[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]
Fear was as good as a cloak and Camilla no longer felt cold as they stumbled through the darkened snowfields. Morsliebb was swollen overhead and cast a sickly greenish light down on the ice, giving the whole spectacle a greenish nightmare gloss. There was no where to go now except to the tomb itself and so the presed onwards, hoping against hope not to stumble across more beastmen or worse horrors that haunted the night.

Cydric had a vauge notion of where the tomb was located from his previous visit but in the dark, even with the eerie moonlight, it was difficult to get ones bearing. Eventually the settled on climbing one of the small hills to see if they could place themselves. Once they got atop the rocky knoll they immediately saw wan light flashing in the distance. Several hundred yards away the chaos wraiths stood brandishing weapons and shouting silent warcries but their attention was not on the party. Opposite them, a few hundred meters distance stood a group of what were unmistakably Imperial soldiers. The Imperials were composed of the same pale witch-light as their northern adversaries. Ranks of pikeman stood in neat blocks that any drill sergeant would be proud of. There was even a small field gun, which belched a cloud of ethereal smoke.

"That Is Baron Brunwald's banner," Von Eikenhouser breathed in what was probably meant for no ears but his own but carried in the frozen silence. Camilla cut her eyes across to the Justicar. He started when he sensed her eyes on him.

"There was a battle here a year before your friend came, or rather there was an army sent, no word ever returned of them save for a single raving madman." As the watched the Chaos warriors began a silent charge towards the ghostly Imperials. Camilla managed to tear her eyes away from the scene. Beyond them stood a lowering hill. The side of it was pierced with a vast stone portico. PIllars of twisting rock rose twenty feet into the sky framing a funerial crypt sunk deep into the hillside.

[Assistant]
Cyrdic watched in rapt fascination as the Chaos wraiths crashed into the pike wall of the Imperial spectars, huge Chosen hacking apart southern armor with weapons he could only guess were enchanted with foul magics from beyond the wastes. The pikemen made a good accounting for themselves, shifting ranks and keeping their distance. Many of the northmen were spitted on the pikes, and the cannon battery silently belched into the air, the greenish smoke wafting from it so very real.

"Cyrdic," Camilla whispered, grabbing his attention with a shake. The Ostlander turned, reluctantly looking away from the battle to see the hill that stood so very close to their rise. The stone column that loomed over the wooden structure... "That has to be it." He whispered. He knew of no barrows within the northern Wastelands.

"Let's get this over with." The Justicar said, pushing past Cyrdic brazenly and stomping down their small rise, the snow crunching beneath his feet audibly. Cyrdic could clearly tell this whole trek unnerved him, and the Ostlander found couldn't blame him. However they needed to be smart about this.

"Hold." Cyrdic ordered, his hand up to halt the Justicar. Thaddeus Von Eikenhouser shot the ex-sergeant a look. "I will not. We're here for your friend. If we can't find him at the entrance to this thrice damned tomb, we're leaving and a warrant will be put out for his execution should he be found again. I made no vow to enter the tomb."

"No one told you to come." Cyrdic growled.

"I was not-!" The Justicar snapped back, or tried to before a low cracking beneath their feet interrupted him. Suddenly, the two men felt weightless, and darkness swallowed them up, followed by a hillside of snow. Camilla would suddenly hear further cracking approaching her position not a pace away, and the ground giving way. It was a short drop, but a hard one. The tilean courtesan landed on something a bit softer than granite. In the moonlight that filtered in, she would see she had landed on Cyrdic's chest.

"Sigmar damn this place!" The Justicar cursed, rising from the snow and beating the wet and the debris off of him. Cyrdic sat up, giving a nod to Camilla. Both of them rose and did likewise, though the Ostlander seemed to stiffen. His sword pulsed with a wild energy. He had not felt it so strongly since Middenheim, when he had been within the vicinity of such a vast amount of warpstone that Camilla had collapsed. The memory and the howling of the sword sobered him from his fall, and he was as keen as a knife's edge once more.

"Does anyone have a torch?" Thaddeus asked.

As Camilla fished in her pack for one, Cyrdic could see the room they were in quite clearly. It was a dark catacomb, with two skeletons having been hung by their necks still swaying upon the eastern edge of the room. Behind the fallen hillside and the companions, stood an elaborate throne upon a curious three sided dias that curled upwards. In fact, the entirety of the architecture felt wrong. The throne was clean but unnatural, the back of it ended at a razor point and its arms were curved in disturbing fashions, the end of each held orbs that glowed a murky purple that burned the retina to gaze upon. The sign of the Crow was at the center of its back, and the bottom was clad with what Cyrdic knew to be mammoth furs.

For once, he agreed with Thaddeus. "Let's get this over with."

[User]
Camilla held the torch high so that it illuminated the strange throne. The flickering torch light woke disconcerting flashes in the purplish orbs, like heat lightning above the plains of Atranto in the summertime. Instinctively she looked up to the collapsed ceiling to see if it might be possible to climb out. Terror froze her for a moment.

"Cydric.." she breathed. The mercenary turned to regard her as she lifted the torch towards the ceiling. Or the lack of one. The roof of the catacomb and the entire hillside was gone, replaced by a semitransucent ghost of its present form. Instead the sky winked with wan alien looking stars. A vast plain of ice spread out before them. Somehow Camilla knew she as looking at the entrance to the tomb as it had appared thousands of years ago. The throne still seemed real, it shone with a sharpness that was unpleasant to the mind.

In a moment of searing clarity Camilla saw the throne being forged. A great Chaos warrior lay on a beir of bones. A pair of what looked strangely like dwarves but twisted and wrong stood over him. They raised vast hammers and bought them down in blows that could have shattered stone. The helmet split and something dark and nameless rushed from within. One of the dwarf things reached into the helmet with a ring studded hand and withdrew two bloody but otherwise human eyeball. Camilla's stomach twisted and she would have vomited if her body hadn't been frozen between one moment and the next. Desperately she willed her heart to beat or eyes to blink, anything at all to prove she was alive.

The dwarf thing began to chant in some foul language that sounded like rocks screaming. The darkness which had escaped the helmet rushed back into the bloody eyes, congealing around them like nacre around a sangrain in the formation of a pearl. A moment, a millenia, later the dwarf held two glowing purple orbs. Behind him his companions hammer rose and fell with the rhythm of the moons wheeling in the sky. The body of the chaos warrior was hammered blow by blow into the shape of the throne, black iron running like water against the hammer.

Reality snapped back into focus and Camilla felt her pulse thunder in her temple like a distant but immense drum.

"It is him…" Camilla breathed but before she could clarify to the confused men beside her a horrifyingly familiar skittering came from on of the side passage. Camilla snatched her rapier free a moment before a horde of grotesque rat creatures burst from the subterranean tunnel, preceded by the miasimic tide of musk and sweat. The stink of the skaven as unforgettable. There must have been fifty of them, dressed in tattered mockeries of clothing, clutching rusty kines and improvised spears. Chisel like fangs dripped foetid spit as leather and steel rasped over fur and flesh.

The skaven were not focused on them. From a tunnel opposite the skaven a massie figure in black and bronze arm strode into the room. The baroque steel giant was covered in twisting runes which seered the eyes and carried a sword of blue crystal which must have been as tall as Camilla herself. Wordlessly the giant hewed into the throng, sending a spray of dark blood gouting onto the wall behind the throne. The stink of the horde intensified as they hurled themselves onto the chaos champion stabbing and cutting and raising a shower of sparks from the demon forged armor.

[Assistant]
Cyrdic's lips parted as reality shimmered and shaped before his eyes. What occurred was a hellish ritual he felt instinctively repulsed by. A ritual of chaos over the course of time immemorial. Briefly a mental recollection sparked in his mind. Something that Thraggi had mentioned on one of their adventures. Uzkul-Dhrazh-Zharr he had said on one of their drinking binges. The Chaos Dwarfs.

Cloven hoofed and horned, muttering a language archaic yet fouler than rot. He felt it a mercy that the vision faded, the corruption sending a shiver up his spine to his traditional, Imperial sensibilities. The sight of the Chosen of Chaos before him, while daunting, was far more familiar. It was something he could kill. And he was all too eager. However, wading through a sea of Skaven was not something he had expected. If he hadn't caught their stench he would have been overwhelmed. Even if they simply attacked what he knew to be Theodric the Cursed, their scrabbling claws rent at his traveling cloak and shield in order to get at the Champion.

For his part, Thaddeus Von Eikenhouser was stricken by the sheer weight of his sanity from the warp corruption that overwhelmed him. He was not a weak man, but he was not so used to fighting the unbridaled servants of Chaos like the other two. He waved his sword wildly to cut across the ratmen whom not moments ago he believed to be myth. Cyrdic tried to call to him, but he was wild eyed and unresponsive.

"Why do you disturb me?" The Champion asked, his voice echoing in their minds, perfectly discernible even above the chittering and screeches. For some strange reason, Cyrdic could tell he was speaking directly to he and Camilla. "The thread of your fates do not end with me. Slaanesh shall thirst upon you for eternity/Khorne has blood and brass in your future." The two distinct prophecies were imparted between Camilla and Cyrdic, respectively.

Cyrdic clove through Skaven left and right, splitting skulls and shattering spines with his large, runic blade. It howled with a savagery. "Where is Karl!?" Cyrdic demanded of the ruinous champion. "Tell me you thrice poxed bastard!"

