[System]
Morgan Eisenhorn

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Character Summary
Aliases: Mr. Eisenhorn or Horn
Occupation: Private Investigator
Age: 28
Birthplace: Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.
Race/Ethnicty: Latin-Canadian / Caucasian
Gender: Male

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Physical Attributes
Height: 5'4"
Weight: 145lbs
Build: Short, with lean muscles and a thin frame.
Eyes: Brown.
Hair: Brown.
Skin Tone: Slightly Tan, but barely noticeable.
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings: N/A

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Psychological Attributes
Inquisitive * Stubborn * Hardworking * Obsessive * Ethical * Opinionated

Sexuality: Straight
Relationship Status: Single
Likes:* Social Gatherings
* Fine Wine
* Expensive Cigarettes
* Punctuality
* Solving Problems
* Strange Phenomena

Dislikes:* Layabouts
* Blood & Gore
* Cold Cases
* Amorality
* Stereotypes
* Liars & Cheats

Fears:* Dying from unnatural causes.
* Rats and all other vermin.
* Racial prejudice.

[User]
The Woods grow around the walls of the House, but as any student of history knows, the House has no walls. The short phrase bounced around the woman's mind as she moved through the trees and along the path. This was not the Woods, and the Wilde Estate was not the House either... Although it did appear to have some mysteries of its own. The horsehair whiskers of her feline-styled masquerade mask quivered in the gentle breeze as she analysed the footpath. Muddy. Dirty. Leading off into the woods. Intruiging. Were she out for a normal stroll this was certainly something she would investigate, but tonight was not the usual night.

Tonight she was properly dressed and, most importantly, was going to an event. This meant that one, her clothes found dirt and mud most disagreeeable, and two, them becoming muddy could quite easily become something of a scene. Adjusting her mask and hat a little, she turned away from the path and back towards the gaslit path ahead of her. Onwards to the party then. This curious little path would not be followed today.

[Assistant]
Alvin reached into his coat and clutched the small leather-bound notebook in his breast-pocket. Inside the journal lay his invitation to Wilde Hall, and perhaps answers that he had been seeking. In the distance, he saw the carriage that would ferry him to the party, and two figures ready to enter the carriage. Would they wait for him or leave him behind? Was this the only carriage going to the party? The thoughts raced Alvin's mind as his heartbeat began to increase, the ever-looming anxiety of the unknown already pounding his thoughts like the beat of a soldier's drum. Should he force himself to be sociable? Perhaps they would have more information on this soiree, perhaps they would turn their knows at the pale, skinny man attempting to rub shoulders with the elite. He definitely did not look the part of a well-to-do man around Arkham. His black coat seemed a size too large for his thin frame, and his dark mask, with a product, corvid-like beak, gave him the image of a thin, giant dying bird than that of a man.

It wasn't that he lacked friends; it was that his usual group of friends all shared something in common: University Life. Alvin had spent many nights in the local bars with his college fellows, enjoying a glass of beer and stark discussion of their studies with one another. Alvin was studying linguistics at Miskatonic and specialized in strange languages that were offshoots of ancient tounges. He'd assisted Dr. Armitage as part of studies in translating strange books of the occult, something that more unnerved him than fascinated him. Professor Wilmarth, with who he'd done multiple classes, had him focused on differentiating the local Indian languages in their folklore of the area, trying to trace the stores back to some ur-narrative. That had been unproductive, but at the very least, interesting to Alvin. The professors at Miskatonic were by and far men of rationality and many had sought to instill their students with the understanding that all things in the world could be easily explained with sufficient evidence and understanding.

Alvin wished dearly that this was true.

He had made his decision. He stepped his pace to a faster procession, hoping to catch the carriage before it left. After all, this night was still young, and he had many questions that needed rational answers.

[User]
---

The moonlight shines onto Rosanna Liang like she is a canary on broadway, her golden dress even shines like it was made of real gold. Even though she been through alot of parties ever since she became a student of Miskatonic University, this party was different however, instead of going there for a good time, enjoying some giggle juice, Rosie is going to Wilde Hall for a different reason, she is going to find some secrets in the halls of the Wilde residence. As she walks in the apple of Arkham, Rosanna can't help to feel everyone is looking at her and not in "You look so beautiful" way, more like the creepy way, it makes Rosie wish she would bring a knife with her instead of her makeup.

There was somewhat mysterious ambience as Rosanna steps into woods, she looks at the tall, plenty rugged man while standing right next to him, makes Rosie a little small but doesn't bother her, not one bit. A black carriage that stands in front her and the tall gentleman makes Rosie feel uneasy but not too much, even if the coachman size almost makes her falter. Rosanna hands the driver her invitation and telling her and tall gentleman that they are early "Mhmm, my mother always say that my past life was a bird cause I get up so early in the morning. Get it? Early bird?" Rosie say with a giggle but then went quiet afterwords since nobody was laughing.

As Rosanna and Tall man wait for other guests to arrived, a other man join the two and right off the bat, she recognize the young man as Alvin Fennel, she thinks that his name. The two shared the same class together and often she looks at his paper for some answers for quizs and tests. As the three wait for more guests to arrived once again, the tall gentleman finally spoke, his crooner voice makes Rosie jump a bit but at least there'll be no silence in the woods "Evening, good sir." Rosanna say to the tall man "Are you invited to the Wilde hall too?"

[Assistant]
In This Fine Town Of Arkham
A Night At Wilde Hall

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"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft

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Cloud
 Arkham has a dark reputation, and Wilde Hall is no different. Perhaps it is that dark reputation that draws Morgan Eisenhorn to the house, like a moth is drawn to a flame. The invitation in his pocket is more than just a slip of paper, it is a promise. A promise of something, something that Morgan is not yet entirely sure of, but that he cannot resist. And so, the private investigator finds himself walking the streets of Arkham alone, as the evening stretches into the night. Or at least, he thought he was alone.

 He had written it off as a coincidence at first, just another pair of footsteps among those few that sill braved the streets of Arkham after dark, another figure moving through the shadows, but with each turn that Morgan makes, the hairs on the back of his neck stand up a little bit more. The streets are quieter now, as he moves away from the heart of the city, and out towards the edge of the Wilde Woods, but still, he can hear the footsteps behind him. Whenever he glances over his shoulder, the footsteps pause, and a few times Morgan has caught sight of a figure stepping into the shadows. And when he starts walking again, the footsteps resume. Morgan is still some distance from the meeting point designated on his invitation, and with each passing moment, the streets grow a little darker, and a little quieter. Perhaps it is just a coincidence, his paranoia creating a phantom, or perhaps Arkham is keen to prove that it's dark reputation is a fitting one...

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 While many of the guests to Wilde Hall this evening may be awed by the opulence of the grand old house, Opportunity Knox is likely to feel almost at home. After all, the Knox family has a history that is as impressive and storied as the Wildes, and Opportunity is no stranger to impressive estates. Despite this, Arkham doesn't exactly excite the young dilettante. Too quiet, and altogether too slow. And yet, she has her reasons for making the journey to this corner of Massachusetts, and the words of her family still ringing in her ears.

 Just because Opportunity needs to reach Wilde Hall at some point, does not mean she is in any great rush. After all, the old house has stood for generations, it's not going anywhere. The Excelsior Hotel is an impressively grand lodging, and it is naturally the place that has drawn the adventuress. Not only does the bar offer a welcome distraction for the bleakness of the city, but it also allows Opportunity to rub shoulders with the Americans that she has such a fondness for. The British are too stuffy, but the Americans understand the rush of speed, the freedom of the air. Her evening is a whirl of conversation and drink, until that conversation suddenly subsides, and Opportunity turns to find a dark-clothed figure standing in the doorway. The man stands at around six feet, broad shouldered and stern-faced. She notices the crest of the Wildes on his chest at the same moment that he speaks, his voice booming.

 "Lady Dalrymple. Your carriage is waiting."

[User]
The light of Arkham was at Moses's back, literally and figuratively, as he made his way towards the Wilde Woods. He pulled his coat tighter around him. It had been his father's, but one couldn't tell looking at it. There was one thing that Callum Reaves had cared for as equally as his family, and it was this garment. And for good reason too, it was quite the bulwark against the elements.

Moses dressed as well as he could. While not a rich man, he was one of decent means. It was like his wife, Magdalene, would always say, "one needs a nice suit for weddings, wakes, and getting back anything life takes." He smiled at that thought, his chapped lips growing tight. That motion ticked a little box in his head, and his fingers instinctually went for his cigarettes—neatly placed inside an ornate, metal carrying case. He slid one between his lips before clicking the container closed. Moses instinctually reached for his lighter when his fingers went still.

Dark brown eyes glanced at a figure painted against the lights that hung in the woods. It seemed to be an odd place for lamps and an even odder place for a person. Wilde Hall was wreathed by the Wilde Woods, of course, but he hadn't expected anyone else to take the back road there. Moses had his reasons. While many people didn't know who he was those that did had a hard time not staring. He was a man of decent means.

He slid his calloused hands through his black hair, salted at the temples and spilling into his tight beard. Moses hesitated. He had no reason to assume this was a move against him. If so, the person would have tended to their presence better. Another party-goer, perhaps?

In his deliberation, the figure turned away from whatever they were facing and made their way down the well-lit path. Moses, realizing that he was staring and dawdling in equal measure, moved to catch up. He dropped his careful steps, letting his boots slap against the hard ground. "Ah good," he said, balancing the cigarette between his lips. "An audience to tell the tale of how I get eaten by wolves out in these woods. Make sure to add that I was brave before I shat myself and died." He chuckled.

