[System]
Age: 30
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Personality: Rather curt and blunt, but not entirely devoid of good humor. Fairly superstitious, but also courageous and practical-minded enough that it's not a crippling concern (IE, he's willing to try and kill his superstitions, literally). Fond of a good drink, perhaps overly so, and loyal even to a fault at times. Is most definitely not queasy. Is a passionate admirer of firearms.

Appearance:

Russ is always dressed in his guardsman uniform, which consists of a hardy blue coat, tough leather boots, white breeches, white gloves and a pointed cloth hat. His coat isn't quite as long as the one in the picture and he wears it open, which looks sloppier but affords more mobility, means less heat and looks cooler. Along with his well-trimmed beard, his uniform makes for an immediately recognizable figure in his homeland.

Abilities:
As a man and a soldier of Anviek, an inhospitable frozen tundra where life is harsh and often cruel, Russ is quite hardy. He's generally athletic, leaning more towards agility and dexterity rather than sheer strength, and has an extreme tolerance for harsh conditions, hunger, thirst, and other debilitating effects physical or mental. Russ has extremely good eyesight and has trained himself into a degree of ambidexterity as far as weapons handling goes.

As part of an elite corps of guardsmen specialized in the handling of muskets, Russ is a ridiculously good shot, which counts for a lot when you consider old firearms are really inaccurate. He is also familiar with handling a saber, daggers, a pike, heavier polearms such as halberds and hand to hand fighting, as well as riding on horseback and some general level of equipment maintenance.

Equipment:
-Nat: A custom smoothbore musket, covered in runes to allow its shots to work as well against the mystical as they do a common man. Nat's most remarkable feature is its breech-loading system, an innovation that allows a shooter to set up premade "cartridges" of paper with black powder and a shot in firing position rather than having to go through the annoying and cumbersome muzzle-loading process. This advance in technology allows it the fantastic firing rate of around 10 shots a minute in Russ' expertly trained hands, a marked improvement over the typical 2.

The musket is also bizarrely hardy thanks to a combination of top notch craftsmanship and possibly its runic enhancements. It can be used reliably essentially anywhere but underwater, and will continue to function properly even if dragged through a mire or used to club someone to death. It also has a bayonet mount to allow for some manner of close range combat. Russ typically carries it wrapped in cloth.

-Bayonet: An addon for Nat, a tough knife that can be mounted under the muzzle to turn it into a polearm of sorts or used on its own if necessary. It's similar to a rondel dagger, being stiff blade with a needle point, it's very good for thrusting through gaps in armor, though it can still be used to cut. As a companion to Nat, it is also tremendously hardy and capable of harming things that a knife should not.

-Pistolsx8: Eight standard, muzzle-loaded, single shot pistols. It wasn't rare to see someone carry several considering reloading them takes so much time it's practically a death warrant in combat. He carries two openly on belt holsters outside of his jacket, while the two on the thighs, two under his armpits on shoulder holsters and two crossed on the small of his back are hidden by it.

-Pocket pistol x2: Essentially a pair of miniature flintlock pistols Russ hides in his sleeves. They lack a good deal of stopping power, but in case of an emergency they're better than nothing.

-Saber x1: A nondescript curved sword, carried around just in case and more a sign of position than a favored weapon for Russ.

-Jack of plates x1: A garment made up of plates of armor, often recycled from damaged breastplates and cuirasses, sewn between layers of felt and canvas in the form of a vest. Lighter and more comfortable than a solid piece of plate armor while still providing excellent protection, Russ wears his under his coat.

-Backpack x1: A reasonably compact soldier's backpack which contains what typical assortments of the type such as some rope, flint and steel, rations, a waterskin, a flask etc. It also includes tools to keep his weapons and clothes in good working order and a kit to create more of the disposable cartridges he uses, meaning black powder, paper and loose shots. Russ carries three different types of ammunition: Solid lead balls, small lead pellets for spreading shots with less killing power and smaller lead balls for use with his pistols. He keeps a good deal of pre-made cartridges handily set up on a belt pouch for ease of access.

-Bankert: Not exactly a piece of equipment, yet oft treated as such. Once a dangerous creature that would lead others to their doom in the wilderness, he was captured, stripped from most of his devilish powers and made to repay the crown by being bound to one of its servants as a familiar. He is compelled to obey Russ, who can also kill him with a word as way of incentive, but hates him with a passion and does nothing unless directly ordered, which rather limits his usefulness.

He takes the form of an emaciated, rat-like humanoid with very thin, raggedy fur, an oversized head, long bony fingers, no tail and small, leathery wings. Though typically about 15 inches tall, he can shrink himself to fit inside a gun barrel and that is what he is most often used for, loading Russ' guns while he is otherwise busy. He is deceptively strong, enough to handle Russ' pistols himself with some difficulty, hard to kill and very fast, but their mutual dislike means he's not often called upon.

Backstory:
Anviek is a sprawling land, vast and inhospitable. Biting cold, lack of sunlight and harsh soil make growing food difficult, and the size of the territory means no one central power has ever held real claim to unified power. Authorities tend to be local, or loose confederations at best, and while there is an imperial dynasty with some sway it constantly flirts with disaster. A strong claim to a good chunk of the most fertile lands, however, has allowed the current Empire to hold itself aloft and establish a strong military base with which to defend itself from threats both foreign and domestic.

Key to this military might are its famed guardsmen, some of the deadliest gunners known to the world, and Russ is one of them. However, the shaky standing of the Empire and its constant spending on reinforcing itself means its subjects often go underpaid and its guardsmen are no exception. While allowed to farm and ply other trades to supplement their income, the discontent of the guardsmen is palpable and whispers of rebellion abound, supported by smaller powers looking for a piece of the pie. At the very least, distinguished captains have begun maneuvering their way into politics and positions of power, making for an unstable situation.

A career soldier born to an equally dedicated father, from whom he inherited his position in the corps, Russ holds no lands and knows no other trade that isn't warfare. He is also politically daft and equally unwilling to betray his lord or engage his former comrades in arms in a massacre. Sensing the coming tide, and seeking a way to avoid going hungry, he took the permission to find alternate ways to supplement his income as an out and left his homeland to work as a mercenary.

[User]
The peasant stood as the sole vanguard of the pyre. It was the peasant who was standing on the front-lines awaiting the creature. It would be the duty of this peasant to attempt to reason with the creature by providing it with a proper tithe. Fortunately, hidden away he had the barbarian as his ally preparing for an ambush.

But surely the offerings of the pyre would surely be a worthy presentation that would cause the creature to leave without any bloodshed! Well they would remain worthy, as long as everything was kept prim and proper for when the creature arrived. Geoffrey stared incredulously at the drunkard bard who decided that the best course of action would be to steal from a tithe that was to be delivered to a dragon. The peasant was stunned, and simply stared at the man before he decided to enter the woods to procure something that could serve as a stake. Well, it could be useful, if the vampire wasn't already ablaze to stop its unholy resurrection.

Soon came the furious howling of the beast, which incited his sheep to run towards the tavern while bleated out in terror. Quaking, the peasant felt a distinctive sensation alongside the fear he was feeling. "Shite." Geoffrey cursed under his breath, as he clenched his hands together and quivering as the beast arrived. He had to offer this tithe properly so that the dragon would accept it and leave. But this was not dealing with a human sovereign, no this was a bestial lord the peasant had to bargain with. And just to make matters even more frightening, the creature brought an enforcer that rode upon horseback. Geoffrey's focus shifted between the armor clad goon and his commander.

"Aha-errraah" The peasant stumbled about with his words, as his body shook. Geoffrey knew he needed to collect himself. So to gather his wits, the peasant snorted loudly, and spat out glob of phlegm. The edges of his mouth twitched with trepidation.

"Greetings oh, mighty lordship!" Geoffrey bellowed, clasping his hands together as he gave a small bow towards the dragon. It was a fairly small dip, due to the fact his chickens were trying to peck at him during this gesture of submissiveness. His eyes darted towards his pig to reconfirm to his worried psyche that it was close enough to grab if things were to go awry.

With a plastered grin, Geoffrey tried to subdue as many convulsions that broke his smile as he could. However the peasant found himself unable to keep a fully and seemingly worry-free smile. "I erm, h-hope thy travel t' thou, erm ah, holdings 'ere went well."

The peasant gestured towards the burning corpse of the unrising-vampire, and the meats that were alongside it. "Lo, thou hast a most bountiful tithe to take! Behold the dead vampire, and tha tasty vittles that are served with it!" The peasant took in a deep whiff from the pyre, and continued to speak to the horrific dragon, and presumed lord of this land. "Eat, be merry! Your humble servants labored hard to provide thee with such offerings."

Geoffrey gave another bow towards the dragon. The peasant stood as both bait for a plot to keep the dragon's attention distracted from the strike the barbarian was sure to deliver, and the peasant stood as a negotiator to try to get the dragon to simply leave the lands away. However the events unfurled, Geoffrey knew that he had to do his part to solve against this breed of trouble.

[Assistant]
Ludmilla strolled out the back of the tavern, using it as cover so the dragon wouldn't see her right off. She was a bit put out at the creature's apparent ability to phase through trees, seeing as it would make her plan that much harder.

Saddling her broom, she kicked off into the sky, out of the dragon's reach. Unsure of how large the creature's breath range was, she simply rose high enough that she had ample time to dodge should it aim for her. Satisfied, she conjured a batch of head-size pumpkins and allowed them to drop onto her thankfully large and easy-to-hit target, aiming for the head. They were hard, hearty vegetables, and magically reinforced on top of that. Altogether, being hit with one at terminal velocity would be like taking a hit from a biodegradable orange cannonball.

She watched patiently as they descended, landing several seconds later and tragically cutting short the lives of a trenchcoat-wearing teenager with two katanas, a man dressed in nothing but a green tracksuit, and some sort of hairy, axe-wielding barbarian-type person. Yet another caved in the tavern's chimney. Ludmilla stuck a finger into her mouth and held it up.

