[System]
Age: 20
Dragon: Love

Personality: Marin appears to most as jovial and flamboyant. He is incredibly sociable and can talk to whomever he wants with ease. A convincing speaker, Marin prides himself on his ability to deliver rousing speeches and come up with quick, witty, on-the-fly one-liners. Marin also prides himself on his body, which he maintains day in and day out through sheer heart, diet, and exercise. Marin preaches a lifestyle to take advantage of youth and enjoy the little things. Marin preaches the potential of the human body and how wasteful it is not to use said potential; one of the most important parts of his philosophy being that: everybody's going to make it. Still, there is part of Marin which is a bit self-centered and show-boating.

History: Marin's parents migrated from a land ruled by a harsh king who made his reign by slaughtering and oppressing his people as well as many others. As a child, Marin was actually rather weak and scrawny. He preferred staying inside, and for the most part, let his body go to waste. Marin had an older brother, however. This brother was apprentice to a local farmer, and did a bulk of the heavy work. As a result, Marin's brother became quite strong. It was safe to say that Marin was jealous; this did not motivate him enough, however.

It was the ripe age of 19 when Marin began his quest for fame and fortune. He left his home penniless and aimless, lead only by his wanderlust. At the ripe age of 19, Marin nearly starved to death. It was at this near-death experience, however, that his dragon found him. The dragon of love saw a boy who was very capable of reproduction but still had not. Taking pity on the young virgin, the love dragon nursed the boy back to health, and gave Marin a gift which changed his life: starting strength.

Using the strength of the dragon, Marin quickly rose back to his feet. With his new-found power, Marin forged a name for himself with heavy hand and draconic strength. Marin's new musculature made him incredibly popular with the wenches of the realm. However, Marin's experiences had taught him not only humility, but the importance of sharing. In addition, Marin's new philosophy preached that he should in fact disregard women in pursuit of other recreational activities, such as dance. In doing so, however, he had only made women's desire for him stronger.

Powers:
Dragon Strength: Marin was granted the ability to quickly gain strength through increased strenuous activity. His muscles react quickly to stimulus, generating a response by attempting to exert as much force as what was put on. In the process, the muscles tear as a magic substance coats the muscles. However, after a much needed rest, Marin's muscles recover and become stronger than ever. When exercising his legs, Marin is capable of unleashing his body's inner potential. Therefore, Marin never excuses himself from a day where he works his leg muscles. This power is only active, however, as long as Marin is capable of eating three meals a day and does not lose more than 10 ml of fluid substance from his body. Should either of the two conditions be met, Marin will slowly but gradually return to his scrawny state before he met the dragon until he gets another meal in.
Arousal Sense: Marin can sense base emotions of creatures in his area, allowing him to guage their reactions to certain stimuli, or just to study when bored.

Picture :

[User]
The city of Katrina was a growing trade city just off the coast of the Grand Eagle Republic- a fresh, young nation which had gained independence as a sovereign nation not even a century ago. Katrina had once belonged to another nation as one of their colonies, but had soon come into the hands of the republic.

This city was the one that Marin chose as his adopted home, though only a few stone's throws away from his birth home: a plantation in the more rural areas. Marin had initially worked among his slaves, however, had long since sold the farm as well as freed his own slaves in the process in order to fund his own adventuring career. It had been a while since then, and though city life was much tougher than Marin had initially imagined, he had made a living nonetheless.

It was long since Marin had met the dragon Tekus, who bestowed unto Marin his bountiful muscular gains. Since then, he had been working to encourage the city-goers to mingle in a more subtle fashion than he'd imagine his predecessors had. Marin made his living as a "performer", who had "entertained" many young ladies in the city's lonely nights.

[Assistant]
Vladimir stood seeing those around him as the great dragon spoke. he locked his jaw beneath his mask in grim determination preparing to seal his fate upon the throne. the dragon faced him and described the great Dragon of Death, he stared back through the glass lenses in his mask. being this close to a true dragon filled his mind with fear. he knew that the dragon would not kill him without cause, probably, but the primal core of his mind screamed for him to run and hide. Vladimir kept himself calm through sheer force of will, and the memory of the Dragon's mention of Immortality if he should succeed. the comfort of safety from that eternal sleep.

Vladimir turns and finds the Throne of Death, constructed from clean bleached bone and what appeared to be a small dragon's skull built above the head where it would be visible over the one who sits there. he reaches out before he sits down touches the skull and feels the spark, the sensation would be impossible to describe in any words Vladimir knew. 'My fate has been sealed, I have become Death. Shepard of the dead.' he considers for a moment and takes his seat. As he does, the portal opens before him.

[User]
The Earth realm was a bright flashing bright sunlight, a smile on the dragons face as it entered the realm. He stood high above the trees and plant life and looked down onto the hero that was to be. "Well first we need to get you familar with this realm itself so hop up ont my back and I will give you a small tour" he said as he lowered his large brown golden wing to the mortal before him. The dragon wings flapped around slightly as he was itching to fly above his own realm. The realm of Nature and life was one of the realms that crossed all human realms and such. Its history was long forgotten in the libraries of Gerinika the dragon of knowledge but no one had seen her in ages.

The Life dragon flew up after the mortal was on his back and flew around the massive lands of tree's and large castle walls but there was no real castle there only massive castle walls as if everything here was part of his home, his life. he flew down toa small temple-like area and huffed and uprooted it above the ground it was a large golden like temple and said "Enter, go down the hall to your left you will see two large doors and go through them. It shall lead you to the large kitchen i will be there"

The Death realm was a massive realm filled with skelton dragons and all, the dragons of the myths was one that could scare anyone into pieces as the death dragon's eyes snapped open as the mortal's foot stepped into the large hall of the throneroom. The massive dragon sat there his eyes glowing sharply "Hello, I am Ying the Dragon of Death" snarled the dragon as he was a massive creature the human looked like an ant compared to him. The dragon growled gently as he lowered his massive head to look at the mortal closely eyes glowing brightly eyes fangs bared slightly.

"I am Ying the dragon of Death who might you be mortal?"Snapped the dark dragon as he looked at him with sharp snarl across of his face.

Tesku was the ruler of the love realm fangs bared slightly at his pupil making him appeare before him fangs bared deeply at him "MY job was not for you to be a toy for females. UNDERSTAND?! You'll not spend anymore nights with these females understand? you will be training with me for the next five months now you will be in my realm there are no girls here only me and my teachers" he said agressivly fangs bared at his young pupil eyes narrowed before he turned his long body and said "come along then" he said and started to walk toward the massive large building eyes narrowed gently eyes closed and aggressive "Now lets go you have a lot to learn to be a real hero" said eyes narrowed and sighing gently as they walked in small silence.

They came into the large building and sat down slightly and looked outside and looked down at the human "Tell me what you see out there" he said slowly.

The world of the Gold dragon of greed and human sin was in his castle laid far from the normal town but he could hear the human eneter his world. So he sent out his warden and most trusted dragon as the dragon was a small golden blue one if flew out to the INN and flew in and the humans scattered and were gone as the small dragon looked right at the human fangs bared slightly but the masters voice commanded it to shut its mouth and it did.

Follow me if you wish to meet the dragon you will be the hero of The small dragon said snippily eyes glowing and leads toward the door and out of the castle and away from the main kingdom and toward the outskirts toward the places no humans go the place of their dragon lord. The castle of the golden dragon of greed. The dragon walked and after about five hours they came to the massive castle and he spoke "Go into the halls to the right and eneter be warned though do not touch anything in this castle his wrath is something too dangerous for you to understand" The dragon warned the female as it turned and walked away swiftly. The golden dragon was blended in with the gold it was in.

[Assistant]
Vladimir walked into the presence of a mighty dragon, he looked up through the glass lenses staring at death itself. the dragon moved and lowered its head to inspect him. Vladimir stood his ground although his heart was racing. when the Dragons great eye was level with him it spoke "I am Ying the dragon of Death who might you be mortal?" Snapped the dark dragon as he looked at him with sharp snarl across of his face. The voice sounded as though it was simply echoing through Vladimir's soul. as though it wasn't sound in his ears but reached deeper and that the dragon was speaking to his soul, not his body. he felt confident that the dragon could speak with a deaf man.

Vladimir thought carefully for a brief moment, 'What i do next decides my future.' Vladimir decides that the dragon deserved the deepest respect. He slowly drops to his knees as though in worship of the dragon, he opened his mouth a fraction and realized he must say something. He introduces himself as he had always done, from peasants to generals to kings and death would be no different. He speaks, unsure if the dragon could hear his well so he speaks up with a firm strength to his voice. "I am Apothecary Vladimir, but most simply call me Apothecary" as he spoke he realized that there was still some fear in the voice, and the tone trembled briefly.

[User]
In the confusion, Glinda managed to surreptitiously pilfer a small packet of tobacoo and rolling papers, and regarded the pathetically-small dragon with contempt. With little else to do, she opted to follow the dragon, and silently wondered if all dragons were so terrible at basic socialization. With a little luck and some proper wording, she could probably have them singing to whatever tune she wanted.

Glinda, frustrated and blistered, arrived at Grunik's castle. As the pygmy dragon talked to her about common courtesy and how mean his leader is, Glinda absent-mindedly rolled up a cigarette.