The situation was quickly devolving into madness. A Skaven died every other second, and yet there were still dozens. Theodric of Tzeentch glowed with power, moving as inexorable as the ending of time. Cyrdic cut his way toward him, too enraged to know fear, as Thaddeus was cut and bitten while he waved his large sword.

"He is apart of fate, as all are." Theodric the Ruinous declared. "Izch ackna al khul Tzeentch."

The phrase was whispered across the room as if from a thousand voices chanting. As the Skaven were sheared through by one last sweep of his massive sword, a figure rose from among the bodies. Cloaked and hooded. A torque of bronze and silver glinted with witch-light. "Servants of the Horned Rat cannot gain the power that is here. It is only through submission to the Changer that one gains sight beyond sight."

The voice was altered and snake-like, but familiar. Cyrdic stopped midswing, seeing into the hood, his friend.


[System]
Age: 17

Supernatural Race: Fae/Changeling

Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian

Appearance: Fable is of medium height, but extremely pale and thin, to the point that she seems unhealthy. Her hair, in contrast, is very black, and quite long. She tends to wear darker clothes and makeup, and while her right eye is steel-grey, her left is a bright green that seems extremely out of place on her.

Personality: Fable, despite possessing a strange kind of charisma, is deeply wounded inside and hates any kind of reference to her past. Though normally relatively confident and collected, she is prone to violent outbursts of anger, especially when this subject is brought up. Most of the time, though, she seems fine, if a little strange - somewhat quiet and reserved yet still somehow charming. Of course, people who know her heritage are rarely surprised by this. Aside from that, she also seems a little anxious all the time. People who pay attention will notice her scanning for exits in any room or building, and staying close to one whenever possible.

History: Fable is a Changeling, an unwanted Fae child who, as a baby, was secretly swapped with a human child, to be raised by a human family. However, in Fable's case, she wasn't swapped. Her human mother, Diana, caught Fable's biological mother in the process. Fable's mother fled, leaving Fable but not taking the human child that Fable was meant to replace. Diana ended up raising the children as twins - Fable and her "sister", Elise, were almost totally identical in appearance, except for Fable's strange green eye.
It was as the children were growing up that Elise took an interest in the supernatural. Initially, it was a simple interest, but eventually she discovered a group of people called the Hunters. She joined (in the loosest sense of the word - she interacted with and was taught by Hunters, little more) them at the age of 12, and after a few months she felt she trusted Fable enough to tell her, and attempt to recruit her too. She succeeded.
Over the following years, the sisters' education by the Hunters only got more significant. Their grades dropped, and their prior interests were forgotten as they were radicalised to hate the Supernaturals, both unaware of Fable's nature as a Changeling. At the age of 15, they took part in their first hunt. They killed a vampire, together, with an elder Hunter guiding and protecting them.
The pair continued to track and kill Supernaturals together as time went on, whenever they had free time. Their parents worried about them, of course, but the sisters were long gone by this point, metaphorically speaking - they were fanatics, only death could stop them. However, nearly three months ago, Diana died of an illness that she'd kept secret so far in order to protect the sisters from the cruel reality a little longer. In her will, she left something for Fable, a letter. It was from this letter that Fable discovered her true parentage.
Fable fled her home. Within the hour, Elise found the same letter and took on a new hunt, one she has been enacting to this day. Each sister knows the other's methods well, and making it extremely difficult for either to defeat the other. For the most part, Fable has managed to evade Elise. On the few times they have met, is has only ended violently.

Strengths: Intelligence, charisma, weapons training, would make a surprisingly capable Hunter

Weaknesses: Fragile, no allies at present, burned by iron

Stance: Inactive - mostly just trying to survive

Special Power/Skill: A strange Fae power similar to a spell, which charms a person Fable is talking to, lasting for the remainder of the conversation. They will be left dazed, unable to think clearly, and will find themselves treating her better than they otherwise might.

Other:
* Fable still has a folding shortsword from her time as a Hunter.
* Fable is currently (illegally) staying in an otherwise-unoccupied room in one of the apartments.

Name: Elise Elwynder

Age: 17

Ethnicity/Race: Caucasian

Appearance: Elise isn't quite as pale or as thin as her sister, and she isn't heterochromic (both of Elise's eyes are that same shade of steel-grey), but otherwise, the pair look identical.

Personality: Elise's mind is cold and dark. An utter fanatic, she hates the Supernaturals, and Fable above all others. Sadistic and psychopathic, there is very little joy in her life, and what there is comes from the thrill of the hunt and the pleasure of the kill. She has none of her sister's charm; the best she can do is hide her worst qualities from people who would react poorly to them; she tends to come across as quiet and strange, and not in a nice way.

History: (Read Fable's backstory for earlier history) Elise was the first of the two sisters to become a Hunter. The group she joined was more like a cult, and years of brainwashing turned her into one of their must trusted agents, though her youth made her less capable. When she discovered that Fable was Supernatural, the very thing that they had been taught to hate, it was the ultimate betrayal, in Elise's mind. She made it her personal quest to kill Fable, and for the past three months or so, tracking down and destroying her twin has been all that's been on her mind.

Weapons: A folding shortsword, similar to Fable's, a hand crossbow, with both normal and iron bolts, and a net made of iron wire

Supernatural Target: Fae

Strengths: Combat training, dedication, intelligence, no moral doubt

Weaknesses: Socially repulsive, blunt, unable to compromise

Stance: Active

Other:
* Not much to say here.

[User]
Anahi and Alberto
Anahi quickly set up from her sleeping bag by the sound of gunshots from the distance, Anahi heart start raced as she hear the gunshot, Humans? probably. Supernaturals? maybe but they were mages, they would use their wand, not guns, Anahi thought gunshot came from.....the hunters. Anahi get out of her sleeping bag and quickly put it back in her backpack. "Al! Alberto wake up!" Anahi say in a panic tone. "hmmmm?....Sis? Is it morning already?" Alberto ask "No time to explain! Just pack your sleeping bag and run!" "But Why?"  "Just run!" Alberto quickly pack his sleeping bag and put it back in his backpack, after he pack his sleeping bag, Anahi grab wrist and run away from the alleyway and the sound of the gunshots.

They are finally away from the gunshot sounds and stop at a look like a apartment building but it look like a green house instead of a apartment but what choice does Anahi and Alberto have? They go to the back of the apartment building so they don't get caught by the residents, Anahi setting up the sleeping bags again while Alberto sits on the ground thinking what happen back in the alleyway. "soooo...What happen back there?"  "....Well, I hear gunshots from the distance, I think they from the bar that you say we should spend the night."  "What?!" Alberto say in a alarming tone, Al stood up from the ground "Do you think someone or anyone got hurt!"  "I don't know but it not our business to find ou-" Anahi stop talking when she look up to see her brother walking away "Hey! Where are you going?" Anahi ask Al as she grab his shoulder. "I'm going to save somebody who got shot in the bar!"  Alberto say "....Oh, Al...You can't be serious"  "I can try sis! I mean I'm not very skill attack and protective spells like you--"  "Al..."  "--But i'm so skill with some fire spells--"  "Alberto...please..."  "--I can try save someone! I can try save someone life-"  "Alberto!" Anahi snap at Alberto.

Alberto jump and eyes wide out when Anahi snap at him, Anahi breathe in and breathe out, Anahi put both hands on to Alberto shoulders "Look...I know you want to help people, believe me, I do too. But we can't just risk our lifes, you're the only family I have right now....and I just can't lose you..." Anahi say as she choke up a little ".....Ok..." Al say while he look at the ground "Let's just go to sleep and hoping things can calm down at the bar." Alberto and Anahi slip back in to their sleeping bags and fall back to sleep but the sound of gunfire keep playing in Anahi head.

[Assistant]
As Darnies called for everyone to get down, Rebecca ducked behind the bar. Sure, ordinarily she'd stand there and take the hits- fixing up her body was old hat for her by now, and anything short of a completely destroyed skull was simple to repair. But there was a Mundane in the room, and she'd heard something about silver bullets- one of the few things that could put her down for good. Thankfully, it seemed there was only one target, but Rebecca had had enough. Things were getting too violent, and sooner or later, innocents were going to get killed.

The lich took out her cell phone and dialed 911. "This is Rebecca Fletcher. I have information about a motive for the Grayson case. I wish to speak with Detective Greenfield, alone. No tapes, no cameras. Take it or leave it."

"I will get in touch with him- you can meet him down at the station."

"Good."

She turned to the rest of the patrons. "I will not out any individual save myself, in general or specific. You have my word, and you know what it's worth. But dammit, the police need to know what they're stepping into. This is getting far too dangerous- I might be a necromancer, but the last thing I want is bodies in the streets."

She hopped into her car, an ancient mishmash of various VW Beetles, and headed for the station. Very soon, the die would be cast.

[User]
Elise didn't like the Librarian. Of course, she disliked all Supernaturals, but this one was not just blasphemous on an intrinsic level, it also actively chose to do things which made her dislike it, as she would if a human had done the same. She wanted to kill it, and as the mirror curse was placed, she wondered if Harold's exclusion from the curse worked both ways - that was, that it could be killed without anyone else being harmed as a result. In the end she decided to assume the worst, as was her habit out of caution. Of course, this would mean that she could kill Harry and subsequently deal with every Supernatural in the building. Her own life for perhaps half a dozen of the vile things... she would consider it worth the sacrifice, were it not for her personal vendetta against Fable. She couldn't afford to make such a sacrifice until her hunt was finished.

