[System]
Early thirties

 Derrix is an extremely tall 'human' man, standing at six foot eight and bearing broad shoulders that shelf the body of a well trained soldier. His visage holds two golden eyes that pierce his gaze below a head of short black hair. His cheeks are lean and show a strong jaw, but also more interestingly the hold each a bull's horn tattoo pointing up. His entire body from the top of his head to the soles of his feet are spiderwebbed with red and pale scars that spiral, twist, and carved their way all around him, with no exception, and including his face.

 The clothes of a city man covers his torso and legs, wearing simple soft cotton tunics of blues and whites and dark rough trousers over leather boots. Not a weapon adorns his black belt. In the stables he keeps his white horse of enormous size, on scale with his own giant's stature.

 Derrix spends his time hidden away, writing countless pages of ink or charcoal. He usually is carrying a spare piece of paper and writing utensil: Those who commonly see the quiet man assume he is a poet, and a poet he will tell them should they ask.

A locked chest of foreign make and words conceal a sword and strange winged armor, along with a cape. In the pitch black of night, you will notice a soft white aura glow from his body, as if turning the darkness itself. Should he brandish a weapon, it will flash and glow a bright white, and should he charge, he shall do the same.

[User]
'oh?' Inyata smiled at her 'so there really is much more to learn...' she pouted softly at the remark Regalia made about being a captain, that might have been why her grandfather always told her to be careful who she spoke to, and all because of her sheer attitude and amount of fun she just had, could also be that she was sheltered also within the ships and never had a female to look up to; there were many possible explanations why and she will most likely never find out about anything of why she was brought up the way she was.

Upon hearing the comment about the silk she sighed, she never really did care what material it was, silk or what-not, she just found it really comfortable to wear and very nice to keep wearing upon herself, she did like the colours though so there was maybe that?? Inyata then instantly covered her face, she wanted to snigger and giggle at Ramara for what Regalia done 'hehehe...'

[Assistant]
The order had ordered Josef to a mission- to find himself and heal as much people he can find during said mission. Josef was confused, but he didn't question the wisdom of the head of the order. "As you wish, head." Josef said, bowing to him before taking his leave. He initially went to his mentor and asked her what the head meant, "Only you can answer that Josef." his mentor replied nonchalantly. The grief of his mother's death and his fathers absence was bringing down his potential.

Packing his materials, and robes and necessities. He left the grandeur building of the order, and with the gate clinking to a close. With a lazy sigh, he began his journey. It had been a few months- he had healed a numerable amount of people, most showing gratefulness and the like. Others showing fake thanks- Josef didn't really care too much. Josef himself by nature was lazy, and would rather talk his way out of a fight. His aptitude for healing was something that surprised him- he thought that he was a talentless fool.

Walking down an unfamiliar road, a sudden group of odd individuals entered his eyes. Thinking that it might be fate in the works, and maybe his mission he walked up to the apparent leader- the human paladin. "So Sir Pretty Boy." he called out, while leaning on his staff with a lazy and bored look across his face "Any need for a Cleric or something?"

[User]
Ramara

 Ramara kept her horse in pace next to Ceceria, listening to the conversation but her eyes facing forward looking ahead of them with the intermediate eyes shift as she checked the terrain along the side of the roads. She sat there stoic as ever as she listened to the conversation; not really wanting to get involved. Talks of paladins and killings was a combination she would have nearly found humorous if it hadn't been for the constant barrage her people had to deal with from not just the average everyday citizen but from the Holier Than Art Thou Type. Ramara was a killer; there was no doubt about that. She had slain her fair share of people in the past but it didn't bother her as much as it seemed to bother others. To her it was a job; her removing a target was no different than a butcher slaughtering a pig for meat. To Ramara it was as simple as that.

 "Death claims all, doesn't matter the means," Ramara said as her eyes darted over to Ceceria. Ramara doubted any others in the group would really get what she was saying but Ceceria might. Hearing the squires words she rolled her eyes before looking back forward. Honor thy father and mother was something she had heard numerous times in her life. Why? Because they brought you into the world? So what? No one asked to be born and Ramara had seen plenty of people that their greatest problem is that they did not want the life that was dealt to them. Ramara felt no need to honor her parents, in fact herself and her older sister had shamed them by leaving and not following in their peoples ways.

 Ramara thought back to the day Sana left home. It was not a pretty memory. Their parents were furious that Sana was leaving and not taking her place in the troop. Things were said that she knew had hurt the only person she looked up to. She couldn't blame Sana for leaving, Ramara felt that Sanas assigned path was one no woman should be forced to take to honor a family name. There was no honor in that profession she felt, even if it was the oldest occupation on the planet as some called it. Ramara was luckier than Sana; her assigned path was much simpler. A violinist who wowed the crowd as she played and performed acts of acrobatics was fine but that was not what Ramara had wanted. So when she came of age she left to find Sana.

 "There is no good in dying in a battle you are too afraid to raise a sword in just because you are trying to honor a ghost," Ramara said bluntly to the young squire. Her voice was directed to him but she did not turn to look at him. She just kept looking forward, having said far more than she normally would have. Seeing someone coming up on the road, Ramara perked a brow and smirked at the new arrival calling Ishmael a pretty boy. A cleric? That was someone that could come in handy.

Regalia

 Regalia turned slightly and smiled at the young corsair. "Don't worry, you will learn over time and age brings calmness," she said before turning her attention forward once again. "Believe it or not I used to be quite the rabble-rouser. My father, may he rest in the peace of the tides, had his hands full with me when I was growing up; the only girl child on the Maelstrom, surrounded by pirates. There was no female influence," she continued with a reminiscent look playing on her features. "I was rather good in spitting contests," she said with a chuckle and shaking her head slightly at the thought of herself. "If the young me could see me now she wouldn't believe it," she said, giving Inyatas hand a gentle squeeze as they road.

 Hearing Ramaras various comments her eyes narrowed slightly. Regalia saw nothing wrong with honoring a parent. Regalia was the way she was because of her father and her grandfather before her; a third generation Corsair and Sword Wizard. She was proud of who she was and where she came from. Yes, some pirates were ruthless and caused issues but there was a code amongst them that gave them their own personal sense of honor. Something Regalia held very dear to her heart, even after all these years. It was one reason why it angered her to see her people act in stereotypical ways. She felt they were better than that. Thou not of noble birth, they could be very noble themselves. Kings and Queens of the seas, Masters of Storms and Ladies Of The Deep. For Regalia, a Corsairs life was one of the few lives a common born could grow up to be anything they wanted. Birth rights did not matter. Had Regalia never grown up and taken the life seriously, she would not have been her fathers choice to take over the Maelstrom when he died. It would have been his first mate Tseng.

 Regalia sighed remorsefully when the thought of Tseng came to her mind and quickly pushed it away when she saw the new comer approach. Perking a brow she smiled towards him and gave him a welcoming nod as he spoke to Ishmael. One who could heal a wound from battle was always good company along a voyage.

[Assistant]
Wade was perplexed by the words shared between the paladin and the jester of death. Wade had never understood why people would feel remorse for people they couldn't save. Of course there were surely family of all the people Wade had killed who wished to find vengeance. People who felt it their own fault for the deaths. That was nonsense of course, because Wade would have killed them too if they had come to the rescue.

Wade and his comrades who fought alongside each other, only thought of killing. They didn't really care, they made a joke of many things that most people wouldn't be able to laugh at. Their senses of humor were dark, but that was the reality of their situation. You had to be able to laugh at the dark things as a simple man-at-arms. You wouldn't see anything other than killing and comradeship.

The words from the very attractive assassin resounded very true to Wade. He had never raised his sword for anyone other than himself and the men beside him. He had still been the man who had made widows and widowers; orphans and childless. He remembered shooting people down in crowds, all running and screaming in terror, not a chance at survival as they were slaughtered. At the time he had only thought of killing, but now he felt the stigmas of his sins.

"One thing's for sure. You'll only carry that sword for yourself and the ones beside you. One thing paladins and simple soldiers have in common as that we know how to fight for people beside us. Because when shit gets rough, those are the only people you have." Wade had never killed for money or a just cause. He only killed for the men beside him. They were brothers, forged in blood. Now they were all dead and Wade remained.

When a random young man showed up out of the blue and offered his services to the group, Wade scoffed a little. "You seem useful, but why in the fuck are you offering your services to people when you don't even know what they are doing? You might want to ask first." He said, sounding a bit more like the sergeant-at-arms he once was. He knew all to well how to deal with young bucks, but this one was a cleric. A little different in his eyes.

[User]
Derrix "Nightbane" Herchiv and Jasmin

 Jasmin tossed a bundle towards Derrix, the pommel of a blade caught the sun before the man grabbed it from the air. The pommel was a unique metal of an almost smoky color, and a blazing sun was etched into it. The man swung the bundle onto his back and with a kick of his heel, Charroux jolted from it's place by Ishmael.

 The wind numbed Derrix's face as his destrier charged off from the group and into the path ahead. His tunic flapped in the wind as his horse galloped with pounding hooves and thick muscles. A smile creeped across the man's face for a moment, enjoying the wind and the power of the beast beneath him. Buildings and people blurred by him as his horse quickened its pace, just allowing Derrix's sharp golden eyes to make out faces and figures before whizzing by them.