"Oh, a headwind."

Well, that was three less people she'd have to pay when this was all said and done. She moved forward, hovering directly above the dragon's center of mass and conjuring another vegetative barrage.

[User]
Russ nodded at the hairy man thing and went off to climb up the roof as the dragon's roar was heard. Russ was extremely surprised that the enraged beast had somehow managed to get through the clearing without making a single apparent sound before. There had been no prior roars, no rumbling as it went through tress, no panicked wildlife. He also considered how he was probably the one with the best shot at setting up anything resembling a coordinated effort within the tavern. It was sad since he was hardly a leader, didn't speak the language very well and knew screaming bits and pieces of orders at an unruly mob would do very, very little.

As if to confirm his thoughts, as soon as he popped his head out on the roof...something, he had no way of telling what it was exactly, came crashing down on it, destroying the chimney and forcing Russ back down the ladder's trapdoor to avoid the hail of fragments. Grunting and cursing his family, his homeland, his commanders, the crown and whatever god might care to listen in at that precise moment, all in a constant, nonstop mumble that sounded offensive even to those who didn't know the tongue, the guardsman stepped back out the roof to catch a look at whatever was trying to kill him.

He looked up at the beast, now regretting his decision to try and see it coming from the roof. He figured he'd have some more time to prepare, what with the assumption that one would hear something like a dragon approaching from a mile away. He also, thanks to his wondrous eyesight, could see the witch that had warned them about the beast preparing to cast some kind of wondrous spell no doubt. He really didn't care much for magic, which was a rather tolerant view where he came from. Still in position to head back down in an instant, he opened Nat's breech and loaded up a cartridge, waiting for the dragon to act.

At this rather short range, a shot from a musket could still pierce all but the best, most expensive plate armor without fail and Russ was extremely accurate within some 85 yards, a good 10 yards more than average. Depending on what happened, it would be rather easy for him to aim at a vital spot such as the eyes or one of the already open wounds and punch quite the nasty hole in it, as the smooth lead balls used as musket ammunition would flatten or even burst after penetration to further increase the damage they dealt.


[System]
Receiver:
* Age: 15
* Gender: Male
* Appearance:
* Personality: He is a very serious student with a standoffish personality. He spends most of his time reading, so his social skills are pretty weak. His family drilled into his head at a young age, that as a receiver his is a valuable resource for humanity, and takes his role as one very seriously. His role as a receiver has also given him a streak of arrogance that makes it difficult for him to make friends, especially with tuners.
* Skills: Excellent in Academics, especially math and science. He has studied many foreign languages and, although he doesn't speak them fluently, he could ask for directions just about anywhere in the civilized world.
* Brief Backstory: The son of a wealthy family, Ryuuto was lauded as long as he could remember for being made a receiver. His parents instilled into him a strict sense of academic discipline, and he came to expect the same from all those he associated with. His expectations were seldom met, and he effectively became the "loner" in primary school. This, compounded with elevated social and genetic status, instilled in him a sense of superiority, even over tuners. He was a valuable resource and should not be squandered on people senselessly; one day he would select the best tuner for himself to fulfill his role.
* Tuner: Kenzaki Kazuko

[User]
Suniyama Sakie

Startled by the sudden cheery voice that came up near her, Sakie all but jumped up like an electric current was passing through her frame. Upon landing, instead of the cool and collected grace that a martial artist like her was supposed to have, the girl was simply put, a hotbed of nervousness and fidgeting. Her arm and hands spasmed and made signs that no one knew how to interpret, her face was in a caricature of extreme shock, and her mouth was babbling out sentences that seemed to be an endless deluge of apologies for slights that she didn't even do. After this was over with, the girl took a deep breath to stabilize her rapidly beating heart and then suddenly bowed down at the waist at a perfect 90 degree angle towards Naoki. "I-it's a pleasure to meet you, p-partner! Please t-take care of me! U-um if that isn't too presumptuous..." High strung didn't even begin to describe the shy girl, not int the least considering her words came out in a breathless squeak.

[Assistant]
Hamasaki, Shun

The blue-haired teen was hardly paying attention when he felt an impact on his shoulder. His attention snapped to his side, a brief anger flaring up in his eyes before he realized it was only Adrian. Shun let out a sigh, now visibly much calmer. "I was running a bit late," he explained himself, regarding his tardiness that Adrian brought up. "My father wanted to talk to me, so I left late." That was all the explanation that was needed. Adrian had been his Receiver for a while, definitely the longest partnership that Shun has had so far. His fourth Receiver since he joined the Akiyama-Kruez Academy, and certainly his best one. All the others were annoying, stupid, clumsy, or any combination. While Adrian wasn't any of those he is still far from perfect. But perhaps he's the best the Academy has to offer, at least in Shun's eyes.

He turned away to look at the crowd of freshman before them. "None of them seem impressive. We will probably be the strongest pair this year," Shun spoke casually. Adrian would know by now that his partner looked at the academy through a lens of pride, strength was the most important characteristic to him. "As long as we don't slack off..." Now he returned his gaze to Adrian and finally moved from his position against the wall, standing upright and walking past his partner. "I might as well drop off my stuff at the dorm. Not like we'll see anything interesting around all the fresh blood."

---

Alexis Thorburn

The freshman girl peered up at the holographic listings once they were projected. The lady in charge didn't have much presence, so Alexis didn't even notice her talking before the pairings were made visible, but she certainly paid attention to who she would be paired with. "Rozmonda isn't a Japanese name," she mused to herself, looking up at the picture of the older girl. "And she doesn't look Japanese. She also doesn't look like a freshman... Awesome." Alexis then began scouting the crowd around her, except there was a slight problem where she was just too short to see over everyone's heads even on the tips of her toes. Thankfully it didn't take too long to spot Rozmonda, considering she was definitely tall enough to be seen over most of the kids in the room.

It took a brief moment to navigate through the crowd without bumping into people, but once Alexis arrived in front of her partner she made a loud and overly dramatic sigh to announce her presence and to get the taller girl to look down and see her. "You're taller than you are in the picture," she noted, forcing herself to look up in order to look Rozmonda in the eye. "My name is Lexie. I just got here from America a few days ago. Oh, and I'm kinda new to the Aether thing, so you might have to be a bit patient with me. And... that's it, I think. Unless I'm forgetting something..." With a dismissive shrug she held out her left hand, letting her hand slide out from under the jacket sleeve, to shake hands with her Tuner, her first partner.

[User]
Kazuko continued walking with Ryuuto to their dorm room. She still had her arms crossed as she walked so as to show her partner that she was not the type who likes to play around. Though, she wondered if she had come off as extremely rude but shrugged off the thought as there was plenty of time to amend that. She just wanted to get it over with quickly and get to her room so she could rest and prepare for the days to come.

"Your strength as a tuner will depend on our relationship, so it would be beneficial to take this time to learn a bit about each other. Let's start with school. What are your best subjects? Mine are Math and Science."

Kazuko frowned for a second before it disappeared returning to being expressionless. She hated it when people point out the obvious to her. Of course she knew her powers relied on her bond with receiver. She did not need any reminder at all. She had planned to have a long talk with Ryuuto after settling in at her room. The boy seem to have lost the awkwardness from before and Kazuko decided to just humour him a bit.

"...I do not really have a best subject. I just do my best in everything."

Hoping that satisfied him, Kazuko quickened her walking pace expecting the boy to keep up.

[Assistant]
Rozmonda blinked as an attention-grabbing sigh, well, got her attention. Looking down she noticed the short girl that was to be her partner, having slipped in through the crowd to find her without the red-head spotting her. It seemed her idea of herself being far easier to find than the other way around had been spot-on after all. When the young girl started talking and made the effort to crane her head back to look her in the eye, it made a good impression on the skeptical redhead.

"Lexie? Cute nickname." Rozmonda commented, taking the younger and smaller girl's offered hand in hers for a light and friendly handshake. "Only a few days? Well, you're rather lucky to get a partner that's been here awhile, I'd say."

Pulling her hand away, she crossed her arms lightly under her chest once more. Tilting her head to the side slightly, drumming her fingers across her upper arms in thought, she took a moment to give her new partner a once-over. Although assessing the short girl's sense of style and mannerisms, she was also mulling over the bit of concern about Aether. In truth, Rozmonda had never managed better than the most basic of connections with someone, so she was hardly well-versed in her own abilities either.

"You're even cuter than you are in the picture." She concluded with a small laugh, giving a nod of approval, and not showing any of the inner musings that were on her mind. Motioning for them to make their way to the exit, she continued their conversation as she led her young partner to their dorm. "How is America?"

---

Sora offered a polite, shallow bow to return the stiff greeting of her located and identified partner. It was only natural for someone in such a situation to be stiff and nervous, so she refrained from making any preliminary assessments of his personality. Well, beyond the fact that he appeared to be a well composed person that, for whatever reason, handled their introduction in a stiff manner. She was rather curious about it, now that it had come to mind, but she forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Motioning for them to leave and find their way to their dorms, she began to walk at a measured pace. With a slight incline of her head in his direction, she made an attempt at conversation by posing a question.

"Olivier de Plancy?" She repeated his name. "Are you from Europe, or simply of European descent? I would guess as to the specific region, but I'm afraid I'm not familiar enough with European name structure."

As she said that though, she was thinking over what little she did know about it. She outright doubted it was German, Spanish, or Russian, though that was based solely on names from those countries that she had read in books. For that matter she was fairly certain it wasn't Irish, since they used 'Mac' and 'O' prefixes attached to surnames. So she could narrow it down to perhaps Italy, Britain, France, and quite a few more as likely candidates.

Of course, it was also possible that he simply had a name native to a different country than the one he was from.