Moses's face was mostly hidden behind a plain, gray mask tied around his head with a thick cloth. It wasn't mean to be fancy, but it would stay in place. "Headin' to the Wilde Hall, too, I'm guessin'?"
Selune

[Assistant]
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She heard the footsteps behind her before she turned to see who they belonged to. For a moment, concern gripped her that she might be accosted by a footpad or vagabond, but when she did move to see the figure, she was pleasantly relieved. Another partygoer. One a little more rough around the edges than her. Not exactly a difficult feat though- she prided herself on how her edges had been smoothed down. Frowning a little, she made the barest gesture of a curtsey towards the man. "Madamoiselle Noire, a pleasure to meet you." Her voice was slightly terse and significantly accented, and the way she moved her head caused the whiskers of her mask to quiver slightly. "Mais oui, I was hoping to attend the festivities" she continued, continuing to walk slowly as she did so.

Aside from the mask she wore, the rest of her clothing had been carefully and deliberately picked out. A woman's jacket, warm to fend away the evening chill and a wide brimmed hat, from beneath which the amber eyes of her mask peered out and in the shadows of which the true eye-holes of the mask were difficult to discern. Underneath were the usual assortments of petticoats, garters and other accoutrements required for a lady to look her best. "I suppose we ought to be going. Wolves there may not be, but there is no reason to dawdle."

[User]
Morgan glanced behind him once more before taking a deep breath 'I can't shake the feeling something is very, very wrong here,' he thought to himself, straightening his collar as he exhaled and much to his chagrin nothing changed 'I can't appear distraught, I'll just have to make haste to the meeting place without delay.' Morgan sighed as he dipped his hands into his suit pockets, he felt odd about the circumstances that may have brought him to the mysterious town of Arkham but one such as he was not the kind of gentleman to pass up an invitation, even if it had been a long journey to arrive in town.

Adjusting the mask to his face, bearing that of a fox's sly face the man picked up his pace and briskly walked up the pathway while doing his best to ignore the echo of footsteps behind him.

It would simply not do, to be fashionably late or early no he was to be exactly on time and not to be distracted by further figments or phantoms that his mind tried to create, no it would not do at all.


[System]
Age: 232 years. This makes her rather young by Eldar standards.

Gender: Female

Race: Craftworld Aeldari

Appearance: Laeveyla is a tall, proud figure no matter where she finds herself. Having spent several decades in human space, the elf has adopted the clothing of the mon'keighs she works beside; outside of combat she wears a frilled blouse and waistcoat, a double-breasted jacket, tight-fitting trousers and flamboyantly buckled boots, whereas her combat dress features the far more practical mesh armour and Felarch helmet, the only real embellishment being its gold-streaked paintjob and the long bright scarlet scarf wrapped around her neck and hanging down just short of the jets of her jump pack.

Underneath all of her fanciful wear, she is fairly typical for an Aeldari specimen. Six foot eleven tall, as thin as a whip, with piercing blue eyes and long, expertly tamed blonde hair, her appearance would cut a path through any dour craftworld's population, which is indeed exactly what she has designed it for. She is never seen without her curving, scimitar-like power sword and, as is common for felarchs, a fusion pistol rather than the normal shuriken. It is rare she takes her shuriken catapult into battle, preferring the more personal touch she can deliver with her other equipment, but, needs must when the dark prince drives.

Personality: Like most corsairs that hail from craftworlds, Laeveyla is what most eldar would call a 'wayward soul.' Driven by a desire to see the galaxy, slash throats and consort with all kinds of foreign races, the eldar delights in breaking taboos and trying new things, something that puts her uncomfortably close to toppling off the knife's edge that all unfallen members of her race must walk.

Relationship to the Dynasty: Laeveyla has journeyed with the Falcon-Cooks for some twenty years; a relatively insignificant time for her, but long enough for most members of the family to have met her at least once, especially with her unusual status as a xenos working freely as an Imperial mercenary.

History: Laeveyla never knew the true glory of her craftworld; her parents fought as guardians to protect their home of Biel-Tan, and by the time she had grown into anything resembling an adult Aeldar her craftworld was shattered and her peoples were splintered into a fleet, rather than a singular, great craft. As a child she grew up being told of the winter her people were enduring, but through how force and dedication, their spring could come again.

Laeveyla never really believed that. Although she walked the paths of her people; studying the ways of the dreamer and the mariner, and then under the warrior as a howling banshee, she still felt restrained. True, it was this last role that suited her best, but still something was missing, and rather than peruse it further and risk losing herself and becoming an Exarch, she instead took a very different route; her and several other young Aeldari collectively took a single vessel from Biel-Tan's great fleet and departed, joining with a corsair band that had stopped with their people for resupply and to return soul stones.

It was here that she found her true home. The freedom of the life of a corsair; the ability to indulge in violence or temper it, to let herself laugh and dance and kill and take seemed much more natural to her than the rigid paths she had strode before, where she had had to temper herself to make sure she never went too far; felt too many emotions. She knew that she had to temper herself, and so far has walked the knife-edge successfully, never toppling over into the abyss of the dark prince. Yet still here, something was amiss, and she finally realised what it was when their corsair band communicated with a powerful mon'keigh fleet lead by a 'Rogue Trader.' He offered vast riches and a plentiful share of loot to any that would work for him, but the Corsair Prince of her fleet instructed that none join.

She, viewing this as a pointless imposition to be shed, took a different route. As her felarch slept she pressed his soul stone into his chest and slit his throat, making sure her brethren would find his soul and keep it safe even as she took his helmet and weaponry, leaving their craft in a lifeboat that docked with the mon'keigh ship soon after. The 'Rogue Trader' was delighted, and she has now worked with their family for close to thirty years, enjoying more privileges than she ever did with her own kind, albeit with far more suspicion.

Skills:

* Swashbuckling Fighter: A dab hand with a sword and a fusion pistol and more than happy to use them against any foolish enough to oppose her, Laeveyla has probably killed more men than you've had hot dinners. Or, so she claims, anyway.
* Aeldarin Grace: Like all of her race, Laeveyla is, to humans at least, superhumanly fast and agile, capable of weaving between bullets and cutting down a man from ten paces away before he can blink.
* Psychically Attuned: Laeveyla is particularly sensitive to the winds of the Warp. Although no Warlock, her innate capabilities are useful in other ways; a split second's foresight, a tighter bond with her mesh armour and a healthy respect for the things that don't come from this side of the galaxy can all let a lone xenos survive for longer. Trust her; you don't want to see what happens when a corsair warlock loses control of their powers.
* Scrappy Survivor: A corsair is already expected to have a general skillset that makes them useful on spacefaring craft, but corsairs that hire themselves out as mercenaries must have all of this and the ability to survive without any of their fellows in Imperial space for decades at a time. Any that survives their first dozen or so years usually has a good variety of mechanical and medical skills to keep themselves alive and in good condition.

Equipment:

* Fusion pistol
* Shuriken catapult
* Power sword
* Mesh armour

[User] Assault Point 10/15 had a member there almost immediately. Lounging against one of the walls, a xenos helmet beneath one of her feet and a fusion pistol in her hand. "Lumberfoots," she would address individuals as they filtered in, making an explicit adaptation for the techpriest, choirmaster and, should he arrive, her employer. The first received a 'skinscared,' the second, a highly sarcastic 'highmind,' and the third a curt nod, rather than an offensive nickname. "I hope all of yous are prepared for this. I warn you, should any of you mayflies go down, I'm not risking my millenia to help your decades." She turned towards Rudyard. "You're centuries, so you I will stop for though."

[Assistant]
"I suppose you'd like me to adjust from repair to medicae captain?" He only suggested it because he was the best medic the ship had. He was responsible essentially for keeping everything running, including the people. A boarding party was a risky endeavor and if some of the more trigger happy ship mates were going, he would expect to turn resources away from the sword class ship to mend their feeble bodies properly. He turned off his data slate and requested for his data gear.

He had arrived at 'assault point 10/15' with his custom revengence grenade launcher and bangolier in his main limbs, the others moving about for functions checks and dedicated to fixing machines, people, and rending both. He received a 'Scaredskin' from the resident xenos, a creature he would describe as a little too curvy. Not even nature had such strange contours. The insult of course, pretty much fell flat against his inorganic eyes. "Greetings Shipmate Laeveyla. I do believe it's my primary directive to aid downed personnel so you can focus on not joining them."

After her declaration he moved to the rear of the group, his task was support. "Considering half life of primary make up or core elements, I'll probably be functional longer then anyone on the vessel." The techpriest seemed to add as a simple statement of fact. "But no favors needed. I can just fix myself if required. There is nothing that can't be resolved with the right amount of drugs." Speaking of, he checked some of the canister rounds, making sure there was a variety for most occasions.

[User]
Isaiah

As soon as he saw the nod he turned on his heel and started his walk. Striding quickly as he felt the deck below him along the ridges of his boots. He had pretty much everything he needed at the time, shotgun was just for formalities. He walked through the bulkhead and turned once again as he started through the maze of the ship, getting close to the sides of the hall to let the ratings pass.

Over his vox he listened to the captain, "I will be there shortly." he said as his strides grew longer, he paced himself some, mainly so he didn't burn his old body out before the fight even begun. But he began thinking some, he is the biggest target that screams 'For the Imperium' in the ship, and if he is going over to a ship full of things that hate even seeing something Imperial, he was going to have a fun fight. Maybe he could use that to his advantage.

He reached his room and opened the door. It looked almost standard for an officer's quarters if not for the boxes. Over his bed was a shotgun mounted to the wall, he walked to it and lifted it up. Taking the sling and pulling it from the barrel. The sling was moved up his arm and around his shoulder, letting the barrel sling below his right arm. He leaned down and got another sling, and a large canister of shells putting it around his neck and left arm, sliding it under the other sling so if he needed to take the shotgun off he could easier. The box of shells wouldn't interfere with movements as much as the shotgun would where it was currently hanging.