 The wind was familiar, and as Derrix rode, his mind galloped off into memories. The buildings blurred into a desolate wasteland where many found their grave, and the road turned into soaked gravel. What perfumes of the city that had danced in his nostrils were replaced with the acrid smell of death and carnage. The sky turned crimson with poofs of grey clouds, and the sun and moon was nowhere to be seen. A dry bite seemed to follow every burst of lifeless wind, and a disgusting liquid foamed from the ground with each hoof fall.

 His tunic was swapped for valiant white armor, and a deep red cap embroidered with a blazing sun. His face was covered by a thick helmet, and inbetween his face and the metal was a mask of wool and herbs, filtering each breath with a burst of lavender.

 The wind whipped by his covered face and threw his cape up in a flurry. Framework wings were attached to the back of his armor, and a white glow engulfed him, giving his charging figure the looks of an angel storming hell. To his flanks were men of equal dress and attire, but without the powerful white glow blazing their path. The wind whistled as it weaved it's way through the angel's' wings, giving their descent onto the battlefield an alien song.

 All around Derrix arrows whizzed and sank into the unprotected civilians escaping a black horde in the distance. Screams of terror broke his ears and if not for the mask of wool, a dark miasma that sneezed from the horde would have choked his lungs as it choked his vision. Only by the shine of his own golden eyes that peered through the helmet could he witness the horrors of the beyond.

 Women, and children, as well as men young and old were being torn and ripped from their places as they ran. Grotesque beasts of another world snagged them with their sickly claws and munched on their bodies with crackling crunches. Black scales and slimy skin contorted around muscular jaws that held millions of teeth. The people were sawed and strewn in every direction, children and babies were turned inside out in bloody fits of aggression, all the while a sickening plague marched by the side of the evil horde that seemed to swallow and suppress any remaining hope just to replace it with terror.

 People who were no longer human, women now plump with puss and men twisted and deformed slowly marched beside the beasts, once brothers and sisters to the survivors, now turned.

 "Hold," was the only word in the minds of the few who sat atop their chargers and witnessed, "hold."

 Derrix lowered his long lance, it's shaft glowing with the power of the sun. All at once his line of cavalry followed suit, and with an unforgettable sound of wind stopping, metal grating and bodies colliding, they clashed.

 Derrix shook his head and suddenly he was in his tunic, sitting atop Charroux in an idle trot through the streets. The tight sickness in the pit if his stomach seemed to slowly fade and his nodded to himself.

"All's clear."


[System]
Username: Ink Blood
Race/Species: Human- Half Banian/ Half Vrettonian

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Career/Class: Darkslayer

Weapons:

* Estoc with silver-laced valdium blade
* Silver dagger
* Hunting knife

Physical Description (as detailed as possible please, pictures not accepted.): Gaderon stands at 5'11" with a lithe but solid frame. He shares the fair skin of his Banian roots but has a lighter shade of brown hair from his mother's bloodline. He keeps his shoulder-length hair tied back in a half ponytail. His eyes are a piercing, ice blue. His facial structure is an interesting combination of his Banina and Vrettonian, giving him a squared jawline and high cheekbones. The most distinguishing factor to Gaderon, though, is a large scar across the left side of his face reminiscent of a bolt of lighting. It begins just above his eyebrow and runs clear down just below his mouth in a jagged line that branches of across the bridge of his nose and several other places. To stave off the cold of his homeland, he usually wears a thick shirt under his armored chest piece, a long cuffed coat, and high boots. Since coming to south, though, Gaderon has taken to wearing a thin shirt open at the chest with shorter sleeves and leaves his coat slung across his bag.

Armor: Gaderon is usually clad in a leather chest piece overlaid with chainmail.

Equipment/Other

* Grey horse named Cinder
* Simple trail rations
* 2 Waterskins
* Fire starting kit
* Holy symbol of Bael
* Belt pouch full of various ingredients used in fighting different creatures.
* Journal

Mental Description/Personality: Gaderon is a headstrong person confident (some would say arogant) in his own abilities. Because of this, he finds himself being skeptical of others' abilities on a subconscious level, preferring to do things himself if possible, at times being stubborn and still attempting to do them himself. He is also a very studious and inquisitive person, constantly observing his surroundings, especially people. He has earned himself a reputation in specializing in finding the creatures that hide amongst their potential prey. As he observes so much, Gaderon usually has very little to say or contribute as far as conversation goes, but when he does talk he can be long winded at times. Despite this, he's friendly enough, not too standoffish in terms of his personality, but his scar tends to intimidate the more faint of heart. Gaderon doesn't mind people avoiding him much, usually wanting to be left to his thoughts and observations or studies of various creatures.

Goals: Gaderon began his journey south when tracking a banshee from his homeland and found monsters he had not faced or studied before as well as variations of monsters he had faced before, so he continued his journey to study new monsters and learn what he could of them. His studies and jobs continued leading him further south.

Background/History:

* Gaderon is born to his Banian father and Vrettonian mother, who lived on the border between the two countries.
* Gaderon's uncle on his mother's side takes him on as an apprentice to train him as a Darkslayer as well as dueling styles of Vretttonia.
* Gaderon begins keeping his own journal about the creatures he hunts and studying them on an almost obsessive level.
* Gaderon becomes well known while under his uncle's tutelage when he helps destroy a pair of vampires that were terrorizing a village near the border of Andred.
* Gaderon is wounded by one of the vampires and almost succumbs to his wounds and the sickness caused by them.
* Gaderon strikes out on his own as a full fledge Darkslayer at the age of twenty-three and continues studying the creatures he was taught to kill, determined to shed new light on them and find cures to some if possible.

[User]
Ursaren almost flew off the horse that he was riding when the horses had suddenly halted. Once the old man had climbed off the horse from the sudden halt, he took in the new situation the crew was in, standing in front of a younger woman who had almost been trampled by the group of people. The woman didn't really seem like she was a threat, as the poor girl couldn't even hold a dagger properly, and she looked like she would have some sort of magical aptitude from the various items and artifacts that she had on her. While Ursaren would normally concern himself with people like this woman, he was instead interested in the smell of smoke and how Alice and the reptilian man had absconded from the group in pursuit of the smoke's origin, with it possibly involving the dragon that they had heard about from the elves. Ursaren turned to Beren and spoke out to him with his hearty voice. "Hey Beren. I'm gonna follow behind Alice and go help her tackle that fire nonsense,. Telling you now!"

With someone being alerted, Ursaren followed Alice into the forest, with his spear and shield drawn to his side. He was ready to fight whatever was ahead, and, more importantly, he was ready to show off his true power to the group. Ok... maybe not the group, but to at least one of them, who would hopefully help defend him when everyone else would panic about what Ursaren really was.

[Assistant]
As the altercation with the ever moving and suddenly halting horses occurred, Argon the Lizardman tirelessly pumped his powerful legs in pursuit. Without his heavier armor, and with the rest he'd gotten at the Elven glade, he moved swiftly. Still, it wasn't as fast as the steeds and it took him until the initial interactions with this new mage girl until he stamped out of the treeline with a hissing breath. "I have not run like that in many years!" he announced. "Or was it days? Time has little meaning to ussss."

Beren dismounted his horse, and helped Geradin get off. The Dwarf was heavy, even for the muscled Warrior Monk. His muscles were bulging and prominent as he did his best to keep Geradin hitting the ground like a cannon ball being dropped. Argon volunteered to help, and the Mixed breed human, along with the towering Lizardman, helped the Dwarf to the ground relatively easy. "I'm alright! I'm alright!" the Dwarf protested until his feet touched the ground, then he sighed and dusted himself off. "Beasts," he muttered, eyeing the horse until it galloped away.

Beren stretched, popping his back. His next words were a groan. "Man," he said, before he opened his eyes to see Alice and Ursaren heading into the woods toward the smoke. "Uh..." He blinked, looking back at Argon and Geradin. "Hey, Geradin. Rest your legs and see if this new girl is alright. Argon, wanna g-"
"Friend Alice!" The Lizardman cried, slithering towards where the two were running with little heed to anything else. Beren sighed and had to run to keep up with the Lizardman. "Guess this is my life, now."
Geradin called after them, but realized the lad had the right idea, and he stomped over to the new girl. "Oi! What's yer name lass? Be ye fey, or friend?"

---

Soon, Alice, Ursaren, Beren, and Argon the Lizardman would make to the end of the treeline and see a devastated townscape, though it looked more from it being a raid than any Dragon attack. Among the rubble, they would find a young Darkslayer by the name of Gaderon Fleurin who had just come upon the scene, having only just gotten there himself.

Fated Fallen@Banana@BCTheEntity@Fetzen@Sypherkhode822@Ink Blood

[User]
Gaderon definitely felt the difference of the climate he found himself in compared to his homeland. It wasn't scorching, but he been forced to drape his long coat over the back of his saddle and take to wearing a shirt made of thinner material with shorter sleeves. Despite the heat, he still wore his leather and chainmail chest piece. He would rather suffer discomfort from the heat than a sword through his chest. He took a swig from one of his waterskins as Cinder carried him along, feeling the change in climate himself no doubt. Gaderon patted the horse in an attempt to comfort him. At least they had found some shade along their path to offer some respite, however little. Hanging his waterskin back on the side of his saddle, Gaderon pulled Cinder to a stop and dismounted. When his feet hit the ground, he pulled the waterskin back off the saddle and gave the horse a few drinks of water as thanks. Cinder replied by rubbing his muzzle against his owner's hand.