[User]
...
Was he... Serious?
Of all the topics to start with, he went with... Self-analysis?
And... Of all the things to say... 'hard yet soft'? Was he legitimately stupid? Or was that just how he was? She'd heard jokes about people like that, but this... It was mind-blowing. Mari knew he was trying to be amicable, but... That was just sad. Really. Nothing else? None of the regular 'what's your hobby?' or 'done anything interesting lately?'; heck, not even the really awkward 'how's the weather today?' was present. That miffed her; as for why, she herself wasn't quite sure.

"I... I'm not even going to dignify that with a response." Mari sighed, sighing and massaging her forehead with her right hand. "'Hard yet soft'? In what world does that convey any sort of meaning? Honestly..."

Maybe being confrontational like this wasn't for the best, but... She felt like it had to be done or she'd be tearing her hair out. They were going to have to live together for a long while, which meant dealing with issues as they came up and not putting them off for a later date.

[Assistant]
Even though Kazuko answered his question, everything about her seemed to be telling him to shut up. Her crossed arms, the tone of her voice, her expressionless face, all of it conveyed an utter disinterest in everything he had to say. With that response, Ryuuto just sighed and followed his partner quietly to the dorms. He didn't know why she was so resistant to making even the most basic conversation with him, but Ryuuto had given it an honest try. When it came time to explain why they couldn't get their synchronization rate over 2%, perhaps then she'd have something to say. Until then, if she didn't want to be bothered, she'd get no resistance from him.

When they arrived, Ryuuto opened their door without a word and brought his luggage in. He had planned to ask his partner, whoever they ended up being, if they wanted help with their luggage, but given Kazuko's cold responses to civility thus far, he imagined she'd just chastise him about touching her things. So, she could deal with her own luggage. The room seemed to be perfectly symmetrical, so Ryuuto arbitrarily claimed the left side as his by silently rolling his luggage over there and unpacking. He unpacked a few sets of clothes, but the majority of his time was spent unloading supplies into his desk. Pens, pencils, highlighters, post-it notes, a digital audio recorder, notebooks, countless reams of paper (graphing, lined, and blank), and books. Lots and lots of books. Most of them were non-fiction consisting of academic journals and books written by famous scientists and philosophers, but set aside in a separate pile was a small stack of mystery novels that would serve as his recreation for the year.

Ryuuto seemed to be in his own little world as he arranged his desk just the way he liked it, blissfully unaware of what his partner was doing. There may as well have been a thick iron curtain cutting him off from the rest of the world. He didn't even have time to register the awkwardness of sharing a room with a girl... but perhaps his mind would register that later.


[System]
Age: 29

Sex: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: A large bodied, muscular, rugged sort of man with short brown hair and brown eyes. His clothing is simple, sturdy, modest, and patched many times over. A working mans clothes.

Occupation: A woodcutter. More specifically, he travels deep into the wilderness around the town to find the best quality lighter wood for starting fires. He also hunts but that's mostly for sustenance and pleasure, not profit.

Skills: A good tracker and crack shit with a bow, he knows the forest around the town perhaps better than any man. Despite his size he can move very quietly. He can mend his own clothes, cook his own food, skin and clean his own game, and is a proficient whittler.

Powers: None

Inventory: His fathers axe, a old single headed war axe that he's very fond of.

History: Emil was carried into the village when he was just a babe on his fathers back. His father, Gwyn, was rumored to be a fighting man from up north and a deserter. He built a house on the edge of the village where Emil still lives to eek out a good living for his son. One day not long after the boy turned eighteen Gwyn set out into the woods to fetch dinner and never returned.

Point of Interest: The Sweet Scar, a mile long area deep in the middle of the forest where every single ancient tree has been knocked over as though a giant ran through and pushed them all down. Evey single one of them have fallen in the same direction, and their sap has flowed out and hardened them to the ground. The entire area still smells sickly sweet despite this having been here for ages.

[User]
@Xeronoia

When Emil asked her about the armor she blinked and was about to ask why he needed it, but thought better than to pry into others personal life. "Hmmm..well. It'd take roughly two days before I could get around to making your armor, a light platemail should do nicely...the Sentinels put in a big weapons order I gotta fill. Apparently they're going to be recruiting soon and need more weapons." She told him, shrugging. "I'm not sure why exactly they'd need so much stuff prepared buut...money is money, not one to question it too much."

When Aldis walked up she smiled and nodded in greeting, "Good morning." It wasn't soon after the Librarium exploded with multi-colored smoke pouring out of it, bringing slight pain to the elfs' sensitive ears. A chipsqueak ran by shortly after diving into her ore cart. Sighing Sarah gently picked the thing up, "There there, you're safe now." She told it, petting it and staring at the Librarium before turning back to Emil. "Anyway..explosions aside. Will that be alright?" She asked him.

[Assistant]
@Xeronoia
"Yeah, yeah." He replied as the smoke settled down over the town. "I'm in no great rush. Here." He pulled a small leatherbound notebook out of his back pocket, along with a small pencil, and extended them to her. "Just jot down however much ya' need and I'll swing round with the cart after the caravaners are finished with me."

"And what can I help you with, Mr. Marshall, on this lovely morning?" He asked, turning his attention to the sentinel. A trained ear can pick up a faint hint of anxiety as he quickly launches into a sales pitch. "Something to keep all those new recruits toasty in the training hall? Need starter for a monster hunting expedition? Or maybe you've got yourself a paramour, eh? Want something that'll sweeten the air for a romantic night?"

[User]
Cia had spent most of her morning tending to her farm. She spent a few extra hours working with one of her pigs. It had stopped eating for some reason and was trying to figure out how to get it to eat again. "Guess I'll have to eat you then..." Cia said to the pig to which she got a squeal in return. Cia already had a pig that was pregnant and she would have to sell a few pigs soon anyways. It wouldn't hurt to just put the thing out of it's misery. "I'll be getting back to you later then, I have work to do." Cia said to the pig before walking out and towards her cart. It currently had several boxes on it. It looked like she would need a horse to move it but thanks to Cia's unnatural strength it was no problem for her.

Once in town Cia got to work on selling a few of her boxes of assorted vegetables to the caravans. Almost all of them knew of her wonderful vegetables. Many of them had always asked what her secret to it was, but in truth it was rather simple one. She still wouldn't share it though but what she did tell them was that it was in the fertilizer and it had to do with cows.

After her rounds Cia started to get to work on her deliveries next. She came upon the dessert shop soon enough with a variety of her vegtables. She came in with two rather heavy looking boxes in her arms. "I have the vegetables you ordered." Cia said with a kind and sweet voice. Many people would consider her to be one of the nicest people in town due to her personality.

[Assistant]
@Gentlemanvaultboy

Aldis was about to return the greeting when the explosion happened. Immediate tension filled the Sentinel as he turned his attention to the plumes of oddly colored smoke pouring into the sky. After a moment he recognized the explosion as being from the Librarium, an unpleasantly common occurrence, and he relaxed his grip on the hilt of his sword. A small frown on his face, he let his gaze turn away after assuring himself that, as always, no real harm had been done.

Intent to return the greeting forgotten, he raised an amused eyebrow as Sarah comforted a stray chipsqueak. Instead he turned his attention back to the woodcutter, once more patiently waiting for him to conclude his business. He didn't have to wait long, as the jovial man soon launched into a sales pitch. The man spoke with only the smallest tone of unease, even someone as wary and alert as himself only barely noticing.

"A paramour? I'm hardly the type for such things, Mr. Mohsteady." The Sentinel chuckled, giving a wry shake of his head. His expression smoothed into a serious, although friendly, look. "No, I'm afraid I have little need for your wares at the moment. I wished to ask you if you'd given any thought to joining the sentinels yourself? A man such as you would do well among our ranks, even as a temporary member."

Protecting the town was a serious matter, and required diligence. Not to mention there was the risk of those who lacked character, attempting to use an overblown sense of new authority to their advantage. Then there was the actual danger of fending off monsters and bandits, among other things. Some recruits gave little thought to those risks, merely seeing it as a source of excitement and adventure without leaving home.

Aldis only vaguely knew Mohsteady, but it was well enough to assess the kind of person he was. He himself had seen the woodcutter staring at the Sentinel HQ with a conflicted look, and light gossip going around about if the woodcutter would join or not would have filled him in regardless. He wasn't simply offering the honeyed words of a recruiter when he said he thought the man would do well, and would be dissuading him instead if he thought otherwise.

[User]
@Shikaru

Emil makes a little choking sound in his throat at Aldis's question. He bring his hand up and rubs the back of his neck in embarrassment. Of course. Town this small, word was bound to get around about him loitering in front of the building. If he couldn't bring himself to go in he should at least have tried to be more inconspicuous.

"That's a, uh, that's a fine compliment you're paying me, and I been wanting to go in there for a while now, but..." he sighed and averted his eyes, looking down at the pile of wood in front of him. "Truth be told I'm a bloody coward. Probably get it from my Da. I mean, look," he says, looking up and gesturing to Sarah, "I get spooked on a hunt one day and go running to trouble our Blacksmith Lightbane over it. I'm going to hunt rabbits decked out like I'm off to war." He slap his knee and lets out a hearty laugh at this. "Honestly, though, thank ya. But at this point I'm barely a match for the forest trees."

Then his face suddenly hardened, and he looks the Sentinel square in the eye. His tone, however, doesn't change at all. "They'll damn near kill ya given half the chance."

[Assistant]
Watching the display and introduction of these pretty desserts with wide-eyed fascination, though part of him worried that the magic levitating the treats would end up exploding into his face, they all seemed to settling down on their tray just fine. Rubbing his soft lips yet again, he looked over at Kotoe by the counter, eyes widening at her condition. Ah, right, she was the one who ran the librarium, possibly the one who caused the explosion, "Good morning. Getting cleaned up...?" With a rather worried expression on his face, Roosevelt nodded in great approval at the tag handed over, "Ah, yes, the Selkie tub sounds about right? And, Lemon Salts? I'm more a fan of the Verbena or Lavender salts, myself...smells divine, and your skin feels, well..." Smile all charms at the dessert chef, then witch, his eyes went back down to the desserts after a moment, tilting his head in consideration.