He turned back out of the hallway and headed to where he was being sent to, bending his elbow up as he took several shells from the canister, closing it behind them, and then putting one in the barrel, and the rest in the internal. Eventually, he arrived at the point and was greeted, "Oh it's nice to see you again knife ear." he stated, rolling his eyes, "But if these things are any more deadly in person then their ship is, should we not refine a plan for ourselves and ratings once we board? I have a few idea's but I don't they are beneficial to the centuries that knife ears spent learning to be sarcastic." He asked to the rest of the room.

[Assistant]
Ah, yes. Her desirability in the assault was not unexpected - if nothing else, her presence would be suitable for enhancing the group's resolve and ensuring the boarding action's success. Bidding her Choir continue to contemplate their next message outward, and designating one to lead them in her absence, she let them be, heading on to the assault point in due course. She had everything she needed with her, of course.

And yet, the Eldar still reached the location long before anybody else. She had a knack for physicality, not to mention intense arrogance and a soul that could be singled out from well across the ship. Granted, its potency compared to the others on board was significant, but it was the strange form that really stuck out when it came to seeing her. Naturally, this made her no easier to communicate with - especially with such mocking greetings as "highmind".

'Ah, and a distinct greeting to you too, xeno,' she replied , her sardonic grin cutting. Her glare would have been too, but... well. 'I certainly hope you get your fill of combat today - why, you must be raring to get to the front line ahead of us mere humans, mustn't you?' Even as she said this, she set her mind upon bolstering the group's resolve in advance of the attack, her soul reaching out to touch those of the others in the group. Severus', mostly gilded from fear already, but precise and specific in its function, and simple enough to add extra reinforcement to. Isaiah's, tired of the galaxy as it was, but proof against most fears, and yet worth proofing further. Even Laeveyla's. Eugh, like prodding grox refuse with her toe - not that Laeveyla had any relation to a grox, of course, because those were actually useful, but one could all but smell the pompous crap spewing from her mind if only one had the capacity to sense it.

[User]
"Yes, well, I'm glad I don't intend to rely on your services, Scaredskin." She shook her head in the direction of the mangled heap of metal that stubbornly still called itself human, before a crewmember calling her a 'knife ear' came in. Honestly, there was no originality with these mon'keighs. Knife ears this, knife ears that. At least she tried coming up with new insults for them. "Issac," she said, referring to the man's name for quite possibly the first time since she had boarded this ship (even if it was the wrong name.)

Drawing her sabre in one smooth movement, she would swing it dangerously close to his face before bringing it back towards her with a flourish. "They are deadly to you, perhaps, but a Corsair ship would have already taken anything worth salvaging from their craft and sent it towards the nearest sun in the time it's taken for you lot to meander your way to this airlock. Considering it's putting holes in this bucket of bolts so rapidly, you'd think you lot might show some urgency."

Then came her favourite memebr of the crew to mock. The psyker. She thought herself so much better than the common man for her powers, not comprehending how little it raised her from the mediocre throngs of her race. "Oh come now. The machine can't even match my insult... That man," she gestured vaguely in Isiah's direction "uses the only damn insult any of you seem to know and you can't even be bothered to think of something? What does a woman have to do around here to match her wits?" She paused for a moment to let the comedic timing work its way out.

"Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot this was a mon'keigh ship, right, yes, my apologies." Turning back to the psyker, she would toss her power sabre up and behind her, gracefully catching the weapon with her other hand, giving it a twirl, and then sheathing it once more, resting both of her hands atop the hilt. "One doesn't exactly have to rare to get ahead of you lot. I don't call you lumberfoots for nothing, after all." She rolled her eyes, but then in a surprising example of what little modesty the corsair had in her, doffed her cap towards the choir-master once she felt her magics work their way across the eldar's form.

"Now then, I believe that leaves us awaiting one more, and then we can be off and I can earn my rather large paycheck."


[System]
(This is a temporary image just for reference. While it's not exactly what Ash looks like it's close.)
Nickname: Ash

Species: Human

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Occupation: Knight for Hire

Appearance:
Ash is of an average height, approximately 5ft 9in, and he is a muscular, but slender, looking guy who appears to be in good physical condition. His hair is jet black and he has longer bangs that hang slightly over the left side of his face; his eyes are a brilliant icy blue and are piercing in appearance when Ash stares at someone or has direct eye contact with someone.
He wears lightweight upper arm armor on each arm with black fingerless gloves that go up to his shoulders; under a dark protective leather vest he wears a black sleeveless, long necked, wool shirt. The shirt is tucked into a pair of forest green pants that have protective metal leg coverings that use straps to stay attached to his legs. The pants come down and are tucked into a pair of dark leather traveling boots that lace up with metal clasps. Over his shoulders he wears a forest green traveling cape.

Family:
Father - Ruevick Kingstone
Mother - Catherine Kingstone
Older Brother - Lias Kingstone
Older Sister - Bella Kingstone

Personality:
Ash isn't someone who talks a lot as he's a bit shy with people, because of this sometimes he comes off curt, blunt, rude or aggressive. Aside from his shyness though, Ash has a heart of gold and will protect someone with his life. He is protective over those he is charged to guard, and has a hard time letting them do things themselves unless they force him to let them be. He is a very serious person and has a hard time letting loose and joking around.

Likes:
Spending time outside, quiet surroundings, protecting others, reading, meals with fish.

Dislikes:
Arrogant people, lying, cats, onions.

Weapons:
A wide bladed sword at his waist. It is heavy, but because of his years of practice with it, Ash can wield it with minimal effort. He also carries a wide blade hunting knife just in case an attacker gets too close to him or surprises him with a sneak attack.

You don't need to be this detailed with your character. I just need some basic information about her like a picture similar to what she looks like, her name, age, personality, and appearance if it's different at all from the picture.

[User]
Rura nodded his head as the woman decided to take her leave and see for herself that what he said was fact. There was no point in dancing around the fact that while it may be unbelievable, and he hadn't expected her to believe it since she wasn't exactly from this time, she was in this time and place that was outside of her own world. As the woman left, Rura gave a sigh and frowned. "I hope you will be able to forgive me for not being completely honest my lady... Gennovia must be saved though, and you are the only hope for that." He murmured walking over to the cast iron stove and putting on a metal kettle to heat up as a fire burned low in the stove as he waited for the woman to hopefully return rather than trying to head off on her own. Her energy would be sure to attract those that were loyal to the darkness.

Just as Vivian had returned to his chambers, Rura added a few tea leaves to a couple of wooden cups then poured the now hot water into the cups as well before handing on to her as she spoke. "This will help relieve some of your anxiety if you drink tea. If not that's fine too." he said offering the cup to her before taking a sip of his own tea. As the woman asked him to if he could return her, Rura took another sip from his cup before giving a slight sigh and looking at her with an apologetic gaze. "You see that's a bit more difficult. While I'm a powerful mage of sorts, pinpointing the exact time and place you belong is a bit difficult for me, actually nearly impossible. I could try to use your energy to open a portal but there's a good chance I will still send you to the wrong time and place and you would be stuck there." He explained in a gentle voice. "While I don't have the power to do it myself, there is a city far to the west in the kingdom that has High Sages that live there. They more than likely would be able to help you to return."

[Assistant] Vivian accepted the cup of tea with a polite thanks. She noticed his look and she immediately felt crestfallen. Just as she thought, his answer was no, because she could end up stuck in a different place and time then she was originally. She looked at the floor at the answer at first, but she looked at him again when he mentioned that there people who could help her. Relieved, Vivian set the cup of tea down on the table gently, and she answered, this time she was calmer and a little more hopeful since she now had an idea of what to do, "Alright, I'll just go there and ask them for help then," She then asked, her hands intertwined with each other in anticipation to get going, "What's the city called? How long would it take me to get there? Do you have a map with you?" As much as she wanted to try using her phone's map, she figured that it wasn't going to work here, judging from the lack of technology in the room. She wanted to get home as soon as possible, before she possibly lose her job or her family starts considering her missing.

[User]
"The city is called Azen, it's a very old city in the kingdom which is why it's towards the western edge of the lands. If you were to go directly to the city with only a few stops to rest along the way would take about seven days of travel, by foot. I will warn you though that as powerful as the High Sages are they will probably need a bit of assistance from the Elder Sages. Some of our own energy in order to amplify their own, so they can figure out exactly what place and time to teleport you to. That being said all the Elder Sages are not here at this temple, we watch over temples in all the cities. So you will have to make some stops along the way. I will send you with a letter and a soul crystal that the Elder Sages can transfer their energy into." Rura explained as he looked at the woman before standing to pick up the now slightly glowing crystal within the teleportation symbol on the ground.

As he returned to his seat with the crystal in hand, Rura's expression grew serious as he began to speak again. "While I can give you a map, I don't think it would be safe for you to travel to Azen on your own. You do give off a strange energy, and I'm worried that it might cause the creatures outside of the city walls to be more aggressive towards you. With the clothing you wear, there are bandits and thugs that would probably target you as well." he looked at her seriously now as he warned her about the possible dangers that she faced. "If you agree, I will head into Gennovia and locate a knight for hire to protect you as you travel to Azen." Rura offered as he waited for her to hopefully agree. He himself wouldn't be able to accompany the woman physically once he transferred his energy into her soul crystal.

[Assistant] Vivian listened as he answered her questions, and she silently hoped that her family wouldn't worry after a week passed. She noted that she was definitely going to end up missing her sister's birthday, but she figured she would apologize and talk to her later when she got back to her world. It was probably going to take longer with the other stops to meet with the Elder Sages. She watched him stand and pick up a glowing crystal from the circle. When he grew serious, dread started to claw at Vivian's heart again. She listened as he warned her that creatures and bandits may try to attack her on her way there. She figured she could handle bandits and thugs thanks to self defense lessons back home, but the wild animals that live in this world? After he made that offer, she nodded and she answered after giving it some thought, "It would be great to have some form of defense. Thank you,"

[User] Rura nodded his head as she spoke and he finished off the last of the liquid in his cup before standing, he could feel a temporary rush of energy from what he had drank flowing through him and knew that the magical properties were starting to take effect. Walking over to a wardrobe in the corner he opened it and pulled from it two traveling cloaks. Putting one on himself he walked back over to Vivian and laid it on the table for her. "I will recommend wearing this, your clothing does make you stand out a little in comparison to the other people here. Also it will protect you from the elements." Rura spoke as he grabbed a piece of parchment and a quill. "I apologize my lady, I gave you my name but I never asked for your own. What can I call you?" He asked looking up at her.