Thus, when the Libarian demanded to know who she was and what she hunting, Elise felt her best choice was to comply, rather than simply stab him, as was her gut instinct. So she said "Elise Elwynder, hunting Fae creatures in general and the Changeling Fable Elwynder in particular. I've already given a description of the Changeling."

---

Fable had to go through the main room. That conclusion was easy enough to reach, but the question of how remained elusive. No doubt Elise had already given a description of her; she could either hide from all of them, or run from all of them, unless she was lucky enough to recieve a little goodwill. What she really needed was a distraction. Elise was busy talking to the bald man from before, and perhaps the others wouldn't recognise her immediately. That might give her the headstart she needed. Then, she had a better opportunity.

Gunshots rang out, and while everyone else was taking cover in shock and fear, Fable had seen the gunman and been able to brace herself for them. She ran, heading straight across the room as a police officer walked in. She'd hoped that the element of surprise would allow her to get past Elise before she knew what was going on. It didn't go quite to plan.

---

Elise dropped to the floor as advised when the shots were fired. But then she heard footsteps behind her, moving quickly, and she turned just in time to see her twin running for the door. Swinging her leg out, Elise tripped Fable, who rolled and got up quickly, but not any more quickly than the human girl. Elise caught Fable as she reached the door, before she could open it, and grabbed her by the hair to ram her face into the nearby wall. Fable cried out and spun to face Elise, clutching her broken nose with both hands, but did manage to duck under the punch that followed, then spin them around so that they moved to Fable's left, and now Elise was against the wall. However, as Fable attempted to strike at Elise, Elise caught the right hook and pulled on the arm, attempting to send Fable's already-damaged face into the wall again. But they had moved, and this time, there wasn't a wall next to Elise, there were the broken remains of a window.

---

Fable flipped as her lower body encountered resistance, but her upper did not. Her torso was shredded by the broken glass as she now lay on her back in the street outside. Her head was spinning, but survival instinct had put her body on autopilot, and before she really knew what was happening she was doing something like a run away from the bar. Elise would be through the door in a moment, either giving chase or firing her crossbow. Fable rounded a corner into an alleyway, doing her best to lose her sister. Thankfully, she wasn't leaving a trail of blood, since her t-shirt was soaking the worst of it up, though it was utterly ruined. As quickly as she could, Fable retreated into the gloom, returning to the apartment she didn't own at Ivy View. She found her bed and fell asleep, not knowing if she'd ever wake up, but too weak from blood loss to do anything about it either way.

---

Elise was not happy. She'd been so close. If that fight had been anything to go by, she was definitely the better combatant. Even so, she hadn't had a chance to finish the job, and now the thing she'd once called her sister was gone. Police were present, and while the fight she'd been in had been fast and vicious (Elise thought it had lasted 2, perhaps 3 seconds) she would now have to escape or face arrest herself. So she did, as best she could, using alleyways and backstreets in an attempt to lead any pursuers on a wild goose chase, doubling back and moving in circles occasionally to fool them. Eventually she found the place she'd been staying at; a safehouse owned by her sect near the edge of town. It was small and uncomfortable, but it was buildings like these that let Hunters from her sect operate in almost any city or large town in the area cheaply and easily. She feel asleep on a matress on the floor, exhausted and frustrated, but also prideful in the belief that she was the greater twin.


[System]
Alexander Zangief, but once he joins the the fists, he will be referred to as Ivar.

Age:18

Gender:Male

Rank(Disciple, Master, Bully, ECT):Bully

Martial Arts Style(Unless you're a disciple): He is a trained boxer.

Gang Affiliation(If any): Ragnarok, soon to become one of their most elite members.

Looks:

Height: 5'6"

Backstory: I'll work on this later, guys. <_< >_>....

All I know right now is that scaling up the ranks of Ragnarok, until he becomes the sole leader. He is obsessed with this goal, and will do anything to meet it. Perhaps he has a control problem. I don't know. I'll figure it out.

Crush(If any):

Personality:

Other:

[User]
The bully clenched his fists, as he looked down at the small girl. There was a moment of silence, as the tension began to grow. "Come on, guys. Let's get out of here," he mumbled, as he purposely kicked up some dust into Kiro's face before turning to walk away. He picked up his duffel bag, threw it over his shoulder, and started to walk off in the distance with his two goons.

Kiro twitched slightly, as he slowly brought himself up in a sitting position. "Thanks for the help." He mumbled the sentence with a sigh, as he dusted his pants off. He couldn't look the woman in the face, as he simply stared down at the ground. Looking someone in the eye after a loss was something hard to do, especially if that person was a lady. 'Today was suppose to be the day.' He gritted his teeth, as he clenched his fists tightly. 'The day everything changed for me.'

The bully's painful words echoed through his mind.

[Assistant] Ally stood her ground as the bullies left, making sure they didn't try any other dirty moves before leaving. When Kiro was up and standing, she faced him though he wouldn't face her. "Are you okay? What happened back there?" she questioned, "That was a nasty fight, and it doesn't look like you have any experience." The anger in him was visible even though she couldn't see his face full on. She felt bad for him, but that wasn't going to help him. At times like these, there was only one person that could truly help you and that was yourself. She wondered how avoidable this situation would be, but figured that didn't matter since it already happened.

[User] "That's why I got in the fight in the first place, actually." He chuckled slightly, as he felt his bruised cheek. He brought his hand from his face, as he looked at the blood on his fingertips. "They said that karate was for the strong, and so the only way I could join them was if I proved that I was." His eyes met the girls, as he tried his hardest to fight the tears that wanted to come out. "I just wanted to show them, prove to myself even, that I was strong, both in mind and body." His eyes went back to the ground, as a single tear slipped away, falling down to the concrete below. "But when push came to shove, all I could do was say it. I couldn't show them a darn thing." He brought on a fake smile, as he looked back up at her. "You, though! You're brave, you know that?" He laughed, however, he was quite serious. "Not just anyone would do what you did back there. Most people would have just kept walking."

[Assistant] "I don't think karate is only for the strong," Ally said, "It's for those who need to defend themselves against others, weak or strong." When they met eyes she caught him holding back the tears and tried to stay as emotionless as possible as to not make him cry. When people showed her sympathy when she was holding back tears it usually made the tears fall out. Then a tear slipped down Kiro's cheek. "You are strong mentally, that took a lot of guts." Then he told her about her own bravery and her emotionless stage faultered as she blushed bashfully. "I'm only brave because I've been fighting almost all my life. If I didn't know how to fight I don't know if I would've stopped." The thought of not stopping sickened her, but she knew most people would've done it, possibly including herself. "If you really want to know how to fight, I go to this amazing dojo. You'll really be tested physically and emotionally, but if it means you can deal with those jerks then it's worth it." She purposely lacked to mention the joining fees but figured if there was an issue it could be solved later. "I'm on my way to the dojo now. You can come with me and you can join if you want."

[User]
Kiro smirked, as she gave him a compliment. He assumed it was just out of pity, though. The more he thought about it, he was a lot like a sad puppy. "All your life? You really think you could have taken that guy out?" Kiro was taken aback at the girl's confidence, he would have never guessed she could be such a fighter at first glance. "You must be really strong then, huh?" He questioned, as the bully's voice continued to ring in his head.

"I think I'll pass on your offer." He laughed things off, as he tried to hide his true emotions.

"I don't think this whole fighting thing is really even cut out for me." He kept on a big smile, as he walked passed her. Kiro just planned on heading back home, the whole day had just been a total waste. He figured that perhaps he could just sleep things off. "I'm just the little guy. That's all I'll ever be." He mumbled the last sentence, as he kept his head low as he walked.

[Assistant] "Just the little guy?" Ally chuckled, "Then that must make me the little girl." She wouldn't let him get away so easily. There was something he had that gave him potential and that was determination. He chose to fight the guy even though he was what seemed like ten times his height and that took guts. "Look, self defense is for everyone, that's why they don't call it 'strong guy defense.' You have no experience, right? That's why you lost so quickly." Ally caught up with Kiro and caught his wrist in a tight grip, "You need to learn how to defend yourself, right? I'm giving you the chance to learn with real masters who have a real sense of honor, not some jerks that fight anyone for the heck of it. Besides, that guy's technique was a little off. You could learn how to recognize stuff like that if you would join this dojo. Learning self defense could save you one day, what if that bully kept hurting you and I didn't show up? How would you like for your parents to hear their son died on the streets because he didn't know how to defend himself? Think about that," Ally finished and released her grip on his wrist. "You can take up my offer now and never have to worry about that or you can keep going hiding and getting beat up by dumb bullies like him."

[User]
Kiro was taken aback, as the girl grabbed his wrist. 'Why does she care so much?' The question spoke to him in his mind, as he turned to look back at Ally. He thought about such an event happening, where he was put into the same situation again, without anyone there to save him. It was a very real world that could end up taking place if he weren't careful. Kiro didn't want to go around beating up people, he just wanted to be strong enough to protect himself, and the people he loved. 'What do I have to lose, right?' He genuinely smiled this time, as he spoke again. "Alright, fine. Where is this mysterious dojo of yours?" He jokingly asked, as he rested both of his hands behind his head. He winced slightly, as he felt a bruise on his chest.

It was almost like he could still feel the punches.

"Your name's Ally, right?" He tried to confirm, as he didn't quite know the woman all that well. He had just seen her here and there at school. If the whole event didn't take place, the two probably wouldn't have become any more acquainted than they already were.