Still, he was unable to decide which treat to choose...froggy-apple was, well, froggy-apple. There was uncertainty about choosing an item that was accidentally made off recipe, even if it was just one carrot...the turtle pie looked good, but chocolate was often sweet. Maybe just...maybe just the never-melt ice cream.

Looking up at the dessert chef again, long finger pointed at the crysta--"Ah? Sir, your arm is..." Finger moving up to point at the red, for a moment the mind said strawberry sauce, but then logic said blood. Pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket with his free hand, a white silk with cream roses embroidered upon it, Roosevelt held it out with a much more somber expression, "Your arm is bleeding. I certainly hope none of this got into the desserts, that not..."

[User]
@Xeronoia

Sarah nodded and took the book, balancing the chipsquek on her shoulder and wrote a amount she figured would be enough before holding the notebook back out to Emil, chuckling lowly at his sales pitch. "Covering for every possible angle, huh Emil?" She told him, grinning softly. "Here you go, I think this should be enough."

When Aldis spoke of recruiting Emil she nodded to herself, So I was right, they are trying to recruit more people. she thought. She listened silently to the two as they spoke, a smirk stretching across her face as Emil went on about his hunting dilema. "Those rabbits must be the size of cows Emil, however do you hunt them?" She asked, giggling softly. "I'm kidding, don't worry."

[Assistant]
@Shikaru

"I don't doubt it." Aldis chuckled in agreement to the warning regarding the trees, and found himself cracking a smirk at the blacksmith's joke about the size of the rabbits.

The woodcutter's concerns out in the open, the armored man let his friendly expression shift to a thoughtfully stoic one. A hand found it's way to his bearded chin, staying that way for a few silent moments. Having brought his thoughts together, he brought his hand back down and posed a question.

"Do you think me, or any of the other sentinels, fearless? Only the most foolish among us could honestly claim not to be." Aldis kept his gaze firmly locked with Emil's, his tone earnest and clear. "There are a great many things I fear, Mr. Mohsteady. That fear fuels my vigilant service, and I speak truly when I say were I not the fearful sort I would have settled during the extensive peace we have come to enjoy."

Having said his piece, his expression relaxed into a friendly one once more. He gave a nod of farewell to the blacksmith, turning away to resume his side-tracked trip back to Sentinel HQ. After a few steps he paused, offering a few final words.

"If you should ever tire of fending off trees and over-sized rabbits, The Sentinels will welcome you with open arms."

[User] "If I ever get the nerve, I'll be there." he called, waving as the Sentinel strolled away. When he was sure the man was out of earshot he let out the breath he didn't even know he'd been holding, then took the notebook back from Sarah. "There ain't a bloke in the village who wouldn't feel the lesser man standing next to him." He said in admiration. Then he flipped open the notebook, made a face, then quickly brushed it off. "Guess that's what I get for asking this during a busy week. I'll get it to ya though, if the rabbits don't get me first," he said with a smile.


[System]
Age: 18, going on 19. Born October 10th.

Race: Human

Appearance: Standing at about 5'5", Victoria has dyed raven-black hair and pale blue eyes. She is fairly lean, but by no means muscular.

Ability: She can see past the human guises of most supernatural beings and see them for what they really are.

Personality: She is quiet and timid, and rarely looks at people. She was once thought to have some form of autism, but she simply doesn't want to look at anyone for fear of seeing something inhuman and giving herself away.

Bio: Victoria's parents were murdered when she was young, so she grew up with her Aunt Cass and Uncle Frank (adopting their last name), who are against living with supernaturals. Soon after, she found that she had the ability to see supernatural beings for what they were, which often got her in trouble, from supernatural and human alike. So, as she grew older, she began to hide the ability as well as she could, claiming that she grew out of it. Yet, it only continues to grow stronger, letting her see beyond more and more human façades. She has been accepted at one of the local colleges, dreading the first day and fearing that any of her professors--or worse, roommates--would turn out to be a supernatural. But, one of her few friends would be attending the same college, and he, at least, she was sure wasn't supernatural…

[User]
Alex chuckled. 'Well if you ever need a break from your dorm, you can come and visit me. I have an apartment just off campus. The joys of inheritance.' He smirked. His wealth was really what he had accumulated throughout his rather elongated life, but to explain his situation he had convinced Victoria that he had inheritance from his parents, who, he had told her, had died in a car accident only a year before he had met her. He had told her he was living with his aunt and uncle, but of course he couldn't introduce fictional people, and so always made excuses for her not to come to his home, or made excuses when she did about them working away or some such lies.
He followed her gaze around the room. He had known, when they had walked in, that the people in here were human, but Victoria evidently wasn't. He made a mental note that her power still wasn't fully developed and tucked it away in the mental file he kept of information he had learned about her.
The only problem, was that somewhere deep within him, he could feel something was going to happen. Something terrible. He knew something was coming. A storm was brewing, and he had no idea what kind.

[Assistant]
"Yeah, yeah." Victoria rolled her eyes playfully at the reminder. "Okay, Mr. Inheritance."
 One of the things she admired about him was that he never acted like those pompous rich people she heard about or saw on television, or gone crazy when it was signed over to him when he came of age. But then, the reason of the inheritance was sobering in and of itself. Though the faces of her own parents were scarcely more than pictures on the wall and the blurry memories of a five-year-old, his memories, she thought, were surely far more vivid. More recent.
 She glanced out the window, and subconsciously reached up to finger the vial pendant hanging around her neck, a necklace that had belonged to her mother. She almost never took it off. A miniature rose rested in the upside-down teardrop suspended by an ornate metal stopper.
 Her gaze went back to Alex and she gave him a warm, sincere smile. "Seriously, though. Thanks. I'd love to see your place sometime."

[User]
Alex chuckled. 'Do you really think that was me showing off?' He shook his head.
Alex would always downplay his wealth. He never wanted to overstep the mark. Having anything too expensive would be enough to question it. The story about his parents death and his inheritance covered 2 bases. How he got his money, and where his family were. He could hide behind the lies, and no one would question it too much. Anyone of his perceived age was generally to self-centered to probe much into his history, or too scared of bringing up bad memories, or offending him. People tended not to ask too many questions of him, for whatever reason they may have, anyway. He liked it that way.
Alex eyed the pendant that Victoria had subconsciously touched. She seemed to have a habit of doing that whenever the subject of his parents or the inheritance they had left came up. Part of him felt bad that he had picked that lie, after he had learned of Victoria's past, but of course, it was far too late to backpedal by that point.
Unfortunately, immortality did have it's drawbacks. Alex had seen a lot of death in his time. So many lives lost to disease, war, murder and, most of all, time. It was not something that could be stopped or cheated, he knew that, but when you lived as long as he did, you craved someone to share it with. That was why he made friends with Victoria. A sort of companion. Of course he knew it was only temporary. He would have to somehow leave when she began to notice his true nature, perhaps it would be his lack of aging that would spark her interest, or it could be that her power kicks in before then, but either way, eventually, he would have to take his leave.

[Assistant]
Realizing she fidgeted with the pendant, Victoria let it fall back to her neck. Her brows rose at his question. "I don't think it's even possible to truthfully use your name in the same sentence as 'showing off.'" She adjusted in her seat and took another swig of her latte, trying to think of a time, any time, she had seen him be a showoff. She came up empty, and her lips quirked at the thought.

She glanced back out the window, where the deluge slowly begun to diminish. Her mind wandered beneath the rhythmic sound of the rain tapping the glass, treading again to the question and worry of who her still absent roommate was, and to the few things she still had left to get in order back in her dorm before classes the following morning.

Victoria reached into her purse to check the time on her phone. Though she did not want the evening with Alex to be over so soon, she knew she needed to return. She sighed sadly as the screen faded to black, then replaced it in her purse.

"I should probably be getting back." Her voice sounded more downcast than she had intended. Things to do, people to avoid, she added to herself.

[User]
Alex smirked. 'What about "Alex has never been showing off as far as I am aware?"' He downed the last of his coffee and looked out of the window. The rain seemed to be slowing, and he wondered if they should take their leave while it was quieter.
Alex turned to Victoria as she spoke. 'Just what I was thinking.' He agreed. 'I have a few things to arrange before things start up again tomorrow.' He smiled, though there was a ghost of sadness just behind it. He tried not to let his loneliness show, but sometimes it slipped through the cracks.
Luckily, his worry was not bleeding through. He could feel a storm on the horizon, and it had nothing to do with the weather. Something huge, dramatic and very chaotic was going to happen. He could feel destruction in the air, reverbing back to him. He didn't want to think what it could be, but part of him thought he knew. Something was familiar, and if it was, he would need to be involved. If nothing else, he would need to protect Victoria... Somehow.

[Assistant]
Victoria returned his smile. She stood, the legs of her chair sliding noisily over the floor as it pushed back. She swirled the remainder of her latte in the cup, trying to gauge how much still remained inside, and whether or not it would last the walk home.
 Back to campus, she corrected herself dismally.
 Her aunt and uncle's small, quaint home--though it wasn't much and felt fairly crowded with just them, her thirteen-year-old cousin, Tristan, and her--suddenly felt far less crowded than where she planned on returning to. The place where, besides Alex and the library, there was little to be found familiar or comforting.
 "Want to meet up for lunch tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, already half-expecting his usual affirmation. "Same place we met up today?" She grabbed her purse, slung it over her shoulder, and took a slight step toward the exit.

