[System]
Game Origin: For Honor
Appearance:
Personality: Boisterous, arrogant, and infinitely confident, Magnumus is a proud warrior who fears nothing and loves battle. His ego is as insurmountable as Mount Vesuvius and just as keen to erupt into violent, fiery passion. A cause worth fighting for is a cause worth dying for, and death in glorious battle is a legendary end, indeed. Relentlessly optimistic, as truly there is no outcome in which Magnumus can be defeated. Victory is glorious, and a proud death is the greatest end a warrior can ask for. Honor is everything. Death before dishonor. He believes in order, and strong leadership. Usually Magnumus is the only one strong enough to take up the task, at least in his opinion. That is, of course, except for his military superiors, the Glorious Emperor, and God above.

Background: Magnumus was born into the Southern Empire and essentially trained his whole life to become a Centurion. He believed in the cause, as did his parents and brothers and sister. At 12, he joined the armed forces of the Empire. There was no doubt in his mind that what he was doing was right, that their cause was just, and that his enemies were wrong. He went from water boy, to runner, to light scout, to infantry, finally achieving heavy infantry at the age of 20. Then, he was thrown into the front lines of all battles he was in, quickly becoming a veteran and expert close quarters combatant. His potential was recognized and he was chosen to become a Centurion. For 12 years he served the Emperor in glorious battle, never tasting defeat and slaying many men. Magnumus himself lead the charge into the Jarl Yigandrr's throne room, when suddenly, he was consumed in a terrible light...

Specialty: Damage, tactician, leader, easily the good looks of the group
Level: 3
Experience: 9/30
Powers:
* Phalanx: The Centurion grants a golden sheen of armor to allies near him when in defensive formation. The large rectangular shields of legions old appear to deflect blows from the enemy. They shatter upon taking a few strikes or one particularly strong blow.
* Unblockable: The power of Centurion's attacks increases the longer he attacks his enemies. The flaming passion in his heart manifests itself in a quite literal way. His attacks ignite with radiant flame energy, increasing their power exponentially. His most powerful manifestation of this move is the Imperial Might, a devastating uppercut that knocks enemies far and away into the air to come crashing back down to the earth. The longer the Centurion continues in a fight, the more eager he becomes to win, the more powerful his attacks become.
* Body Count: Centurion's new passive power that allows him to sustain his physical form off of defeating enemies. Upon killing or defeating one of his many foes, the Centurion's wounds will heal and his stamina will be restored. The more powerful the enemy, the larger this bonus is.

Strengths:
* Unrelenting: Magnumus is a cardio machine, and can fight for extended periods of time without growing tired.
* Unstoppable: The Centurion is strong, and can crush an unexpecting or weak foe's attempts at defense and continue his offense.
* Unbreakable: His steel armor and steelier resolve allows Magnumus to get back up again and into the fight after recieving damage.
note: while these are most certainly the terms Magnumus would use to describe himself, they are not literal.

Weaknesses: Magnumus has no ranged capabilities. Despite his near superhuman levels of strength and his newly acquired magic power, he is still just a ultimately just a dude with a sword. Overconfidence can lead him into situations that put him at a disadvantage. Has little defense against ranged attacked save for dodging them or absorbing the hit.
Spirits:
* Megadragonbowser
Up-curved horns protrude from the host's head, the host's irises are blazing orange, the host's teeth are all fangs, the host's hair is red and spiky, and the host's size and overall muscle mass are both increased by 25%. Confers the Power Fireflight, which allows the host to manifest flaming wings and take to the skies, though not very fast. Also confers the Power Molten Core, which allows the host to consciously raise his own internal temperature, definitely without harming himself and potentially without limit. Depending on his temperature, he can burn things, start fires, or potentially melt obstacles, though it'll also be easy to destroy his own clothing and equipment, and hurt allies. Confers the Weakness Stuffed with Power, increasing the host's confidence sharply and brashness moderately, causing him to take more risks and be more assertive around allies.
* Akihito Sanada
Slightly affecting his overall physique as well as the appearance of his hair and eyes (adding steely gray to the burning orange of his hair and eyes), this spirit contains lithe strength. It makes the host a little more serious, sarcastic, and cool-headed under normal circumstances but more aggressive against monsters. Confers the Strength Boxing Prodigy, making its host thoroughly well-versed in the boxing style. Also confers the Weakness Zoner's Delight, decreasing his ability to avoid deal with projectile-reliant opponents

Kindred Spirits: Yigandrr, courageous and powerful Viking Jarl, was about to engage in an honorable fight to the death with Maximums before he was rudely interrupted. Perhaps these two could put their differences aside and unite under the banner of defending the innocent, and seeking an ultimate battle. Is there any cause greater than saving an entire world's existence?
Inventory: Centurion armor, Gladius (short sword) and Cestus (punching fist!)