[Assistant]
"Finally," Ally said when Kiro agreed. She didn't want him to be hurt anymore, not because she cared about him specifically, but because she felt everyone should know how to protect themselves. It was ironic how he had to fight a bully in order to learn how to fight a bully. "Yeah, I'm Ally and you're Kiro, right?" She knew they were in the same grade but wasn't quite sure she remembered his name. "My aunt is one of the masters at the dojo, she'll help clean you up."

As the two made their way to the dojo, Ally couldn't help but wonder how many times Kiro had gotten into situations like that. She cursed at herself internally. Maybe if she had been closer to him before she could've helped protect him.

Ally pushed the door to the dojo opened and bowed before stepping in. She gave Kiro a sharp look to tell him he should do the same. "Master Asuka?" she called, voice echoing through the large room.

Asuka came out from a different room upon the call of her niece. "You're late," she said, but noticed the bruised boy following Ally. Asuka hurried to the boy's side to aid him. "What happened?"

"It was a bully," Ally said, not sure if Kiro wanted his whole story told to someone he didn't know.

"A bully? Come on," Asuka said to Kiro and lead him to a side room that held medical and safety supplies. She took out hydrogen peroxide, alcohol, and bandages. "This is going to sting, but we need to clean you up," she explained and began the cleaning process. She didn't want to press the boy for the story as she never liked speaking about her bullies much, but it still nagged in her mind. "Do you know how to defend yourself?"

[User]
Kiro kept his head low, it all was quite embarrassing to him. "I-, Well-, kind of." He tried to make him sound stronger than he actually was, as he stumbled through a response. Realizing that no one was going to buy anything he told them, he sighed. "No, I don't know how. If we're being completely honest here, I couldn't keep up a fight against a broomstick." He laughed, as he revealed the truth.

Bokusa stood just outside the doorway, as he eavesdropped in on the conversation. Making sure his presence wasn't known by the newcomer.

Kiro remembered why exactly they were there in the first place. It was too late to turn back now, Kiro had to prove to the master that was completely ready to learn. "But, if you'll teach me," he jumped up from the table he sat on, as he accidentally knocked over several tools and bottles in his jolt. "I'm ready to learn, Sensei Asuka!" He exclaimed, as he gave her another bow. With the impressive dojo, these masters had to be some really serious fighters! Akita was right, this was a great opportunity he was given, and he couldn't just let it slip through his fingers.

[Assistant] Asuka watched Kiro knock over the tools and kept her face stone even though she wanted to laugh. "Training in martial arts takes a lot of will and it takes a lot of time. If you have a lot of after school clubs you'll have to drop some. It also takes discipline, that means no goofing around. You're going to put your body and mind through great challenges. But above all," Asuka said, dragging her words out a bit for emphasis, "it takes resources. The membership is 1000 yen. You'll never regret learning how to protect yourself and others."

[User]
"Yes, I am ready!" He assured her; quite the look of determination on his face, that is until the subject of money was brought up. "Uh, right, right. Money..." He reached into his back pocket, as he pulled out a generic brown wallet. "100, 200, 300," He counted his bills aloud, as he surprisingly had just enough! It was everything in his wallet, but Kiro was sure that it was money well spent! "1000 yen!" He grinned ear to ear, as he handed her the money.

Bokusa smirked, as he chuckled a bit to himself. He would have charged Kiro at least 50,000 to even think about training with him. "You're too soft, Asuka." Bokusa mumbled quietly to himself.

"Then it's settled! You can start your training with Asuka!" A charismatic voice exclaimed behind Kiro, as a tall man rested his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"What the-!?" Kiro screamed, as he whipped around. He hadn't heard anyone come in, where in the world did the guy come from!?

It was Muhai, the eldest master in the dojo. "You can even begin tomorrow!" He assured the young boy, as he smiled down at him.

Kiro slowly backed away from the intimidating man, headed for the doorway, as he ran right into someone. Of course, the person didn't even budge upon impact.

"You better hope Asuka goes easy on you." Bakusa said quite scarily, as he casted a glance down at Kiro.

Sweat poured down from the boy's face. He started to back away from the doorway, but then looked back behind him to find Asuka, Ally, and Muhai. He was surrounded!

"If you were training with me, kid, you'd be dead in three days tops." Bakusa assured him, quite seriously.

"T-Three days?" He stuttered, as he quietly repeated Bakusa's words. He questioned rather or not it was too late to get his money back, but quickly decided against asking.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Okay, bye now!" Kiro exclaimed back to the group, as he exited the dojo, and started to walk across the courtyard. He waved back to them with a forced smile, as he tried to keep himself from breaking out into a run. All of the masters seemed a little weird to Kiro. 'The scary kind of weird,' he thought to himself, as his inner voice sounded as if it were crying. Kiro gave the giant wooden gate doors a simple push, as nothing happened. "What in the world?" Kiro mumbled, remembering how easily Ally had pushed them open. He tried another push, this time using every ounce of strength he had. The door just wouldn't budge. "It's feels like it's made out of lead!" He angrily exclaimed, as Bakusa walked up beside Kiro. The scary man casted another menacing glance at Kiro, as he put up his index finger to push the door open. The door in front of him flew open, as Kiro was knocked over onto the ground (because he had all of his weight on it, as he tried to push.). "Uh, yes, thank you." Kiro awkwardly mumbled, as he dusted himself off. "I'll-I'll be on my way now!" He awkwardly laughed, as Bakusa didn't even bother to respond. Kiro quickly began to speed walk off, afraid that if he stayed any longer, one of the masters were going to lose their cool and end up killing him.


[System]
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Appearance:

Stands tall at about 6'2. Is well-muscled and broad of shoulder.

Personality:
Focused and keen, Renar is a man who knows what he wants and how to acquire it. And if he can't acquire it yet, he'll find a way. From his days as a child, he'd possessed a chip on his shoulder about his status as a bastard, ever seeking to prove himself and win glory. So long as one doesn't throw his natural born origins in his face, Renar is unbothered, but anyone who attempts to degrade him by insulting his birth status wins themselves a grudge. His primary goal is to win enough prestige in order to rise above his bastard status, either becoming legitimized and taking his father's name or being allowed to start his own noble house.

Renar is more cunning than he is chivalrous, willing to take actions that nobler knights would balk at. After all, he's already a bastard. He'd only be living down to what was expected of him. So why not abuse that to his advantage? In his mind, a knight is a trained killer first and foremost, and any pretensions to honor and chivalry are coping mechanisms to convince oneself of their cause. Still, even he has his limits, and he would not stand for harming children or one's spouse or paramour.

Despite his craftiness, Renar can't help himself when it comes to personal challenges. Whether it be a formal duel or a single combat in the midst of battle, he is easily goaded into one-on-one battles, eagerly wishing to prove himself over another.

Brief Backstory:
Born as a bastard of the House of Brias to his lord father and a commoner mother, Renar was nonetheless allowed to reside within his family's castle and be raised alongside his trueborn siblings. The Brias family had martial origins, originally being a knightly house before winning lands and glory a century ago. Nonetheless, they were still only a minor house, and even a bastard could be of use to them. By the time Renar was capable of walking and talking, his eldest half-brother was already a grown man. Nonetheless, another son could always win more prestige for the family, despite his bastard status. He would never bear the family name, but he could certainly create his own dynasty.

Renar was raised much the same as his half-siblings were, given a formal education as well as training at arms. He had a fair head for numbers and proved himself adequate in matters of administration, but Renar's talents skewed far more towards the training yard. Castle Brias's master-of-arms was noted to have remarked that of all of Lord Brias's sons, the bastard was by far the most skilled in the knightly arts.

Once he'd completed his squiring and his training, Renar took to the battlefield in the hopes of earning his knighthood. A bastard had no place on the tourney circuit, and so real combat was his only chance to prove himself worthy. While it only took a few skirmishes for his trueborn brothers to be knighted, Renar served under a banneret for a number of years before finally seizing his opportunity during a defense against an orcish raid into Thaln. After a brutal battle, Renar slew the orcs' warchief in single combat, claiming the raid leader's mantle as a trophy and distinguishing himself in the process, earning both a knighthood and a recruitment into the Iron Rose Knights.

Equipment:
Renar's armor is rugged and well-worn, but solid and dependable. His set of full plate appears to be a hodgepodge of whatever pieces he determined both fit him well and provided the best protection. He bears a cavalry lance for use on horseback, but prefers using a poleaxe on foot. His sidearms consist of an arming sword and a dagger, both sheathed on his belt. Renar wears a fur-lined mantle into battle, it once belonging to an orcish raid leader he'd slain in single combat and kept as a trophy. His steed is a simple brown charger.

Skills:
Renar is skilled and well-rounded in the knightly arts. Despite the fact that he rides well enough and would likely place a decent ranking in a joust, he prefers fighting on foot as an infantryman and is a far better infantry fighter than he is a cavalryman. He has been trained in most martial weapons, and can fight well enough with a sword. However, his true ability lies in fighting with polearms and quarterstaves, enjoying the reach and versatility a pole weapon affords him.

However, Renar is a terrible shot with a bow and has zero ability for magic. He attempts to compensate for these shortcomings with sheer physical might, exercising and training constantly in order to improve his strength and agility.

Off the battlefield, Renar has a surprising head for numbers and accounting for a knight, being rather adept at financial administration.

[User]
~ The Bandit Camp ~

Interacted with: @VitaVitaAR

The battle had been fierce. One-sided, but fierce.

The Iron Rose Knights cut, sliced and stabbed. The bandits attempted to put up somewhat of a fight but not only were they caught by surprise, but they were hopelessly outmatched as well. The clash of blades sang in the air and the ripping and tearing of flesh joined it. Guarding the vanguard's flank, Jarde lost himself in the fighting. His entire focus was in taking down bandits and surviving.