"Don't worry," Glinda said, smiling earnestly, "I know how to treat myself in the presence of, ah... royalty." She struck a match off the dragon's scales, and lit her cigarette. As the dragon wandered off to parts unknown, Glinda stood in the hall and peacefully smoked.

Thirty minutes later, she finished up with the smoldering dog-end that used to be an expertly-rolled cigarette. She nonchalantly crushed the still-glowing dog-end with her fingers, and squirreled it away in her purse for later disposal. Glinda trussed up her dress, brushed her hair back, and sauntered into Grunik's throne room. What would be the best way to address a dragon? Glinda thought, and shortly decided that staying calm and reverent would be best.

[Assistant] Sliding off the dragon's back he made his way into the structure. He paid no heed to the details of the interior instead letting his intuition guide him to that kitchen. He was curious as to why a kitchen as a meeting place for the dragon to deliver exposition and not any other moment from before. But perhaps it would reveal itself when he entered into the kitchen. He could feel a warm draft no doubt from the various hearth fires burning as he pulled open the door. "I have arrived." He said flatly and calmly.

[User]
"Very well!" Marin replied with gusto as he struck a pose to no one in particular. The man seemed to have no choice but follow his dragon- there weren't any clear exits anyways, though Marin reasoned there would be plenty to see in the domain of love.

"So what sort of training are we doing? Etiquette? I'll have you know I am a supreme gentleman. It takes effort to look like me, you know? Not that you would know of course, being all... scaly and such." Marin rambled. As he followed the dragon, Marin crossed his arms, his stroll getting much more casual.


[System]
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Race: Imp

Appearance:  She's quite feathery, and her markings can glow, generally at will though also if stressed.
Height and Weight: 3'4" and 40 pounds

Weapons/Items: A sack containing 50 feet of rope, 25 iron nails, a sturdy rock, five emptied and cleaned shells, a flask of alcohol, candle wicks, five prepared small bombs, and a piece of quartz.

Skills: Ekra is capable of crafting small explosives using the materials on her person. However, these bombs cannot inflict much damage, though they are sufficient to stun and are easily thrown. She is also capable of crafting and concealing simple traps, tracking others even on stone due to her familiarity with the ruin grounds, and differentiating between plant types. Also, she seems immune to pain.

Abilities: Imps, as a race, are very quick creatures, able to turn on a dime. They possess no self-beneficial magical abilities but between their speed, deftness, and sleight of hand, they are capable of appearing to turn invisible. In addition to their speed, they naturally produce a venom in their saliva which disorients an enemy.

Magic: Imps can feed off of magic, thus tending to attract them to spellcasters; however, they are also easily bound to items. These items can grant them some magical properties but also can force an imp to curb their mischievous nature and serve the one who bound them.

Personality: Ekra, like most imps, is quite curious about the going-ons of others and chatty. She jokes quite a bit and doesn't seem to take much seriously. Also like most imps, she's fairly lonely and tries to compensate by reaching out to others. Between her inability to register pain and her lack of empathy in general, however, her efforts haven't amounted to much and she doesn't seem interested in changing them.

Bio: Ekra is an imp from the ruins outside of Crumbleport. She's wandered in and out of town to play with any unattended children and set up jokes, but her nature has resulted in many an angry worker and parent seeking her demise. She spends most of her time in the ruins, targeting would-be explorers and archaeologists.

[User]
To say that Isabel stood on the edge of the ruins would be inaccurate, because the ruins never ended. All of Crumbleport was an amalgamation of ruined, ancient structures, tumbledown but more recent buildings, and brand new construction. The "ruins" stretched from the coast, well into the jungle, and as Crumbleport shared no borders with other principalities, nobody had ever bothered to define exactly where it ended.

And yet Isabel stood on the edge of something. Maybe it wasn't the edge of the ruins, and maybe it wasn't the border of Crumbleport, but it was some imaginary line. Some line that, it was understood, marked the barrier between safety and uncertainty. It looked no different from the rest of the town. There was no line, no sudden dropping or even a sudden increase in foliage. Nearest anyone could figure, the watchtower stretching out of the trees to her right(held up more by magic than by mortar these days) was the furthest one could walk without being prepared for danger.

Isabel was as prepared for danger as she could be. She had practiced a few spells, and the Bottle on her back had just one prepared spell preserved inside of it. It was a kinetic field, which she could activate at a moment's notice, to protect her from attack, or a structural collapse or something like that. The rest of the Bottle's cells she left empty, to capture ancient magic for further study. She also carried a brand new leather bound notebook, held on a chain from her belt, to keep track of anything she needed to notate. Currently the only words in it were the day's date at the top of the first page. She wished she could bring a scribe student. When working at the University, there was an abundance of scribes in training who were perfectly willing to write down anything you said just to practice their calligraphy. But none were willing to go where she was going.

Isabel took a final breath of safe air and then stepped forward, eyes scanning wildly around as she did so. When nothing happened, she took another step, and another. She smiled, pulled her notebook from her side and wrote:

"Three steps in. Not dead yet."

Then she continued walking.

[Assistant]
Devon watched Isabel head off. He shook his head with a smug smirk. They won't likely see that one alive again.

That was how life was in crumbleport. They stood on the grounds of untold evil waiting to grab you at every turn.

Devon wasn't afraid though, evil was supposedly in his blood. In his lineage. He was looking for the answers, but he needed to go looking to know for sure what the truth really was.

He strode through the ruins deciding it best to head to the tavern. It was run by dwarves to no ones surprise. It was called "The Stone Cellar" and it was very popular. He could use a drink of rum right about now.

[User] Jack sat inside 'The Stone Cellar' at a table by himself. He had several documents about the ruins of Crumbleport. Deciding where to start is one thing but it's best to learn about the place before stepping in. Learning of its origin may help get an idea of what to expect and better prepare yourself. He was looking through them wondering where to start and what horrendous beasts he would find down in the ruins, especially on the deeper levels when it really gets underground. "This place really is more than just a maze isn't it. The entire place was covered in ruins. Choosing a place to start was deffinetly a tough decision. One misstep and it was over. Jack looked around to see others that looked like they wanted to check out the ruins. Some were here for the treasure, some for knowledge, and someay even find great power. Jack was looking for the ancient secrets hidden within. Who knows what lurked within those ruins. Jack was waiting and preparing for his long journey into the ruins of Crumbleport.

[Assistant]
Devon sat at the bar, ordering himself some rum to drink. Looking behind himself, the pale man noticed Jack immediately.

He stood out like a sore thumb, his armor, and his documents scattered about before him. This man wanted to explore by the looks of things.

The thought had crossed Devon's mind immediately; he needed someone to travel with. Devon needed a party of his own if he intended to be successful. Being lost wasn't something he was used to, but all the same, he didn't want to be alone when he tried to discover his true lineage.

Devon must have been staring for quite some time as he noticed a few people glance in his direction. Devon turned and took a drink of his rum. He wasn't sure he wanted to bother the knight, but in the same instance, he was curious if he'd help.

[User]
From the top of a broken pillar, gleaming yellow eyes watched the approaching human. Pretty sure it was human anyhow. Well, well, well, what were they doing here, hm? Walking around her ruins like that? Probably another wannabe 'professor'. Those people were so boring. The 'raiders' were a bit more interesting, but also a lot louder and meaner. Rarely did anyone come out here that she thought was actually fun.

Not that it ever stopped Ekra.

She giggled, jumping over to a stone rooftop filled with holes and dodging past them. A little further up was a trick she had set up a while ago, one that had used up a fair amount of rope and time. She knew it'd work though. She watched the human, crouched on her perch as the human slowly began walking along the decaying pathway, pausing to write something - Ekra would have to grab it, she was fond of flipping through those; sometimes they even had pictures - before continuing on. Her smile grew into a grin as the human got closer.

Right when the human was where she needed to be, Ekra yanked on the rope nearby. Ahead, suspended from an overhanging tree, a spiky log dislodged and immediately swung downwards. Fast enough to catch attention, certainly fast enough to be seen, aimed right at the human's midsection-

And then, not a foot away, crumble into harmless wooden chips and sawdust.

Ekra's raucous laughter tore through the quiet ruins.


[System]
Appearance: Like all Astartes, Nergüi is of superhuman proportions, his height, weight and muscle-mass far outdoing that of even the largest Guardsman as he towers above them being nearly eight feet tall in height due to his power armour. His face, the only part of his body commonly seen, is hard and expressionless with the outward appearance of an elderly man with his long grey hair cut and tied into a nomadic top-knot, his facial hair the thin moustache and wispy goatee commonly seen among the White Scars set against tanned flesh, bearing ritually made scars below his eyes and across his cheeks . The almond-shaped eyes of a deep hazel colour, stuck in dark eye-sockets are what makes people realise how much he has seen and how much he knows, holding both wisdom and a look of violence within them.