[User]
Beasts.

Beasts, bloody fur growing in unnatural patches where skin once was. They spoke with the voices of men.

"Beast! Oh foul beast!"

"You plague-ridden rat!"

"No! I'm not one of you!"

Poor fools. Still fancied themselves human.

The Hunter's cleaver passed through them like scissors through silk. They were not the worst of his fears. No, they were simply Beast Plague victims. There were things far worse than that.

He left their corpses on the ground. In a perfect world, they would receive a burial. In this world, they were simply abandoned. He had better business to attend to. Besides, all he could do for them anyway was burn them.

The Hunt goes on.

The Hunter awoke, nearly launching himself to his feet. The first thing he did was cover his eyes. Light, he thought. Then he realized what this meant. Had he escaped the Hunt? Had he been blessed with the sight of the sun for the first time in what felt like aeons? The second thing he realized is that there were quite a bunch of figures surrounding him.

He drew his pistol and saw cleaver - only thinking for a split second how lucky he was that they had still been by his side - and waved them menacingly in the direction of the nearest figure. He nearly pulled the trigger until he realized that none of them seemed hostile. Even then he had to restrain himself. He'd seen some strange things, but that didn't mean he got anymore used to it, and these people seemed very bizarre. He scanned the horizon, still holding his weapons. Just in case. Upon catching site of the castle, he tilted his head quizzically,and, ignoring the other dozen or so figures, promptly broke into a light jog, sheathing his weapons. Castles were just a bit more to his tastes than this bright field, apparently.

[Assistant]
Zer0 continued to stand almost mockingly, unflinching, as the centurion continued their excessive rambling.

"I got Second Wind
Metaphorically speaking
Breath overrated."

His answer given, he promptly turned and started walking before turning sound and holding up a finger and pointing it at the sky. Bowser dropped down at that point, though Zer0 didn't seem phased by the temporary shaking.

Farewell, foolish thing
Know that you have been deceived
As your soul moves on."

Again he spoke to the centurion, his finger still pointed exactly where Kirby's blob thing had.

Actually, looking closer, one might notice he only had four didgets on his hands. What even was he?

His point made, however, Zer0 went to plop down next to the little pink blob. Extending a hand he crouched there, unmoving, as he... Apparently did nothing.

"A friendly second
Wind it seems was not to be
I cannot help him."

The mention of names and a 0 displayed from his helmet, with him pointing it. He was even friendly enough to carve "Zer0" into the ground with his sword!

That was friendly, right?

---

194 words

[User]
Things weren't going nearly as bad as Blazermate thought. Keeping herself behind the fellow that would soon introduce himself as 'Death', she healed the pink ball until he was stable, which made this bird-vegetable person named Tora excited. His speech pattern was very... odd to say the least. Rambling on about her being a 'blade' or something. If thats what he called a medabot in his universe, then that was fine. Although she really couldn't understand what he was saying overall, but that bit about 'going back on design' felt like an insult, if an unintentional one. But considering the situation, she decided to ignore that little tidbit at the end.

For one thing, the giant lizard man, who was one of the primary aggressors, seemed to calm down a lot while Blazermate was healing this pink ball person. Well, calm is a strange word, considering the slight anger tantrum he had at being shot at, but considering only a roar and some stomping happened, and not another injured patient or two, that was probably the best case scenario. And after the cowboy, who was apparently a bit out of it still, put his weapon away the man with the sub-machine gun put his away as well.

Of course the roman centurion as he called himself, wasn't too happy with the tall robot-looking guy who seemed to only talk in poems and emojis, but at least their possible fight probably wouldn't be nearly as catastrophic as a shootout so Blazermate only paid them a little attention, only catching the poet's name he drew in the ground as she made herself known to everyone. "Hello, everyone. Besides all the confusion, it looks like everyone here is pretty friendly." Turning to look primarily at Geno, who out of everyone seemed to know most about what was going on, but still trying to keep her face visible to as many people as possible, she continued.