[Assistant] Vivian watched as he finished his drink and went over to the wardrobe to take out two cloaks. She accepted the cloak from the table, figuring it would be best if she didn't draw attention, saying "Thanks," to Rura as she placed the cloak around her shoulders and fastened it so it wouldn't fall off. She looked to Rura when he spoke and she answered, remembering that she never really introduced herself "Oh! My name is Vivian," She rationalized that she never really got to introduce herself because of the fright she had from suddenly finding herself here. She watched as he wrote with a quill, hiding her eagerness to head off and try to get home.

[User]
"Vivian." Rura repeated the name in a low tone as he scribbled her name on the parchment then drew an odd symbol on it as well. Folding the paper he put it in a large envelope before handing it to the woman. "Make sure you keep this on you at all times, the symbol is something that only the sages can read, but it's important you present that to them, I will give you the soul crystal as well before you begin your journey. I will return shortly with someone to escort you on your journey, I only ask that you trust my judgment. I have no reason to see harm befall you. I suggest resting until I return so that you have strength to start traveling today." Rura bowed his head to the woman before opening the door and leaving through it. He pulled up his hood and placed it down covering his face.

Rura made his way into Gennovia to seek out a young knight by the name of Ashford Kingstone. The Elder Sage had done some research in the previous days to find someone who could escort who ever Rura had brought here. The information he had gotten was of the young knight who came from a line of knights. While a bit soft spoken, Ashford was protective to a fault and would make sure that nothing harmed those under his watch. Rura knew this knight would be perfect for this quest. He had been told that Ashford frequented a tavern called The Emerald Goblet in the late afternoons for a quick meal before returning to his rounds in the castle. Rura hoped to catch the man there to speak with him. Once at the tavern the sage glanced around the interior before finding the man he was looking for. His jet black hair appeared unruly today as the back stuck out at odd angles, and his icy blue eyes glanced out a nearby window in thought.

Approaching the man's table Rura sat down as Ash gave him an odd look, waiting quietly for the man to speak. "Greetings knight, I know you are a knight for hire and I have need of your service." Rura said in a quiet voice as his eyes peered out from beneath his hood. The man remained silent but kept his eyes on Rura and gave a slight nod of his head, indicating he was listening. "There is a young woman who just got into town that needs an escort to take her to the city of Azen. Along the way you will need to stop at the Temples of the High Priestess so they may bless your journey."

"The ancient city of Sages? Why would she need to go there?" Ash asked sharply when he heard the name. He did respect the sages, but that city was a special place, and taking someone there who didn't normally live there seemed like an odd request.

"The reason is not important. All you need to know is that there is a darkness that threatens the Kingdom of Gennovia. The darkness has made the kingdom more dangerous, and the woman needs to make it to the city safely. There are creatures that wouldn't normally have the power to raid towns that have been, and the wild creatures seem to be appearing in greater numbers than before. The woman would be in danger if she went alone. Will you escort her or not? I know this is something that you need payment in advance for, and I've come prepared with that." Rura spoke in a sharp tone at first before it softened to a gentle murmur as he pulled a large pouch from his cloak and set it on the table in front of him.

Ash was silent for a moment debating his decision before giving a slight nod, he took the pouch from the table and stood to his feet. "Where should I be meeting you two at? I need to go and take care of some preparations before I leave." He looked at the hooded man who appeared relieved at his agreement.

"Just outside of the Temple of the High Goddess, we will be waiting there for your arrival." Rura spoke with a bow of his head before standing to his feet as well and making his way out of the tavern. Ash watched him go wondering just what he had gotten himself into. He didn't like being a knight for hire but with the new law passed by the king since the lands had become more dangerous he couldn't deny a person help without good reason.

After he had finished what he needed to prepare before the trip Ash made his way to the temple to meet the woman. As he approached he saw the two standing outside the door to the temple. He observed the woman carefully taking in her appearance, the clothing beneath her cloak seemed quite odd to him, however Ash decided not to ask about it right now deciding it wasn't too important. As he approached the two he bowed his head. "Hello." He said in a calm tone. Ash stood wearing his upper arm and his leg armor which shimmered slightly in the afternoon light; he wore a thick leather vest over his sleeveless, long necked shirt. He also wore a pair of dark green pants beneath the leg armor. The pants were tucked into a pair of brown traveling boots.

"Vivian, this is Ashford Kingstone. He's the knight that has agreed to travel with you on your journey." Rura spoke gesturing to the young knight as he bowed his head at the woman


[System]
Appearance/Race: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 25

Career/Profession: Mercenary

Background: If you were to ask someone to list the most bad ass killers in the universe, Killshot would be somewhere on the top ten. He keeps most of his history a secret for the sake of protecting old family and friends, though it isn't all that interesting anyway. He's known best for his record of more than 300 confirmed kills, though he doesn't keep count himself, and his ability to complete almost every contract ever assigned to him. His weakness is his conscious. Those few uncompleted contracts are from when he would side with those he was hired to kill because he felt that they they didn't deserved to die. He's also used to working alone, but is willing to readjust to keep the people of Sector Serena safe.

Gear:
- Two .45 Caliber Handguns
- One Machete
- Various lethal and non-lethal hand grenades
- Body armor that can stop most non-sustained small arms fire
- Helmet with tactical display

Other:

The V-17 Cobra Dropship is a re-purposed troop carrier meant to quickly transport up to twelve. Killshot's since customized it for deep space travel and more firepower. There's also a small armory where he keeps various weaponry (including assault rifles, sniper rifles, rocket launchers, etc.) for missions that may require something more than his handguns can handle. It's no bigger than a Black Hawk Helicopter of the 21st century. After his last contract though, the Cobra was wrecked and Killshot is currently planing on using his cut from this job to pay for the repairs.

Credits: ₡0.00

[User]
Eloln was quick to act and decided to split him and the big guy up. "Copperhead go help Killshot protect the target, and don't let him die understand."

With a nod Copperhead was off fast than he looked like he could go. He dashed right next to the target. "Mr. Graton, I'm here to help." Graton looked scared ass hell, Copperhead thought it was because of his size and appearance. With bullets hitting the van he needed to lay some cover down so that the man could get around the corner with the others. He reached up and grabbed his favorite gun Big Bite and charged it up. The gun fired a electric pulse so powerful that it turned what ever it came to contact in to much. Eloln once described the effect as taking a sledge hammer to squash. With the gun charged he aimed it at one of the men out of cover from the car. He fired and it made contact with the man dead in the chest. He exploded and pieces of him were everywhere, gun fire stopped and Copperhead got back into cover to recharge his weapon.

Meanwhile Eloln took off after the Android after giving Copperhead his job. He was fast so Eloln had to get on all fours just to keep up. He looked like a lizard running through the rain forest. He came up next to the machine and watched as the man exploded. The gun fire stopped due to initial shock but it pick up just as quick. He saw the two men behind the car and looked up and saw Killshot on the roof. He took this idea and began to run on all fours to the building he was on. Eloln climbed up the side of the building on all fours until he hit the top and saw Killshot. He ran over to him and pointed at the men behind the car.

Who
"We need to get ride of them before more show up." Eloln said with a hiss.

[Assistant]
Claire De la Noye
&
Natasi

Claire would quickly follow along after hearing the arrangements for the gathered group, a gentle hand patting her thigh as she took to a sprint. The lanky legged Sorvath titled Natasi close to her side as they remained off to the side of the group avoiding getting muddled within it. The sound of echoing shots being fired in the distance caught Claire's attention, while Natasi's over-sized ears perked up, dark ebony nasal panels pulling at the air as a deep rumble emerged though she remained tight to her mistress's heel.

Upon reaching the destination and remaining hidden she'd nod lightly at the orders being barked by Winston. Eyes quickly trail over the form of R0807 taking off and disappearing down an alley before shifting to the sound of Killshot sprinting for the protection target. Claire would reach for the large rifle upon her back and sling it into position, one hand gripping and balancing the lengthy barrel while the other held tightly to the grip and she pulled it to her shoulder.

Crouched lowly, Claire would begin moving across the street sideways, gun aimed directly down at those hidden behind the vehicle. Claire would suddenly halt in position in the middle of the street, bullet whizzing by as she'd tilt her head and rest her cheek upon part of the gun, eye closing to look down the scope.

"Taz, bring it to me!" she'd shout, the large pale toned creature would suddenly take off from her mistress's side. Winding past some vehicles and causing some confusion to those watching, Natasi would head straight towards the two hidden, one poked their head out just enough. Claire barely moved to line up the shot and pulled the trigger, the rifle emitting a faint sound as a bullet went flying.

Opening her second eye again, Claire watched as Natasi barely even stopped. She continued racing across the road, ears low to the sides and tail extended behind her as she'd launch onto the bonnet of the car darkened maroon hues glancing at the already dead man behind it before grunting lightly before she heard an unsteady foot slip near the other end. Head snapping to one side she'd glance at the other man who appeared to be trying to remain out of line of fire and she'd dip her head, her lips twitching as they curled up slightly to bare ivory fangs. Natasi knew little on how to kill properly, but she'd step down from the car's hood with no necessary effort and began pressing on with slow paces towards the man trying to reload his weapon.