Age: 275

Sex: M

Class: Deathwatch (White Scars) Apothecary (Emchi)

Equipment:

* A suit of archaic and battered but slightly modified Mark VI "Corvus" armour, painted in the traditional black colours of the Deathwatch, taken from a predecessor of the pre-heresy White Scars and gifted to the current Chapter. The suit has been modified to include the mandatory silver shoulder pad of the Watch, Helix shapes against a white background adorn the armour at several points as do eagles, the right shoulder-guard retaining the yellow lightning bolt-on-red and stark white of his Chapter.
* Diagnostor Helmet - The helmet is shaped in the conventional form of a beaked Mark VI helm, yet contains upgraded Auto-senses and readouts to assist with their charge of treating the injured and maintaining their Battle-Brothers' ( and any others) physical combat readiness.
* Narthecium - The tool of an Apothecary's trade, a Narthecium contains implements specially designed for Space Marine physiology and for performing first aid without having to remove the patient's Power Armour. It also comprises various counterseptics, skin patches, transfusions and other compounds engineered for the Space Marines' physiology, and several stasis tubes for storing recovered gene-seed.
* Reductor - Retrieval and storage of a fallen Battle-Brother's gene-seed is so critical that Apothecaries carry a special tool for this operation. While a Reductor is not required for Progenoid removal, it significantly reduces the time. This surgical implement fastens under the wrist. It includes a monomolecular saw for penetrating Power Armour and Ossmodula-enhanced rib cages, and a diamantine-tipped extractor drill.
* Mk III Pattern bolt pistol
* Power-sabre – A power weapon utilising a curved blade, shaped after the traditional sabres wielded by the steppe nomads of Chogoris. It is rarely used, as he is an Apothecary after all, but when it is it is put to death-dealing with a deadly effect.
* One Frag and one Krak grenade

Notable Deeds:

* The Diata Purge: Under the direction of Kyublai Khan, Nergüi joined the campaign with the rest of his Chapter against various Chaos Renegades; he saved many of his Brothers during the bloodshed, as well as some from the allied Marauders Chapter. Great deeds were done during this hunt, though not glorious ones by this Apothecary.
* Battle for Grase Mesa: Nergüi was part of the Land Speeder mounted cadre that took the fight to the Eldar of Yme-Loc, joining his brethren in their flanking attacks on the lithe xenos, personally accounting for over a dozen Eldar scalps and heads.
* Third War for Armageddon: Everyone knows about this war, and there are so many tales of daring do that it would be impossible to tell them all here. Needless to say, Apothecary Nergüi of the Firefist Brotherhood (2nd Company) impressed someone with extreme authority, an Inquisitor no less, and it was requested that he be seconded to the Deathwatch of the Ordo Xenos – an honour he could not refuse.
* Classified: Ever since 'taking the black', his pure white going to the deep dark of his adopted 'Chapter', the tasks and deeds that this Apothecary has performed, the biological agents he has worked with, and the operations he has conducted are classified – only those with the highest authority able to know even a fraction of what he has been through.

[User] Misspost.

[Assistant]
"Where's dat explosion coming from? I didn't tell the boyz to blow something up yet!" 'Big Mek' Graz "Hugkilla" grunted as he walked across the ruined half-open top of an imperial warehouse building; his junk cybernetic leg slamming into the floor with every step; before watching out across the industrialized skyline of the forge world to see a plume of multi-colored smoke rise up from the distance.

"Dat was where the southern sky gun was, boss!" Sounded the raspy, nasally voice of a gretchin frantically typing away at a janky typewriter, one oversized headset situated over the gretchin's smaller head.

"WOT?" Graz exclaimed, turning around.

"The boys loaded the shells the wrong way again, didn't they?!"

"I dunno, boss! But it definitely went boom! Lots of highly Orky sources say it went boom!"

"THOSE ARE MINE GUBBINS!" Graz exclaimed, turning around as he walked towards the edge.
"WOTS THA POINT OF STEALING THOSE 'UMIE GUNS IF DA BOYS ARE JUST GONNA WRECK 'EM!?! Grrrr... "

Graz stepped onto the edge of the building, having to push his own bloated guts inwards in order to look down at the amassed Ork buggies and motorcycles below, most of the boyz either busy trying to make vague attempts at fixing their vehicles, whilst the rest seemed busy leading a particularly ornery squig around with a snotling attached to a stick as live bait!

"Oi! Listen up you daft speed grotz!" Graz called out.
"Someone just blew up my big gun just south of here, past dat big mechanical-human-statue-thingy! I want you boyz to go down there and beat the snot outta anyone you find at the site, gottit?!"

"Zog off, we're busy!" One of the Orks called back.

"Graah... if I was down there, I'd be busting your heads right about now... but since the stairs are so zogging long. Alright, the first git at the site will get my completely new Engine Boostah 3000!!"

Almost in an instant, as if Graz had just said the magic word, the boyz beneath froze up, looked at him; and after a brief second of silence (minus the terrified screams of the snotling bound to the stick), the Orks suddenly threw themselves past each other in a wild race to get onto their various buggies and motorcycles, loud blaring engine noises and a few random slugga shots for good measures; as no less than a dozen decked-out Ork vehicles suddenly rolled out from the courtyard in a race towards the site of the explosion, flames and sparks gushing from their loud engines as they waved their weapons about!

And behind them came the lone squig hopping up and down in a wild chase, still trying to catch up with the snotling which had now been attached to one of the carts!

"Heh, work every time... stupid gits!" Graz "Hugkilla" chuckled, moving his wrist-mounted flamethrower up to his mouth to light a giant cigar.

[User]
Vala had the most irritated expression on her face that was nicely hidden behind the mask of her helmet. She just watched in complete absurdity how these imperium fools were destroying valuable technology they could simply disable and then reuse later after they clean up the Orks. So what if they killed a handful of Orks now. A few orks for a anti air turret of this caliber was a MASSIVE DAMNED WASTE. No longer she the imperium was in this state. They didn't value what they had and destroyed everything just cause it's convinient and later when they would need these guns, they would be without them and then they will simply exterminatus the planet cause it's convinient and there goes another habitable world with it's resources...

 She had to struggle with the overwhelming urge to shoot the psyker right in the head, but held it. The mess was big enough already. She just sighed, flicking the switch on her las cannon from firing mode to standby, it automatically folded up some parts, making it a lot easier to carry.

 The order to get the hell out before the greenskins show up was given so she didn't waste any time in doing so. 'I wonder if not dying on the interrogation table was a blessing or a curse after all...' She thought in her mind.

[Assistant]
Ansgar knew damn well who wasn't able to bring down their target, but unlike the irritation that was resounding in a certain sister's voice, the Krieger kept his peace. Ordering a man with a shotgun to snipe an Ork was folly, and the fact it wasn't taken into consideration that one of them would have to bring down two targets was on the lot of them, not just the Arbites. With that, that nagging sensation of ethereal warp power was again resonating and it took a concentrated amount of focus to not turn his weapon on the psyker just in case. While salvaging the gun would have been nice, in the grand scheme of things they lacked the manpower to secure, move, and man the weapon. So better to destroy the weapon emplacement than risk the Orks getting it back up and running, and make do with what resources they had as they needed them later on.

Sweeping his surroundings with the Type XIV (Heavy), the Krieger did not safe his weapon, continuing to monitor their surroundings as the orders were given. Get moving before the retaliation was going to happen.

"Waking up means the Emperor is not done with you, so it is a blessing." Leave it to Ansgar, a man of Krieg, to see the fact that they yet lived as little more than Emperor's providence to continue doing his work. Considering their mentality, Kriegers that is, it was hardly surprising.

[User]
Herold had thought he would have gotten used to the chaotic warp magic of the Psyker, but feeling the tingle of his skin and the odd feeling in his gut, he knew he had been mistaken. The explosion of the gun and the Ork was well placed, but it had announced their location a bit too much for his liking. Still, unless the Sororitas ordered him to unload his combat shotgun into the Psyker, then they were stuck with her still. He could tell that the others had to visibly hold themselves back from what he was just considering.

"Agreed," Herold said to both Aviza and the Death Korp trooper. "Let's get moving." He made sure for the umpteenth time that his weapon was locked and loaded, and he started to head out of the room they were in with the others. He kept his shield on his back to guard against flanking shots, and his shotgun in his hands and at the ready. He had an inkling feeling that the explosion was about to bite them in the ass somehow, but Emperor's mercy, they'd see soon enough.

[Assistant]
"I had my shield for that, I'd be fiiiiine." Adrianne said through her mask as she got back up on her feet, brushing some dirt and grime off her armor and suit.

It was currently raining, and fortunately, the dirt and mud didn't attach itself so easily to her suit or metal armor. As for her cloth however, that was a different story entirely.

"This is a forge world. I suppose I should feel lucky I'm not wading through pools of industrial waste I suppose... !"

"Agreed, Celestian. I can already feel the growing anger and anticipation echo back from the warp to this place. We have made the surrounding greenskins excited." Adrianne explained as she followed Aviza back to where the rest of the group were currently keeping overwatch.

The constantly dripping of rain against her helmet and surrounding force works and buildings made it difficult to notice any lesser sounds, yet the Psyker could already hear off in the distance the low but booming sounds of ramshackled engines and gunfire, slowly coming closer towards their position!

"The Orks are on the move. We can simply bypass them, or set up an ambush. The greenskins are nothing if not predictable."

[User]
"We?" The question hung in the air like an accusation, which is was, the slightly robotic tone signalling that it clearly came from within the beaked helmet now looking directly at the dirtied psyker and then the Celestian beside her, "we did not such thing."

Until the explosion had happened the Deathwatch marine had been near-completely still, his senses on high alert and his sidearm held ready at his side, the explosion doing nothing but showering him with a little dirt and fragments of what had been the Imperial gun emplacement. None of this really mattered, not even as the two got to their feet and the rest of the group prepared to move out, but something about the witches last comment had caused a reaction within the Astartes.