[User]
Alex nodded. 'Do I ever say no?' He winked and stood up from his own chair, walking around and it moving it back in place, tucked under the table. 'Want me to walk you back to campus?' He asked. Of course he would offer, he was a gentleman. He knew times were different from when he was a young man, but he couldn't shake the gentlemanly nature that had been instilled in him as a boy. He had always been taught to pay for any date he may have, to always walk a lady back to her home. Of course now he knew that the main reason behind walking a lady home, to protect her, wasn't necessarily needed, as a lot of females could probably outrun, or even defend themselves against, a lot of attackers.
But what if she runs into a vampire?
That was the question that was always in the back of his mind when he offered to walk her home.

[Assistant]
Victoria smiled when Alex winked at her. "No, but it's always polite to ask. I mean, maybe one of these times you'll already have other plans." She watched him push his chair back into place, which reminded her to do the same.
 She moved to stand beside him as he spoke again. "Yeah, that'd be great. I think I can remember the way back, but it's better safe than sorry."
 Besides, she always felt far more comfortable with him by her side. Safe, even. Though the sun had yet to set and the usual unofficial curfew had not come around, the thick clouds cast an eerie grayness over the city, the kind that often bought night sooner than normal. Though she had never said it aloud and did everything she could to hide the fact from everyone--even Alex--she had had a fear of the dark for as long as she could remember. Perhaps, she had long since reasoned, it was because she knew what lurked in the shadows of society.
 She went to the door and opened it. "Ready?"

[User]
Alex chuckled. 'I never have other plans. I hate people, remember?' It wasn't strictly true, but he was a little anti-social. Over the years he had realised that the only people worth knowing were those you couldn't resist. The pain caused by the loss of a loved one was worth nothing less than those who made immortal life worth living. He lived for people like Victoria, who would make him feel alive again.
He smiled at her. 'Your sense of direction is not what worries me. I know what people our age are capable of.'
He followed her to the door and gripped the edge, gesturing toward it. 'Ladies first.' He knew that his gentlemanly ways didn't fit into the time period, but he couldn't resist it. He had the undying urge to want to make people feel special, important even. He knew, especially in recent years, that lots of young women worried about how they were perceived.
He would never admit, even to himself, that he could love anyone. Love was too dangerous. Too close. Too morbid when it ended. So relationships were not something he would pursue, or open himself up too, but he did prefer the company of young women, to that of young men. The problem was in the minds of modern men. They were uncultured, ridiculous and somewhat dull. He preferred a good woman, a lady who could not only accept your friendship for what it was, but also provide a stimulating conversation.
Modern men and neanderthals had too much in common, in his opinion.

[Assistant]
Victoria frowned at the reminder of the extra threat of her own race. As if just the supernaturals running around were not enough. Sometimes, she wondered how many of the attacks attributed to the supernaturals were, in fact, fabrications of cunning criminals, and vice versa.
 Her frown turned to a smile when Alex gripped the door's edge. She ducked under his arm, then faced him.
 "Why, thank you, kind sir." She gave a rather clumsy curtsy, lifting the skirts of an invisible dress. She straightened, then exited the café.
 The crisp scent of rain saturated the air, overpowering many of the foul city scents. The slick streets and sidewalks glistened in the light shining through windows and the little remaining sun filtering through the cloud-cover.
 Victoria stepped to the side of the doorway and looked back, the rain drumming against her. She watched Alex for a moment, thankful for the millionth time for the friendship they shared. Lately, she had felt herself crushing on him. She hated the feelings. Victoria valued the relationship she and Alex already had too much to even imagine it being more. The last thing she wanted was to risk pushing him away. She had already lost far too many friendships in her lifetime before she had simply stopped trying, and this was one she wanted desperately to keep.

[User]
Alex chuckled at the curtsy, but it saddened him that his behaviour wasn't considered the norm anymore. The fact that it warranted such a reply was a rather saddening fact.
He inhaled deeply as the scent of petrichor filled the air. He loved the fresh scent of a storm.
He followed Victoria outside and was instantly soaked again. He had dried a little in the cafe, but within seconds his hair was soaked and his clothes were beginning to stick to his skin. He looked at Victoria, catching her watching him. He smiled to himself a little before they began walking. He liked Victoria, and he sometimes felt himself feeling something similar to romantic feelings for her, but he wouldn't let those take hold. He was a vampire, of course he couldn't date her. Especially considering that, one day, she'd find out his secret. And, of course, even if she didn't, he would have to leave before she noticed he wasn't aging.

[Assistant]
Victoria walked slightly behind Alex. She inhaled the fresh, crisp scent of the rain as a few droplets slid down her scalp. She reached back and messed with her hair, trying to dispel the unnerving tingling sensation the water left in its wake.
 The rain slowly began to let up as they neared the school. She was torn between relief and disappointment at being capable of getting out of the rain. As tired as she was of her wet clothes, it meant her evening out with Alex would soon come to a close.
 Sooner than she would have liked, they reached the back of one of the girl's dorm buildings.
 "This is it, I think." She dug her keycard out of her purse. She went up to the door where a pad waited on the brick wall, a little red light shining at its top. She quickly swiped her card over it, and the light turned green as a metallic click sounded in the door. Victoria opened the door, looked back at Alex, and smiled thankfully. "Thanks for showing me around. I'll see you tomorrow."


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 21

Career/Class: Courtesan/Duelist

Physical Description: Camilla is a medium sized woman around 5'5. She possess the slightly bronzed skin, angular features and dark hair common among Tileans. She has the smooth clean lines of a classical statue and the lean musculature of a dancer. Every part of her seems artfully contrived, as though she stepped from the canvas of a master painter. Camilla moves with deliberate grace which is appropriate to her profession.

Mental Description/Personality: Camilla is a fiery impetuous young woman. As a child she was selected from among orphan's for her physical beauty and raised to fill the role of Courtesan in the decadent courts of her native Tilea. Among her studies were poetry, dance, repartee, song, politics, literature, art and sword play.

Camilla is out of place in rough and dangerous situations, and although naturally adventurous and curious about the world she is no heroine. She has a fiery temper and has a tendency to act rather than to wait if given the chance. While technically trained with the sword, Camilla's education is that of the stylized art of the sword rather than the rough and brutal style of real combat, while she is perfectly comfortable fighting a duel to the tough for the entertainment of a crowd, she had little experience with real killing.

Camilla has a passing devotion to Randald and Shyalla, although she tends to focus on the world in front of her rather than the world beyond.

[User]
Emmaline lifted her face from Amal's lap as the rug settled onto the grassy hillside. Sir Brenly hopped from the carpet with evident relief, nearly tripping in the ankle length grass of the stony hillside. Emmaline stepped off somewhat more gracefully as the rug settled to the ground in what they had come to recognize as exhaustion. The elegant decant was somewhat spoiled by the assemblage of small twigs and leaves that had tangled in her hair and the sudden gust of wind that momentarily lifted the tails of her stolen silk shirt up around her waist. Fortunately Sir Brenly was still scanning the nearby treeline for any sign of imminent giant attack, a reasonable concern as far Emmaline was concerned.

"Do you have any idea where we are Sir Brenly?" Emmaline asked as Amal rolled up the carpet. The knight turned and started to see that Emmaline was holding her staff in her hand.

"Where in the name of the Lady were you hiding that?" the knight demanded incredulously, having spent the past several hours watching her unconscious body. Emmaline shrugged uncomfortably, explaining about her strange connection with a foreign Goddess and the staff she had found in forgotten shrine in the Arabyian desert, especially when she didn't understand it herself. Sir Brenly regarded her for a moment then seemed to put it down to yet another oddity with the two foreigners. Like most inhabitants of the Old World the Knight had exaggerated ideas about the capabilities of wizards. Emmaline had learned early on in her career of scamming the gullible that almost no claim was so outlandish as to be completely dismissed.

"I'm afraid I do know My Lady," the knight said with an axious glance back at the trees.

"I'm old enough to remember the last Errantry War, and unless I am very much mistaken..." the knight paused and sighed mournfully.

"Unless I am very much mistaken, we are in Albion."

[Assistant]
"Albion?..." Amal echoed, clearly at a loss as to what land that was. Never having formal education would do that to someone. Luckily for the moment the rain had subsided, but Amal had a feeling it would come back momentarily. Hopefully the Giant didn't follow in its wake. That thing had been as large as the statues overlooking the Pyramid of Settra the Imperishable. Amal had seen an Ogre once or twice on the market-coasts of Araby, not to mention the one they had stumbled upon when he had first met Emmaline, and those brutes likely reached only that thing's knee!

"It's an island," Emmaline explained once she regained her composure. The confirmation of where they were had shocked her for a brief moment. "Large enough to be a small country, off the coast of the Empire. I think it's below Norsca though?"

"Close enough, my lady." Sir Brenly said, stalking over to them. He stepped lightly for one so stout and old. Satisfied the giant wouldn't return, he seemed now afraid of ghosts or an imagined threat looming all around them. "Tis a land of savage men and Orcs, and a haunt of...well giants. There might be more giants here than even the Drakwald, I dare say!"

"The what?" Amal asked incredulously. "I am sorry, but your northern lands are very strange and foreign to me. Lustria was more homey than here."

"The Drakwald is a big forest. I had the privilege of escorting the Queen to Middenhiem on a diplomatic mission in my youth." He explained, blushing slightly at what must have been a good memory. Their small reverie was interrupted by a sound of stamping hooves not a dozen meters away, the sound having been muted from the boggy, moist earth. A horse whinnied loudly and four horsemen made it over a crest of land past the nearest copse of trees.

The men looked savage, but there was intelligence in their eyes. Despite the cold they had bare torsos save for wolfskin pelts that clung to their heads and backs. Odd tattoos in blue marked their face, arms, and chest, and the tattoos danced rhythmically as the horses trotted. They each bore spears and shields, with leaf shaped broadswords sheathed at their sides. One of the men cried "Airm réidh!" and the spears were leveled at the three foreigners. Luckily the carpet had rolled itself up onto the ground.