Claire would watch closely, eyes fixated on the vehicle barely able to see the large beast now hidden behind it, hands lightly shifting on the guns as she adjusted her position and begin to move off to more cover near the alleyway. "Natasi! Bring it to me!" she'd bark once more, the hound unsure exactly what to bring would launch at the fumbling person and latch onto his weapon, one giant paw pressed into his chest as deep vocals rumbled in her chest. Natasi would then quickly shake her head violently, the mans hand releasing the weapon under the sudden force and the hound would quickly take off once the prize was freed.

A partial grin spread over Claires hidden face as the Sorvath winded through further obstacles only to find herself once more beside her mistress, maw grasped tightly over the now unarmed mans gun while a lizard-like tail whipped side-to-side. The beast almost looked to have a gleaming expression barely resembling a smile upon her face as her ears perked up and she remain holding the trophy.

Claire lost sight of the second gunman and huffed as she'd remain out of sight. Her gun pointed around a corner as she'd spot Copperhead with the target they had to protect, nodding at that knowledge she'd begin heading their way ready to pop the last guy behind the car if by chance he'd pop out. Though this wasn't likely with him now unarmed while Natasi followed close to her mistress with it wrapped within her daggery jowls.

[User]
John leaned against the railing on the roof of the building, looking down at the shootout below him. The remaining three thugs - scratch that, two thugs thanks to Copperhead's lightning gun - down below were so far off that the likelihood they'd be able to hit Harrison or one of his teammates was extremely low, admittedly anything could happen though. That's why he didn't even bother firing at them. John hadn't been paying much attention to those that had gone into the alley to take on the two by the dumpster, not after he saw that they were neutralized that is, so he didn't know Eloln was on the roof with him until the Parzon spoke. John showed no sign of this lack of knowledge though.

"There's only two left-" a silenced bullet from Claire's rifle struck one of the thugs making him need to recount. "Make that one left. I could easily take him on my own, heck I could have taken all six of these guys on my own, but we're a team here and there's no 'I' in team. So that's why I'm watching from up here for now. Reinforcements arrive and you can be sure that I'll jump back in, but for now I want to see what the rest of us can do. Know our strengths and weaknesses. That way we'll all be able to improve. So, wanna watch with me?"

[Assistant]
Seeing that back up had arrived, Harris had decided it would be best to simply stay down. He nodded to Killshot once he reached the car, and looked slightly disturbed by the giant reptile that came up beside him. The fighting went rather swiftly and intensely around him, so he kept his mouth shut so he wouldn't distract his "rescuers" from killing off the rest of these thugs. He slid his sleeve back, and began typing hastily away on a wrist mounted device while the others wrapped up the battle.

Winston ducked back into cover to reload his pistol and watched as the squad went about fulfilling their duties. The sight made him feel rather satisfied about choosing the right people. Of course, the whole job could be considered overkill, but it was being handled efficiently. Further down the street, the last red coated thug decided that this job wasn't worth doing and crawled slowly along the car until he was behind another building. Once out of the squad's clear line of sight, the man would break out into a dash and attempt to leave the 'warzone' behind him. Winston approached the VIP and the others by the van.

Harris was still busily typing away on his wrist-device, only looking up when he heard someone new approach him. "Mr. Valos," the VIP said as he picked himself up off the wet ground. "I see the planetary defense force decided to make their rounds this evening!" Harris smirked, glancing at the different members of the squad whom he could see. "As much as I wish I could get us to a decent bar for strippers and beer, i'm afraid i'm on a rather tight schedule, and.. well, we could probably do with someplace better than this world huh." Harris seemed rather cheery despite the recent attempt on his life.

"I believe credits will work just fine for us Harris." Winston replied, crossing his arms. "Though if you could manage to slip in some good drinks for my crew here i'm sure the would appreciate that too." Harris gave a pleasant nod to Winston. Suddenly the VIP's wrist device let out a beep, and Harris glanced down at the screen. "While you all were puttin' on a show, I managed to hack into one of their holopads in hopes of finding a little bit of information on my attempted murderers. This seemed a little too well thought out to just be a bunch of street thugs.." Harris said, glancing up for a moment and noticing the door to an abandoned looking building near by. He beckoned the others to follow him inside. "This'll probably be easier to read when i'm not getting drenched out here.."

Harris pushed the door open, his device lightly illuminating the space around him. Visibility was poor except near the windows, where street lights barely shown into the building. From the looks of it, this structure may have once been a diner. There were a small flight of stairs which lead up to the second story of the building, where the roof was broken in some areas, and allowing water to pour in. Harris sat down at one of the tables on the first floor away from the windows and wiped the water off of the device's screen. "Just give me a moment, this data a little bit encrypted, but nothing Uncle Harris can't fix.." The VIP said, who began working away at his device again.

[User]
As the final, unarmed thug began to make his daring escape, John couldn't help but get the strange feeling that he should gun him down. The probability that he was going to be running for backup was immense, but shooting a retreating opponent wasn't usually his style. For now, he'd be allowed to live, and hopefully bring a bit more of a challenge. John turned his head to look where the majority of his teammates were gathering. Using the equipment in his helmet, John was able to listen in on the conversation between Harris and the rest of his team, without ever having to take the effort to climb back down the building. Sure he could take the stairs back down, but how boring would that be?

Harrison began to walk inside out of range of John's speakers though when he decided to show everyone the data collected on the hacked datapad. Well, time to join the other I guess. In one quick motion, he stepped onto the ledge of the building and launched himself in the direction of the nearest car, landing right on the top and crushing it slightly beneath his and his equipment's weight. Almost as if ignoring the show-offy display he had just made, John followed Harrison and the others into the abandoned diner.


[System]
23 years old

personality
Aviel is, at first glance, quiet and reserved. She doesn't speak much, even when spoken to; when she does, she tends to use short sentences and gets straight to the point. She tries very hard not to show any outward emotions, and most of the time, she succeeds. She is very goal-oriented, especially when venturing to the surface, and gets visibly annoyed when others don't behave the same way.

Beneath the cold, rough exterior, however, is the same bright, free-spirited girl she has always been. She loves cooking for others, and she loves watching them enjoy what she has made for them... even if she doesn't always act like it. And despite the fact that she never seems to laugh, Aviel actually does have a sense of humour - and a dark one at that.

Sometimes she wishes she could show that softer side of herself more freely... but then again, an apocalyptic wasteland isn't exactly the place for that, is it?

biography
Aviel was the first daughter of two, born to her parents just six months before they immigrated from Israel to Brooklyn. She remembers her childhood fondly: her father and mother opened a modestly successful restaurant, where Aviel and her younger sister often helped both in the kitchen and in the dining room. Both girls attended the same private, all-girls school. The family lived a good, comfortable life.

Then came the bombs. Aviel remembers that day, much more clearly than she cares to admit: she had faked illness and skipped school. She remembers laying in bed, reading a book; suddenly hearing explosions, seeing flashes; she remembers her father, in a panic, grabbing her hair and dragging her down into the basement. Her mother sobbing on the other end of the phone because her sister was missing. Her father demanding that Aviel stay hidden before locking her in the basement with all the food and water he could find. She remembers waiting there, although for how long, she could never be sure. Running out of food first, and then water. She remembers breaking her way out of the basement with what little strength she had, because she knew none of them were coming back.

Aviel struggled to survive at first. She went from house to house, searching for families that she knew, hoping that one of them might have been better prepared. Eventually she found the adult brother of a classmate; he was the first to introduce her to the sewers, and brought her into his group, made up primarily of his own peers. Although they were reluctant to accept her at first, Aviel earned their acceptance by proving she was a capable cook. They taught her valuable skills needed in order to survive on the surface, and she kept them fed as best she could.

After nine years, and for reasons she refuses to talk about, Aviel willingly left this group and began bouncing between other pockets of survivors. She's recently stumbled upon a new group, and has decided to settle for the time being and see how things work out.

relationships
none yet

what she originally brought
- her semi-automatic pistol & ammo
- hand-drawn maps of the surface, written in Hebrew
- candles & matches

skills/abilities
cooking: thanks to her experience working in her parents' restaurant, as well as being the main chef for her previous group, Aviel is quite skilled at cooking edible meals from little resources.

firearm proficiency: one of the first skills her first group taught her was how to properly use firearms to defend herself. She prefers pistols, and most of her knowledge and skill lays there; however she can still hold her own with larger guns if need be.

physical strength: Aviel is no longer the frail child who had to struggle to free herself from the basement. While no where near the strongest person alive, she can lift and carry a considerable amount more than the average female survivor. She can also hold her own in a physical fight.

good sense of direction: Aviel has always been good at not getting lost; learning to live in the labyrinth that is the sewers has only fine-tuned that skill.

perceptive: Aviel is quick to notice when things are out of place, or if something seems to be lurking around the environment.

weaknesses
suspicious: Aviel has a hard time trusting new people. She regards them with suspicion, and often assumes anyone willing to help her has ulterior motives. Her trust must be earned, but sometimes even she isn't sure how that can be done.

cold: Aviel's lack of trust tends to translate into an apparent lack of empathy for those around her. While this isn't always the case, she sees no reason why she should try to convince her companions otherwise.

language barrier: because she spent so long speaking almost exclusively Hebrew, Aviel often struggles with speaking and understanding English.

other
Aviel can read English to a certain extent, but she cannot write it.

[User]
Sewer Rats

12th of April, 2073
1:17 pm
Underground/Sewer System
4 days of food remaining.
4 days of water remaining.

It was cold and damp. That was the first thing you'd notice: the cold. The smell? Not as bad as you might've assumed but, uh, still pretty bad. It had to have been… some kind of underground construction happening due to the large open space. Decently high ceilings (Or as high as they could be) that did little to fight against the chill. Archways leading to different sectors included, it gave off a cramped feeling and a feeling of emptiness at the same time.

It appeared that another group had previously taken refuge here considering the rather… lived in appearance it held. From the posters on some of the walls to the ratty old couch that was covered in a bunch of, arguably damped, pillows. Old boxes and crates were used as tables. (Probably junk that was thrown down here at another point. In the apocalypse, there's no time to be picky.