In one fluid motion he moved to stand before the previously grounded pair, his visor sweeping once more from one to the other, before settling on Aviza.

"Sister, I have so far held my tongue, and due to my allegiance to the Emperor's holy Inquisition I would not question your orders." Even now he could smell a thousand differing scents, his beaked helmet only amplifying them, and the Greenskins were certainly on the move, "but the plan was foolhardy from the very beginning; our gunfire could well have been covered by the thunderstorm around us, a fortuitous sign to my own people if no-one else, but this...this..." One gauntleted fist raised itself, a finger extending to point at Adrienne even though he did not turn to look at her, "her actions are laughable at best and absurd at the worst, she is volatile and unstable and this," he emphasised with a nod of his head toward the twisted wreckage, "was both unnecessary and the action that will bring the Greenskins down upon us, not we but you."

Only now did he look to the psyker, taking a slight step toward her and then freezing, studying her for a moment before straightening up, "my own progenitor argued with the Emperor himself to save our Librarians from disbandment during the Crusade, and my own people view the Stormseers with reverence, but you Adrianne Valenthin, you stay away from me." With the same fluid motions he made the sign of the Aquila across his chest, not easy when one is holding a pistol the size of a man's head in your hand, and half turned away, "there are a dozen vehicles at least heading in our direction, and the idea of bypassing them does appeal. In my hearts and in my blood though, I would prefer to face them in combat."

Glancing back at the Celestian he gave a shrug, a curiously human gesture for a Space Marine to make, "the decision goes to you, Sister-Celestian Norea."

Without another word, his footfall muffled both by his armour and the rainstorm around them, he stepped out of the building and past the group of smaller figures, already putting the psyker from his thoughts and focusing more on the threat approaching them at high speed.

How he wished once more that he had his bike.


[System]
---

 Bruno Leuthard

Aɢᴇ

---

 23

Pʜʏsɪᴄᴀʟ Aᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ

---

 Bruno is an average lad, standing at about 5'7" and weighing in around 150 lb. He was lean like a boxer, and had some muscle to him that he built up over the years. Bruno resembled both his German father and his French mother. His skin was of a fair tone which complimented his facial features which were strong and chiseled, most notably around his jawline.

 His hair, a dark umber, was kept buzzed around his ears and at the bottom. It was a short military length (but not yet crop top length) on the sides, but Bruno liked to keep it slightly longer on the top and slicked back neatly. In terms of facial hair, Bruno keeps a clean cut, or at most, very light stubble.

Uɴɪᴛ Pʀᴏꜰᴇssɪᴏɴ

---

 Rifleman

Pᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ

---

 Bruno's parents taught him his please and thank you's very well. Generally, Bruno is a polite and respectful individual both to his friends and his superiors. He believes a diplomatic approach to hostile situations should be attempted first before any rash decisions are made. However, this doesn't mean that he is weak. He is a very disciplined, strong-willed individual who will not hesitate to use violence if a social situation is escalated to that point. Bruno keeps to a fairly strict "3 strikes" rule and doesn't deviate from it very often. It is his understanding that a simple and direct solution to a problem is the best path to success, and that problems should always be dealt with head on. Overall, he is an unshaken optimist who's loyal to his friends and family.

Hɪsᴛᴏʀʏ

---

 Bruno was born to a working class family on the outskirts of Zürich, Switzerland in 1897 while the powder keg in Europe was forming. His family could have been considered upper-working class for the wealth they obtained. Bruno's father was a military officer and his mother weaved blankets for both a living and as a hobby. His family could only afford to pay for his education until 1913 when Bruno was conscripted into the Swiss military at the age of 16. Due to the fact that Switzerland was a multicultural hub crushed between three superpowers (Germany, France, & Italy), he was required to learn German, French, and Italian.

 Though was given thorough military training, due to Switzerland's neutrality during the first world war, he never actually saw any action on the battlefield. His older half-brother however, who he considered a full brother, was an infantry unit in the German military and would write him letters from in the trenches. Amid his experience, he obtained the rank of Oberwachtmeister before leaving the military after the war in 1918 at the age of 21. Keeping his K11 rifle, he became an immigration officer at the border between Switzerland and Germany so he could earn enough money to take care of his mother and father during their retirement, as well as his half-brother who was now a wounded war veteran that was staying with them. Bruno held that position for two years, but when savings were running low, it was clear that Bruno wasn't making enough to maintain his family, so he immigrated to the fairly new state of Borovia in search of opportunity. Upon contact with the Baron and enlisted in the blackshirts to forcefully suppress rumors of a revolution.

Eǫᴜɪᴘᴍᴇɴᴛ

---

* Schmidt–Rubin Model 1911 "K11" Rifle, w/ bayonet.
* 7.5×55mm Swiss rounds.
* Frommer Stop Pistol.
* Water canteen.
* Club.

Pʀᴏᴍɪɴᴇɴᴛ Sᴋɪʟʟs

---

* Analytical skills: Bruno is very perceptive and has a keen eye for reading peoples faces. This was developed when he was an immigration officer at the border of Switzerland and Germany.
* Military training: During his military training, Bruno became an excellent marksman -- best of his squad. He also learned how to use his bayonet effectively and was part of a ski platoon that patrolled the Swiss alps.
* Multi-lingual: Fluent in German, French, and Italian.
* Charismatic: Bruno has a way with words that are slick and persuasive. He got this talent from his dad, and tends to use it to his advantage.

[User]
"Jawohl!" Bruno thundered with a crisp salute at the confirmation of his commanders instructions. With a spin on his heels Bruno marched out of his office toward his next orders. He had been reassigned to another unit within the Blackshirts. Unfortunately he wasn't given much of a briefing on his orders other than breaking up a "military disturbance". Bruno was relatively new to the blackshirts, but not the lifestyle. Due to the mandatory conscription of all boys in Switzerland he had already got a good taste of what was to be expected. In his opinion, the flavor was good. His father had been in the military most of his life, but like Bruno, had never experienced any real foreign threat. Bruno couldn't say he wasn't at least a little nervous, considering this may be one of the first times he had encountered any real danger.

 Upon exiting the office, Bruno grabbed his K11 rifle leaning against the corner of the wall. He brought the leather strap attached to the rifle over his shoulder and picked up his kit that was laying next to it. His uniform was sharp, very sharp, and he knew it too. His uniform and kit made him feel dynamic and powerful. However, he couldn't relish this moment for too long, he had an assignment to complete. Bruno left the building and jogged at a reasonable pace to where the rest of his unit was located.

 First, he saw the truck. With an acute intuition, he assumed that the rest of his unit was inside. Bruno moved up to the rear of the truck and peeked inside with his free hand before the truck drove off and his unit left him behind.

 "Bruno Leuthard reporting! I was reassigned to Herr Fichter's unit last minute. I hope I'm in the right place!" he said confidently over the noise from the truck's engine.

[Assistant]
Josef leaned out of the truck to speak with the new arrival, who certainly had a knack for dramatic timing. Looking over the newcomer, he spoke with his usual commanding tone. "Yes, that's me, Josef Fichter. I suppose I'm to be your new commanding officer, then. Well, hop in, we haven't all day."

Once everyone was properly within the truck, Josef would wave a goodbye to Pyotr, make sure Servác knew it was clear to go, and once they were moving, give one last clarification on their objective.

"As most of you were told back when I first got our orders, we're moving in to break up a large laborer's strike in one of the industrial areas of town. Word has it that these people are a bit more than rowdy peasants, some having access to military arms, believed to be shipping in from Germany, Czechoslovakia, Austria, and possibly even farther, so we'll likely be dealing with weapons from all over. Now our orders say we're supposed to try and break up the strike non-violently first, and capture any ringleaders we can. But given the level of arms we're seeing, that may not be possible, so be prepared to fight. Leuthard, I suppose introductions are in order. The boy driving the truck is Servác, he's our ride most places. Mr. Tall-and-Red is Erich, our doctor. And the solid German brick there is Karl. The one on the horse was Pyotr, our resident Cossack. I'm sure they'll all have plenty to talk about with you once we get back."

When the truck would arrive at the destination, the group would find a barricade wall erected by the more regular blackshirt forces, separating the rest of the city from the strikers, guarded primarily with riflemen, but the occasional machine gun nest also found along its length. Josef would give the order for everyone to disembark from the truck, and once Pyotr arrived on his horse, break down the mission instructions.

"The main group will be comprised of myself, Karl, and the new blood, Leuthard. We'll be in front, working to quell down the rioting. Pyotr, you'll be a bit behind us, providing support fire if things get hot, and able to bring messages back if we need you to. Servác, you and Erich will stay with the truck about two blocks behind us at any given time. If someone gets hurt, we'll have Pyotr run a message back to you to bring the truck up, so we can get whoever's injured out of the line of fire. as quickly as possible. Same plan for if we need to take any prisoners." Upon mentioning prisoners, Josef would hand Karl and Bruno each two pairs of metal shackles. "Use these if we take anyone alive, which we should try to do."

Leading the others to the gate, he would salute the guard, who would hand him a large metal megaphone, and open the gate. Upon the other side could be seen a large group of civilians, many armed with crudely-made weapons or modified farm implements, though there was also a notable number carrying rifles.