Gaderon allowed his gaze to travel over the landscape, taking in what he could. The smell of smoke drifted along the soft breeze and met his nostrils. It didn't smell like a campfire or a wood stove found in a cottage. The smell was much more pungent and held an undertone to it he couldn't quite figure out. Despite this, smoke definitely meant fire. Perhaps this would lead him to his quary: the dragon that was rumored to be around this area. He had never encountered a dragon before and was determined enough to get close enough to catch a glimpse of it and help the people suffering if he could, but wasn't foolish enough to think he could kill the beast.

With his horse pleased by the small break and drink, Gaderon pushed himself back onto the saddle and nudged Cinder into a faster pace toward the smell of smoke. As they neared the source, a pillar of smoke could be seen over a small hill. As the pair crested the hill, though, Gaderon laid eyes on a village in ruins. Even at a distance, he could tell this wasn't the work of a dragon. He dismounted when they came to the edge of the scene. As the smell hit his nostrils, he quickly figured out what the undertone of the smoke had been. The bodies scattered around weren't burnt. Upon closer inspection, Gaderon saw the wounds were caused by swords, clubs, axes, weapons of Man, not the claws or fangs of a beast. This troubled him more than if the dragon had killed the people scattered around him. He mumbled a prayer to Bael for the poor souls as he stepped past each body.

The only sounds heard around him were the soft breeze knocking a sign against the side of a building and the carrion circling overhead like messengers of death. The scene only got more gruesome the further he walked into the village. Men hung from sign posts by their necks, women were bound by their hands to the same posts, and children lay facedown in puddles of what must have been their own blood. As he came to the center of the village where a well sat, he bent and scooped up a simple doll sewed by hand; a little girl's doll, partially scorched and spatterd in blood. He could only guess at what they endured before death took them away from their suffering. The beasts he dedicated his life to hunting and destroying at least killed for the purpose of feeding. The creatures responsible for the ungodly scene around him did this with no purpose other than pleasure and greed. At this thought, hard look came over his scarred face as he held the tarnished doll.


[System]
Age:18

DOB:3/1/1998

Appearance:

Affiliation: Briarwhite Family

Occupation: High school senior, warlock, violinist.

Skills: Defensive magic.

Equipment/weapons: Gavin wields a stylish athame, a knife used for black magic incantations and ceremonies. The knife, when held, gives the wielder greater control of their magic and shortens the time taken for each incantation used.

Backstory: Born to an offshoot of the main Briarwhite clan, Gavin was trained in magic by his father, Gordon Briarwhite. Gavin began being tutored in black magic at a young age, the destructive form being alien to him despite his father's many attempts. Undeterred, Gordon switched up his approach, instead teaching Gavin more defensive techniques, at which Gavin was a natural. Gavin's magical portfolio developed to include powerful incantations to boost the strength of his defenses, and life-leeching spells to heal himself while still dealing a small amount of damage to the opponent. Gavin developed what he began to call the "Death of a thousand cuts style", hiding behind his defenses and bombarding the opponent with weak spells. Gavin would not win a magical battle quick, but he would be able to outlast. When the Briarwhite elders decided to make a move back into Citadel County, Gavin objected, stating that the Grimms had held the land long enough for it to truly be theirs. The Elders threw aside Gavin's criticisms and began the returning migration, much to Gavin's chagrin.

[User] K.C. looked up from his notebook to Miss Whitlock, who was standing at the front of the room, a laser pointer in her hand. He looked around the room of his Communications class he saw a few familar witches and warlocks but mostly mortals. It was normally a freshman class but it wasn't required, so K.C. took it this year to alleviate some of his other stresses. It was full of 3 freshman, 5 sophomores, 3 juniors and 6 seniors. He sat next to his cousin Jack, who had a copy of the Grimm manual in his lap. Miss Whitlock was staring at him so K.C. elbowed him and nodded to the front of the room. Suddenly he felt the mark of the Grimmsthorne (A stylized G with a sword and a rose crossed behind it.) burn against his skin. That meant a monster was within 100 feet of him. The mark pulsed once and faded, meaning whatever it was was on the move. "Fuck." he muttered. He made eyecontact with Miss Whitlock and gestured outside the room, dramatically raising his left arm, the code to indicate the mark. "Miss Whitlock, can i go to the nurse?"

[Assistant] Jack elbowed K.C. when he gestured to the teacher. "I want to come too! You can't exclude me this time!" I don't want to do this crap school. I want to kick their arses, K.C.!" He looked beside him in his backpack, where his Calvary sword rested. It's time to wake you up from a peaceful slumber, with a bloodbath!

[User] Void

[Assistant] "Shh! Keep your voice down Jacky!" He glanced at the mortals who were still busy at work. He looked at Miss Whitlock and waited for her approval to leave.

[User] "Well, can I?" He whispered, frustrated. "I am your personal guard. It's my job to keep you alive." He thought for a moment. "I'll tell your mom that you went alone." He grinned, knowing he had won.

[Assistant] Raven was busy lecturing the students about the components of their upcoming speech when she saw K.C. gesture. She knew his symbol alerted him of a monster he needed to handle. She then saw Jack get excited, thinking he was going to go with. On one hand, Raven hated to see K.C. go alone, but on the other Jack really needed this information, she knew he struggled. Raven tucked a piece of her long brunette hair behind her ear and sighed. She looked at the two boys and nodded, giving them both approval to leave.

[User]
@Ayemdar
Jack pumped his fists in the air, grabbing his backpack with the supplies in it. "Let's go, mate. It's hunting season!" He grinned as he said this, giddy with all the ways he could kill his opponent. He waited for K.C. to get ready, and sat outside the classroom. He had never liked learning about the monsters, all the information made his head explode. He just wasn't cut out to be a star student, but he was an exceptional warlock. The spells just came to him, easy to learn.

[Assistant] K.C. glared at his younger cousin. "You're my assistant and fine. You can come, if Whitlock can cover for us." K.C. put his hand in his pocket and clenched his blade in anticipation. The silver knife seemed to be eager to grow into a full sized sword. He saw Whitlock nod so he jumped up, through his laptop into his messenger back and rushed out of the class. He ran down the hall and into the part of Citadel High that was currently under renovations. His mark began to pulse. He knew he was getting close, so he drew the Sword of Citadel from his pocket and flipped the blade of the pocket knife open. "Patefio." He muttered and suddenly he was holding a 29 inch blade of enchanted silver.

[User] Jack laughed. "Who stuck a fork up your arse, mate? This is the best thing I could be doing! I learn way faster by killing them by reading about them." He pulled out his saber, and sheathed it, tying it to his belt. He grabbed a small attack spell book, as well as an enhancement book. He smirked, following K.C.

[Assistant] The mark began to burn and pulse with an amazing intensity. Suddenly, a Vampire dropped from the ceiling. Its fangs dripped with foam and acidic venom. Its skinny arms and legs gave off the impression that the creature had no muscle but K.C. knew better. "Vocare sol super caput meum!" K.C. called, raising his hand. A ball of bright, burning light appeared above him, blinding the creature. "Cut off the wings!." K.C. shouted. If the beast was grounded it was easier to fight. He slashed at the creature's left wing, severing it at the base.

[User] Jack ran and jumped, doing his famous spin attack, slicing off the wing with ease, grinning. "Celeritas!" He started to run circles around the vampire, speeding up to a nauseating degree. He grinned, ecstatic. This is where I belong. On the battlefield. Never mind bloody school. I don't give a damn what my grade is. They don't make me sad. I don't care if I fail in school, I'll always have this job.

[Assistant]
Gavin hated this school, he hated moving here, the Briarwhites always talked about how they had to go back, how they had to retake what was rightfully theirs, it was stupid, the Grimms had been there longer than the lot of them.

Suddenly, he heard odd noises coming from down the hall. Scowling, he snuck towards it, readying his dagger.

[User] While the creature was distracted by Jack's speed, K.C. took action. "Augeret mihi saliet!" He shouted, as he lept over the creature's head, he performed a backflip in midair and when his body was straight up and down, he pointed at the vampire and said "Duratus!" The beast became encased in ice. When K.C. landed, he swung his sword at the creature's head and the entire vampire shattered. "Job's a-goodun." K.C. said as he swung his sword through the air.

[Assistant]
@bluetommy2
Jack stopped. "Wait. Be quiet."
He paused. "Someone's coming" he mouthed to K.C. Jack pulled out his saber and pressed himself against the wall. He whispered. "Caecus." His entire body disappeared from sight, and he gritted his teeth, waiting for the creep to come out.

[User] K.C. rolled into the shadows. "Ut abscondas a me sententiam mutare et umbrae." he muttered and soon he too had disappeared from the eyes of a passerby.

[Assistant] Gavin approached slowly, pulling his dagger out from under his shirt. Holding it up slightly, he whispered "Arma", and his body was covered in a protective black shroud. He had to begin a strengthening incantation if he wanted to put it at full strength. In the meantime, he gripped his dagger tight.

[User] K.C.'s mark began to burn in a completely different intensity. He had never felt this feeling, it took all he had not to scream. Figuring this new figure was also a monster, K.C. revealed himself, his sword raised. "What the fuck are you?" He demanded.

[Assistant] Jack moved in slowly from behind, snuck up behind the boy, and put his blade against his throat. "Briarwhite scum. You better fucking run away with your tail between your arse, mate, or I swear to bloody god I will give you a long painful death for what you did to my parents. But before that, state your name and business." He had a grim, determined look on his invisible face.

