellions, prompting Lyun to bow his head before resuming his advance.

Lyun moves 6 tiles to 15-17, just north of the thicket.

———————
VIT: 22/22
———————

[Assistant]
Watching the sorcerer shuffle past and cast a strange incantation on the now rescued barbarian, Zarif clicked his tongue, impatiently. He still felt so restless, like he was close to clearing some wall he'd been climbing. It was hard to put into words, but damnit, he couldn't sit still on Salador's saddle. Without even thinking fully, he kicked the camel slicktly on the side nd the two set off to the left of the gate.

Finally coming back to his senses, Zarif eyed Lyun charging forward, and then spotted two archers ahead. Hopefully, the pair would split up and go after each of them, but... if they both went after him...

As the animal ran forward, Zarif fumbled quickly at the saddlebags, producing the last of the medicine he'd purchased. His wounds weren't exactly bad but if things got bad here... Well, it's too late to turn around now He thought, applying the soothing herbal ointment to his bleeding shoulder. With that done, he gripped his sling, and readied a small stone.

Zarif equips his Bronze Sling, and uses a Vulnerary, healing 6 hp to return to 22/22. He then moves to 10-19