"Och! Who the bloody 'ell are you and wha' are ye doin' 'ere?"

[User]
Emmaline exchanged glances with Amal as the savage looking horsemen approached. The craftsmen ship on their weapons and saddlery was crude but looked effective. The fact the men spoke Riekspiel in addition to what was apparently their native dialect meant they must have come into contact with the men of the Empire at some point and that buoyed Emmaline's spirits considerably.

"We were ship wrecked," Emmaline called to them, I am Emmaline and these are my friends Amal and ... Brenly," she said, omitting his knighthood after a slight hesitation. She didn't know what an Errantry War was, but if Brettonian's were enemies of these people there was little point in drawing attention to it.

"Shipwrecked? How did you climb the cliffs?" the leader asked suspicously.

"We came ashore..." Emmaline made a vauge guesture but all directions were essentially the same with the fog and the trees.

"That way somewhere? We wandered after that, we don't have any notion of where we are," she explained. The leader said something in his own language and his companions roared with laughter. Though she couldn't understand the jest Emmaline's face colored slightly.

"You will come with us, you will be in a giants belly before morning if you are out here when the sun goes down," the leader pronounced patting his horse. Emmaline exchanged looks with her companions and then climbed up into the saddle, sitting forward of the leader so she could grip the horses neck with her arms. Her companions did the same with the other horsemen and a moment later they were cantering off the grassland and onto a well worn trail into the woods.

"Best to be behind warding stones before the sun goes down," the leader said, seemingly watching in all directions as they rode.

[Assistant]
The three of them were escorted northeast out of the forest bog and passed a land of fens, finding ground along encroaching low hills where rocks dotted the ground ubiquitously. Amal was so used to sand, it was difficult for him to tell one green from another, but after a long time of riding he found to his susprise they were on a beaten trail leading up into the hills, where another wooded area grew. Across their path they passed a cairn of piled stones, with a strange magical symbol writ in blood on its face.

"Are those the waystones?" Brenly asked, on his haunches at the sight of it.

"Noo, these are th' restin' places of oor dead." The lead woad raider answered. "The waystones are no' close to ar village, but we live behind the line of one. I cannae tell ye moor. Ahm no' supposed tae know such things. The truthsayers are the ones we speak tae."

A fog had fallen over them once more and behind them Amal could hear rain, but it soon disappeared to his relief. It didn't seem to be chasing them, or it seemed to have been but gave up once they passed the cairns. The thought was not pleasing to him, as if the very rain had a mind of its own. He still felt some relief, as he couldn't handle such cold much longer. He couldn't understand how these men, if they truly were men, could ride upon a horse shirtless among such chill and wet.

A palisade wall of well carved timber rose before them over the next rise, the fog giving way to reveal the large village that lay across a rough, green plateau amid the rolling landscape. Gnarled trees clung together in copses without and within the wall and a small moat had been dug around the entire perimeter save the entrance walkway. The lead rider barked a command in his tongue, raising his spear and the two large timber doors swung open for the scouts.

"If the stones keep giants out, why do you build walls?" Amal asked. It was a sensible question but truthfully he never did like being enclosed in anywhere.

"They keep th' giants oot aye. But no' the greenskins, or other clans fer tha' matter, ye ken?" The horseman in front of him said.

The group cantered into the rustic village, an utterly alien place to Amal but something somewhat like what Emmaline might have seen before in poor Imperial villages. Children played or clung to their mother's skirts as the women walked along with baskets on their heads filled with fruit or vegetables. Some women chatted among themselves and their husbands or brothers chopped wood or fixed roofs that looked in disrepair. Looking further, it did differ from the Empire manner in a plethora of ways. Various stones were dotted about, and they along with the sides of homes had weird symbols of nature and trees, entwined in a way where Amal couldn't tell where the symbol began or ended. Very few homes were made of timber in any fashion that resembled your average house. Most homes were low huts of stone, their roofs skinned branches and hay and clay mixed together. Warriors similar to the horsemen watched them warily, armed with stone clubs and spears with heads of brittle iron.

The villagers watched with open curiosity and some didn't hide their distrust. Amal had never seen so many pale people. Perhaps that was what happened when there was little to no sun, or maybe it was because of how wet the land was. Either way, they seemed even more fascinated with him. He hoped they didn't see his skin as a sorcerous sign of corruption. A few women of red and blonde hair boldly admired him, smiling slyly and smoothing their wool skirts.

A flap was shoved away from a hut across the center of town and out strode a large man, red bearded and adorned with a strange skirt-robe of red, green, and brown colors. Behind his back, a massive axe was strapped to him. He had a bulbous nose that grew even wider when he scrutinized the newcomers, who had just dismounted with the riders.

"Laird Mcdougal..." A rider said.

"Who 'ave ye brought 'ere Douglas? Ye do remember we're in the midst of a bloody invasion, aye!?"

[User]
"Who'd bloody heel are yae?" the pugnacious looking man, apparent Laird McDougal, demanded without waiting for his underling to answer. He was a well muscled man, ruddy and vital looking despite the fact he looked to be in his forties.

"We were shipwrecked," Emmaline explained and McDougal's head swiveld to her, clearly surprised that she had spoken.

"Ah lassie among ye too I see," he said, giving her a deliberate glance up and down. Though he was clearly noting her sex, it seemed more like the kind of glance a herdsman gives a promising looking cow.

"M'perial's by the sound of ya," he noted. Emmaline decided that exact geographic distinctions were unimportant and nodded.

"Yes I'm from Altdorf," she said, nodding her had.

"Whaeva the bloody heel that is," McDougal grumped. He made a dismissive gesture with his hand and the riders melted away to their own business, some dismounting and leading their horses into low stables built as lean-tos against the side of their rude houses.

"I take it from the fact that you speak Reikspiel that you have met other Imperials, is there somewhere we can find a ship?" she asked hopefully. Emmalne had heard only vague rumors of Albion, and what little she had heard was both lurid and unpleasant.

"Oh aye, they show up every year to cheat us with trinkets and baubles," McDougal said. He sounded disgusted, but Emmaline was forming the opinion that he always sounded disgusted.

"They maeke good steel I gran ya," he conceded, patting the battle axe slung over his shoulder. Even an indifferent alchemist like Emmaline could tell that the axe was not made of good steel. It was little more than pig iron with far too much coke added, brittle and likely to shatter. No soldier of the Empire would be comfortable with such a shoddy weapon but there seemed little reason to contradict the man and it was likely far better than anything locally produced.

"So we could find a ship?" Emmaline pressed. McDougal shook his head and a calculating look and sly smile seemed to cross his face for an instant before it returned to its normal scowl of disapproval.

"Nay lassie, the fancy men dinae show themselves till the season turns, and any ships will be scared off by the greenskin invasion fleet dinna you ken."


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Cyrdic had missed Camilla's gaze, but there was no way he could miss the bottle. She'd thrust it into his face just when he donned the cloak. He blinked, and grabbed it. He'd never had the money for Tilean wine, so why not try it? The rugged soldier took a swig, and the drink caressed his taste buds with what he perceived to be the far off land his companion hailed from. "Tasty," he admitted. "Not as strong as I'm used to. But I'll say this much." He smiled. "I can't imagine something better for barge travel."

The next day or so was relaxing. It was almost unnerving to him, having been traveling the countryside to fight for the Baron of Ostland, and then surviving both his escape of said Baron, and the middle mountains. It seemed a bit too easy for him the first day. Though as the second dragged on, he began to feel himself relax. If only he and Camilla could speak to each other without feigning identities, it would have been 'lovely.' A word as foreign to him as Araby.

He'd just finished a meal on the 2nd day when the excitement happened, and he was nearly yanked off the Barge from the sudden stop. "That's more like it," he muttered sarcastically. It was one thing after another, he guessed. Still, he'd be lying if he said he wasn't made for this kind of life. His muscled arms had gripped the side railing, holding him in place for the most part as the barge had jerked.

The barge halted and drifted in a short spin, drifting close enough to the huge wall of flame that Cyrdic could feel the heat from it. "Ulfric's beard, Captain!" he called to Schmitt, the man barking orders now turning to Cyrdic. "We need to send some dingies out to help them!"

Schmitt halted for a moment, but only a moment. "Good man, Reiner. My men are beholden elsewhere, but if you find a few willing, Grab a few of the lads and head out there to help! You're on your own until I can secure the ship to shore."

[Assistant]
Camilla climbed into the launch with Cydric and a few of the younger sailors, more because she didn't care to separated from her Imperial companion than a desire to risk her life on the fireshot river. The dark waters parted as they shoved off towards the wrecks, sluicing down the sides of the launch in a smooth clean wake.

They encountered bodies almost immediately. The dead floated in the water, Camilla was no physic but she judged they hadn't been dead long. Leaning close she held out the glass cased lantern she had bought from the Pride.

"Reiner, arrows," she exclaimed, pointing at one of the corpses floating passed. Several long shafted arrows protruded from the corpse. She could imagine trails of blood seeping from the wicked points, lost in the darkness. It had been too much to hope for that it had been some sort of natural disaster. Her skin suddenly crawled imagining bow men concealed in the thickets by the shore. And here she was holding a lantern and everything, she tried to think unobtrusive thoughts.

"There is a live one!" someone shouted and the boat lurched sideways. Two of the deckhands reached over the side and yanked a weakly struggling man into the boat. The fellow had an arrow in his arm pinning it to his leather jerkin like a grotesque doll.

"Praise be to the Fisher King," the man gasped, his pale flesh trembling with cold and weakness. He hacked noisily, spattering a sailor with a fine mist of blood.

"The brigands didn't get through!"

[User]
The man coughed up water mixed with blood, eyes glazed from the loss of so much bodily fluid. One of the sailors kept him upright by Cyrdic's request, and the soldier bent down to examine the wound. He was no physician, but he'd seen arrow wounds before. "Hold still, man." Cyrdic told him. "We'll get you back to the boat."