[User]
"Woah woah woah, hey there... something Grimm I assume? Unless... you know what nevermind, I'm not supposed to speak to you or anything... umm..." He let down his shroud with a quick "Ventilabo".

"I'm... I'm uh, human, I... uh... I'm not supposed to even say... anything... I gotta go." He quickly tried to leave at a brisk walk, shoving against the Grimm's arm. God that was awkward, he wasn't supposed to say a word to a Grimm, and a way to identify them was magical aptitude, and considering the rarity of that, it was pretty certain this was a Grimm, he didn't want a fight, but he didn't want a beating either.

[Assistant] "Oi!" K.C. chased after the guy. "You"re a Briarwhite? Your family just moved back to Citadel right? I was trained to kill you." K.C. said, but even as he uttered the words, he lowered his sword.

[User] "Yeah, and you're a Grimm, sorry, can't talk unless I want a tanned hide, and not tanned cause of a belt or a stick, more like fire or something of the sort. So... bye or something." He saluted sarcastically and turned back to keep walking.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon:

- Dragon's Fang: a straight double-edged short sword. The blade is black, with a white line in the middle. The blade can be set ablaze, which also causes the white line to turn red. The blade can also launch the flames from the blade as a fireball, which consequently extinguishes the blade, but it can easily be reignited.

- Dragon's Claw: Also a black blade with a white line in the middle, and can be set ablaze, but this blade is a hand and a half sword, single-edged and curved. Like the short sword, its white line turns red when set ablaze and can shoot fire, but unlike the short sword, it shoots the fire as a flamethrower.

Both are capable of absorbing flames, whether from each other, an explosion, etc. The stronger the flame, the more power it absorbs, and vice versa.

Specialty: Holds the short sword in his left hand and the longsword in the right. Barrages the enemy with the short sword with fast pierces and slashes, using the longsword to deliver the final blow. Deals a high amount of damage very quickly, using both swords and flames (usually at the same time), but not really one to take as many blows. It won't stop him from charing in head first though.

Semblance: Inferno: Engulfs himself with fire (does not burn himself or whatever he's touching unless he wants it to get burned) and increases his physical abilites (mainly strength and speed). Doing so will turn his hair from black to blonde, though why it does this is unknown.

He can also just engulf one part of his body (an arm, a leg, etc) rather than his entire body (his hair will not turn blonde this way, unless the flames engulf his head). The flames can be absorbed by his own blades, but doing so tires him out quicker.

Personality: He's hot headed for sure. Very easy to anger and very easy to excite. Get on his bad side, he'll demand a fight and you'll probably be lucky if all he does is burn off your hair. Get on his good side, well, it's handy to have a human torch on your side.

He believes that just about every solution to a problem involves fire or explosions. Surprisingly enough, it's worked well enough in the past, although most of those events were really solved due to luck. He also tends to be rather overconfident during fights, and gets insulted easily during fights.

Color: Light orange.

Emblem: The symbol for fire, and his two blades crossed in front of it. The fire will be orange, and the swords are entirely black (blade, hilt, everything). Here for reference.

Appearance: This guy. Also come here if you prefer. This is also a really good picture.

[User] "Wow, leader. Who woulda thought?" Robert said to himself out loud, playing with the idea in his head. "Well now that I think about it, we did talk about it back at the airships. Being the first to finish does give you a lot of time to talk about stuff." Robert stopped daydreaming to notice that the auditorium was starting to get empty pretty quickly. He looked down into his hand to see a piece of paper with instructions on how to get to their team's room. One of the faculty must have given it to him when he had been staring off into nothing like a goof. "Alright team! To our room!" he shouted, pointing and then making his way to the nearest exit. As he walked to the room, he would occasionally check behind him to make sure he didn't lose track of anyone. That would be a pretty bad mistake to make right after becoming the official leader of team RPDG. As they traversed the hallways of Beacon, Robert turned and began walking backwards, occasionally looking forwards again to make sure he didn't bump into anything or get them lost. He did this so that he could face his teammates while speaking to them. "So what should our first order of business be when we get to our room?" he asked.

[Assistant]
Sapphire Rode - Infirmary
Beep...

Sapphire tossed in her sleep like she was having a horrible dream.

"The tunnel's collapsing, everyone get out!" "Sapphire what did you do?" "They're not going to make it?" Voices echoed inside Sapphire's mind causing her to shake her head violently in her sleep in a subconscious effort to get rid of them. Then one cut cleanly through all the rest. "Shameful Miss Rode, a cave in of that size takes time. You surely would have the opportunity to escape if you'd moved faster. Perhaps this will teach you a lesson." "Dad, no, please. DAD!" Sapphire shouted in her sleep. She felt a sharp pain on her right arm which moved with painful slowness towards the center of her palm. "DAD!"

Beep...

Sapphire sat straight up, her breath was coming in raggedly and she was sobbing. She was not wearing what she usually did, instead she was dressed in clean, white, sterile hospital cloths. Her gloves were gone, the scars running over her hands clearly visible. Sapphire was still panicking but even in her state of agitation the adrenaline in her system was starting to break down and as it did pain coursed through her chest. Sapphire lay back down slowly, she pushed up her hospital shirt and and probed the pain stricken area with her fingers. It was slightly swollen, and looking at it deeply bruised. Based on the pain she was feeling Sapphire decided it was a broken rib. Slowly so as not to agitate it Sapphire inventory of her surroundings.

She was in a hospital, an infirmary obviously. The Infirmary at Beacon Academy. Now Sapphire remembered, fighting the automated combat mech. The explosions from her 'teammates' attacks. The state of the tunnel. She'd seen the decay and damage caused by the fight and she'd taken her shot, she'd destroyed the mech and it would have been a bloodless fight if not for that bumbling fool. He'd screwed up her exit. Now she remembered, her injuries had been caused by the tunnel collapse. Thankfully she'd been close enough to the exit so not as much debris had fallen on her compared to the mech otherwise she'd be dead.

It was then that Sapphire became fully aware of exactly where she was. Perhaps her brain had not had time to process what it was seeing before or else it was simply blocking the conclusion from Sapphire's mind but finally it broke. She was in a hospital. Sapphire started to hyperventilate again. The heart monitor cuff around Sapphire's upper arm related a signal to the monitor that caused it to send out a number of very fast beeps.

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep,

"No no no..." Sapphire said to herself the sound merging into white noise. She held her arms over her ears trying to block out the sound of the heart monitor.

Doctor she's lost too much blood. You've done all you can, you saved the baby but her prognosis isn't good. She may not live to see the dawn. You should inform Mrs. Rode's family of her condition.

"NO!" Sapphire screamed, she grabbed the IV line in her arm ripping it out violently. A small but steady stream of blood began to flow from the injection point but Sapphire didn't care. Next she tore off the heart monitor cuff shoving the machine back with enough force that it hit a wall with a loud clatter. Sapphire threw off the hospital blankets and hoped onto the floor her panic temporarily nullifying the pain in her chest.

When she straightened Sapphire saw her cloths sitting on a chair. There were some scorch marks, and damaged from the debris but it looked like someone had repaired them quite thoroughly. Then on the night stand Sapphire saw something that calmed her wildly beating heart, Morpheus and Phobetor, currently retracted into small boxes strapped to two leather bracelets. Sapphire hurriedly pushed them onto her wrists. The feel of the familiar leather calmed her and she sank into a chair likely meant for visitors. The weight of a million different things crushing her. Sapphire started to cry, her father had always told her crying was a sign of weakness but there was no one around to hear it so Sapphire let the tears run free.

[User]
Though he had always been a big guy, it was today that Abel stood tallest.

As he stepped off the stage, a rare smile graced his face. He looked around at the other students, just now finishing their heartfelt round of applause, before casting a glance at Gren. To be sure, he had never pictured what sort of man lay beneath the hulking armor, but he hadn't expected an orc. He had no qualms about his new teammate's race—he had already proved himself in battle, and despite their brief confrontation concerning Abel's unscheduled flight from the junkmobile, no hard feelings remained between them. Gren was every inch the warrior that Abel was proud to call his ally. Seeing their faces projected larger than life on the auditorium's screens and the name 'Swansong' formed to christen them cinched it all.

As for the others, his joy extended to them as well, though they were not here. Having just half a team onstage while all the others had four (most of them seemingly uninjured, no less) put a small dent in his satisfaction, but the guardian wasn't about to let that get him down. Ozpin choosing Sapphire as leader initially surprised him, but after a few moments of consideration it made sense to him. Kuhaku seemed reckless, Gren a little oblivious, and him...well, leadership didn't exactly suit a defeatist. Abel envisioned a smile spreading across Sapphire's face as he and Gren delivered the news to her hospital bed, not recalling the cold silence and shut-in recalcitrance that she had displayed every second her psyche wasn't occupied by the rush of battle.

For a few moments, the speech was thrown off track as Ozpin called out a few seniors for giving another team a rough time. While he initially thought that it was a good thing that the other newbies had been run so ragged, after the girl shouted Abel realized that he was close enough to see her. She and two others stood apart from the other students, in a near-empty circle of open space surrounding them. The mocking face of the boy, the stiff righteousness of the girl, and the scornful, unabashed look on the face of the faunus convinced him that they didn't deserve his sympathy. Now that he thought about it, it almost made him mad to see the faces of senior that had leveled their unfair advantage to bully their soon-to-be peers. When Ozpin continued speaking, Abel was glad for someone else to focus on.