The bandits... were not fighters. At least not good fighters. Jarde easily moved, dodged and avoided their almost-clumsy swings and thrusts. His counterattacks were quick, too fast for any of the bandits to react to. Although, the young knight found himself going for non-lethal takedowns instead of the clean kills his fellow knights exhibited. He had kicked bandits into tents, his sickles struck limbs and his knees met faces. Jarde wondered if his sparing would change these bandits' ultimate fates but he supposed that was outside of his concern.

Jarde soon ran out of bandits to fight. The respite allowed his thoughts to return to the battle plan. Surveying his surroundings, he realized he was still at the vanguard flank protecting it but someone was missing.

"Captain?"

He called out. Fanilly was nowhere to be seen. Jarde's eyes darted to and fro the battle, trying to spot the Captain. A fallen, burning tree caught his attention and beyond its inferno, he saw who he was looking for... and someone he was definitely not looking for. Fanilly had separated from the battle and found herself facing a large, imposing man wielding a blade of enormous size. Jarde's feet were already moving, covering much distance thanks to him being light and agile.

As the Bandit King charged Fanilly, Jarde made one great leap over the burning wood. The tall flames singeing his legs a bit. The young knight delivered a bold, flying kick at Jeremiah but the Bandit King saw it coming and blocked with his huge blade. Jarde's foot landed on the blade's broad side and he quickly hopped off before Jeremiah could do anything, landing just beside Captain Fanilly.

"You okay, Captain?"

He threw a short question at Fanilly, his gaze still focused on the Bandit King. With a blade as large as that, blocking was out of the question. Jarde will have to utilize his speed to avoid the swings. Like his fights earlier, but the stakes were higher this time. While he could take a painful hit from a bandit's weapon and survive, there was no surviving this blade should an attack be successful.

[Assistant]
When the attack was sounded Indrau made little better than a fast walking pace. He wasn't a front line fighter by any means but neither were their opponents. Against a professional army he would have sat out the fight. Fighting simple bandits let him treat each opponent as a duel, defeating them before another could come to complicate things.

Most of them lasted a just a couple of moves before he landed a crippling or lethal blow. Some exemplars among them lasted half a dozen before being cut down. He paced himself to keep abreast of the front line and stop himself from getting cut off.

He watched with horror as the tree came down, powerless to do anything. He redoubled his efforts in fighting the bandits, taking more risks and using his bracers to parry as well as his blade.

[User]
And there it was, that extraordinary incident.

Even from the rear of the camp, the burning tree was easy enough to spot, its crash thunderous. Immediately, Elodie was on the move, her Blasting Rod in hand as she rushed past the melee of knights and bandits. With so much steel and death around, few paid attention to the brunette that slipped into the camp itself. Keeping quiet and subdued, the artificer kept careful watch over her surroundings as she got closer and closer to the keystone to the bandit's success. That was all that mattered, after all; if what she had witnessed at the rear was any indication, the bandits were wholly worthless against the regular armor without this.

So even if a couple of them escaped, that was within the realm of expertise of regular towns' guards. Only the Bandit King's head had to be taken to consider this a victory.

The acrid stench of smoke grew stronger as she approached. The blazing tree had set surrounding tents ablaze as well, creating a fiery, breath-stealing arena. Few would last long here, but this fight wouldn't last long. Jeremiah had a thick neck, but prodigious size did not dissuade the sharpened blade. Readjusting the goggles over her eyes, Elodie grimaced at the stink, before leveling her weapon unto the bare-chested man.

But Elodie did not fire. Not yet.

Fanilly was the Knight-Captain, after all. She deserved a chance to earn glory before all else.

[Assistant]
Maritza Verenna

 Their assault was proving to be a quick as it was lethal. Campfires scattered in the fighting had lit a couple of tents alight, adding smoke to the sensory overload of the of the battlefield. Cracking the skull of a bandit with a spin of her quarterstaff, Mari slides back, taking a moment to observe the fight. They had pushed well into the camp, the rose knights now fully inside what had passed for it's walls.

 The resounding crash of the flaming tree hitting the ground was impossible to miss. Rearing up on the end of her tail for a better view, Mari catches sight of the bandit king on the far side of the tree and Cpt. Fanilly stuck over there with him. "Nobody try blocking him!" She hears Tyaethe shout as the vampire goes bolting towards the scene along with several other knights, leaving a number of holes in their battle line. Instead of charging in, Mari falls back towards Dame Aria's squad, intent on serving as a skirmisher on the outer wing of their shield wall.

[User]
Was this all? Alongside his fellow knights, Renar tore through the bandits that sallied forth to face them, his poleaxe smashing their heads and ripping their guts open. Untrained, barely armed, not organized at all. There was no way these bandits could have defeated the king's regulars. Was their success only due to the might of this Bandit King? They had numbers to overwhelm innocent villagers, surely. But a unit of ordinary soldiers would have dealt with this rabble with little difficulty.

Renar brought his poleaxe down, the axe head burying itself deep into a bandit's skull. He ripped the axe out, whirling around and plunging the poleaxe's spike into another charging foe.

And then he saw him. Jeremiah. Now Renar could understand. No armor, but that sword...Renar grimaced behind his helmet's visor. Even he'd have difficulty wielding a monstrosity like that, and Jeremiah was waving it around like a toy. Damn. Something of that size and mass, he'd have no chance of blocking. Now he saw how all of the soldiers' armor was cleaved through.

Renar began to turn towards Sir Gerard. He'd been fighting beside the man for most of this battle. But he wasn't there. The man was busy tending to one of the prisoners. Damn. Renar hefted his poleaxe up, glancing around for any stray bandits who could take advantage of Gerard's situation. The man was a noble one, to be certain. But he wasn't paying attention. Busy reassuring the girl. Well. Fortunate for Sir Gerard that Renar wasn't exactly inclined to let him get killed. Even more fortunate that there weren't any stray bandits to assault the distracted knight and prisoner.

"Damn it, woman, just take the spear..." Renar grumbled under his breath as the girl took eons to simply take a weapon for herself. After what seemed like forever, she finally armed himself, freeing Sir Gerard of his distraction and Renar of his charge. With a brief nod at the man as he turned back towards the battle, Renar joined Gerard in his charge.


[System]
Age: 24

Physical Description: Fenrir is a tall slim man with a slightly athletic physique. He has brownish red hair and soft hazel eyes. Normally he would wear hiking boots, a pair of reasonable jeans, and a long sleeved t-shirt. Various scars crisscross his arms and chest from multiple hunting accidents and various scuffles.

Important items: Kabar Knife, a large flask/canteen, a family heirloom (Spear), two duffel bags.

Short Bio:
 Fenrir was raised in a backwater town in East Texas where there was more cattle and boar then people. He grew up on a health mix of hunting and modern Nordic paganism, His parents were of heavy Irish and Scandinavian decent. Fenrir was the oldest of the family's five children and probably the most different. Where his brothers like to wrestle and fight, Fenrir would be found reading in the branches of his favorite trees and practicing his debating skills. However Fenrir was never without his own means of defense from his more 'savage' brothers,, He once broke his oldest younger brother's hand for tearing a page in one of his book.
 Fenrir Graduated near the top of his high school class and would move out to the 'big' city which he instantly hated. There were no trees or places to read in peace. He reluctantly joined a college as quickly as possible and after moving in his life would change drastically.
 While he was sleeping his first night away on New year's Fenrir had a strange dream about some strange beautiful, winged woman in white robes, with brown skin and black hair and deep blue eyes. She told him the gods had blessed him and needed his help in the coming storm. Upon waking up he shook off the dream as just a trick and went about his normal life, until he turned into a wolf in history class.
 It was at that moment he realized what had happened and ran back home to the woods and farm he had always known. He would hide here until the Military started to rear their ugly head and came after him.

Skills/Flaws:
Skilled Huntsmen- Raised on a farm out in the Texas countryside Fenrir grew up hunting with his dad and uncles. He is happier inside the woods or jungle then in the cities for this reason.
Spearmen - Fenrir has trained most of his teen and adult life with a spear in both defense and hunting.
Untrusting - Due to most people's reactions to his magic Fenrir has become a bit wary of people and has a hard time trusting their word.
Less sentimental/ little emotion- For similar reasons to him being untrusting Fenrir shows little emotion among others.

Spell List:
Form of the Great wolf (Change Magic) - Fenrir can take the form of a massive grayish white wolf with blood red eyes and massive jaws.
Ancestor's call (Underworld Magic) - Fenrir calls forth a select few spirits to help guide him and his friends.
Hodr's shifting shades (Underworld Magic)- Imagine shadow travel.
Hel's legion (Underworld Magic)- Fenrir uses this spell to summon forth dead warriors to assist him. Th spell requires there to be a skeleton nearby to work.
Spear of the Aseir (Change Magic)- Fenrir can change the shape of his spear to various different lengths and thicknesses to better help him survive.
Heighten sense of hearing and smell- Special traits left over from his wolf form.

[User]
Kasumi

Kasumi watched as her suggestion didn't work, and she let out a sigh. She listened to Gavin before looking to the mans hand. Eventually, she grabbed it and pulled herself up. Then, she uncloaked herself. She was doing this mission anyway, she couldn't expect to stay in the shadows for ever, even if she wanted to. After everyone was finished talking, Kasumi stepped up.