Taking the megaphone in one hand, and raising it to his mouth, Josef shouted to the mob of peasantry, speaking first in German, then repeating the message in Czech. "Citizens of Asnio, you are in violation of both city and national law. Please lay down your weapons, and submit yourself for arrest. If you do not comply, we are authorized to detain and disperse you by any means necessary." As he spoke, various objects came flying towards the group, smashing against the ground, buildings, and barricade around them.

"Move in. If they shoot first, then we can open fire. But until then, just stick to hitting them over the head."

[User]
When he heard his name said, Karl offered a lazy salute. "Swiss eh? I can tell that accent from a mile away. We get all sorts around here, don't worry about it." He grinned and rubbed a metallic stain on his helmet. When he was handed the shackle, he hooked one end of it to his belt, noticing he had no keys. "Some poor bastard's gonna have to get this off, and I'm glad it's not me. We just get to do the fun part eh?" He chuckled. Hopping out of the back of the truck, he craned his neck around, loading a magazine in and locking the bolt shut firmly. "Ready to return fire should the crowd get rowdy. Which, honestly," he shrugged. "Seems kind of likely, no?"

He ducked as a half brick came flying at him, before swearing. "Does that not count as them firing..." he paused to smash the butt of his rifle into a burly man's head, sending him to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Kneeling down, he clipped the shackles around his wrists, and stood up, a bottle shattering by his foot and peppering his calf with glass shards. Someone in the crowd shouted out "Freikop scum!" And he laughed, although he was getting nervous.

"Hauptman, I do think it might be wise if we start running to cover. Sometime about now, before the bullets start flying I would think?"

[Assistant]
Upon Herr Fichter's orders, Bruno promptly hoisted himself into the rear of the truck. He wouldn't be satisfied if he was late as he was very punctual. Taking a seat, he rolled his head to face Karl when he noted his Swiss accent and returned a kind grin. As the truck was moving to its destination point, Bruno was given a more detailed briefing and further explanation to the situation. He was to quell a laborers strike, and was informed many of the protesters were armed with various foreign weaponry shipped in from around Europe. Judging by the diversity of the squad Bruno was in, he concluded that it would likely be no obstacle assuming that these men had encountered these firearms before. As his commanding officer gave an introduction of everyone, he gave a slight wave and a smile to all of his unit in the back of the truck and awaited patiently to arrive at the laborers protest.

 As the truck arrived, Bruno peered outside and observed. He spotted a barricade that was set up by other blackshirts with an orderly group of them guarding it with rifles. On the other side of the barricade were a cluster of rioters and peasants. He could feel the violent tension in the air, and suddenly he was seized with fear. However, this feeling was fairly short-lived considering the numbers of other blackshirts that were there. Bruno would harness this fear and shape himself up like a real soldier because he was well trained for this.

 Hopping out of the back of the truck, Bruno would deploy himself with the rest of the squad as another one of the groups members caught up on horse. His commanding officer gave the group a number of orders, and Bruno was being put on the front lines. This surprised him slightly as he was referred to as the "new blood", but it didn't deter him from his current task. He was given two pairs of shackles that he would assumingly be locking up any ring leaders with. He moved up with Karl and Fichter as the gate opened, revealing the crowd that he noticed before. This time the threat was clearer as most of the men were wielding some sort of makeshift weapon or an object that they could hurl at one of the blackshirts. Though, he did find that some of them were carrying rifles, which made him feel uneasy. Bruno grabbed his K11 rifle off his back in a non-hostile, yet protective manner and kept his finger off the trigger. Firmly there he stood with his fellow blackshirts keeping his head up as confidently as he could while his commanding officer Fichter gave the rioters verbal authority over his megaphone. All of the sudden the group of protesters began throwing things at the blackshirts, a few narrowly missing Bruno. As conflict arose, he was given the command to move in further but not shoot at them just yet. Rather, physically subduing them would be the alternative.

 Bruno was somewhat struck as his current moral beliefs were being challenged. He paused for a moment to think, but his thoughts were shattered as a chunk of masonry went flying over his head and broke into pieces beside him. A group of three men were visually resentful and one of them, the one who threw the object, began to close in on Bruno. Acting on pure instinct, Bruno shoved the butt of his rifle into his midsection. The man let out an "Ugh!" before kneeling onto the ground.

 "Sir, stand down and I will not hurt you!" he yelled reassuringly in an authoritarian tone. The peasant on the continued to clench his stomach. Bruno felt kind of sorry for the man, but felt he wasn't left any other choice. As the current climate between the two parties began to boil, he expected the crowd to burst like a European powder keg any minute.


[System]
Age: 22

Gender: Male

Personality: Blayze seems to be a child trapped in an old person's body at times. He loves to mess around and pull jokes on people. He will be your best friend and will be as loyal to you as he can. He can sometimes be very quiet when you first meet him, but he opens up pretty quickly. He can be serious and whenever he is, he gets whatever things are commanded of him done. He does not disobey a direct order from the Queen and will never ever betray her. He has this quirk to where he cannot actually directly disobey an order from a person in charge of him. He feels a moral obligation to carry out every command that he could from that person, no matter if it is the captain or the Queen or the Princess. He would do anything that they told him to do.

Role/Title: He is a noble knight to the true Queen of Waylox. He is much untrained at close, hand to hand or sword, fighting, but he is an amazing archer and can make almost impossible shots for a normal archer. He can even shoot riding backwards on a horse. He began to get better at sword fighting after his father died

History: Blayze grew up inside Waylox during the Royal Family's reign. Every time they had a public appearance, he and his family were there. His father was a knight before him and this is what inspired Blayze to become a knight himself. His father was a knight who protected the former Queen and King (This Queen's Parents) and he began to teach Blayze sword fighting when he was about six years old. Blayze's mother was a seamstress working in the lower levels of the castle. She caught a deadly sickness from one of the pieces that she had been working on for the young Queen when he was ten years old and died on his eleventh birthday.

After his mother's death, his father threw himself headlong into protecting the newborn Princesses of the Queen and King and began to ignore Blayze more often. He would come home tired and fall immediately to sleep, not saying one thing to Blayze. He would ignore Blayze for most of the day and when Blayze asked him, he would say painfully, "You look too much like your mother for me to look at you." This hurt Blayze very much and he began to train harder than ever so his father would not see his mother and rather see him as a man himself.

Once the former King and Queen died, his father protected the new Queen until his last breath. His father died inside their house and was completely alone. Blayze had been out training with a few of the other younger knights when his father came home and practically collapsed on the ground. Blayze's father died of natural causes when Blayze was only seventeen. Blayze then took up his father's place in the Queen's army and began to protect the new Queen himself. He worked hard every day, even training in his periods of free time throughout the day. He wanted to make his father as proud as he could. He knew his father would watch over himself as he began to work beside the Queen. He began to refine his sword fighting skills as well as his archery skills. He began to get better and better every day.

When the Queen needed protection from the tyrant known as Ovorion, Blayze was one of the first to step up. He knew that this was the moment that he had been waiting for his whole life: the way that he could make his father proud. He would protect the Queen until his last breath, like his father had done before he had died. They escorted her away into the night and Blayze was mostly the one helping to train the Queen and Princess in combat before they could come back to the castle and claim it back for the right of her Majesty herself. He taught them everything he could, ranging from archery to hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting to knife throwing, anything that had to do with combat he taught them. He would stay up late at night keeping watch outside and almost never sleep. He even forgot to eat meals sometimes. He was dedicated to the two royalty.

Anything extra: Blayze has a slight, very small crush on the Queen, but he ignores it because he knows that it will put both himself and the Queen and Princess in danger.

[User]
Winter had already been in the tavern for several hours when the exiled queen walked in. She'd set up shop at a back table, with book in hand so as to discourage conversation from the other patrons (not that it worked, necessarily) and enough coin for a meal so the barkeep wouldn't shoo her away. Winter picked at her soup every now and then, eyes trained on the pages of her book as she used her other senses to scan the raucous patrons (someone had apparently just purchased drinks for everyone in the establishment. The resulting cacophony made Winter want to roll her eyes). So far her target had yet to arrive.

Winter was very practiced at looking the part of an unassuming young woman – she was small of stature, had youthful features, and knew how to keep her voice soft and her eyes down. This was a good skill to have as an assassin. It wasn't very good for a woman in such a crass town, however, especially one of "exotic" birth. Already she'd had to brush away advances (some courteous, some… not) from no less than four men. One of them had actually been forward enough to grab her arm, no doubt bruising the skin hidden under her sleeve. It had taken Winter all she could muster not to take her hidden blade to the pulsing artery on his fat, greasy neck. But she'd taken a breath, widened her eyes in a practiced look of fear, and glanced around the tavern until she caught the eye of one of the barmaids who came to shoo the man away. Winter could still feel his poisoned glare on her face as he looked from across the tavern. No doubt he'd be back soon… He was a proud, entitled man, in spite of the tattered rags he wore like clothes.

Skies above, they better arrive before I kill him. It wouldn't do to blow her cover before the job had even begun.

And as though someone had heard her prayer, the door to the tavern opened and in walked the exiled queen herself. Even dirty and hidden in this forgotten, unfortunate town, she carried herself as one would at court. Winter knew the look well – she'd seen it born on many nobles before she'd killed them.