Hearing about PHGM didn't surprise him at all. Pan, Hansen, Gretchen, and Mary had seemingly formed a connection long before their cards sealed the deal. The mention of facing an entire den of Itzamna only cemented the fact; Abel had experienced the wrath of those creatures firsthand from atop the walls of the kingdom. Plus, he owed them--before PGHM had happened along, he and Sapphire had been pinned down on a hillside by an Ursa Major. If not for their interference, he and his quiet partner wouldn't have been able to flee into the nearby train tunnel and encounter the remainder of their team. He watched respectfully as the four stood on stage. Mary looked to be as excited as he had been, but took it a step further by exuberantly waving to everyone with both arms, eyes closed in adulation.

Before long, he and Gren were on their way. Though not usually the talkative type, Abel couldn't restrain himself. "That was pretty great! Dang shame Ku and Saph couldn't come. Want to visit them in the healing place and tell them the good news?" He brushed a hand against his blue coat, which he had put on specially for the ceremony. Honestly, after seeing it among his things and remembering how much nicer it was than his plaid hoodie, he seriously thought about a permanent wardrobe change.

[Assistant]
Mokuren really tried to concentrate on the speech in front of her. But, she couldn't. She was hungry, but she knew she wasn't. It was the kind of hunger a drug addict had, and as much as that addict might try to deny the cravings, they would not go away until sated. And, in this room of so many people, she was going mental. So many people, but she couldn't touch a single one, or they would know. She didn't want anyone to know. Knowing is bad. She heard her name spoken by Ozpin, and the team name of 'Gilgamesh' which was a pretty awesome name. Not that it mattered to her. The fire in her veins wouldn't quit it because of a fancy name. There was only one thing that could quench that fire, and it was not something good, or easily obtained.

As she was going though her problems, one of her team mates suggested that they change the name, because of some stupid human reason. Irritated, Mokuren stepped forwards until she was level with his ear, and then spoke.
"Shut up, or I'll kill you" She whispered, barely stopping herself from carrying out her threat and then relieving her urge. She would keep it under wraps now, if only for now. This man, with his stupid, pathetic complaint deserved no sympathy from Mokuren, even if he was going to be a team mate from now on.

[User]
Priscilla was actually relieved that they finally got out of that situation that happened back there in the forest with those creatures. And they were the first one to reunite so that was good too. As they arrived into the auditorium, the professor was speaking about who was going to be the leader of the team. Basically all four of them were going to be in the team for the rest of their Beacon lives. That sounded not to bad actually, she got a good bond with them. They were basically like the fantastic four, as Robert said.

That's right, Robert. He was going to be the leader of the team! He actually deserves to be the leader because he is a leader and he acts like on as well. Also he was a big ole nerdy guy like Reed from the Fantastic four, so that was interesting. Priscilla smiled at her team, as they walked to their room. "Well.. we could always..go explore the academy or something?" That was a thought but she actually just wanted to lay down and relax a little, but of course.. the boys probably wouldn't want that. So she decided to do anything they wanted to do. "Eh. Anything you guys want to do. I'll be fine."

[Assistant]
Daniel smirked as his name was called. It was only natural that he would pass the initiation. Admittedly it was not what he had expected, but it was exciting, and it actually forced him to work in a team. Admittedly, his teammates came in handy, but he didn't really like being in a team. Oh well, four years wouldn't be too long.

His team leader, Robert if he remembered correctly, suddenly decided that they should go to their room. Daniel was about to use his usual, "Who made you boss?" line when he realized how stupid that sounded right now. He glanced at the other teams, then followed Robert to their room. It was smaller than he expected.

"OK, let's establish whose beds are whose," Daniel said. "We certainly don't want to mix up our beds and find people sleeping in the wrong beds, now would we? Although... finding a girl sleeping in your bed might not be a bad thing, eh?" He gave a little nudge to Priscilla, then laughed at his own joke.


[System]
ABSTRACT:
A tireless traveler with an insatiable (and sometimes perilous) curiosity

INTENT:
To know everything. Everything.

FIRST ADVENTURE:
Kettle grew up on the plains with a nomad tribe of goatherds, so really one might say she was born into adventure. But the first true adventure was the day little Kettle chased a goat into the crevasse between the Rusty Cliffs, and saw a gryphon perched on a ledge overhead. She climbed that rock, scruffy and barefoot, while the goat bleated warnings below, until she reached the ledge where the gryphon sat. As soon as she crawled close, the beautiful beast took flight and escaped -- but before her was a magnificent ruby sunset she never would have seen from the ground. From that day forward she sought out every new thing she could find, determined to see for herself everything there was to see.

[User]
Rurik opens his eyes wide, gasping for air, still feeling an icy shiver running across his flesh. Looking around, the Varangian warrior finds himself lying flat on his back, a ray of light piercing his eyes from above and hindering his sight, noises ringing in his ears. His whole body aching, Rurik struggles to get up, pain radiating from the places where the arrows had pierced his flesh, now cicatrized, and coughs, his throat filled with dust, before finally managing to get on his feet. At this point, Rurik is firmly convinced that he is indeed still in the land of the living, and that the peculiar situation he finds himself in is not the result of an interesting night spent at the Drakkar, Holmgarðr's finest tavern. Probably.

The Varyag warrior looks around, touching his Mjǫllnir pendant, and finds himself indeed at the bottom of a dusty earthen pit, a ray of light coming from above, as well as strange noises. His armor looks worn and threadbare, his axe and shield are lying in the dirt, and as Rurik ties his large round shield to his back and picks up his greataxe, he begins to wonder exactly where in Hel he is, and how did he get there. Perhaps the Komi saved him from the river, and took him as prisoner? Impossible, they don't take prisoners, and if they did, they wouldn't have left him his weapon. Someone else, then, saved him? Once again, impossible: if a good hearted man had rescued him, he would have woken up in a bed, not at the bottom of a pit. Rurik grunts and spits on the floor, the waves of pain still running across his muscles and nerves now more bearable, and slowly begins to climb his way out, the dusty earth crumbling beneath his hands and feet as he conquers inch after inch, using his axe as a pick to drag himself towards the light, muttering profanities in Old Norse, as the noises above him become recognizable as voices, screaming and talking in a confused manner. After almost falling down a couple of times, the Varyag swings upwards his axe, and feels it gripping the flat surface along the boundary of the pit, and, clenching his teeth, pulls himself up, his left arm finally appearing from below, followed by his head; Rurik looks around, and realizes that he ought to stop frequenting the Drakkar.

[Assistant]
The sky swirled a beautiful glistening green and fiery orange-- the proportions of the colors were not even in proportion, and the blots of colors seemed to move independently of each other, in some areas of the sky they would create intricately abstract patterns and in others there were simple swirls, or random blobs interacting with a background of the other. The arrangements of checkerboard that seemed like grass and fire stretched on for infinity.

The earth was warm, silver marble that went on for miles like a perfectly sculpted plain in whatever direction you looked-- there were no trees, instead the world seemed populated by a rainbow assortment of coral and gigantic black mushrooms. Fish floated around-- salmon colored salmon-- with the ease of birds, there was no air here. It seemed as though there was only perfectly clear water with with to exist below the storm of jade and carmine. Untold amounts of bubbles floated up from unseen cracks in the marble, and resting of a bed of bubbles was the gigantic head of a man, smoking an otherworldly cigar that seemed to exude blue smoke rings exclusively.

The body-less man looked tired, fatherly, and very sick. Floating before him, was a normal sized young woman, who was presently asleep.

Nel opened her eyes, only to find herself floating away from the earth... as she looked she realized it was a completely foreign earth to her, white and silver swirls stretch forever beneath her, above her were swirls of orange gold and a sickly green. A fish floated by, stopping to stare her in the eyes for a moment, before seemingly kissing her on the nose, and quickly swimming off. Nel opened her mouth to scream, and was met with bubbles filling her vision. She was in water she could breath like air.

"Gods, you're just as high strung as ever, huh Junior?"

"Dad...?" After a moment of struggle as she tried to figure out how to maneuver herself in the weightless, syrupy water. Nel turned toward the smoking head. "What is... What are... wha...?"

"What's up, Len len?"

"You know I don't go by that name... umm... who are...? You are my Dad, right? Am I dreaming...?"

"Gods! Slow down with the questioning, maybe?" The head blew out a puff of impossibly cool smoke through the water that seemed to switch to having the consistency of some type of pudding, "I know you don't go by that name, Nel, relax, I'm just playing with you hun. And yes, of course you're dreaming, dood! Look around!" Flapping with his ears, her moved from the seat of bubbles over to Nel, "But I can promise you that it is me, Nel. I've been trying to contact you for a while, actually-- this isn't a bad time, is it?"

"Umm..." Nel gave a sheepish shrug, trying to give as reassuring a grin to her father as possible that she wasn't about to be eaten by a stone beast, "N-no...?"

Her father's head's left ear stretched until it plum popped off the side of his giant head, and turned into a pink hand to promptly come around and slap the cigar smoking face in frustration, "Oh! Of course it's a bad time! It's always a bad time! Let me guess..." The head scratched it's chin its chin with it's new ear-hand, "You're trying to sneak into your first castle, some guard figured out your disguise-- and you were about to fight him to avoid going to jail???"

Nel smiled-- this was her father after all, he had such a calm approach to life, such an easy sense of humor... "Not quite, pop." She envied him for how sure of himself he was, how comfortable he was with everything, "Close though... I followed Kettle and her group into the woods. Her cameldragon--"

"Grom's still around? Shit-- how's that little fella?"