"My name is Kasumi, if we're going to work together, we might as well know who everyone is, and if we are going to form two groups, it will be impossible without knowing what exactly everyone can do. As you all can see, I can turn myself invisible, from what I can tell magi are the only ones who can see me, for I have never been seen by mortals. I am able to teleport anywhere I can see. I can create an exact copy of myself which can do everything I can do except physically hurt somebody. This can be in any outfit I have ever worn. I can enhance my speed for a short time, making myself extremely fast, and I can pause time for a few seconds. Finally, this one may be more useful to you than the others. I can change the probability of things to my advantage, although this magic is one I haven't mastered as much as the others. I can change the probability of somebody slipping, somebody leaving the door open, somebody making a mistake, etc.

For my cantrips, I am able to create a small time bubble and speed time around that bubble to make things rusts, plants die, clocks to go faster. I can use my speed to make people think I am fully armed with swords. I can change my vocal cords to anyone's voice, as long as I hear it enough. Then I can put a single suggestion in anyone's head, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't."

To prove some of these, Kasumi started to show what she could do, making her clone, teleporting a little ways in front of her, enhancing her speed and running to the other side of the room, and making it look like she was fully armed. She then put a time bubble around a plant and sped up time until it completely withered and died. Finally, she turned to everyone and spoke in Gavin's voice.

"Hello everyone. I am Gavin, you are all dismissed. Please leave immediately, you are no longer needed."

After that, she changed her vocal cords to her own once more.

"Knowing all the things I can do, what group would you suggest, Gavin, or you still don't need us?"

She gave a small smirk, showing that she enjoyed her little play with Gavin's voice. Honestly, she liked talking in other people's voices, she could make them say things that would make them look an utter fool.

Master Grey

Master Grey listened to Gavin up until he was handed the sheaf of papers. He looked through them quickly before smiling widely. This was amazing! He looked up to Gavin and gave a nod to him.

"Thank you very much. I will certainly read through these in my own time."

He then turned to Neil who had addressed him. Master Grey stepped up to him calmly and when he was in front of him, he spoke in a respectful tone.

"You are correct, I am a man of science, and I do like to see evidence with every unexplainable answer. In my years, I've found that there is always something to back up the claim or to explain things better. In this case, I was correct again. This may not explain everything but it may help me understand this new world of magic better, and that, sir is the sole reason why I came here today but please hear me when I say I will not leave this mission just because I got what I came for."

He then looked over to Kasumi who seemed to become more open now. What she said was very true. It would be difficult to form successful groups without knowing everyones skills and abilities. He listened to her and watched what she could do, although he noticed one advantage to her of everyone introducing themselves and telling everyone what to do.

"Miss Kasumi, I hope this isn't so we can all talk enough for you to gain our voice. However, you are correct that it would be difficult to form groups without knowing the skills and magic everyone processes. So, I shall go next. You can all call me Master Grey. I am strictly world magic. I can shoot lightning out of my finger tips or my 'wand' as you will. So can I with fire. I can control the earth, making a powerful fist that can grab or punch anyone I wish. I can bend water to my will, and finally I can channel any one element in me that I wish to make the elements I use stronger.

For my cantrips I process the ability do simple elemental manipulation, such as sparkling a fire in my hand, Using Water to water to hydrate someone. I can also create projections of schematics, dioramas and designs using the elements and magical projections."

Master Grey created a magical projection that showed him practising his magical abilities. Shooting fire and lightning out of his hands, creating a large fist from the earth, bending water to his will to create eight tentacles. He showed himself sparkling a fire in his hand, using water to water his plants but he didn't show himself channelling an element in himself for obvious reasons. After he was done he gave a gentle nod to everyone and step to the side for the next person.

[Assistant]
Morgana Estrain

Morgana frowned as she watched and listened silently. The old man wanted evidence, a fair enough claim even, or perhaps especially, in light of magic. The 'invisible' girl thought she was some sort of jedi and was subsequently proven wrong. One left. The thuggish, practically bald boy accused the old man of not having faith. She let out a reflexive snort of distaste at his broad and painfully inaccurate assumption that sending them a message was the same thing as being able to kill them. Morgana ran her fingers over her rings hidden within her sleeves, it was a comfort to know that she was safe, even if she was entirely blindsided. The big man in front of her told her to cover her ears and Morgana merely looked up, and then further up, at him curiously. "I'll be fine, thank you." she said quietly. The suggestion was helpful in nature but Morgana felt it was made out of assuming she was frail. However it was odd that he'd bothered to do so in the first place. An interest in her safety, presumably, but why?

 Morgana's analysis moved on. The other big man seemed to be taking the leadership role away from Gavin, interesting, at least most things he said made sense. Then the fun started. The jedi girl decided to showcase her magic and the old man did the same. Just as before the acts were scribbled into her notebook, though scribbles was a crude word to describe the elegant symbols that were etched into the paper. Perhaps... Perhaps she would stay simply to observe the magic. Morgana found watching the flow of magic being used to create the impossible to be fascinating. Even if they were going straight to hell, well, technically the level above it according to some people but the idea was the same. Perhaps she could reciprocate the big man's concern for her later along the line.

[User]
O'Ryan Cooper

As O'Ryan read through the draft letter on Gavin's computer, he immediately began writing down notes on where he had gone. This place called Brightville, Illinois. It seemed strange from the name itself. O'Ryan sighed to himself as he wrote down the town and began searching for directions. Oh boy... a road trip. O'Ryan had to get prepared for the trip and first thing in the morning he would take off for Gavin and whoever these other friends he seemed to be inviting.

[Assistant]
Fenrir would sigh as he listened to the group bicker, "Gods above did he hate people who acted like children." He would silently think as they just wouldn't stop. His saving grace would be when the young Gavin would turn to him and say, "Use your powers; summon a few spirits to keep Ms. Light safe until she changes her mind." At this Fenrir would smile showing his enlarged canines and would hold his hand up to his mouth slowly exhaling a thick white mist.
 The mist would thicken and separate into three separate entities. These entities would whisper in a strange language and Fenrir would respond back. They seem to nod shifting back into mist and begin slithering towards Ms. Light. All the while Fenrir's eyes turn from their normal hazel into a dark brownish almost black. These 'spirits' wrap around her feet and fade away slowly.
 He would then notice that the others were still bickering and snarl slightly. Listening to the young lady behind him while looking "I'll be fine, thank you." At this he would sigh slightly, she probally thought he was calling her weak which wasn't the case as he holds two fingers up to his lips and lets out an ear-splitting whistle.


[System]
Gender:
Male

Age:
29

Appearance:

Medical Ailments:
Hemophiliac (If you don't know what a hemophiliac is here is a summary: "Oww, I cut my palm" *Bleeds out and dies*)

Nationality:
Canadian

Occupation:
Dance Instructor

Four Week History:
Four weeks ago was the time Garret found himself stuck. Stuck not knowing, seeing but never confirming. Four weeks ago was the time where Garret was sealed in among fourteen other people, all huddled together for days. Oh, oh so many days he had been down in that bunker, a bunker where the only person he found comfort in was his father who had abandoned Garret and his mother when Garret was only ten years old. However, his father's rationale had been correct. You see his father had been what most would call... a radical. He'd secretly stolen money from Garret's education plan simply to buy canned food and construct an underground shelter for when "The Apocalypse" arrived. Garret's mother had only dismissed it as a foolish past time until it evolved into an obsession. Afterwards, Garret's father heard about the new disease that had been found in Somalia, kidnapped his now-adult son, and hunkered down with thirteen of his closest "colleagues"

However, it turned out that Garret's education plan hadn't proved to have earned them enough food, and when everything fell short only twenty days prior to today, that was when people began to die of starvation. It took only eight days for 6 people to die. Then, in two more days 3 people died. That was the point when madness consumed the survivors. On that night the dead began to pound on the door, and as Garret and four other curled, waiting for it to end- one person acted differently she stood, staring at the door, tears running down her face. At that moment she smiled, lunging at the door. "Dear, I knew you were alive," she said as her neck was ripped open, madness numbing any pain she would have otherwise felt.

Everyone either fled or died. Garret had no way of knowing whether his father made it out alive, nor did he care. For nineteen days he eluded the dead, moving from house to house, rummaging whatever he could find. He avoided taking any risks, staying away from anything that was sharp out of fear that he would prick his finger and bleed out. However, he had completely bled the residential area dry, and now that his supplies are running low he needs to take those risks that he'd strayed away from. If he avoided those risks any longer he would surely die a meaningless death in this hellhole.

Items of Interest:

-Half empty 2L water backpack

-A plastic baggy with one hemophiliac pill

-A bunsen burner(No gasoline however)

-A pot

-A laser pointer

-1/4 container of peanut butter

-2 Firecrackers

Weapons:

-Sledgehammer

[User]
Alex - Car Wreck

Blackness. It seemed to last forever. In a sense, it was bliss. It was an escape from the never ending torment of his waking nightmares. He wanted to give in to the darkness and lay in peaceful slumber forever. Although something stopped him. A nagging feeling had sprouted in the depths of his mind and had begun to spread, the urgency of it increasing by the second. It told him he couldn't rest. Not yet.

As his mind emerged from the darkness, pain engulfed his body. Alex opened his eyes. It was dark. Shit. He was vaguely aware of the little girl's voice somewhere, but his head was spinning and his senses are distorted. What had happened? They escaped that school, he had met Roland, then... black. Dammit. It'd come back to him soon though, he was sure. One thing that was clear was the danger they were all in. As if to emphasize that, the groans of the undead traveled on the wind, a nightmarish symphony. Fuck. He needed to get everyone out.