Winter felt her breath catch in her throat. Her blood pounded in her ears and all she could do was stare at the fallen Queen Rhysin. Pale blonde hair tied back in a braid, head held high, smooth skin taught over lean muscle that betrayed her recent hardships… Winter was overwhelmed, for lack of a better term. In that moment, all she could think was how badly she wanted to kill the queen then and there, her rage like a wildfire igniting her blood.

She left us to die. It was the phrase that had echoed in her head ever since Ovorion had first approached her with this proposition.

Book forgotten on the table, Winter pushed herself up. She'd spent enough years to hide her emotions under a blank mask, though she couldn't help how pale her face was, her blood drained away. With careful, measure movement, she pushed her chair in with a shaking hand and took a step towards the queen.

And that was as far as she got before the man from before shoved himself directly in her path. Winter no longer had the patience to control herself, and deftly stepped out of his reach when he made a grab for her again. Coating her voice in the thickest Qiran accent she could manage, she mumbled, "Excuse me," and continued towards Rhysin. In the moment Winter had been distracted, the queen had been approached by another man. She caught the end of his acid-dipped words as she came close.

He knows who she is too… apparently there is no love lost.

Knowing full well that he might be another out for Rhysin's head (not that she would blame him) Winter made sure to place herself just the smallest bit between the man and the queen when she stopped.

"H-hello," she said, her voice shaking. Her mask was well-crafted, but Winter's fury was an ugly, gnashing thing, crying to be freed. Her face betraying none of this, Winter glanced over her shoulder at the man still glaring at her. At least the oaf was good for explaining away her quivering words. "You are who we wait for, yes?" She glanced between the younger man and Rhysin, her hands still shaking, itching for her knives. "I… I'm sorry, I don't know the protocol for this."

[Assistant]
Rhysln didn't know what she was expecting from the turnout but she knew she hadn't been expecting that. What language! Before she could even muster a retort, another stepped between them, a young lady who seemed anxious, and wary of the man behind her. She used to believe that people didn't have bad intentions from the start but her new found experiences had her backing up from the girl, leaving just enough space for a different blonde to place herself there.

"Indeed she is," she crossed her arms, "Now who are you two?" she looked back at the man, "Oi, fatty, si'down, your company is clearly not wanted," she said before hearing the throat clearing behind her.

"Nautica, is addressing everyone in such a manner really necessary?" Rhysln said, shaking her head.

"It is. You're under no obligation to be nice to these people. Niceness to strange people offering to help is what landed us here," Nautica reminded her and Rhysln made a face that clearly said she did not want to be reminded of that face.

Nautica was shorter than her sister, understandable with the age difference, and her hair was a bit longer since she hadn't cut it nearly as short. Her features in general were clearly younger but Nautica didn't have that weary edge to her. She had transitioned well enough and the behavior of the people around her had influenced her more than her years of training in court. And unlike her sister, she never trusted anyone until they proved they earned it. Which with one addressing her sister with such crass rudeness and the other seeming shifty at best, she was not about to trust them.

Nautica turned back to the strangers and pointed at the table where Throm was sitting, "Have a seat. I'll personally pierce his hand if he comes over here so stop being twitchy. I don't trust it," she said, crossing her arms under her chest, "And if you ever talk to my sister that way again, I'll split your tongue. We clear?" she narrowed her eyes at Throm, "Now. Who are you and why are you actually interested in helping us?" she demanded.

Rhysln sighed again, rubbing her forehead. Leave it to Nautica to believe she was to fill the role of the knights in their absence. She wasn't going to interrupt her since they did need to know who they were and why they were there, but she did wish her sister wouldn't talk in such a way. That was something she was going to have to work on when they had the luxury of time to worry about it. For now, she gave her sister a chastising and warning look, only to get waved off.

Nautica knew a lot of people got the wrong ideas about their family's rule in general, especially her sister. Nautica mentioned it to the Captain that she was sure people would come crawling from the woodwork that blamed Rhysln for their people's suffering at the hands of Ovorion. He was sure he'd catch that before it happened, but he wasn't here and he wasn't perfect. She wasn't going to let anyone try and dismantle the Silverspring's rein over some false idea that they were at all prepared for what happened. The Silversprings had fought to bring peace to the country, fought to keep Caradia's fingers out of their business, working a mutual understanding with their Empress. Nautica was almost tempted to write her to ask for aid, but Rhysln insisted they had to be the one's to get back the throne otherwise no one would support the rule.

So if they had to go about it this way, then Nautica was going to make sure those in her sister's company belonged there. She narrowed her eyes again at the two and put her hands on her hips rather than crossing her arms. Rhysln sighed and looked to the door hearing the voices outside, almost not surprised to see the lord and his men entering, "Lord Corbray, you've returned," she said, "I'm relieved to see you are well. Yet again we are in your gratitude," she smiled lightly, bowing her head, "Hopefully we shall be out of your hair soon enough and stop endangering this good town and your people."

[User]
His feet weary with travel, he trudges through the Deep Woods. His hood drawn up close around his face, no one would recognize the man as he stepped out into the streets of the small village. He heard the triumphant cry of the people as their lord returned, riding down on horseback toward a tavern of some kind. He smiles under his hood, keeping it pulled close around his face. His quiver of arrows bounces against his back and his bow is clutched tightly in his hands. Many would probably think of him as a Ranger, for they all carried bows and arrows such as he did now. But what many of the people could not see are hidden knives in his boots and a sword against his hip. The black leather vest he wore is slightly revealing on the top, going down to expose his collarbone in a deep V way. The vest only had short sleeves on it, so there is no reason to try and place on forearm sheaths for his knives. He wore loose black trousers and black boots, both great for travelling.

He follows the procession to the center of town, where the man gave a grand speech. He leans stays in the back of the crowd, watching the man as he dismounts and heads into the nearest tavern. He raises an eyebrow, looking toward the small bar. Strange choice, m'lady, strange choice indeed. He walks over to the tavern, pausing just outside the door for a few moments. He sees the known Priestess Denemika of the Bellady nation coming toward the tavern. He decides at this moment to turn inside and walk in.

The tavern is loud on the inside, customers yelling for more ale and the swish of skirts of the barmaids as they rush to deliver. His eyes scan the room, noticing creeps and thugs everywhere. But they noticed him of course. He is most out of place here for how he carries himself. They would know now that he is not a Ranger, but rather Blayze Corvana, the knight of the Queen herself. He walks slowly between the tables, his eyes scanning the room. Across the room he hears, "Now. Who are you and why are you actually interested in helping us?" He smiles carefully under his hood and heads toward the sound. He would recognize that young voice anywhere. As he approaches the bar, he hears the Queen's good soft voice speaking to the lord of the town.

He approaches them quietly and stands quietly next to her. "Your sister has grown quite confident and strong in my absence, milady," Blayze murmurs to her, not looking at her directly. "Though I must say that she seems to be slightly pushy." He smiles down at the Queen and says, "I have returned, my Queen. Though it seems to be ahead of a few of the people I have sent." He drops his hood back away from his face and nods to the lord sitting next to his Queen. He notices that the Queen has changed in his absence. Her hair is shorter now and she has tanned a little more. Some hard feelings come up in his throat and he swallows them immediately, averting his eyes as a good knight would. Forgetting his manners, he falls to one knee in front of her. He stays there until she releases him. "Has Rand arrived yet?"


[System]
Theme:
For Ironic Reasons

Gender:
Female

Species:
Goblin

Appearance:

Goals:
Survive

Past Life:
Orchid's life was simple. She was just an everyday girl born and raised in a rural countryside in North Carolina. Her family were farmers; they raised cattle and grew corn to sell both locally and to various food industries. It was a family business and as the eldest child, Orchid often had to do all the chores herself if her parents weren't doing it. Feeding cattle, harvesting crops, taking care of her siblings. All while balancing an education and a social life. Sufficient to say she had to make some sacrifices.

She grew big and strong, stronger than most boys and even her own father (Though it didn't help that he was growing old). She could carry a small cow, push a truck out of the mud, and haul hundred pound bags of cornmeal in a ten mile walk. She never really took care of her appearance beyond some acne problems, and physically she was healthy, but her burly muscles and general demeanor did not earn her many friends. Girls insulted her for her manly physique and guys were either intimidated or just disgusted by her lack of femininity. Orchid learned not to care; she was doing more for her family now than those kids could with their entire adult careers. Always the dutiful daughter, she did everything for her family. Even sacrificed herself for them.

It was a cold winter morning. Though it was snowing heavily, school was not out due to important tests the students had to take. Orchid was waiting at her bus stop with her two siblings who were also going to school. It was cold, but they had made sure to dress warmly. But this also meant they were sluggish and a bit slow. As they were waiting for the school bus Orchid heard it coming. But something was wrong. The bus wasn't stopping. It started to slide and in the fraction of a second she knew what was going to happen. Her school bus was going to swerve and possibly hit them. She could jump out of the way but her little siblings couldn't they would be too slow. So as the adrenaline pumped through her body she picked them both up and threw them to safety. This left her no time to save herself as the bus crashed into her. Her last memories was looking up to the sky and noting how warm the snow was.

Abilities:
Light Equipment - The use of small tools, and lighter forms of armor, weaponry, and other items. Skill granted by birth as a Goblin.