With that, he ordered the younger sailors to row back, and he told Camilla to keep a lookout for any other live ones as they returned to the Imperial Pride. Cyrdic lifted the man over his shoulder to hand to the sailors aboard. He knew if they could clean the wound and keep him from losing too much blood, he'd live. "Hold..." the injured man croaked weakly. Cyrdic and the sailors halted for a moment. "Pirates ahead...hit us from the trees...and the water. Thought they were a merchant ship...My Brumhilda...where is she?"

He passed out as they carried him below decks. Cyrdic reached down to grip Camilla's hand, helping her onto the deck just as they were making landfall on the southern side of the Talabec. He patted her shoulder somberly.

"Sigmar's fucking hammer," Schmitt said. "Make all of the precautions you can, and brigands will not only ruin the trip, but slaughter good imperial men and women."

The Dwarf cook muttered something in Khazalid, his burly arms crossed as he watched the scene before them. His brown beard was intricately braided, his hair long at the back. "The ship needs some repairs anyway, Cap'n. Nothing too much, but she's long overdue for some basic look overs. That and the sudden stop unhooked a few of the finer linings."

"We'll need men to clear out the blockade, Cap'n," a sailor said from atop the main mast.

"And we won't go no further unless we're sure'n its safe, right Cap'n?" another said.

"I'm not Sigmar man! Give me a minute to think here..."

[Assistant]
Camilla nervously watched the darkness as Scmidtt yelled for the sailing master. The two men put their heads together and began an intense conversation with a great deal of hand gestures. The pale survivor was ranting something low and unintelligible about fish, clearly delirious.

As the sailors communed one of the passengers stomped up from below. He was a big man, heavily muscled and with a great black mustache. Thus far he had kept more or less to himself, although the rumor had it he was from Kislev. Camilla was uncertain as to wear or what Kislev was, but she had a vague impression it was north of the Empire, if such a thing were possible.

The man was wearing a tightly fitted leather jerkin and carried a vicious looking sword with a slight curve. On his back was a quiver of arrows and a small recurve bow of some sort of polished animal horn. A leather buckler hung from his arm, almost comically small for such a large man. He lost no time in locating Cydric.

"Hou! Imparial, whats say we go ashore and teach these dog fuckers what what!" his accent was thick with to many z's and drawn out consonants. The man turned and spread his bear like arms wide to the shore.

"Hou hear that dog fuckers! Ivan Petrovich is coming. Better get bak to mammy hey!" he roared, clashing his weapon and buckler together in challenge. The man proceeded to thrust his crotch in a lewed gesture, roaring with a belly laugh that shook timbers.

The whole crew fell into stunned silence at once, except the sailing master.

"Channel close to the north bank, we would be out of bow shot of the south if we could break through somehow."

[User]
An hour later, Cyrdic, Camilla, Ivan, and three Sailors who had claimed combat experience had hopped on two of the dingies and sailed to the northern shore of the Talabec. The Dwarf Cook had joined them, wielding a cleaver and a Dwarf shield he must have kept in his own quarters. He introduced himself as Skaldi Forgehammer. The eight unlikely companions had taken two small dingies, the boats having been dragged back across to the Imperial Pride via ropes having been attached to them.

The forest was thick and heavy, and if Cyrdic had to guess, they were within the lower reaches of the Drakwald. Maybe not as life-risking as traveling further in, but a dangerous place to be. He'd only been near the upper reaches once, but the stories of the monsters he'd heard made his experiences with the Norscans seem tame. Bullmen made of cast iron, Chimeras, Dragons, not to mention Orcs and Beastmen.

He suddenly felt as if he should have taken his bastard sword. Somehow, he felt it would have protected him from the more otherworldly beasts. Still, he'd never met something he and his broadsword had not gotten the better of so far, and into the dark they traveled. Cyrdic made sure to never go too fast, keeping Camilla close so he could protect her. Not that she was harmless, by any means.

Skaldi trudged through the thickets as inexorable as a bull, chopping clean through any roots that dared tried to impeded his feet. He seemed tireless. Ivan strode as far ahead as he dared, the big man's short legs surprisingly nimble, though he had a rolling gait as if he was so used to riding horses, that walking on flat ground was unfamiliar territory.

[Assistant]
Camilla wondered if the risk of being roasted alive had really been that great. Certainly it didn't seem like it worsened her odds of survival. Skaldi, if you could believe that was his name, made enough noise for an entire regiment, making even Ivan seem stealthy. The sailors that had come ashore with them looked to be having the same doubts.

"Careful, I'm not sure they heard you in Sartosa," she muttered, loosening her rapier in its scabbard. The glittering hilt had been carefully wrapped in leather strips to conceal its value and she was grateful that it also served the purpose of making her less conspicuous. Ivan Petrovich let out a booming laugh.

"Worry not little dove! No harm will come to you while Ivan Petrovich lives!" Little dove? Camilla cast a side long at the Kislivite.

"That will be a great comfort to me for about ten seconds, you know, before you are riddled with crossbow bolts or whatever." The big Kislivite laughed uproariously, as the the quip were the funniest thing he had ever heard. Camilla shared a helpless glance with Cydric.

They had gone maybe half a mile, pushing their way through dense undergrowth towards the growing light of the burning ships, when Skaldi suddenly shouted something in his grating alien tongue and dropped to the ground. Whatever the word was Petrovich instantly dropped to the dirt. One of the sailors staggered back clutching at his belly and there was a sound like the hissing of snakes. Beside Camilla a crossbow bolt buried itself to the fletching in a tree beside her.

Without further preamble a score of men burst from a slight gully. It was difficult to see in the wan light of distant fires, but she could make out men casting aside crossbows and drawing steel. They seemed to be dressed in a motley patchwork of armor and rags, though all carried clean steel weapons. There was a snapping flash as one of them fired a pistol, Camilla didn't see anyone go down. The men charged forth with undulating screams, clearly believing that they would overwhelm the small party in short order.

[User]
A score of men was not good odds for them, Cyrdic thought darkly. But he'd be damned if he ran from common Brigands. Ivan roared like some great bear, and leaped into the fray like a whirling madman. Skaldi charged in like some short, ugly bull, shield leading. He must have broken two men's legs just by his bullrush. If one looked closely, you could see the cleaver hacking up and down within the mob of men.

Cyrdic had carefully aimed his pistol, and fire into the heart of them as they'd rushed the lesser group, scoring a kill. He was no marksmen, but he was good under pressure. With that, and cried out "For the Empire!" which, in hindsight, was a bit odd considering the Empire wished him imprisoned or dead. The muscled Ostlander cut unto the small line of brigands that had their attentions elsewhere, before engaging in smaller duels, blocking with his shield and splitting stomach and skulls when the opportunity presented itself. It left the flanks wide open for Camilla and the other two Sailors.

To the would-be murderer's dismay, the group did not seem to be going down quite so easily as they had hoped. A few of the men in the back began backpedalling, which left the men at the front that much thinner in numbers. Cyrdic knew a route when he saw one, and cried out a premature roar of victory as he hamstrung one of the fleeing pirates. His punched him with the hilt of his broadsword, sagging the man to the ground. They would need someone to question...


[System]
Nicholas

500 HP - 6/6
Age: 29

Physical description:
At 6'2'', Nicholas is neither a giant nor a mouse, a man of dark brown hair that is reaching out for his shoulders and is in dire need of a proper cut. His face is always covered with stubbles that hide the tiny cuts and scrapes a life by the sword comes with, making him appear more youthful and soft than he truly is. His dark brown eyes usually look attentive and friendly, adding to an impression that stands in stark contrast to the rest of his appearance and experience.

Nicholas' body is toned and muscular, a man in the form of his life, strong and fit for any challenge, or so he likes to make people think. Unfortunately, it is also covered with scars both small and large and his armor and clothes cover one that stands out among them all.

Birthplace: Sorei, Eteria

Magic User: Yes

Armor: Light

Not quite what I had in mind but it's as close as I could find it.
- The armor would be plain reinforced steel, none of that decoration.
- The pauldrons would be a little higher and the left arm would be left only have plate on the outside, rather than being covered entirely.
- Add a layer of plate to the legs (to protect them from the front) in your mind.
- Biggest addition: A broad kite shield, more metal than wood.
- Where armor doesn't cover the plain clothes and skin, he wears leather to soften blows and reinforced boots to go with the armor.

Stamina Rating: 6/6

Weapon(s): A bastard sword and a short sword.

Personality:
Nicholas is generally a friendly person who likes to crack jokes at his own expense and that of others, flirt and just generally keep the atmosphere light, sometimes making him appear careless and haughty; however, this impression can be deceptive. He is a good liar who tends to keep his intentions in the dark and doesn't feel comfortable confiding in somebody he doesn't know well, playing the role of the loudmouth to keep people at a certain distance and make them underestimate him.

But when action is called for, the deception ends. Nicholas faces threats head-on and keeps his cool and focus in most situations thanks to years of serving in a military of sorts and working as a mercenary. He defends those he is loyal to with reckless abandon, to the point where he values their life more than his own.

History:
Nicholas was an orphan, a nobody on the streets of Sorei who had to learn very soon that the orphanages were ill-equipped to deal with the sheer numbers of children like him. Times were particularly hard and without fending for himself and bringing home something of value, you usually didn't eat, which meant that you had to be either a good beggar or a good pickpocket. Nicholas became both.

But it wasn't until he joined the military that he actually began to shine. Unlike those who were taken from families, Nicholas had nobody to miss during long nights and had known nothing but hardship before this one; to him, it was a step up, learning how to fight and not having to worry about food as much. He showed talent for fighting with the sword early on, excelling both two-handed and with a shield to aid him; his skill earned him respect from those of his comrades who knew the value of honor or at least pretended to be, but although he had many friends or people he would have described as such, none were as close to his heart as Jessabelle and her sisters.