There were a few hanging lights but they seemed blown out. Some replacement bulbs would be needed to even consider some kind of electrical lighting. A damp beanbag chair off to the side with an odd-looking chair far off. (Another against a wall.) This was what you saw when you first walked in.

To the right, there was an open area to what looked to be some kind of rest area. There were hammocks and a few cots. They were short 2 beds. There was a small chest at the end of each 'bed', clearly the previous group had some kind of storage system for each individual.

Straight ahead, there was another open area. It must've been some kind of storage area considering all the crates (Who knew what was in there?) that were in there. But, it had appeared to be re-purposed into some kind of eating area. Some of the larger crates had been pushed together to create some kind of mockery of a dining table. Add a few pillows surrounding it and you got some place to sit-sorry, kneel, and eat. There was also charred remains a little further in leading to the idea that a fire had been made there. A few pots and pans that looked unstable laid strewn around. There was broken glass scattered around the area from what could've been broken plates. There were a few chipped and cracked ones remaining however. Add in a, what appeared to be at least, metal bench over to the side. There was also a crate that seemed half empty but with a few leftover rations and water that could last a few days.

Then, to the left when you first come in, there was not another area. Instead, it was just a curtain that'd been attached to what looked like a hand-welded pole to the wall that separate the area. You could only guess that it was to wall off an area for changing and… maybe showering? (Taking a huge leap in assuming there was some kind of showering system, at least.) You had no idea.

The entrance was just a steel door in the middle of a larger circular door. It must've been electrically operated for it to open and close at another point in time. But with no electricity? Pretty much just a 10 ft. tall circle.

And that was pretty much it.

Lavender was… skeptic, to say the least. Green eyes studied the environment with a kind of worry that came from any new area.

Are there any alternative exits and entrances that just aren't seeable?

Are there any breaches?

The smaller door, how weak and frayed is it? Could it be broken down easily?

Food… what about food? More importantly, what about water? They could go a little while without food but water? That's a whole other story in and of itself.

Stepping a little further into the space, Lavender's boots made a bit of noise considering the overall dampness of the area. She'd wandered over to the couch, eyeing the table to see what looked like… schedules? Schedules for… Rick, Annie, Mike… they must've had assigned roles and jobs amongst themselves… not a bad idea.

Her fists unconsciously tightened from their place in her pockets. The weight of her rifle felt comforting on her back, a reminder of the fact that she wasn't completely defenseless. She adjusted the weight of the first aid kit attached from her pants; it was a familiar weight she appreciated.

Taking a few steps to the right, she peered into the sleeping area. Regardless… what's first? She thought, the tall girl's eyes flickering to the rest of her… whatever it was that they were. She still hadn't decided yet.

[Assistant]
The Latino girl reached to her side and twisted shut the valve that gave her clean oxygen, before removing the head of her suit, the breathing 'octopus,' (or, at least, that was what she thought it was called, the text on the piping was a little faded and spotty- not the best to read, it had to be said, dangling out of her mouth. She picked up the pressure gauge and took a deep sigh. 25 PSI. Enough for about... Fifteen minutes topside. She would need to fill it up again, but for now she contented herself with putting her welding torch down, her shoulder aching from hauling the heavy battery. She didn't know these people, but they were her best bet at surviving.

She fumbled in her pocket and drew out a tattered box of small, white pills. Caffeine. Worked as a placebo drug too if you didn't know what they actually were. She balled up some spit and popped one of the little things, struggling to swallow. "I'll take one of the cots," she mumbled, before walking over to one of them and inspecting it closely. It looked to be an actual bunk bed, metal posts and frame. She pressed down on the mattress, and even through the thick gloves she was wearing, could feel that they were cheap, and filthy. The mattress had no cover, and the blanket was threadbare, but hey, four pillows. Probably because they were so small.

The rest of her suit came off with a little difficulty. The first thing she needed to do was to remove the overcoat and air canister 'rucksack' sown into it, which required it to be unzipped from the inside. She removed her gloves- they were hockey gloves with a butcher's chainmail hand protections burnt into the plastic for added protection, and a thin leather layer over the top of that. They were heavy to say the least, and clanked loudly when she put them down on the floor.

Then there was the zip, and she carefully took off the jacket- a thick cagoule with a modified rucksack to hold the air canister and oxygen feed, with waterproof inner layer gloves. She had picked it carefully- it was the item that she was most relying on to not get rad sickness, after all. Underneath she was wearing a ratty white t-shirt with faded blue writing and a graphic on it. If it had been intact, it would have been a biohazard symbol. Slightly ironic- it had been nukes that had bumped them off after all.

She doubled over as a coughing fit overtook her, wiping away the black that she hacked up on her trousers, before undoing the zip on them and stepping out of both her boots and her trousers in one go. They had been salvaged from an actual hazmat suit. Whilst the original wearer had taken a shotgun to the chest, she was no stranger to looting dead bodies.

Finally, she was left standing, looking like a normal human being. Her eyes had bags that you could carry shopping in, and her hands and arm were a red reminiscent of bad rash, but she was otherwise OK. She removed the scrunchie around her ponytail, tucking it into a pair of navy tracksuits and walking barefoot out onto the freezing cold concrete. She bent down and unsheathed her machete, before hanging it on the end of her bed and walking back to the unofficial leader of the group. "What now?"

[User]
Aviel lingered in the doorway for a bit as she surveyed her new... living space. Her deep brown eyes passed slowly over every surface, taking stock of what they had and what they would need. Crates in what appeared to be a dining area; possibly full, definitely useful. Beds, with storage for each. Looks like there's not enough for everyone. How... unfortunate? She wasn't sure that was the word she should use, considering the condition of what few beds there were. She tapped her jaw a couple times, and then slowly crossed into the space she was pretty sure she would have to call home.

She first wandered over to the sleeping area. Passed the girl wearing what Aviel could only assume was a space suit, carefully touched the mattress on the next cot over. Damp, probably mouldy. The next one was even worse: it appeared nearly soaked through, and she couldn't help but wonder if it was ready to collapse under the weight of whoever was unfortunate enough to pick last. Turned her attention to the hammocks, but only briefly; she decided quickly that she didn't trust the rope that held the rickety things together.

...Mouldy bed it is then.

Aviel turned to the space woman and made a curt noise to get her attention. "Mine," she announced, motioning toward the bed. It was the most Aviel had said to this woman since they had met. In fact, she had barely spoken a word to any of the group she currently traveled with. Aviel couldn't even be sure that she had given them her name - she certainly hadn't gotten any of theirs. Her decision to travel with these people was purely one of survival: they seemed capable, and she no longer wished to travel alone.

She opened the chest at the foot of her bed, but lost interest upon finding it empty. Her attention then wandered to the crates in the dining area. She slowly crossed the room and began going through each, checking to see if anything of use to them had been left behind.


[System]
'Sella'
♀

---

Abilities

Personality

Biography

[User]
Captain Argus Fellborn

If there was any doubt in Argus' mind that this monster was an unnatural creation, the seam upon its chest dispelled it. Somebody clearly made this thing and sewed it shut. Those same stitches, however, would provide an ideal place to fatally disassemble this creature without compromising its pelt any more than it already was. Assuming, of course, that he could get close enough to cut them.

That might be easier said than done, however, he concluded as the bear-boar began to charge, hurling its massive claws at the vampire.

First, Argus used his blood magic to spray a stream of his own blood in the monster's eyes, as to impair its vision. Then as it drew close, the pirate slashed at the underside of the first paw to come towards him, seeking to both turn the blows aside and hopefully lacerate an artery. The next paw to come at him would receive the same attack.

This would be much easier if he wasn't trying to leave a serviceable pelt, he thought.

[Assistant]
With the creature thus restrained, and Aleksiya able to get a better look at it, she came to realize it was no oversized chicken at all. Even in a state of such decay, it was quite obvious she was looking at a rather more familiar animal then she had expected.

A tropical and exotic bird that had no right to be here, except for the fact that the one at the source of all this was fond of them.

Aleksiya sighed heavily.

"Wonderful, I can't even make fun of you, now," she lamented as she raised her hand, slowly tracing her finger through the air. Along the same course her hand too, a crystalline line began to form, developing a sharpened edge, widening into a wedge shape as vapors poured off of its form, "I hope you're happy."

All it did now was seem sad and pathetic, more than anything else. And what it foretold was nothing particularly good.

Still, it was an obstacle. It had to be removed.

The blade of ice was sent hurtling through the air, a whistling sound accompanying it as Aleksiya targeted the point where the straining, bound wing met the body. It would tear free soon, so grounding it and then finishing it off was their best option.

@Rune_Alchemist@Asuras

[User]
Mom and Dad that were mauled by beasts in her early life? For a human that must be rough. Akyasha thought on that for a few short seconds until Julene brought up her sibling like relationship with a Gilles. "Hmm. I see." The vampire mentioned, trying to think of her past. She couldn't remember much of anything before she had become a vampire. Hell, she couldn't even remember how long ago that was. And then, Julene asked about her family.

"That's a fair question to ask, especially when I brought it up first." She pondered the question for a few seconds before opening her lips again. "Truthfully, my memories are slightly vacant. I have no recollection of my childhood nor my actual age by number. If I were to assume, my parents were dead far before I had lost them or I would have found some clue. No other family by birth with that in mind. The only real family I have are those I travel with now." The redheaded vampire said with a small amount of somber tone to her voice. "Well, the past is the past. It's unchangeable by most accounts aside, perhaps, long dead gods."

Akyasha went silent again as she didn't have much more to add to that topic. She thought about how this human had connections with one Gilles but didn't mention anyone else. It seemed her relationship with Gilles was more of one between brother and sister than anything else... Still, it didn't hurt to probe and see if she had any other close relationships. "Asides this Gilles, is there anyone else in town you're close with? Truthfully, I'm almost surprised no one came to check on you after what happened with that house. Then again, I guess there were some other troubles happening."