Pacify Animal I (1.0) - You remember how to handle animals and read their body language. Through your own actions, you have a higher chance than normal of getting a hostile beast to calm down and become neutral towards you.

Stronger I (1.4) - Hauling bundles of hay and sacks of grain isn't all about size and muscle, though that certainly helps. Leverage is also a large part of strength, and you remember that. Your raw strength is increased by a minor amount.

Crafting III (3.0) - You can now craft more complex objects with a single moving part (like a flail or a wheel) more easily. Stamina usage from crafting decreased. Sub-stat Enhancements of items crafted from this point on are increased, but items previously made are still the same.

Material Analysis I (1.15) - You have developed an eye for determining the qualities of inorganic or non-living objects. At this level, you will only be able to gain surface information about an object. When used in conjunction with a crafting skill, it may help discover more compatible items.

Monster Analysis I (1.0) - Flat teeth indicate herbivore, binocular vision implies a predator or gatherer. Allows you to analyze animals and monsters, even those you've never seen before. At this rank you'll only learn basic information

Smash I (1.0) - A Physical Skill that consumes Stamina instead of MP. One blunt type attack deals increased damage!

Transformations:
Goblin

Inventory:

Raw Dire Rat Hide (Equipped)
Loincloth (Equipped)
Sharp Stone (Equipped)
Rawhide Bag (7/12) (Equipped)
* Hard Stones x2
* Goblin Bones x2
* Herbs x3

[User]
---

"N-no way... there are tons of them..." Digbie choked his words out, struggling to as his fear kept him shaking in his knees. He couldn't confidently fire off any shots, but he could count them. There were loads of them heading forward. How could the group even take on the onslaught of these barbaric buttcracks? It was madness!

Digbie fell to his knees and panicked for a moment, trying to think of anything he could do to help out even more than he already could. He wasn't a good goblin, not by a longshot. He was arguably the smartest in language, but that only got him so far. Going against his own kind... knowing them... the thought made Digbie shudder. Was this how his second life was going to end? Dying to a bunch of wackjob goblins?

It could be... but the greenskin rose to his knees.

What Mourningstar had said, about everyone being a general for the Demon King... maybe that wasn't just her tooting her horn. Maybe it was true. Maybe they were all selected to undertake this task for a reason. Maybe, just maybe, it was Digbie's destiny. Probably, actually.

The goblin turned towards the rest of the horde before ducking down into his ammo reservoir. Alright. He had a bold plan. Sure, it was really stupid for him to try, but he was willing to give it a shot. If it meant protecting those behind him, trying to unite under the same cause, it was worth an effort.

"Demon King," Digbie started, raising his hands in front of him. "I'm not sure this will even fall on your ears, but please, I beckon you. Give us all strength in our time of need here, where it matters most. We all come from the same world, chosen by you to lead the armies that you shall command." Digbie's prayer continued to extend in length as he rose up, looking immediately towards the horde with his hands raised. "I, Digbie Yondir, call upon you. Give us any hand you can in this battle. Even if its just one of us, give them the strength to remain alive. If you can hear me at all, in this dank cave in the rear-end of nowhere, please..."

Digbie pulled his arms in and clenched his fists, looking down at the ground as he finished. "I shall dig in your name, should you aid us here, and if you aid us in the future."

Then, with a sigh of hesitation, Digbie recalled the words that Oberon said just the previous day.

"Open character screen."

Be scared shitless.
Began a monster prayer to the Demon King, requesting aid.
"Open Character Screen."

---

+ {Use Light Equipment]
+ {Tremor Sense - Tier II}
+ {Soil Manipulation - Tier I}
+ {Stone Shot - Tier I}
+ <Curved Rock
TM
>
+ <Ratskin Pack
TM
>
- Mana Crystal
- Mana Crystal
- Mana Crystal
- <Woodland Pick
TM
>
- EMPTY
- EMPTY
- 15 Rocks
- 3 Mana Crystals
- <Stone Spike
TM
>

[Assistant]
Asteria

---

---

"Thanks, but I've already made several bone needles. I've carried most of them over to Asura though." Nonetheless, she looked over at the remaining bone material Ed had left behind. Perhaps with her new crafting skill, she'd even manage to turn one of those shard into a bone needle. She attempted to do so, once again utilizing the leftover poison pool to aid the process and potentially add the poison coating to the new bone weapons – some seemed to be shaping into something more closely resembling a shiv than a needle, though Asteria suspected she might once again be unable to sharpen them into a proper edge like a knife would have.

"Mud? Oh, well, fine, we have some time," she said, in a whisper this time, as she had heard a pixie's warning about the steadily approaching goblin enemies. She crawled out of the foxhole, nudged Mother Rat in the hopes she'd follow, went over to Ed's mud pool, and rolled in it. Oh, her poor shiny coat. Hopefully the mud wouldn't be too troublesome once it dried…After she was so 'camouflaged' she tried getting Mother Rat to dip into the mud pool as well, nudging her side once again and gesturing to the dirty puddle.

"I don't know how much she understands, but I can probably get to mimic us. Hopefully that fox-hole is big enough for us. By the way, this ambush wasn't so much of get to them before they get to us and stay hidden while we do so, but more of the wait-and-hide variety until they're close enough that we can lunge at them in a surprise attack. Though perhaps both options appear equally risky," she shrugged, then went back to her fox-hole. With her new level of the beast skill, she chose her sight to focus on, and gazed towards the entrance, trying to discern the goblins and their movements.

[User]
Scott

After a tense few moments, it seemed that Colchain had no interest in attacking them, but nor was he interested in 'befriending' them, for lack of a better word. Scott relaxed, relieved both that Naji was okay, and that they seemed to be making progress with the lizard. before hearing Ash shout.

"Scott! Do you think you or Naji could give me another lesson in magic?"

Scott tilted his head, before casting another cautionary glance at Naji and padded over to Ash.

"Does that mean it worked, then? You know how it works?" he asked.

The pixie couldn't read her expression, likely due to lizard anatomy. He'd have to work on that. He took a deep breath.

"Well, Ash... really, I'm not too sure how it works myself. All I know is that I can cast a healing spell and a shield spell, and apparently, using your claw kind of gave you some insight? I guess we can give it a shot, though? We just need to find some small stones, first... and I kind of want to eat." His eyes fell on the ashes of the burnt-out fire. "Do you think we can restart that?"

[Assistant]
---

This was progress. Not the greatest progress she could hope for, but it was still progress. She really wasn't confident that this gas would be damaging or poisonous, but it was a start.

She supposed that getting her venom related abilities upgraded might give her more potency, but she still needed a way to give this more range. Could she perhaps combine it with something like fire for now oompf? But she didn't have a fireball skill yet, let alone any available fire herself...

Speaking of fire, the torches were drawing near. The others had started to notice as well, and this was about to become a warzone. Should she try and hammer out a skill real quick, or prepare completely for her ambush?

Argh, why did these bastards have to be so troublesome?

Hopefully the darkness and this makeshift camo would work for her...

One last test before she prepared her ambush, then.

Filling her maw with venom, she opened her mouth sightly to allow air to enter and react with the venom without losing it all through the gap. Taking a deep breath she exhaled as forcefully as she could, jerking her head upwards while releasing more venom. If this didn't provide an effect she'd really need to reconsider her approach....

[User]
With the slime easily dispatched Orchid let out a sigh and looked to the other goblins. They didn't seem any worse for wear. Orchid went to help up the first goblin who got attacked by the slime. He was unharmed but Orchid still needed to make sure he was in fighting condition. "Aight get back together. Torches, behind us." Orchid stepped back to her position, locking her shield with her fellow goblins. "I hear fightin' on nearby. Let's go see what dat's about, but I got a place in mind I want us to check first. Remember watch fer traps. Spears pokin the ground. Torches, I want ya to keep yer eyes on da walls an ceiling. Dey might drop on us anytime." Orchid had them move across the open way to reach the other side of the wall (C7) since she figured it would be easier for her to reach the campsite she and the other lizard were at if they just went straight there.

Health - Mostly Full
Magic - Full
Stamina - Mostly Full

Skills -
Use Light Equipment (--)
Pacify Animal I (1.0)
Stronger I (1.4)
Crafting IV (4)
Material Analysis I (1.15)
Monster Analysis I (1.0)
Smash I (1.0)

Inventory -
Raw Dire Rat Hide (Equipped)
Loincloth (Equipped)
Stone Spiked Club (Good) (Equipped)
Wicker Shield (Well Made) (Equipped)
Plant Fiber Sling (Loaded) (Slung)
Rawhide Bag (8/12) (Equipped)
* Hard Stones x2
* Herbs x3
* Antidote Fern
* Fiber Cordage (Average)
* Bloody Garrote

Leaf Sling Bag (1/3) (Equipped to Rawhide Bag)
* Sling Stones x4


[System]
Species:
Human

Gender:
Male

Age:
26

Rank:
Knight (Specialization: Consular)

Lightsaber Forms:
* Shii-Cho
* Soresu
* Trakata

Equipment:
* Lightsaber (green)
* Jedi Robes

Appearance:

Personality:
Damar is inquisitive and curious at heart, but over the years has been tempered so that his impulses to find an answer don't lead him down the wrong path...still, some of his constant debating with his fellows over what the code of the Jedi, their place in the universe, and other such concepts really mean have placed him under careful watch of the Council more than once. He maintains contact with his Master and often goes to him when he feels that he is being tempted, or wants advice about how to find his answers.