Little fella? Nel couldn't help but wonder to herself, had Grom been smaller when her father was in his prime? "He's fine! I actually spent a good while talking to him last night! I was horrified at first, and I still am, but he's sweet at least..." Nel looked away for a moment, Although perhaps 'apathetic' is a more accurate word... "Umm... Anyway," She looked again toward her father's head. "Well... Grom ran away from her and led us to these odd forest temple ruins. Everyone went off to do their own part in figuring out whatever mysteries lied about. I myself picked up some of the supplies her cameldragon--"

"Grom." Her father's head corrected.

"Of course, pop." She rolled her eyes, "Grom dropped some of the saddlebags from his back when he ran ahead, so I picked up as many of those as I could find... and I..." She sighed.

"My little girl!" He whopped, "Pitching in!"

"It really wasn't that glamorous, dad."

The one-eared head gave the closest approximation of a shrug it could manage, "Don't matter none that it wasn't shiny. You saw a thing that needed getting done and did it! Already you're making us both proud!"

Nel looked at the head strait on, "Is Mom really proud of me? She hates me."

He sighed, looking into the distance, blowing away a blue ring of smoke, "I'm sorry kiddo-- She'll come around-- but right now you need to know that I am proud of you."

Nel hid a blush, "I-is Mom there now?"

"Yeah, she's been tending to me while I sleep... I know you two don't get along like thieves... but Gods bless her..." He sighed, "I don't even remember the last time I was out of this damn bed..."

"I'm... sorry, Dad..." Nel looked around nervously, now finding it difficult to make eye contact with the man's head. She spoke softly, "
How are you doing...?
"

"WHAT?!" The head boomed, "SPEAK UP! I'VE ONLY GOT ONE EAR!"

Nel yelled back in kind, "I asked how your condition was!"

"Oh..." The two of them looked somber as the question hung in the extending silence of the magical dreamscape around them, a few fish fluttered by, and the sky was as active and abstract as ever, but the metaphorical air between the two of them was silent for a long while. Eventually, the head spoke up, "I'm uhh..." He coughed, "I'm not going to lie to you here, kiddo, I've been much better. That's actually part of the reason I just wanted to hear your voice again... I mean... I don't know how close the end is... but I just..."

As he trailed off, the two faced another, colder silence.

He perked up, "Finish your story?"

"R-right!" Nel shook her head, not realizing that any tears she had wouldn't be seen in the water that surrounded her, "There was this talking bird... and it landed on my shoulder and told me to press this... glowing... spire... thing--"

"Rule number one, Nel; glowing spires are bad."

"I wish I'd know that then, pop..." Nel exhaled a frustrated sigh, "I think I did something really bad by pressing that stupid spire... It summoned some horrible monster that just looked at me... and then..."

"Then you decided to have a magical conversation with your father!"

"I was actually wondering that-- how are we talking? Is this some kind of magic?"

The face looked as if it had to explain something obvious to an annoying child, "Magic isn't real, honey." A school of fish passed by the man's head, leaving in their wake bubbles that comprised all colors of the rainbow, a mushroom with a smile on it's side instantly sprouted from the ground, "No. This is merely me using an artifact I found in an Oneiroi ruin when I was around your age, it lets you communicate with people in your memory through their subconscious mind over long distances when you're both sleeping."

"But... that kinda... sounds like what a magic thing would do, dad."

"Nel." He said in a serious tone, "Magic isn't real."

"But it just--"

"Magic isn't real."

"Okay."

"Anyway, listen up honey-- I've got to go soon, but I need to impart an important message to you."

"Aww... really?"

"Yes. Shut up, though. We don't have much time."

"Okay...?"

"You need to smile more!"

"Really? I thought my problems stemmed from a lack of confidence and an incredibly low self-worth?"

"Ggggaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwwwdddddddddddssssss, you are more like your mother than either of you would ever admit. It's all the same thing, man, just have fun, dood."

And with that, the world began to fade as the father and daughter began to return to their separate corners of the world. With seconds remaining, the head of Len Sr. yelled to his daughter.

"Nel! I forgot to ask! Is Kettle still nice?"

She yelled back as the world faded, "She's super nice!"

The world was black again, but Nel could barely make out a faint cheer in her father's voice, "
That's 15 gold for me!
"

---

Nel woke gently, the subtle light that flared down from the canopy tickled her awake. Slowly, she sat up on her knees in the underbrush... she wasn't dead! Which was good, but she wasn't quite sure where she was... had someone dragged her into some bushes...? Nel looked down, her hands gripped at the grass, that was probably for the best, she was probably just getting in everyone's way...

stop feeling so sorry for yourself

Yeah. She shook her head, she needed to stop that... Maybe smile more? She brushed the leaves and twigs off her outfit and hair as she stood up. Quietly moaning/muttering to herself after her fall and subsequent mental journey, "
Where the hell is everyone?
"

[User]
The stone beast shook its head slowly, and with stiffening limbs it took a step back, away from Aloe and Lila. Its lip twisted in a snarl, and it took another step back. Every movement was slower than the last -- until there was only a twitch of an ear and the shift of a claw, and then the beast was frozen once more.

Grom huffed and sighed heavily. The cameldragon had expended every ounce of energy and enthusiasm into that one act of heroism. He sat down sleepily and proceeded to chew, his eyes half-closed.

Kettle woke up sprawled against the pillar, blood trickling down her forehead. She shifted to her feet unsteadily, keeping her back against the rock to avoid being seen, and she peered around it. Aloe's back was to her, but it was clear he still held the gun. Lila was fine again, Nel had just woken up, and the stone beast had gone back to being harmless. Leon was nowhere to be seen, and Clavic was probably somewhere at the end of the trail of scattered bones.

No one had realized what happened -- no one knew except Leon and Clavic, and Kettle was fairly sure she could lie her way back into Clavic's trust, at least. She would take the chance.

"Is everyone all right?" she called, her voice reflecting the very real pain in her skull. Kettle stepped out from behind the pillar -- and then she noticed movement that hadn't been there before. Someone -- or something -- was crawling out of the ground very close to where Nel lay half-conscious.

"Nel!" Kettle called out in alarm, still holding the pillar for balance. "Watch out! Behind you!"


[System]
Age:
23

Gender:
Male

Race/Nationality:
White - German

Appearance:

5'10, 170 lb, and very little fat. His eyes are blue, but appear green because of his yellow safety glasses, which he wears almost constantly. He has blonde hair, which rests on his head and flies wildly in the wind. He keeps it long, believing that women find it more attractive. He either wears his uniform, or t-shirts which display his muscles.

Personality:
Arrogant, womanizing, and show-off can all be used to describe Kurt. He has a collection of qualities that all blend down to that special kind of d-bag. He sees no problem with playing dirty, and will always boast about his achievements to the ladies. He has very few emotional ties, and as a result, can appear very uncaring and unmotivated to those who do not know him. Kurt personally does not drink, but is willing to take advantage of inebriated females who cross his path. He will never go out of his way for these women however, and will only court them if they show interest first. Kurt has a very traditional mindset, and doubts in the abilities of women unless he is shown what they are capable of. He has an obsessive attitude towards his glasses, wearing them even while inside, which only adds to how much of a douche he appears to be. Kurt holds those who compliment anything positive about him very closely, and has a very strong sense of morals, of which cheating is not a part. Kurt has an uncle, father, mother, and a brother, but they live outside of Mundin and he does not consider them family. Kurt does not enjoy hurting people emotionally, and refuses to touch women who are 'taken'. Finally, Kurt's best trait is his strong sense of justice, and his unwillingness to compromise his beliefs.

 Underneath the layers of cockiness that Kurt sets up, lies a very fragile persona. Due to the molestation he experienced as a child, he has had severe self-image issues, which he disguises with intense exercising and a cocky attitude. He takes every insult personally, and has gone through multiple periods of anorexia. Coping with suicidal and self-harming thoughts at a young age, Kurt attempts to give the illusion that he has a perfect life (He has had very few, if any, thoughts of harming himself since joining the MDU). Additionally, his power caused several odd traits to manifest in Kurt, such as a fear of heights, feeling comfortable below sea level, and developing a penchant towards rock candy. Due to his poor upbringing, Kurt has a small degree of hoarding, and also is below average in terms of intellect.

Kurt loves puns, especially about rocks.

Abilities:
Geokinesis

Kurt is capable of moving rocky materials such as dirt, stone, cement, and concrete. He is capable of manipulating it as long as he is 'connected' to it (He would be able to move a boulder laying on the ground if he was on the ground, but would only be able to move a rock in the air if he touched it). Any piece of earth he is already moving, he can move for as long as he wishes, and does not need to be 'connected' to it while he moves it. He can change the shape, speed, and design of the earth he is manipulating. His range of manipulating earth he is already moving extends outwards to a 50-foot radius of himself. His control over earth is very precise, and he is able to create intricate sculpture out of stone with ease. Kurt can fire a single piece of earth that weighs 1 pound at bullet-like speed, with decent precision.