"My name is Blazermate, and it looks like this Geno Medabot knows the most out of everyone right now about what is going on so far." she pointed out, pointing her thumb at Geno as she turned around to look at the others, making sure to remember faces to names. Of course Geno only seemed to know about the castle in the distance, but that was more than this vague mention of a bright sinister light. "Now, does anyone else here need some healing like that pink thing? No one looks injured yet, but best to ask."

376

[Assistant]
The Centurion rubbed the chin of his helmet once again, pondering the strange man's words. "Very well. I accept your surrender."  The man seemed to want be called Zer0, a curious name, indeed, but it was good enough. Easy to say, unlike some of the bizarre names of the Samurai. Why couldn't they have nice, simple, easy to say names, like Magnumus Agoston?

Centurion did indeed glance over towards the indicated expanse. There was a man in black, the Hunter, walking over to it right now. But Centurion was more focused on the beautiful terrain before him. Almost as beautiful as the Empire.

"It's beautiful, indeed. Travelling to that castle does seem wise. Perhaps we can parley with the Lord of this land. Do not worry, whoever they are, they will recognize an offical representative of the Southern Empire." He said confidently. Magnumus had not quite thought too hard about how he got here. It was magic, or something. Now he was in crazy world. He was still in his armor, still had his blade, and he still had his unflinching faith in God and loyalty to the Empire. What more could he need? This was all just new lands to conquer and explore.

Ah, yes, but Magnumus realized the missing piece of the puzzle. A few people around him were beginning to notice it, and now he was too. There was two suns. The normal sun, and then a much more intimidating, sinister looking sun. Yes, indeed, that looked like pagan evil if the Centurion had ever seen it. And he had! Much more powerful than anything he had ever seen before. The most he had seen it do was grant the Viking Berserkers and Shamans great fury, strength, and immunity to pain. Or gave the Shinobi the ability to go invisible to the untrained eye. But this...was this connected to the light that had consumed him? Perhaps it was much more evil than even his normal enemies. It did not matter! The Centurion would destroy the evil being with a little help from these newfound allies.

"Well! I reckon if we are to begin exploring this new land, we should get to know each other first. I am Centurion Agoston, Leader of Legions, the Light of Valkenheim, the Fire That Purges, and the finest among the Emperor's Champions!" He literally flexed his muscles triumphantly, listing off his accolades proudly. He glanced over at some of the people who had mentioned there names.

"Let's see we've got...uh, 'Death'. Bit of a simple title, but no judgement here." He looked over the Courier. "Glad to see you've come to your sense! Caesar's Legion is lame, my legion is far superior. My armor is made of steel, not tin, by the way."

He kept looking. There was a talking wooden puppet named Geno, the big dragon man, the armored woman Blazermate (it was very tight armor, how did she even fit into it?) and a few others. Like Tora, the annoying birdman. There was also just a man in a blue shirt who looked astoundingly normal. A woman who called herself Linkle was one of the first to come to the conclusion about the evil light.

"Do not worry, ma'am," He said to Linkle, "The light of the Empire shines brighter than any false god."

"We can get to know each other as we continue towards that castle!" He pointed his gladius, gleaming in the sun, towards the far off objective. "Onwards, friends. Glory awaits!"

With that, he began marching towards the Mushroom Kingdom's main castle. He had a quick pace about him but he was not trying to outrun his new allies.

-
619 words.


[System]
Age: looks 21 but is older

looks: Stands at about 6 foot 1 with a muscular build brown hair with what appears to be spots in his hair cobalt blue eyes and is found wearing jeans a t shirt cowboy boots and a cowboy hat along with a southern accent that tends to make an appearance when he is upset. He also has a tribal snow leopard tattoo in between his shoulder blades.

Species: were snow leopard... adorable yet large and deadly

Images:
Self:Click me

Snow leopard:tse3.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.M3e1823d9ca..

Tattoo: tse3.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.Me41719704b..