It took Alex a few moments to realize just why his head was swimming so badly. He was upside down. Luckily, he'd been wearing his seat belt when whatever happened had happened, so he was dangling upside down, supported by the seat belt. For whatever reason, the airbag had deployed, but sagged down, a deflated mess. The impact must have popped it. He wasn't even aware that was possible... But hell. This wasn't too bad. He'd covered rollover drills in his basic training. Although to be honest, all it did was teach the obvious - supporting yourself, get your seat belt off, lower yourself down and get out the nearest exit. Putting one hand on the roof of the car, and pressing his legs out against the dashboard, he used his free hand to un-clip his seat belt. His seat belt fell limp, but he remained rigid where he supported himself. He gently lowered himself down and out of the already broken window in one slow, careful movement.

Crawling out of the vehicle, Alex slowly stood. His head spun and he almost lost his balance his vision hazed over. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. His limbs felt leaden and he was exhausted. He shook his head, dismissing the tiredness. He'd been through worse. He quickly patted himself down, checking for any injuries or bleeds. He was battered and bruised and had a cut on the side of his head (Which was no longer bleeding, but left the right side of his hair a sticky, matted mess), but aside from that, he'd gotten off lightly. His seat belt had saved him from any serious or permanent damage.

He couldn't see much around him due to the night sky, but the moon lit enough for him to work out what had happened. Judging by the skid marks and debris, they'd been hit by another car, which had then veered off the bridge. Jesus Christ. Purposely or not, that was the second living person that had tried to kill him today. Fan-fucking-tastic.

It was then he remembered the voice outside of the car. He slowly walked around the car, his limbs feeling heavy and wooden. He then saw the girl, who seemed to be trying to rouse someone in the car... Blondie? He made a mental note to himself to learn everyone's names if they got out of this. Alex approached her,

"Hey... Are you okay?"

His throat burned. He hadn't drunk any fluids since entering the school. Fumbling with one of his webbing pouches, he pulled out one of his full water bottles, taking a few disciplined sips before offering it to the girl. Should she accept, he'd tell her to sip and not guzzle the water. He then placed it back inside it's pouch, securing it shut.

He spoke in a hushed tone, his voice soft but still authoritative.

"We need to work together here, okay? Do you think you can try to keep a watch out for anything whilst I try to help everyone else? Do you still have your pistol?"

He gave her a moment to process what he'd said and answer before continuing;

"I'm Alex, by the way." He smiled at her, "You're going to be fine. You can do this. I believe in you."

[Assistant]
Oy vey. My head.

Jesus-bleedin'-Christ, what happened?

Ow, not just my head. My everything. Ow.

Christ, why was I hurtin' so much?

It started comin' back to me in flashes. The cop car. We were in a cop car. We were escapin'. Goin' along fine.

Then we got hit by another car.

Of all the bleedin' things. Luck of the Irish my arse. And here I thought we could've gotten away with travelling in a vehicle away from the bloody school. Everything was starting to come back to me. Here I was, danglin' upside down in a crashed police car, blood pourin' down me forehead, achin' everywhere and not a bloody rest stop in sight. Wonder-fockin'-ful. Where were we? The last I remember, we were headin' away from the school after we'd picked up the other guy from the house that was shootin' at us, except he wasn't the one shootin' at us and he'd killed the original guy so we'd let him in, left Doris behind, dead. That reminded me.

Sophia.

I looked around, in a daze, and found her to my right, shakin' my shoulder 'n trying to get me to wake up, which I was. I cracked a smile and gave her a wave.

"Hey lass. I'm still hangin' around."

I chuckled. Grim humour in a grim bloody world.

Right, time for me to get out. I looked down (up) and found the clasp of me seat belt. Bracing for the worst, I jammed it with my finger and fell the few inches down to the roof of the car-

Ow. That hurt more than it should.

I tried to straighten myself and climbed out of the upside-down car. God that was awful, like being put through a washing machine, 'cept the thing was designed to pummel you silly, not wash your clothes to a sparkle shine. Aye, I hurt, but I guess so did everyone, 'specially little Sophia, poor lass. But we were here, 'n we were alive, that's all that mattered to me. It was night out, judging from how bloody dark the whole place was, and the only people I saw up were meself, Sophia, and Alex. The other two were still strapped up inside the car; our driver and the other gunman, still unconscious. I didn't know if we were to leave them behind or no, but whatever the case, I hoped they woke up soon, more heads equals less worry, 'specially with these two. I placed a hand on Sophia's shoulder and smiled to her, fighting past the aches of moving again.

"Aye lass, we're alive. Right bloody ride that was, but we're alright, eh?"

As far as I was concerned, all my gear was still with me, save the pipe that I'd thrown away back at the school. Me pack was ripped a little, but nothing it couldn't handle. We were alright, aye, but the question now was where were we? And where would safety be?

[User]
Black. Pure, and utter black. Garret's world swayed, band and forth, back and forth, back and forth, over and over again. And then there was light. Blinding light, filling his eyes with its cruel, merciless brightness. And yet, he didn't squint, or even blink. What had happened? Why could he not feel his body? Why were his breaths so weak? If for only an instant, he regained a bit of consciousness, and his eyes began to focus. There was grass poking through the wind shield? No, the wind shield was gone. But how did the grass get to the roof? Garret was then able to put two and two together, despite the fact that fog clouded his mind, and realize that he was upside down. He swung his head lazily to the left, eyeing the seatbelt hooked on his shoulder, keeping him off the ground. The airbag at the front was a sloppy mess, but it had deployed. So, why did he feel so weak? So, so weak. It felt like his legs were gone, and that his arms were heavier than lead.

Garret gritted his teeth, swinging his arms up to detach the seatbelt. By pure luck his palm struck the release, and he fell to the floor, landing on his backpack. He looked back down at his arm, seeing only red. So much red covered his arm. Then the dizziness hit him like a shock wave, reminding him that he was still very much alive. But not for long if he didn't act quickly. He threw off his backpack and pulled himself up off of the ground. He could hear mumbles in the back, but his mind was too weak to process anything. How much time had passed? How much blood had he lost? He opened a side compartment on his bag with lazy fingers, barely grasping onto the zipper with his ring finger and thumb, and there within lied his last hope. He pulled the plastic bag open, and seeing only crushed remains of the pill that lay within, he tilted his head back, and let the contents fall into his mouth. He then grabbed the nozzle on his water backpack and began to drink, seemingly pulling more life back into himself with each gulp.

He was alive and absolutely covered in red. He had cuts on his legs, cuts on his arms, and a deep gash where the seatbelt had stopped him from flying through the windshield. How much time had gone by? How long had he bled out? It may not matter anymore, but he knew he'd be more of a hindrance to these people than a help. Then he heard groans outside, and noticed that the three in the back were all awake. All except for Roland, who had apparently dispatched the sniper during the time at the school yard. He was unable to make out sounds, but noticed that one of them was offering water in the back. Garret grabbed his water backpack and threw it over to them with a weak toss.

"Hey... if you need water... drink this... hold onto what little you have"


[System]
Double audio track
One normal
One downpitched -5 semitones
Phaser* Stages - 24
* Dry/Wet - 255
* LFO Freq - 0.1
* LFO Start Phase - 0
* Depth - 255
* Feedback - 0%
Race: Khepri
Age
Appearance
Skills:* Hand-to-Hand Combat
* Full Contact Magic
	+ Healing Magic
	+ Kinetic Magic

Background
Motto

[User]
Skrax stumbled through the portal and shook his head to relieve himself of the cobwebs. Inside, where the rest of his newfound companions were, the round chamber loomed, empty and quiet.

"I am alright, though I am unsure of where we are."

He sighed and patted himself down, relieved to find his prayer beads still hanging from his neck and staff gripped firmly in one hand. With a cursory glance around the room he saw the rest of his companions, and also the ceiling, which looked like an infinite night sky.

"Well whatever this place is, it's clearly magical in origin."

[Assistant]
Once he had opened the doors of the Tower, the gaping portal that appeared before him slowly drew him towards it. He dug in his heels, but otherwise didn't resist the effect, unsure whether it was normal or a trap. As he slid across the floor tiles, he turned to address his newly met party.

"Is this the way?" he paused as the dwarf soared by his head, hurdling into the portal. "Oh, okay," and with that simple utterance, he relaxed his muscles and fell face forwards into the coruscating singularity.

Athalzerus was launched from the portal in a high-domed room, where he slid face-first across a mosaic of small, but clearly not fragile tiles, until his momentum ground to a halt. Carefully, he stood up, turning to make sure the rest of the group had made it through before nodding to himself.

[User]
Hargrim tumbles through the portal and is spit out within what seems like a second. He lands face first on the floor and slides a bit further before finally coming to a halt.
There was only darkness He couldn't see a thing! "By the ancestors! I'm blind! Wait..." The dwarf pushes himself off the ground. "Right, never mind. I'm fine."

He makes a quick headcount, making sure everyone is fine. Then he finally notices his surroundings. "Wait, this doesn't look like the tower." Noticing the ceiling he raises an eyebrow. "And that doesn't fit at all!" He frantically looks around, trying to find something that makes sense. "This is... bloody magic! Never should have accepted this job!"

The rest of his companions all seem rather calm about the whole ordeal. Maybe they were more familiar with magic, but Hargrim wasn't! He rather stayed away from it all, and now he was in the middle of it!