[Assistant]
Giselle de FarryUndead Princess, de Farry

---

With the giant bird immobilized, Giselle was also able to get a good look at the decayed abomination after dancing away from its fumbled attack. Like Aleksiya, she was finally able to recognize it as one of Kordelia's exotic pet birds, now long corrupted and twisted into a true abomination, yet apparently still loyal to the end. It was a little sobering, but it was obvious what needed to be done.

Aleksiya had been closer to the princess of beasts than she ever had been, so she let the smaller girl take the lead against the vampire lord's fallen creature. In the end, if they did manage to bring back Kordelia, Giselle supposed it would be better to hear that Aleksiya had put down her oversize bird than Giselle. She had to wonder for a moment if she had been corrupted or twisted herself before finally being brought back. If she could, she would have shuddered at the thought of herself terrorizing the lands that she once tended and shepherded.

All the more reason to end this.

"Aleksiya, I'll leave the coup de grace to you," she offered, as she moved to further restrain the creature. As her counterpart tore into its wings, she sliced into its legs to leave it only able to thrash about on the forest ground before they finally ended it.

[User]
Location:
Julene's cabin

---

"Awfully convenient." Julene replied with a dismissive grunt. "But no, not particularly. The folks here are friendly enough but, well…" Julene paused for a moment, pouring some water into some mugs as she'd turn back to the cooking meat and some water into a pot that she would add a few vegetables too. "I don't do well talking to them." She shrugged. "Can't say I blame 'em. I'm not the friendliest sort."

There wasn't any malice in Julene's voice, at least, so it didn't seem like she thought less of the people and she was speaking more as a matter of fact it seemed.

"Right about that though, can't change the past. Would be nice though, considering what those idiots in the previous era did to the world, hmph." She'd grumble, throwing a few more bits of wood onto the fire.

Forest of beasts

---

This@Asuras@VitaVitaAR

The beast shrieked loudly, Luna's ethereal chains breaking the instant Aleksiya's spear of ice would rend its remaining flesh from its bone, ripping a hole straight through its shoulder. A horrid shriek followed as the beast brought its beak down, slamming into Giselle and knocking her clean across the clearing like a doll, but she had achieved her objective.

Down a wing and now limping slightly, the undead avian shrieked again as it attempted to flap its wings, failing to find any air as its lame one uselessly laid now at its side.

So it chose the only option it had left. It reared its head back a shrill cry as it inhaled…turned its beak towards Aleksiya and shrieked. Another stream of razor wind, more powerful this time ripped across the ground, shredding the ground and scraggly trees around it. It followed by frantically scrambling along the ground, what would have been a fearsome charge reduced to a pitiful looking, half crawl as it opened its maw and would attempt to slam its beak around the vampire.

Location:
Forest of Beasts
Paladin

---

The massive beast growled as blood obscured its vision. The vampries blade found its mark, slashing into the hide of the beast, turning aside one of its paws as he'd parry the blow. The second soon followed, the beasts momentum not allowing it to stop itself as the blade cut another long gash along its paw…but both were shallow, and barely any blood seeped from the wound. Its body twitched lightly in a mildly unnatural way.

Ultimately, the beast charged past Argus a few feet, giving the vampire a few brief moments to think about his next move as the creature would turn to face the vampire once more, snorting aggressively as it seemed unfazed by the injuries on its paws. But it remained docile only briefly as it would rear up on its hind legs once more.

Charlotte, the witch, seemed mostly entertained and was writing in her journal a mere few feet away from the fight.

[Assistant]
This time, the barrier of ice shattered almost immediately. It was regrettable, knowing that she still wasn't back to the level of power she needed to pull off such a feat without effort.

But it had done enough.

The bird's beak yawning open, its body maimed, only barely recognizable as what it once was.

Aleksiya sighed, the air around her arm suddenly growing frigid. Water collected, coalescing around her pale limb, as the diminutive vampire formed a spike of ice that entirely incased it. It glistened, gleaming, shining, its point like that of the finest blade.

"Go to sleep. It's long overdo."

Her arm blurred as she thrust it forward. The length of the spike she had conjured was plenty, she was certain, to pierce the roof of re ruined avian's mouth, through the bone, and up into its brain.

To sever whatever remained of its life instantly, as it attempted to shut its beak around her.

Typically, Aleksiya took pleasure in slaying her enemies. Joy in destroying those who set themselves against her, threatened her companions, those people beneath her. Those who would trample over others.

But there was little joy to be had in this.

@Click This@Asuras

[User]
Captain Argus Fellborn

The creature's thick hide made it difficult for the vampire to injure, and it didn't seem fazed by any injuries. Many aquatic creatures were the same way, their thick layers of skin and fat making it difficult to get to their blood and vitals. If he wanted to kill this thing, he'd need to either cut deeper, or take another approach. After all, as tough as this thing was, there were so many myriad ways to bring about the end of a mortal being's life.

Fortunately, when the bear-boar reared up, it gave the vampire better shots at its vitals without damaging the pelt. In fact, it was precisely the underside where it'd need to be skinned from. Argus thrust his sword at the bottom of the creature's chest seam and thrust upward. Even if he didn't hit anything immediately vital in the process, this ought to make it easier to find and strike at something that would put it down, right?

Let's see what you look like on the inside, monster.

[Assistant]
"Well, I'm sure most of the people didn't intend for the current state of the world." Akyasha mentioned with a small smile. "Others perhaps. That aside, I find you quite friendly though perhaps not an upfront kind. After all, you let me in your home and let me rest." Her smile receded a small bit before she continued, "I would, however, prefer if you didn't call my situation 'convenient' I can assure you it's not. Though, it has led my existence since." The vampire's injuries had mostly recovered by now. Some small bits of pain and such but it wasn't half as bad as it had been.

"Well, I suppose you could say I've gained some rather 'convenient' gifts in that path. Companions, faith, strength. Purpose." She went silent for some short seconds before speaking up again. "Now, it's not much, but allow me to present my own gift to you, Julene." Akyasha said as she walked up to Julene. "Allow me to touch your person once more for but a few seconds." The vampire would lean in closer and ran her fingernail gently along the side of the blacksmith's head and through her hair. She would feel a gentle scratching before the Vampire removed her hand.

Soon, a small lily began to grow on the side of the blacksmith's head stopping at a small size big enough to be a pretty hair decoration. "A lily for you, my favorite flower. I hope you find them as beautiful as I do." With that done, Akyasha would step back giving the woman space.

[User]
Giselle de FarryUndead Princess, de Farry

---

Giselle was not amused when she failed to properly dodge the unfortunate bird and was knocked aside like a ragdoll. Thankfully, she didn't land like one, bleeding the momentum and coming to rest with a graceful rolling stop before springing back up. She immediately took a guard position in the event that she had erred in her blow, but she had done the job. Reigning in the urge to retaliate for the injustice meted out on her, she watched silently as Aleksiya landed the killing blow on the suffering pet.

The princess lowered her silver blade, but didn't sheath it as she briefly knelt to inspected the fallen bird. Satisfied that Aleksiya's spike of ice had truly ended the creature, she stood back up, taking the time to mend the minor battle damage to her dress as it stitched itself back together.

"Unfortunate, but it had to be done," she consoled the smaller vampire, before pushing forwards into the forest towards where Kordelia surely was.

"Time to convene with a peer."


[System]
Dr. Richard Lester

---

Character Summary
Aliases: Professor Lester
Age: 44
Birthday: December 21st, 1946
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Birth Place: San Francisco, California
Residence: 3 Graze Street
Gender: Male
Major/Minor:Doctorate in Business Administration
Occupation: Professor at Pacific North University
Languages: English (Fluent), Japanese (Fluent, Learnt for Business Travel)

---

---

Appearance
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 169 lbs.
Build: Average, Lean
Eyes: Ocean-Blue
Hair: Brushed-Back, Medium-length Brown Hair
Skin Tone: Caucasian
Tattoos/Scars/Piercings:
Personal Style:

Professor Richard Lester dresses plainly, with corporate and dress code interests in mind. He wears a two-piece suit, which is either a hint of dark-blue or dark-grey; he typically wears either a red or blue tie. Richard wears a On his wrist, the professor always wears a well-crafted golden watch, and his old wedding golden ring. As expected, the rest of his style retains the same feel; he wears matching slacks with his suit jacket, with black dress shoes. As per the professor's expression, demeanor, and way of carrying himself, there are usually no dynamic emotions; few smiles leave his face, as also he stands up straight whenever possible. His brow is usually tame, at which point demonstrates a chilling degree of austerity.

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Psychology
Intelligent * Cold * Mild-Mannered * Easily-Aggravated *  Frank * Mildly-Possessive

Sexuality: Heterosexual
Relationship Status: Divorced
Personality:

When you see the white-collar shirt, tie, and slacks, it's easy to assume that Richard Lester is a simple, nine-to-five job employee with a wife and two kids. The reality is much different – far different. Richard Lester is a man that possesses a 151 IQ, and is quite potentially as cold as ice, although, that appearance is only so because Lester has truly odd and peculiar ways of expressing his feelings, which has led to an emotional dependency on his children, after the courts decided to confer parenthood with his wife. Although passive and mild-mannered in nature, it was always what Lester never did for his wife besides provide the essentials for living, which lead up to his divorce five years ago.

Lester is easily aggravated. It may be a simple nuisance in his day that drives me to reply with a passive-aggressive comment, an angry glare, or even potentially a rant; this proneness to aggravation has led to Lester target shooting for anger and stress relief. This most devolves from an honest, frank nature about Richard that encompasses a level of intellectual honesty. Lester is also mildly-possessive; Richard wants to control the narrative of his life, whether that is through his children wanting him, or wanting a promotion at work.