Sexual preference: Bi sexual

Bio: A simple past where he was born and raised in Texas on a ranch however when he began realizing he was different he found out that a "gift" skipped his parents and passed on to him. He was fine with this until his grandparents died and was left with no one that really understood what he was going through. On top of that he was bullied in school for being Bi and when his parents finally found out about him they isolated him causing him to clam up. He no longer talks with his parents and misses the days before they knew. Generally he wanders preferring to hang out in bars and libraries having enough fortune from his grandparents to hold him down until he is well dead.. He does odd jobs though.. generally involving being a body guard or helping out for volunteer jobs.

Occupation: odd jobs volunteer work

Country of origin: America (Texas specifically)

Feelings about the tattoo: extremely nervous that the person he ends up with won't accept him... or that they will be disgusted generally fears about loosing that person

persona: he hates being called queer... that has him flash back to school when he was bullied for it.. other then that he's a bit guarded not really letting anyone "in" until he knows them better.

Dislikes: Being called queer.. talking about his past... seeing people get bullied

likes: cat nip sun spots being treated well and having someone to treat well in return

Soulmate: Manu

[User]
of flames01

"Why must I be so kind"
Dorian repeats and ponders on the question asked of him, deliberating a response within his head for so long it seems as if he's not going to answer at all, finally.

"Since I was young I developed strong values towards achieving the tasks laid out before me, I am a bit of a driven individual. Tonight however I was given a task that I have not undertaken in a long long time. a slight smile creeps across his face as he looks towards the floor. Unable to hide it, the faintest soft blush of nervousness and embarrassment taints his cheeks just below his mask.
"Tonight I was tasked with enjoying myself, and dancing with you, I truly was. But I cannot have my pleasure come at another's expense. You see it would leave me absolutely guilt ridden. No, my service to you is absolutely selfish in nature, your company gives me a joy I would gladly seek out. Maybe even again after tonight sometime?

His suave smooth demeanour slightly cracking as truth and hope etch through his form and words.
He brushes the hair back from her face and catches her eyes in his, staring deep into her, far beyond the superficial makeup, mask and outfit.

[Assistant]
Light

Saoirse was surprised by the gentleman's words. See her again? Saoirse wanted nothing more than that but then she was reminded of the name and date on her wrist. However, when they made eye contact with each other, they looked deeply into each other's beings, getting lost in each other's eyes. A certain tinge of rosiness on her cheeks and the tips of her ears appeared, exuding embarrassment yet happiness, as the burning sensation intensified greatly on her wrist.

"I would want nothing more than to see you again after tonight..." Her voice lowered to a murmered, just barely audible. She paused then her eyes pulled away once more. "But I can't. I'm sorry. This will probably be the last time you see me." She knew that the inevitable concept of meeting their soulmates would prevent the 2 from ever meeting again. Aside from that, they came from very different worlds. Once he learned of what she was, he would leave her, and even possibly try to kill her; he was only human after all. To him, she would be seen as a monster made flesh into that of a human.

Saoirse sighed slightly then smiled weakly, yet warmly, hiding the sadness and regret once hidden in her eyes, as she stood up. "Thank you again. Truly. You were wonderful. Should fate be so merciful as to allow for us to meet again, I would give anything for that chance." She said, her smile never left her, though a slight sadness and glimmer of regret creeped into her eyes as she walked past him with an incredible speed that was just barely visible to the human eye, distorting her form to a blur that one could easily miss, should they blink.

Saoirse had made her way through the crowds with ease in such a manner that it would be difficult to follow and still somehow manage to keep up with her quick strides. She stopped momentarily to exchange farewells with Mrs. Eggard.

"Thank you for the invitation. I had a wonderful time tonight." Saoirse said, glancing at the gentleman, briefly making eye contact with him.

"oh you're leaving already? At least allow me to have my chauffeur drive you home!"

"Thank you but I will be alright. I will make it back on my own." With that said Saoirse fled from the mansion.

"Saoirse! Saoirse please come back! " She called after her, barely raising her voice, but was too late as Saoirse had already disappeared into the darkness of the night. However, Mrs. Eggard quickly understood what had happened. "I see... So the magic spell has worn off... And now the story must return to the pages..." She said with a sigh then turned to Dorian and smiled happily and proudly. " I take it that you are enjoying yourself, dear? Please excuse her. She is not familiar with these kinds of events and I'm afraid she panicked, causing her to flee. You have done well and you may return to your post if you so desire. You have earned that choice, dear child."

Meanwhile, Saoirse had reverted to her wolf form and was in a full sprint, homeward bound. By the time she would get home, the sun will have already begun to rise.