Unfortunately, his power has multiple limiters. Every time he wishes to manipulate earth, no matter what, he must be doing some somatic input. The amount of movement required to use his power is equal to or greater than a foot step, and must be maintained during the entirety of the manipulation. Additionally, his powers maximum weight that he can lift is 250lbs. He is able to change the shape and texture of earth weighing more than 250 pounds, but lifting it will result in migraines, nosebleeds, burst blood vessels, aneurysms, seizures, amnesia, comas, and eventually death. Kurt can only manipulate 5 objects at a time, and moving them too fast will make them impossible to redirect. Due to his 5 object limit, manipulating something like sand is impossible for Kurt, even though he can create it. Additionally, Kurt's power is directly affected by his emotional state: it will work at full power when he is confident or doing what he believes is right, but can be weakened to nearly half it's usual power if he is depressed or doing something he morally disagrees with. Finally, his power affects rock-like materials only, meaning no metal.

Biography:
Born and raised in the city of Dortmund, Kurt's childhood was spent in poverty. His father spent hours every day searching for a job, but with unemployment on the rise and a flailing economy, their was little a convicted criminal could do to support his family. His older bother was the provider, and they barely managed to scrap by with welfare and his abysmal paycheck. Due to this poor lifestyle, Kurt spent his time at the local lake, spending hours fishing with the old fishing rod he was gifted by an old neighbor. It was at the age of 6 when his father finally cracked, begging his brother,Kurt's uncle, to give them refuge while he searched for a job.

Kurt's uncle was kind enough to offer refuge, allowing Kurt's family to stay at his mansion in Essen. Kurt's brother, having been relieved of the duty of providing for a starving family, returned to school. His mother had stopped the secret draining of family funds that she ad been doing for years, feeling comfortable in the large house. Kurt's father now could spend even longer searching for a job, which would never come. Kurt was brutally molested and raped.

Kurt's uncle had initially started the deed on his fourth night there and, with a voice dripping in venom, told Kurt that he would remove his family from the premises immediately if Kurt said a single word. As a result, Kurt quickly became a shy, introverted boy, and began to hate himself. In order to provide even a mild sense of security, and with the absence of a lake, Kurt began to exercise in his free time, spending hours training his body. At the age of 7, he was stronger than most kids twice his age. This life style continued for another year, until Kurt had hit the age of 8. It was at this time Kurt had finally had it.

Kurt left for child services in the middle of the night and, with multiple pieces of evidence (including a recording), successfully sentenced his uncle to 50 years in prison. After doing so, he was sent away from his family due to neglect, with no one ever realizing that Kurt had hidden the abuse on purpose. He was sent to the newly discovered city of Mundin, and lived in an orphanage until 14, it was then that his powers to manipulate the earth had begun to show itself, generating his new status as an empowered. It was at this point that the military, having begun to realize the potential that the empowered possessed, offered to allow Kurt to join the Mundin Defense Unit (MDU). With little other options for an child with no connections, Kurt agreed to the terms, placing him in a particularly nice training academy. During this time, he quickly formed his cocky persona, in order to appear more important to the other students. Graduating 4 years later at the age of 18, Kurt immediately joined the MDU, preparing to flaunt the powers he was given.

5 years later, and Kurt is still living the life, and he is ready to finally show the world that no matter how hard it tries, it can't beat him down.

Specialties:
-Training in close-quarters combat, specifically with a knife.
-Charisma
-Mastery over English and German, both on a native speaker's level.
-Willpower

Equipment:
-Safety Goggles, Yellow
-Steel Knife, for emergency use only
-Cell phone
-ID card, works as both Mundin and MDU identification
-Keys and wallet
-Black Book, filled with fake names and descriptions
-Several pieces of Rock candy, calms the nerves
-A small apartment, government issued

Ken Black: Kurt's closest friend. Ever since they met on a joint mission in the MDU, the two have been inseparable. Whenever Kurt is not hanging at home or work, he is probably out with Ken, whether out on the town, or just hanging out. Ken is arguably the closest and only friend that Kurt has and, as such, is the person that Kurt would go to first in an emergency. Kurt values his friendship with Ken over everything else and, despite his teasing, would do anything for Ken. The only thing that Kurt dislikes about Ken is his shyness, which Kurt is trying to remedy with babes and booze. The past 8 months that the two had shared were the happiest time in Kurt's life, and he wouldn't trade it for anything.
WIP

Other:
He works for the Mundin Defense Unit, and usually is assigned to help watch the Eastern wall.

Kurt, surprisingly enough, is an avid fisher, and enjoys spending his time in this manner, especially in the summer months.

Kurt dislikes drunks, muscular men, and married women. He hates Pedophiles, child abusers, and people who question his sexuality.

Kurt likes children (Not in that way), lifting weights, compliments, and puns. He loves women, fishing, and law enforcement.

As expected of someone with his abilities, Kurt has an irrational fear of heights. This only manifested itself after he got his powers.

Despite all of his efforts, Kurt is still a virgin, but will vehemently deny this fact, usually by listing off multiple fake names.

Kurt is incredibly frugal, and saves half of everything he earns in a safety deposit box.

[User]
Nothing can stop Margaret from kneeling on a corner and recite the Memorare, not even anyone thinking she should've already put her imaginary friends back in the past. And this was what the girl had just finished wrapping up. Today's special requests for intercession was, of course, for things to run smoothly as the city-- the country, begins busying itself for its annual celebrations. Not to mention, too, an intercession for the Prime Minister to just finish picking his clothes and combing his hair already. She had on herself the Memorare leaflet among countless other leaflets in her front pocket, the white devotional scapular of the Most Blessed Trinity, and a relic of St. John Paul II, a tiny strand of hair encased in glass and decorated with a wooden inscription bearing the pope's name. Whether they actually had mysterious powers, most especially in this age of warring wizards and psychics, is subject to dispute.

Going back to the parliament's courtyard, a bored platoon of troops continued to lie in wait while the good 'ol PM was still wrapping up things on his end. In fact, even the officer on duty himself was keeping himself entertained through his holophone, playing the latest installment in his fancied side-scroller franchise. Though as soon as someone-- one who appeared to be their supplier of sophisticated equipment and gizmos, came hurrying right up to Margaret's face and asked where he was, the officer on duty put his holophone aside and started making his approach as the girl started to explain things back.

"The officer is just right there, walking to you." she replied, her voice faltering faintly as she pointed a finger.

The officer, a tall and mustached, but rather lean man in his late thirties, briefly flashed a small grimace of slight annoyance before walking up to the lady.

"...and you're the one making shipments, I suppose. Where's your load?"

[Assistant]
Elliot scanned the crowd with a rhythmic precision, his shoulders tense and his brows knotted. He shifted his weight from one foot to another and glanced towards the PM and then his fellow officers, it seemed they were all getting restless too.

"This PM better hurry the hell up..." Elliot said to no one particular, though he saw the officer on his immediate left, a funny little fellow called Rupert, crack a small grin. Elliot tugged at his jacket and checked his wallet keys and phone were still in there and when he looked back up he spotted a girl talking to the Captain and couldn't help as a fond smile tugged at his lips. Everyone from the station remembered her of course and she had a habit of making all the officers smile and grin when she was brought up in conversation.

Elliot let his shoulders relax, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, when he breathed out he opened them again and he found himself enjoyig the day. After all, today was a celebration!

[User]
Kurt angrily marched down the street, his cheek still stinging. Earlier that day, he had attempted to court a woman who was... not appreciative of the action, to say the least. As he pondered the thought of going to work, he silently shook his head. It was far too difficult to get a vacation day today, arguably one of the busiest times for the MDU. Despite the complaining his squad mates generated, the day was no where near as pleasant as he thought it would be. While not particularly warm outside, the streets were abuzz with activity, making it feel 10 degrees warmer. Not only that, but Kurt bumped into people nearly every 20 steps. Sure, it was nice when he walked into a hot girl, but most of the people walking around were old farts. Kurt sighed. If only he was at the docks right now. That would surely clear his mind.

The commotion was expected. Today was the 35th anniversary of Mundin's founding, so of course it's a big deal. Then again, Kurt could not care less. Today sucked just as much as any other day. That was what Kurt genuinely believed, until he remembered how his squad mates complained about not being able to get any of the food that was being laid out. He quickly began to turn, and head for St. Jeanne's Plaza, glad he didn't have to cook another one of his god awful meals tonight. The fireworks that were planned didn't appeal to him nearly as much. After all, life wasn't a drama, where the the protagonist and his love interest kiss under the light of giant explosions in the sky. And fireworks were a lot less interesting when there were people who could shoot them from their hands. And even less so if you have ever had someone like that shooting at you.

Pushing these thoughts aside, Kurt made quick progress towards St. Jeanne's Plaza, most likely due to the fact that he was following the flow of people. The area was filled to the bursting point, and Kurt immediately began to search for anyone he recognized from the MDU. The only thing that would be sweeter than hitting on girls who would probably reject him, was acting smug in front of the poor saps who have to work through this crap. After several attempts, he eventually gave up on searching for people he knew, and instead searched for those he did not know. After all, standing alone would make him appear to be a friendless loser who came here alone.

And only two of those descriptors were correct.


[System]
Appearance:

His mythical silver hair may be the first thing you notice about him, if it isn't his full blood red eyes. He usually wears a black or grey shirt with white stripes through it, he will also wear hoodies most of the time.

Age: 17

Room: 6

Race: Moroi (Vampire)

Specialty: Hemokinesis

Traditional Magic
Rank of the Basic 4 (Fire, Water, Earth, Air/Wind):
1) Fire
2) Earth
3) Wind
4) Water
Magic Affinity: (Mental, Physical, Spiritual, etc)

Unique Traits: Though he doesn't technically 'stand out' he is kept to himself usually and wears dark shades or black, gray, or brown. This I suppose makes him stand apart from others who are more outgoing.