[Assistant]
While the others may have been mesmerized or perhaps frightened by the new contents which surrounded them, Marianne only smiled all the wider. Moving away Jacoby, she stared at the endless void of space that seemed to be literally hanging over their heads, as if it was yet another gateway into some other world. Such things weren't impossible by a wizard of true power and it was breathtaking to witness nonetheless.

Held in her hand now was the small, black book she had been fetching from her dress pocket. It was adorned with a simple cross pattern made of leather and was roughly the size of a moderate tome or grimoire. Still not uttering a word to her new companions, Marianne instead brought the book closer to her and moved her lips, as if speaking.

From her reaction-which included more of her noiseless giggles-the book seemed to be amusing her in some way. Still, it would do no good in sharing these pleasant wonders by herself. Spinning on her heels, the dark mage glanced around to make sure her new traveling companions were all fine. Once that had been ensured, she began walking around the impossibly circular room.

The massive pillars drew her interest, much like everything in the surrounding room. It was as if someone had intended this to be both an art gallery and an observatory at the same time. Oh what wondrous things that could lie at the heart of this tower! She knew it was good instinct on her part to take this job.

[User]
Rucks let out a large cough as he cleared his throat, finally able to regain his voice. His first attempt to speak was a mere whimper, but then he was able to formulate his words properly.

"Okay let's start with something simple. Do not wear Nymph clothing in the cold, it does not work and you almost die from hypothermia. That's something I just learned, but let's move onto something more complicated for a second" Rucks began, getting panicky as the reality of the tower set in although still shocked from the cold, "Let's move on to the fact that at least four of us are mages, myself, mantis, white Mage as the little girl. I know this because I can sense the magical energies we all give off. Usually we hide these energies but since were of about the same level we can detect them since we are very adept at it. A weaker Mage would not be able to detect it. Keep that I'm mind when I say the Mage who made this tower was ridiculously powerful, clearly because they have hidden a whole range of magical attempts from all of us, at least no one has come forward to say they detected it. Firstly the fact that the weather changed outside the tower, that's kind of weather magic 101 but still, that was a big area. Secondly, timey-wimey inter dimensional portal that kind of felt like a less fluffy version of travelling to the dream. That's big magical thing number two, because mostly portals aren't real unless you have magic. Then we come on to the massive room inside of the tiny, tiny tower. That's some inter dimensional magic which I've never seen a Mage powerful enough to do. Not to mention the night sky, that is not a painting I saw a shooting star, I'm sure someone else did too. What are we dealing with here? This is a wizard unlike anything we have ever seen before, we are all very very good mages and none of us probably even come close to this sort of magic"

This tower was breathtaking, incredible. No wonder so many had flocked to it in recent years. But Rucks couldn't help think that everyone was taking it oddly well - except maybe the dwarf but they never took we'll to magic. They preferred their metalworking and tinkering.

The little girl hadn't even said anything, what was going on with her? She seemed to be just as powerful as any other Mage there, or perhaps she was just gifted at concealing her power. At the same time though she could be twice as strong and have very little experience hiding it. That was the only problem with detecting magic, it could only give you a rough comparison between yourself and another.

[Assistant]
When they were out of the portal, Jacoby and Chomp were met with a wondrous sight. Since there was no danger around at that moment, the 2 of them were more interested than worried by this magical turn of events. "Well" Jacoby said as he looked at the night sky above him "On the list of stunning things I've seen today, this is a solid 3".

Jacoby and Chomp then looked at the dwarf and the dreamwalker. Neither of them seemed to enjoy their new surroundings. Jacoby couldn't understand why they were so worried at the moment. This wasn't the dangerous kind of magic, so why make a fuss about it. "So we were sucked into a portal through the space time continuum and got booted out into a room where the night sky is the ceiling. Big deal!" Jacoby said "I mean come on! This is just the entrance and 2 of us are already panicking at the sight of a little magic" Jacoby looked at Hargrim "I thought dwarfs were supposed to as sturdy as the mountain they were born in" he then looked at Rucks "And as for you dreamer, I'm fairly certain you've seen stranger things than this in the dream. Don't deny it".

[User]
"No. Nothing close to this. I can only heal, not conjure this amount of...wonder."

Skrax lowered his hood and took in the sights of the tower proper. With staff in hand he took to slowly pacing around the circular chamber, his gaze staring up towards the ceiling, through the starry sky that he knew was false. After a while he returned his gaze back to the sides of the chamber, looking around for an exit or perhaps a door.

"Well, in any case, we need to decide where to go from here. Anyone...have any ideas?"

[Assistant]
Hargrim frowns as the human belittles him. "Why listen here ya' big punk. First of all-..." The dwarf doesn't get time to finish his insult as the night sky above their heads begins to shift and swirl. It seems the endless void losses his... endless and starts to shape like a face with eyes for stars and nebulous for lips.

The lips part and a booming but monotone voice greets the group. "A warm welcome from the master, adventures. He hopes you will enjoy your stay and that you may survive longer then the previous group. If you are ready to continue your journey, please stand in the middle of the room." The mouth opens even further and a beam of light shoots out of it, covering the entire floor between the pillars in a bright light.

Hargrim looks up in amazement before shaking his head and throwing his hands in the air. "Of course! Talking stars! That's what was missing! Ugh... Whatever. No other thing to do then listen to the magical head I'd say." He simply shrugs and walks towards the beam of light. Some might think he actually lost his mind, others, who knew Hargrim, would simply say he lost his care.

With no time for anyone to stop him, the dwarf steps inside the beam of light. As soon as he is completely covered in the light he is blinded. As his sight slowly returns, he can see he's no longer in the room with pillars. The room he is standing in is completely empty, bare for a pedestal with a button on top of it."Well, this certainly isn't an improvement." His eyes scan through the room as he waits for his companions to man up and step through the portal as well.

[User]
While others had argued and rambled, Athalzerus examined the architecture with a fiery gaze. The scale of the domed chamber and mighty pillars reminded him of his home, in the great cavernous cities his kind dwelt within. Still, he recognized that the chamber was the craft of wizardry, not the honest labor of chisel and hammer. Otherwise, it could not have existed within so small and crude a tower. The voice in the night sky above called all the adventurers' attention, and Athalzerus slowly frowned. It seemed that to whatever wizard had crafted this place, they were but a means of entertainment, a game of survival. How rude, he would remember that when he came face to face with the scrawny, malnourished bag of bones that had built this tower.

Still, there were no other exits in sight, so he followed close behind the dwarf as he entered the light. As he materialized behind the dwarf and scanned the room, he grunted his disapproval.

"[url]More tricks,[/url]" he uttered, before striding forward and swinging his hammer in a downward arcs to deliver a thunderous blow to the button and its pedestal, with little concern for what might happen to those others who had yet to enter the light.

[Assistant] Jacoby believed himself in for an argument with his dwarven companion. But instead of listening to the ill-tempered ramblings of an argumentative dwarf, the sky began to speak before shooting a portal out of its mouth. Once Hargrim and Athalzerus had entered the portal, Jacoby and Chomp looked at each other. "Well, the only way is forward" Jacoby said. Jacoby and Chomp reached the other side of the portal just in time to see the Herkurian destroy the button. "You know, you could have just pressed the button instead of smashing it with a hammer" Jacoby told Athalzerus.

[User]
Many things were happening all at once, all of them more magical as each second seemed to pass on. First came the voice and head in the sky, a booming but robotic echo radiating from the heavens above. Marianne listened in curiosity as the disembodied being instructed them of their tasks, or something like that. All she knew was that the dwarf was taking the lead again, guiding them to the summoned beam of light.

Clenching her small black book tightly, she once again moved her lips towards it, seeming to speak words that registered no sound. If one were to look closely, they would witness the book actually shaking slightly, as it were trembling…or chuckling. But books couldn't chuckle.

In any case, the dark mage walked into the beam of light, grimacing at her bright surroundings, before noticing that they had been transported away once again. This time it was a small chamber with a single pedestal and a single button. Obviously the contraption was some kind of devious trap meant to hinder their progress. Surely no one would be as stupid as to-

"You complete idiot! Don't touch that!"

The voice most certainly came from Marianne but most certainly didn't sound very feminine. In fact, it almost reverberated, as if coming from another dimension. The dark mage's lips hadn't moved so it couldn't have come from her. So who then?

There wouldn't be time to question it too much because now the room began to rumble and shake. Large, circling blades each attached to moving gears appeared on the sides of the walls. Said walls began to close in on the traveling group, threatening to tear them apart. More magical contraptions it seemed.

[Assistant]
Durandal agreed with the dark mage on this one. After the demon's slamming of the button, the walls began to close in with blades of death. After a moment of panic, the hero thought of an idea that would either guarantee their survival or at least make sure the idiot died first.

"I don't think there's a need to panic. Quite simply, our demon friend here seems to have rather thick skin. We put him up against the blades, maybe let him chew on them for a snack, while me and any other healers keep him alive. Eventually the wall around the blade will crack from trying to go forward and we can get onto the other side."

The white mage wasn't sure himself if this was a good idea or if he was just trying to delay his death. But the others seemed to be panicking, and it is always the job of the healer to remain calm while blood sprays everywhere.

[User]
"That sounds reasonable, but if anyone else has any other plans, feel free?"

Skrax stood with staff extended as the walls closed in on the group. Perched amongst the rubble of the former button pedestal, he scanned the rest of the room, even as the whirling blades of death drew ever closer. He was no closer to finding a way out, and certainly these blades were the end of many a wandering sellsword.

The ceiling.

What was on the ceiling?

"Fellows, perhaps we should also consider going up and out of this deathtrap?"