[User]
"You are welcome, it's been my pleasure." was all Dorian managed to get out before she left, once again taking with her his breath. Leaving him alone with only the faint hint of her lingering scent upon the now ever colder air under the dazzling starlight of this auspicious evening.

'Should fate be so merciful as to allow for us to meet again, I would give anything for that chance'

Amongst all else those were the departing words that resonated within him. She seemed sincere, no she was sincere and the words were kind and alluring, so why the soft rejection? He pondered on it not for long as he instead dissected the words with disregard to their meaning.

"I should not be as so foolish to leave my destiny up to the mercy of fate. For one, I have learnt fate is not merciful. And two, my path and my future is dictated by me, not chance nor by any one else!" Alone on the balcony he releases the affirmation mantra into the cold night air, like a sworn vow sent to remind, challenge and defy the gods themselves.

With a sigh caught between displeasure and an appreciative admiration, a smile won out the battle on his face as he thought about the vanishing girl. It was not long before the rhythm of work took hold in his mind but regardless of what took place there was a section reserved to admire her and the unknown.

He would deal with devils just to know more about her, but luckily for him he hadn't the need. He already had a lead, the one person shared in common between them. Mrs. Eggard, not quite as bad as an unholy spirit from hell, mostly.

When the night is over he will seek her out in casual conversation for answers about the mysterious woman's name, location and occupation.

[Assistant]
Light

Mood

The sun had begun to rise over an all too familiar cityscape, yet the cold air lingered, a sending shivers down Saoirse spine as she returned to her tiny apartment, exhausted. A trail of blood from her hands and feet, followed her through the door. She looked absolutely haggard and felt as bad as she looked.

She slowly, ever so slowly, limped to the bathroom with a batch of fresh clothes, then stripped down and entered the shower. However, as soon as she entered, her legs became mysteriously weak and she collapsed onto her hands and knees in the tub. The thoughts of the gentleman she had met at the party, lingered in her mind. His scent and his touch, the very same that made her feel safe and regret that she ran away from, lingered on her. She looked down at her hands and feet as the blood washed away, exposing several cuts and blisters on the palms of her hands and the bottoms of her feet. She sat in the tub, pondering, contemplating, for the longest time then sighed then turned off the water, climbed out of the tub, dried off, and got dressed in a plain T-shirt and sweatpants, her damp hair was tied up in a bun. She didn't treat her wounds, rather she let them be; she wanted them to scar so she could let the memories of last night fade with them, yet still be with her forever. Her body felt oddly heavy yet somehow empty at the same time.

Upon exiting the bathroom, she noticed the trail of blood and sigh. It looks like evidence from a murder scene. However, she decided to clean it up later, it wasn't like she was going to have visitors anyway. She shrugged. Her body went numb and her mind reeled as she fell onto the bed and closed her eyes, relaxing immediately and was lulled into a deep slumber; she had planned on sleeping the day away like last night was a bad hangover.

========================Back in Wales======================

The party had long since been over. Everyone had went home and the staff had clean up. However, business wasn't over for Mrs. Eggard and Dorian.

 It was morning and Mrs. Eggard was paying the staff for the hard work last night. When Dorian arrived a smile crept up on her face. "Ah yes, Dorian. How are you? Well I hope. Especially for having been in the company of such a lovely young lady last night. Well anyway, here is your payment for your services. Good day." She said with a smile as she handed him an envelope. Inside was the payment for his services and a note that read:

Dorian,
I am sorry but I will not give you any information retaining to the person you seek. Rather I believe that you should ask her such things yourself. I believe that you will receive more satisfying results if you ask her yourself than if I were to give it you. Dorian, know this, fate is a very unusual and tricky thing. Sometimes it is better to accept it rather than fight it. But I assure you, that you will find the happiness you seek if you learn how to let things happen than trying to always be in control.
Sincerely yours,
Mrs. Eggard

On the other side of the note was the address to Saoirse's apartment.

Dorian was excused from the room to search for the person he is looking for.