Likes: Dark/heavy Music, Video Games, Art

Dislikes: Humans (usually), Ignorance, and Loud Noises

Personality: Life can be very helpful and nice when he needs to be, otherwise he keeps to himself.
History: Capello is Latin for "cape, cloak, or trickster", many languages use this surname and have many different meanings. Life has always been somewhat of a loner, he has had friends here and there but being the type of character he was, never knew more than a handful of people personally. He lived with his cousin mostly growing up, moving from home to home but always within his family tree, his parents had been murdered while he was just a child, he remembers nothing of it but has only been told minor details by his cousins. He moved into another house not too long ago, beautiful house, decorated, paintings everywhere. One room upstairs, which he supposed was his, was different from any other. His room was dark, shadowed by a big tree hanging over the second floor window. There was one single painting that hung above the head of his bed, it was a picture of a school. One night while it was storming profusely, the painting was knocked off the wall and fell onto the bed, the picture absorbed Life, and he woke up abruptly in a new world, still in his night clothes.

Pet desired: Shadowcat

Hemokenisis: Hemokinesis is the ability to manipulate blood of oneself, or others, being able to control it means the wielder has the power to regenerate faster than others. The 'blood mage' may not use the ability to harm others, it is forbidden to do so. In the rare case where it is necessary to use the power against someone it must be completely justifiable and 100% acceptable by the users peers.

Other: Follow the rainbow

[User] "I'm fine...." Jerome responded not looking up from his desk. He didn't wanna show how uneasy he felt talking to people so he kept his head on the desk. "Jerome, Jerome Aura." He responded still keeping his head down. Jerome would of probably did this for the rest of the class if it wasn't for Lady Violetta's loud explanation of what to do when a teachers talking and the consequences of talking when she is. Jerome quickly lifted his head up from the desk closely listening to every word she said. When she finished explaining Jerome didn't look at Ayaka or Jak but still somewhat whispered. "Its nice to meet you both."

[Assistant]
"interesting," Shermie replied. "As for myslef, I have my Lithuanian roots. Yet I lived in the wilds."

She then commence in opening up the Necronimicon that sat on her desk. "Tell me brother, what 'tis your take on this "school", if find this very fishy, makes my nose twitch."

[User] "I feel bad for being taken from home, and yet. This world is changing my emotion slightly, I'm happy I'm among such people"

[Assistant] " "Tis good brother." Shermie replied. " For we all need a friend or two to have our backs, i'll scratch yours if you scratch mine."

[User]
and @Slendy

"My pleasure!"

Jak whispered to them both so the teacher did not hear him, and he opened up an ancient Tome that he had kept for what seemed like ages he blew the dust off of it and took out a key and unlocked the locket and delicately opened the book and on the first page he noticed he wrote a section of notes about Demonology which was a very dangerous magic but he had the blood of a Demon and a human so the magic would not destroy him, Jak flipped to another page about summonings and transmutations and began studying for a few minutes then looked over at Ayaka and then at the other two talking about a Necronomicon it was a powerful magic Jak knew and he tended to dabble in some of its areas that connected with his kind of magical talent.

This made Jak ponder whether humans were more superior in some ways and that it was good Jak got time to be amount them.

Then he leaned over and whispered to Ayaka.

"What magic 'school' do you suppose you have interest in?"

[Assistant]
Life smiled at Shermie.
They were going to be close he thought, as expected when he arrived. A second vampire.

"I would like that"

He said before facing the front

[User] "As Would I brother." Shermie said, she then palmed her face. "How rude of me, I'm Shermie Choas, at your service kinsman." she then began reading the Necronomicon once more, the ancient writing glows purple as she does so.

[Assistant] "I honestly don't know," Ayaka whispered back. "But maybe traditional as I didn't think there was a such thing as magic until now." She decided to pay attention to Lady Violetta now since she made it a point that she wishes for them to pay attention when a teacher is speaking. She figured she'll ask Jak what he planned to focus in after this little 'class'.

[User]
Jak respected that Ayaka went back to paying attention but he wanted to listen maybe even talk to these two people talking of a Necronomicon.

Jak then went back to writing some notes here and there but he kept listening to the interesting topic of Necromancy.

He suspected these two be different creatures and he generally found their manner distasteful but they were interesting individuals that he wanted to talk to besides he wanted some creatures other then humans to converse with.

Jack then whispered to the female reading the Necronomicon.

"Excuse me,"

Jak whispered a little shyly he wasn't all powerful he knew people could hurt him so he was cautious.

"I see you study the Dark path as I call it,"

He wiggled his eyebrows and smirked slyly then continued.

"What is your take on the study of Demonology and what do you think of Warlocks?"

Jak made it clear in his eyes to the female that he was no human because he suspected this one to be anything but human and he approved of her study.

"My name is Jak what is yours?"

He asked.

[Assistant] "Miss Shermie and Mr Life, please come forward NOW!" Lady Violetta blasted not only with sound but with an icey cold wind as she showed her pearly white fangs to the class. She impatiently waited for them to respond to her command.

[User] Jack instantly shut up and kept to himself eventhough he liked to talk he knew he should be working so he got to work on the double.

[Assistant]
Shermie smiled, intentionally letting her fangs to show to let him know she wasn't human. "Demonology eh? I find anything associated with death or darkness very powerful yet mysterious. And warlocks are just male witches." she yawned and continued. "None the less I find warlocks wiser than the "common which" but hall hath no fury like a woman scorned."

"Names are pretty, yet useless in the end." Shermie said jokingly. "However each face has a name, I am Shermie, 'tis a pleasure Jack."

[User]
It was a bit hard to not hear all the dark talk going on in the class, Irena surely wasn't interested into that though, angels and demons were always a one sided bore in whichever movie she watched, well cool bores, but not her kind of folk.

"Oh wow, do you hear that? You can smell the sulfur from here" she whispered the jest to the girl who was sitting by her side, a curious one with animal ears and tail.

She barely had the time to see how she would react however when Lady Violetta showed that she was not taking much of that talking. "Mental note, stay on her good side" she thought

[Assistant] Life shuddered as Violette was upset, he quickly stood up and hobbled to the front of the class. Trying to be as strong willed, je hated being called down

[User] Hearing her name being called, Shermie stood and walked up to the front of the class with the Necronomicon in hand. "Ma'am?" she said, trying to show the up-most respect to the Lady.

[Assistant]
Thomas did not like this outcome one tiny bit but he had to have a place to stay. At least until he could manage under his own. He felt that this place was as good of a start as any.
 Mystique's eyes grew wide and she became scared of the Headmaster. After all vampires are not normal people.
 "Both of you are now on Merits/Demerit System. To be able to participate in trips to the village, you will need to earn your way out of the Demerit side and onto the Merit side. As of right now, you each have 10 demerits.
You may start by giving me any Dark Magick Books and Equipment." Lady Violetta spoke calmly. As she produced a box for them to be put in.

[User]
Life shrugged.

"I've nothing on me that is magical, other than the items presented to me."

He wondered exactly what she meant,

[Assistant] Wynn looked at the note curiously. You know, usually you weren't supposed to go into abandoned buildings by yourself though invitation of unknown persons, but the note did say it was from his parents. If someone wanted to kidnap they were doing an awfully great job of it, he thought to himself ruefully as he walked into the warehouse. The building was entirely empty except for one looked like a picture on the far wall. Curious yet still wary Wynn walked over to the colorful picture. It was incredibly well done and very realistic, Wynn walked up to it and examined the painting thoroughly, he once again had to admire it and he briefly ran his fingers over the castle wondering if the texture was the same as well. He blacked out for a moment and felt cold hard stone, opening his eyes he saw he was touching a wall, only it was full size. Looking around he saw that he was now in a castle identical to that of the painting. Alright that was officially the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him. "Anyone one else out here?" He yelled looking around for somebody to tell him what was going on. Maybe he had just like, gotten knocked out in that warehouse and was having a weird dream. He wasn't sure which theory made more sense at this point. "Aw man." he complained, for some reason his music player had shorted out, he gave it a few thunks before putting it back in his pocket despairingly.

[User] "Ummm," Shermie said, not wanting to part with the Necronomicon or her family vial. "These are too meaningful. After my mother died this was all I have left. I can't simply part with these."

[Assistant]
"I understand that they are very important to you. But while you are here, they will be harmed by the Powers That Be. It is your choice. Protect them by placing them in the box then closing it thusly sealing it from harm or risk the Powers That be finding them and destroying them." Lady Mystique spoke firmly.
"This is your first, last and only chance."

[User] Shermie pondered for a moment. "I'll give you the vial, the book however is my way of life." She said, taking off her blood vial necklace and placing it in the box. She then gave a nod to Lady Mystique.

[Assistant] "Fine. Let it be on your head when The Powers That Be begin to deteriorate your book. Please close the box so it will safe keep your belongings and only you can open the box." Lady Mystique Chanted the line.

[User]
*miss post*

Just had to add a quote message is below.

[Assistant]
@Diabolic

We don't always get what we want. But remember this. There are people who will never have what you have right now. Anonymous.

[User] Shermie then closed the box and carried the book back to her seat. She then opened it again and started searching for a seal.

[Assistant]
@Aisling

She looked over to Shermie and patted her shoulder with understanding, she hoped that she didn't have to lose anything to important herself. She smiled and waited for her name to be called. She was nervous but excited at the same time.

[User] "I apoligize for speaking when told not to." Life took his seat once more and waited