He meditates and repeats the Jedi Code often, and is a good and noble soul, but perhaps too quick to argue--not out of anger, but out of a desire to make himself and his reasoning clear, and to understand the other's viewpoint. However, poking and prodding at other people's ideas and beliefs is a surefire way to make them defensive or hostile, and thus he often finds himself having to quickly excuse himself and back away else a conflict break out, which is the opposite of what he wants.

One of his greatest shortcomings, however, is that he struggles with anger despite how well he may hide it. It often goes unnoticed, because his ire is roused by one thing: evil. To spare an evildoer, to let them live, to offer forgiveness and redemption to them after what they have done...this is often hard for him. He is self-aware of this fact, and struggles with it whenever such moments arise. To fall to the Dark Side out of misplaced aggression is one of his greatest fears, and so he goes out of his way to maintain the Light Side within himself at all costs--perhaps to an impractical degree.

Biography:
Born on Tatooine, Damar grew up an impoverished orphan who had to steal and fight to survive. Yet he knew what he was doing was wrong, and was caught many times out of a subconscious desire to pay for his crimes and be something better than a thief who lies to themselves to make what they do seem right. At some point, a Jedi Master passing through noticed his Force sensitivity, a powerful Light Side pull in one who, by all circumstances, should have been an angry and desperate individual. Damar was taken to the Council, and his training began. A decade and some years later, he finally became a fully fledged Jedi in his own right, though he lacked a great deal of field experience as he had spent a great deal of time in the libraries and archives studying, and in the Academy chambers training and meditating.

When Revan began to insist upon addressing the Mandalorian threat directly, Damar sat and listened intently to both sides of the debate as it raged throughout the halls of the Jedi, with some taking one side or another and others remaining neutral. He even went to his old Master to debate the issue himself, wanting to understand all parties. He learned, mostly through rumor, that the Council wished to avoid a direct conflict because they feared that, with their current sparse information, that they may be walking into a trap. Dark tidings were rippling through the Force, and the Mandalorian's activities did not fit with their usual methods. It was felt that something bigger was at work, behind the scenes.

But the fact remained that people were dying. Revan wished to stop the carnage, and to assist the Republic that had long been an ally of the Jedi. Perhaps out of a wish to temper the more hotheaded of those who would follow the charismatic Revan, and perhaps out of a wish to see the conflict first hand and gather more information for himself before making a final decision, Damar decided to go to the front lines. After making this decision for himself, he heard that Revan's party would be giving a speech to many of the younger Jedi. Deducing that this would likely be some form of campaign to split from the Council, he decided to attend, and hopefully, fulfill his own goals while keeping others from getting too out of hand.

Other:
Because of his constant inquisitive nature, wanting to know all variables of a situation, Damar's senses are keenly developed both physically and within the Force. His ability to sense his environment in multiple dimensions is such that he often seems to "have eyes in the back of his head."

[User]
Damar
Coruscant - Processional Way
Alek's Rally

---

Damar leaned against a pillar, and looked around at so many of the others who had raised their sabers. Some he recognized, and knew to be considered by most just as impulsive as Revan and Alek. Others he knew to be wiser, but they were concerned with justice, with protecting the innocent. Still others were simply swept up by the energy of the crowd, not thinking clearly, only carried forward by the tide of emotions all around them. The Force was thick with it--which should not be so, not in the halls of the High Council.

"There is no Emotion, there is Peace." Damar said to himself, before he pushed away from the pillar and began making his way through the crowd. He rarely brushed against anyone, though his eyes were focused only on Alek and Revan; he always seemed to know when to change his step, or turn his shoulder slightly, to avoid bumping into the others. Soon he emerged from the throng and stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the two who had brought this call to arms together.

"Knight Alek, I mean no disrespect," he began, with a slight bow of the head, "But how do you propose to stop the Mandalorians? To work with the Republic as our Order has for so long, to defend ourselves from attackers, I feel these things are right and true. But to fight a war, would this not be to bring the same carnage to our enemies as they have brought to other worlds? If we were to cut down Mandalorians without mercy upon a battlefield, would this not go against the Jedi Code? Even they, as brutal and evil as their actions have been, deserve to be treated honorably--do they not?" He called out loudly, to make his voice heard. His words might have sounded like a challenge, but what he really wanted was to hear Alek and Revan's plans. He wouldn't make a judgement this early, not without more information. He had spoken with his Master at length, but never had he heard this side of the story from the originators. He only hoped that, should his words be taken the wrong way--as they often were--that it wouldn't lead to further escalation of emotion. Right now, he could feel palpable anger coming from Revan, and jubilation from Alek as the man watched the stirring in the crowd his speech had caused. Both of them were talented and ambitious young men...but a fall to the dark side could come to anyone, no matter their abilities. Perhaps even more easily, the more assured one was in their immunity to it.

[Assistant]
[Vijjo]

---

 The Council's lack of action only furthered Vijjo's desire to move against the Mandalorians. The horrific stories he'd heard from the survivors of the attacks on top of his established perception of Mandalorians made him grit his teeth in anticipation. He'd grown up with a distaste put in his mouth towards Mandalorians by his family and culture. "Brutes" they'd be described as. The eye witness accounts of their actions were more than enough to support that generalization. People were dying, Jedi and civilians alike. Vijjo's lips cracked into a slight grin as he convinced himself that the Council would eventually take action against the Mandalorian Campaign.

There's no way we can just sit here as if nothing's going on.

 As if an answer, he heard a somewhat familiar voice calling out nearby. Vijjo interrupted his walk to see what the commotion was all about. Preachy. Taking a spot towards the back of the crowd, Vijjo smiled as he listened to Alek express exactly what he'd just been thinking. His light expression hardened as he was reminded of the Council's failure to react to the Mandalorian threat. He found himself nodding along, slowly, at first, then more and more, he realized he let out a slight yell of agreement as his hand moved to imitate the sabers being raised around him. Vijjo couldn't bear much longer of inaction. He knew people out there needed him, and the grim truth was that the Council was not seeking to answer the Galaxy's cry for help. For now, he had a lot of thinking to do.

 Vijjo noticed the one man moving deliberately from his place by the pillar towards the two atop the stairs. He noted the man's cautious movements and wondered if his personality reflected those careful motions - as was generally the case. Nevertheless, nobody else had made any sort of move toward the two jedi, and this man caught his attention. Vijjo realized he had come up to speak to them, and decided he felt a bit nosy. All he wanted to do was learn more about the situation outside of the Temple and figured he could stay and listen a while to what the three had to say. Slowly, Vijjo inched closer towards the front, merging and moving with the crowd until he was within earshot. He slightly turned his head as if to seem uninterested, but pointed his ear towards Revan and the jedi.

 "Knight Alek..." Vijjo continued to listen.

---

[User]
Lowering his saber at the approach of a fellow Knight, Alek listened to his case. "You have righteous concerns, but I think you misunderstand our purpose. We do not seek to slaughter them, but to stop their advances. There are ways to defeat enemies without such brutality, and while this is a conflict that goes beyond what words can fix, we can defeat them without a vicious massacre. We are not invaders, but defenders. They have the right to live in peace on Mandalore, their homeworld, but they do not hold the right to attack the rest of this galaxy as they have.

"This is why we will fight this war alongside the Republic. We will combat this enemy as nobly as we can to protect and retake what is rightfully the Republic's. We are not tyrants, dear companion. Please understand us. Our ranks would be in need of one noble as you. Many here would fight with vengeance in their hearts, but you have mercy. You could become a great General for the Republic. Perhaps even greater than Revan or I. I have no doubt of that.

"While glory is not the goal we seek, I see a much needed ally in your compassion for nobility. So tell me, would you be so kind as to lend us your strength? The Republic will be here with a vessel to transport this Jedi Templar within a matter of hours. There is little time to waste."

[Assistant]
Damar
Coruscant - Processional Way
Alek's Rally

---

"Such was my intent from the beginning." Damar said, nodding. "I had already decided that I must head to the front lines, to see for myself what is happening in the galaxy firsthand, to make an informed decision. If I could be of any help by accompanying you, then I shall do so." He bowed again, then raised his own saber, gripping its black leather wrapped hilt lightly. With a flick of the power switch the bright green blade bloomed into existence with its distinctive sound, something like the sound of electricity coursing through wire yet with hints of flame burning through air. He saluted Alek and Revan with it, before turning off the blade and returning it to his belt. "May the Force be with us all." he said, before turning and walking back into the crowd.

It wasn't long, however, before he spoke again--this time to another Jedi in the crowd.

"May I ask what you are looking at, over there?" Damar smiled knowingly. Turning one's head and looking away, while keeping an ear out, would work in most cases. But in this one, with all the crowd so focused on Revan and Alek and there being so little else going on around the Procession Way, turning away from the focal point of all the attention only made one stand out all the more. As Damar stood next to Vijjo's side, at a respectful distance, he folded his arms over his chest and began to watch the rest of the crowd.

"Were you listening as well?" he asked, in a lower voice. "Their hearts are perhaps in the right place...but why a General of the Republic, rather than a Jedi Master? Why mention glory at all, if one meant to be unconcerned with it?"