Isabelle was forced to join almost at the same time as him and they quickly came to like each other; through her, he met Jessabelle, her sisters and parents who treated him as cordially as could possibly be expected in these dark times. As others joined, he helped them, along with the other sisters, to suffer through the worst of it and come out on the other side relatively unscathed. As years passed and they grew up, Nicholas and Isabelle started a relationship and eventually got engaged, but it wasn't meant to last: Shortly after their parents died, he broke the engagement with little explanation and left everything behind.

From then on, he was on the road, living from mercenary work and the occasional spell, traveling and working with many different groups. He wandered from settlement to settlement in Eteria, Scion, and finally Azra. Whether he was looking for a purpose, work, or something else... He really couldn't tell anymore.

Other relevant information:
His left arm (his shield arm) is weaker than his right one and occasionally tremors run through it.
When he removes the glove on his right, one can see a silver ring on his fourth finger.
Other than his combat equipment, he has a backpack with food, water and what few belongings he has.
He has a keen interest in the world before the Catastrophe and reads everything he comes across, no matter how unreliable it is. As a result, he knows some things about ancient history, although not all of what he claims is necessarily true and somtimes, it is hard to tell where his acquired knowledge ends and his own jokes begin.
- Nicholas is a fairly talented pickpocket. -

Motivation: Could it be that this man wants nothing but fame and fortune? Only time will tell...

Significant Relations: Jessabelle and her sisters - first and foremost Isabelle (Nicholas' ex-fiancée)

[User]
Unknown Location - Test of the Faceless / Marcus Roman - 450HP - 4/6

---

 In spite of their otherworldly circumstances, it took a surprisingly short amount of time for the party to come together. The black Faceless stood with twisted transformations for arms at the ready - the massive tower shield and curved blade. It's head cocked to one side the same as its fallen brethren before it and though it still lacked an expression, curiosity emanated from the emptiness and morphed into a silent inquisition that sought to satiate its everlasting need to know; to understand reasoning not made known to anyone currently present, but imbued within the fibers of creation that granted sentient life to the massive molding of ooze that formed this malevolent creature. It watched as Fiona, Nicholas, Annalynne, Erickson, and even Ytone mounted a multi-part, team oriented offensive strike.

 For their part, Fiona and Nicholas dashed off towards the increasingly interesting creature Marcus faced. It spun and lashed towards the ex-knight with speed and rage, a hurricane of sword strikes moving to and fro pining for an opening. Marcus, now using a two-handed grip, moved purposely slower, but held onto more control as he strategically placed his feet and brought his sword up and down just in time to block key strikes while dodging and ducking under others when he could. He could feel the burn in his chest and expansion of his lungs as they gulped down air and fought to keep up with a body that demanded instinct where stamina had been lost. Despite his valiant defensive efforts, energy was being wasted on this valuable protection; there was no way Marcus would be able to finish the aggressive faceless if he could not launch his own attack, but it seemed that his enemy had somehow known that the man was aiming to finish the fight when he took a two-handed grip. The edge of Nicholas' sword came dangerously close to the neck of the faceless in a slim opening, but, once again with unnatural speed, the creature twirled its blade around and deflected the weapon sending Nicholas back into the following Fiona slightly, but not with too much force. Marcus took the opportunity to put some distance between himself and his foe before nodding at the twosome briefly in acknowledgement. Sure he was used to fighting alone, but there was no way he did not appreciate the help of new companions.

 Erickson and Annalyne, for their part, rushed towards the towering black faceless. The God Eater moved like a man with something to prove and his unwillingness to give in finally paid off. He was successful in capturing the attention of the large beast as he rushed through its legs and even managed to slice at the area where hamstrings would be causing an oozing leg to fold at the knee and buckle, crashing to the ground and creating a small crater in the earth. In tandem, Annalynne dashed towards the fallen faceless and used the opportunity to brandish her daggers in an attack that was also successful in piercing the neck of the thing while Ytone added her own insurance to the mix bringing the creature closer to the ground on all fours with her chain. Though silent, the heat of anger boiled the air around the fallen creature and it burst upwards, unwrapping the chain from its neck forcibly and flinging Annalynne off and towards Ytone. Erickson was lucky enough to have already moved away from the immediate area as the giant enemy stormed to its feet. "You humans... Are tenacious. I grow tired of these games," It bellowed. Its arms returned to normal before it smashed a fist into the ground cultivating an earthquake that concentrated itself in the ground beneath Ytone and Annalynne and swept the feet of each lady from under them in violent fashion.

 Marcus, Fiona, and Nicholas now stood together a few feet away from the lone, smaller faceless. Their enemy stood completely still, its sword menacingly awaiting the feel of flesh. "We need to finish this damn thing... I don't know how much I have left in me, honestly," Marcus said quietly to the two on either side of him. "If we're to have any hope of ending this fight at all... We're going to need to work together." Marcus took a renewed one-handed grip on his blade and pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back. Having witness their actions, he knew he could count on the Aspirant and the mercenary to follow his lead. With that in mind, and a second wind, he sped off towards the faceless. Anticipating a strike to the head once again, Marcus ducked under the flashing blade of his foe and pushed his arrow through the fold in its knee, bringing one leg down. Fiona and Nicholas followed swiftly behind and Marcus only hoped they would continue this small turning of tides and luck.

----

Erickson was able to damage and the boss faceless along with Annalynne and Ytone
Annalynne and Ytone were both the focus of the boss attack - 30 HP Loss each
Marcus was injured during his forced defense - 25 HP loss
Nicholas' attack on Marcus' faceless was deflected, but he suffered no damage
Fiona suffered no damage

[Assistant]
Fiona

Unknown Location - 500 HP - 2/6 Stamina

---

 Fiona watched with a great deal of interest, and concern, as the other half of her group engaged the larger faceless, who proved unable to stop Nicholas and herself from moving to assist their ally engaged with the smaller one. She watched their impressive coordination, doing what they could to it to bring it down, before the woman atop it was thrown bodily into the other girl, and an earthquake erupted under them, taking them both to the ground. It didn't look too bad, but Fiona wondered if she could help them, if she was getting in the way here...

 No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than Nicholas was forced back, bumping into her side with his shield arm and throwing her off balance. She recovered it quickly, reaching out with her free hand to grasp Nicholas by the elbow, and keep herself upright. Turning to face the smaller faceless fully, she trusted that the other three could keep the greater beast busy.

 "I can't go much longer, either," Fiona admitted. She wasn't harmed at all, by some miracle, but her muscles burned and her breaths were coming quicker and quicker. Her use of magic had fatigued her quicker than some of the others as well, and if this kept up, her strikes would swiftly start to become weaker, her reactions slower. "We're behind you," she assured her ally, getting ready for the attack.

 She wasn't sure what he planned to do with the arrow, but it came as a pleasant surprise when he used it to strike through the thing's knee and bring a leg down. Fiona followed in the path of its swung sword, opposite the way the other man had gone, and raised her sword high over her head for a vertical strike, bringing the blade down towards its head. She thought to use her magic to make her blade even more deadly, but decided against it, remembering the results of her last spell. The strength left in her arms would have to do.

[User]
Ericson of the God Eaters

Unknown location-893 HP-1/4 Stamina

Ericson growled again, his allies had been thrown off the great magical beast like toys... and he had had enough. Her charged the beast one last time, intent on finishing it. He launched himself at the back of its left leg and put all his strength behind a two handed swing of his sword, aiming to cleave the thick leg in twain. As he passed underneath it, hopefully bringing it to one knee, he would quickly shout to his allys, "If I fail in this, I'll have nothing left. You'll have to finish it.", with that, he charged one more time.

His sword was aimed to cleave the great monsters head in two, he wanted to imbed it in the magical monsters skull. He would not die here, no he had far too much to do. He had discovered someone... the woman, the council's blood was in her he was sure of it. She had the deep cold rage of the old council, all it needed was an outlet and training. He would not die and he would not let this beast kill her, flesh or no flesh. With a great shout he brought his great blade down on the things skull, attempting with all he had left in him to cleave from the top of its skull to the base of its neck. He would kill it... for the God Eaters.

[Assistant]
Unknown Location - 500 HP - 2/6 Stamina

---

Had he been right? The creature certainly didn't seem like the same kind of pushover as the others at least.
Where Nicholas' blade surely would have found its target and ended the fight against the other Faceless, this one was more careful to watch its back - literally - and save its own neck - also literally. The block was so quick and powerful Nicholas was taken completely by surprise and could do little to counter it before he was sent back into the priestess behind him.

They were right - they had little hope of defeating this thing on their own, taking turns at trying to smite it. All they'd do would be wearing themselves out, and Nicholas already felt himself getting weaker, his left arm twitching under the armor. It was shameful how quickly he was tiring today but denying it when he knew it to be true was stupid.
It was simple: He had to do his part while he could. And his role was clear, at least to him.

As the other two mounted their attacks on their small opponent, he had a second to see the valiant effort the rest of the group put up against the giant. They were more effective against it than he thought possible and he could respect their strength and coordination, but he was still convinced - or at least hopeful - that his enemy was the key to ending all of this.

With these thoughts to fuel his conviction, Nicholas put away his bastard sword, drew his short sword and threw himself at the Faceless. He passed Fiona and his initial attack would be aimed at the being's neck from the side but despite putting a fair bit of momentum into the strike, it wasn't his primary goal to actually kill it. No, what he really wanted to do was draw its attention and put himself into close melee range, just where Marcus had been a minute prior. The almost-bald man had been hard-pressed to hold his ground against it despite considerable skill but Nicholas had a shield to aid him in his defense. All his partners needed for victory was an opening, somebody to circle their enemy and force it to spread its defense too thin. He would block and attack quickly, without much strength behind his own strikes and with any luck, he wouldn't have to keep that up for too long.