Habits:
- Smoking
- Alcohol
- Nonchalantly Staring off into the Distance

Hobbies:
- Shooting
- Chess

Fears:
* His Children not Needing Him Anymore
* Anything Happening to his Children (or ex-wife)
* His Deceased Mother miraculously finding out that uses Firearms

Likes:
* Money
* Black Coffee
* His Children
* Going to the Firing Range
* Quiet, Midnight Driving
* Computers

Dislikes:
* Bosses
* Smoking
* The Majority of University Students
* Loud, Heavily-Populated Places
* Big Egos at Work
* Tabloid Journalism

---

---

Cards On The Table
General World Skills:
* Business Administration
* Strategy
* World Literature
* Persuasion
* Grit
* Critical Thinking and Analysis
* Research
* Manipulation
* Advanced Education

Combat Skills:
* Brawling [Childhood]
* Pistols [Shooting]
* Riflery [Shooting]
* Stamina [General]
* Driving [Drives Forty Minutes to work every morning]

What Is On Your Person:

* Clothing
* Wallet – ID, $350 USD, Pictures of Both of his Children
* Suitcase
* Lighter
* Cigarettes
* Pager
* Golden, Well-Crafted Watch
* Old Wedding Ring

Residence:

* M1911 Caliber .45 Pistol with Two Clips [16 .45 Cartridges, 8 rounds per clip, Ammunition Stored Seperately]
* Winchester Model 70 Bolt-Action Rifle [10 .308 Cartridges, 5 round capacity, Ammunition Stored Separately]
* Bookshelf with Various Books and Textbooks in Business and Math
* IBM PS/2 Personal Computer
* Chess Board with Chess Figurines
* Alcohol
* Cigarettes
* 1985 BMW 733i Sedan

---

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History
Life Before the Murder:

Richard Thomas Lester was born in 1947 in San Francisco, California, and was effectively apart of the Baby Boomer burst in the population of America. Richard's father, was a World War 2 Marine Corps Officer, and fought in the Pacific Theatre. Richard's mother, alternatively, worked as a midwife in a hospital in San Francisco. Richard's upbringing was mostly humble. However, at the age of six, Richard's father was involved in a hunting accident with his own firearm, and died from the wounds. Richard's mother made him swear, at the age of six, that he wouldn't ever touch a firearm, or he'd end up like his father. It was a harsh reality, it all made sense in the youth's head, that a man could die just like that – but a fatherly figure is essential, and that figure was never properly replaced.

Richard's personal growth, in certain aspects, was stunted at a young age. He became overly-attached to his mother – a quintessential mother's boy. Richard's one redeeming character trait, was his intelligence, that blossomed at a young age, and was tested with a 151 IQ at an official federal standard. Realistically, it's well understood that the IQ test is not the measuring stick for gauging intelligence – however – it does relatively measure someone's potential for maneuvering through a standardized system of education, which is precisely what Richard excelled at, was school. The only factor that held back Richard was his short-fuse and his tendency to get into fights in school; it was seen as an outlet for him.

Richard's success in school lead him to a scholarship at the University of California, Berkeley. In 1971, he worked his way through the system and earned a Master's Degree in Business Administration. While in college, he met his future wife, Cerys, and married her in 1972. Cerys was much more of the emotional type and struggled with her existence as a result, whilst Richard was of course much better kept; Cerys saw this as a sanctuary from her problems, and thus they married. Richard worked for several businesses as a financial consultant along the Pacific seaboard. They settled in Seattle. They gave birth to their first daughter, Caitlyn, in 1978, and their first son, Jack, in 1980. Although, the humble life, somehow, ate away at Richard – slowly – but surely. In 1985, Cerys and Richard divorced, after Richard displayed continually showed a lack of initiative, while the neurotic Cerys had grown sick of Richard's embrace.

While disgusted with his wife, Richard still loved his kids – more than anything – it wasn't about arrogance or spiting the spouse, he wanted to provide to his children what his father couldn't – but he couldn't win the court case. One year after the court case, in 1986, Richard retired to Silver Falls to work as a professor at Pacific North University – a homely rural town – to get away from his past. Ultimately, Richard sank into Dysthymia, succumbing to alcohol and nicotine. This was later harvested into anger, and broke his vow that he'd upheld since a child; the calculated, well-kept businessman could only succumb to shooting with a firearm, for sport, as a form of releasing his pent-up rage. The year is now 1990.

History with Lucy Taylor: Professor Lester had received the relatively minimal contact with Lucy Taylor. However, Lucy Taylor, as a branch, wasn't about to fall far from the tree. Lucy Taylor, as a senior, was enrolled into the Fall Semester at Pacific North University, and just after receiving her schedule, Lucy Taylor called all of her professors to introduce herself, and one of them was Richard Lester. Richard Lester received three outgoing calls from the Taylor Residence, before the girl's disappearance. This now complicates Lester in the matter.

---

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Extras
Character Quote: "But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated." –Ernest Hemmingway
Deviances:
Theme Song:
Anything Else: fuck pundii

*By submitting this CS in its completion I am stating I have read all the rules for this Rp and am agreeing to follow them to the fullest with respect and courtesy. I acknowledge that I can and will be removed from the RP without warning if I break a rule or cause problems with my fellow Rpers or the GM.

[User]
---

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Scarlett Cromwell

---

Location: Community Center
{"Have fun in hell, bitch!"}

---

---

 This entire thing was a sham and as far as Scarlett was concerned, the entire place smelled like rotting, oily, sweaty flesh. She pinched her nose with her hand in order to keep the offending stench from registering, hardly even bothering to pay attention to the FBI agent. She heard the gist of it -- blah blah investigation blah blah curfew blah blah blah. Of course, one thing that Scarlett didn't hear was her own name. And that, in itself, was infuriating. She was Lucy's best friend and they didn't even have the decency to mention that fact during the town meeting? Huffing a bit, Scarlett considered briefly flicking her wrist and making the fire alarm go off, to teach them all a lesson, but she decided against it.

 "Okay, everyone, that's enough!" Scarlet wailed, tears pouring down her face. "Lucy, my bestie, is dead. And would she want us to hide inside in sweatpants and cry? Of course not. It's an insult to her memory, people!" Scarlett paused, certain that the entire community center was captivated by her. Her voice had a way of carrying. "In the memory of my best friend, Lucy, I'm going to be hosting a memorial shindig at my house. Think of it like Scarlett-o-ween but, like, a thousand times better. You all better come, otherwise you're as lame as Sniff-and-Scratch over there," Scarlett finished, motioning towards the supposed reporter. "Party starts when curfew goes on, bi-otches!"

[Assistant]
---

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Whitney Carlyle

---

Location: Community Center

---

---

Whitney pulled up easily enough. Traffic was a bit heavier than usual but that was to be expected. She got out of her car and made her way inside. She wasn't here to have fun so she didn't bother looking for anyone she knew, though she was sure a lot of people from school and work were here. She waited along with everyone else before the speaker finally came up.

It shouldn't have surprised her to hear the FBI was going to be involved. The mystery surrounding Lucy's death was a lot and the manner in which she was killed screamed "TV Special". Of course the FBI would be involved. She was kind of miffed at the curfew. It meant she would have to leave work early every day and that cut into her paycheck. She wondered if perhaps she could squeeze in if one of the officers gave her a ride home. Surely that would be ok?

He opened it up to questions and Whitney just listened. She noted the school nurse spoke up. And she was right. Nothing like that happened here. Another question from some reporter asked another question. It struck her as...odd. A strange smell? What would that be? Was the killer wearing cologne or purfume? And how would she know that.

Interesting, to say the least.

However, the highlight had to be Scarlett Cromwell. She just HAD to make this about her. Lucy's best friend? As if. If her run-in with the popular group taught her anything it was that none of the populars liked each other, they just pretended they did. So, of course, Scarlett would take over the get-together and plan a party. She didn't want to go.

But she would. It was a way not only to get more insight, but to show everyone else she was ok.

She kept quiet though. Hopefully, the FBI agent would be around the police department and she could poke him with her own questions, but she didn't want to in front of anyone else.

[User]
Location: 3 Graze Street

---

At this point, Richard must've been having a bad day - and he was.

Saturday was usually his favorite day of the week. But, here he was, with an almost near-death experience on his way here; all for some town hall meeting. The encounter at least got him out of his usual daily brooding about his family, but it was only made him a bit more grumpy; he'd come all this way to listen to some detective's speech he could've read in next morning's newspaper. The only reason he was still there, was because of Lucy. He knew her from a series of phone calls shortly before her death, as she was contacting her professors to familiarize herself with them. The homecoming queen's death made Richard compare her to his own kids - how would he feel if he were in the parents' shoes? Richard didn't want to imagine. As a result, he couldn't even muster himself to give his condolences to the family; he resented himself for that.

As everyone piled into the community center theater, Richard found himself a seat closer to the back of the stage than the front for reasons of personal preference. He still appeared with a tentative demeanor to the presenter, (in this case, the detective) as he introduced himself to the town and the new set of 'rules' in town. Richard would've mildly heard the roughhousing coming from outside, the inquisitive nature of the intelligent professor had him aimlessly wonder what was wrong with everyone today. Was it something about the weather? Had he inadvertently triggered a chain of events after being cut off by the Red Mustang from earlier, which caused the rest of the town to infectiously come into a bad mood? Really, it wasn't anymore of a ridiculous hypothesis than was the thought of anyone in Silver Falls being grouchy besides him; experience had taught him that.

He made eye contact with the people that were asking the questions, acknowledging what they were saying with the appropriate body language - until, he saw a particular adolescent rise from the crowd to give a speech. He was attentive for a moment, as she announced herself as a friend of Lucy's, but as she continued, Richard stopped paying attention and held his hand to his face. He didn't want this meeting to turn into a shit show.