[User]
Zoey | Vampire | New york city | Emerald Bar and Resturant | @Vee

The lines of fans were moving so incredibly slowly. Zoey really didnt want to have to work overtime today, she knew that if she did it would cut into her time to go home and do... anything. To do anything else. And she wouldnt get paid for it, since her boss was a dick and would say it wasnt his fault that the author took so bloody long, and had to have a conversation with every...single...fan. If she complained she would be fired, and as a vampire it was very hard to find a job. People were still prejudice. Zoey would look on as the author sat there and after signing the book would stand up and just talk with almost every single person. Some were short talks, only 30 seconds or so, but some were longer and lasted a couple of minutes. And even though that in itself wasnt particularly long, the line of people was massive. It went outside the bar and all the way down the street, this guy was popular. And so all the short, meaningless conversations were adding up and up and Zoey was catering for these people much longer than she wanted too.

She sighed in releif as the last thirty people were let inside, and she put on her smiley face and happy attitude again. Thank god she was a good actress. She walked up and down the line, asking people if they needed anything until one girl stopped her. This girl looked like she was too excited, nodding and talking at a far quicker pace than she needed too. The line wasnt moving any faster, anyway. She couldnt have been in any rush. She must have been nervous. Zoey nodded and smiled, "Of course you can-" She said, before the girl changed her mind. Alcohol, she wanted alcohol. "Alright. What type of alcohol?" She managed to ask before the girl started talking again. She looked more and more panicked with every second, until she started stumbling and falling. Zoey grabbed her, holding her upright with her arms around her as she stopped the girl from falling. Apart from the feeling of Niko's body against hers, she felt something else.

As she touched the girl and held her up, as both girls skin touched, Zoey felt a hot burning sensation on her wrist. Her eyes opened wide and she gulped hard as she peered down and looked at her wrist. The day was today... the writing, it was glowing. Was this it? Was this her soulmate? She pushed the girl upright and back onto her feet despite being a couple of inches smaller than her. She was a vampire after all. She looked over the girl, and suddenly saw her in a whole different way. She found her eyes lingering over the girls face, her beautiful face. Her deep, pretty emerald eyes and her soft hair. The way her skin complimented these colours. All of this, and other features, fit together to create something that to Zoey was almost perfect, but terrifying in every sense of the word. "Oh my god..."

[Assistant] Abel finds himself back at his home. He carefully puts the small wooden figurine on a self, he decided against getting a gift. Figuring his soul mate hardly even wants to see him. So with a small amount of nervousness he gets ready. A black suit perfectly tailored and a deep blue shirt is what he adorned. His shoes are his only pair of dress shoes...since he prefers his cowboy boots or hiking boots. He then looks at the card with the number on it. Just looks at it while he waits. It was getting closer, and he could feel the anticipation building.


[System]
N/A
Alias: N/A
Age: 15
Alignment: Villain
Loyalty: Local Villain
Appearance: Sofia is about 5 foot 3 inches, or around 160 cm tall. She has dark brown hair that usually falls loosely around her shoulders. Vivid blue eyes stand out amongst her otherwise plain face, marred by the blotched line of skin across her right cheekbone and a short, jagged line of scar tissue on the other. Similar scars evident of a rough childhood are displayed over her torso, with a few stray marks on her arms. They stand out against her somewhat pale white skin, as a result of little sunlight, either from being inside or wearing clothing with little exposure. Sofia appears thin and most would use the word small to describe her, partially attributed to a frequency for slouching. She has a very small 'presence' and is easy to overlook. Her typical clothing is comfortable, baggy, and in dull colors like gray, brown, or faded green. Sofia has no alternate appearance when committing crimes, as she has no normal life that would be jeopardized.

History: Sofia was born one of many in her household, if you could call it that, being left to fend for yourself was the best result for the most part. Sofia knew her mother, though the word 'knew' might be a bit generous, as Sofia only knew her as the person that occasionally brought home food, but mostly the person to be avoided most of all. Sofia's mother was fond of whatever would take her mind from the present, which offered itself in the form of drugs and alcohol. Unfortunately her children were not so removed from the present and were often the subject of their mother's anger in her unstable mental state. This gave Sofia several scars before she had learned the cues and actions needed to avoid these incidents. They lived in some sort of cheap house in a seedy part of town, the part that you drove around in your car to avoid it.

 Sofia never had any sort of formal schooling for this part of her life, though she manged to pick up enough information from life and an older sibling that did his best to take care of the family, one of the few members of it that worked, legally no less, to gain a crude education. A junky and forgotten ipod found in some forgotten alleyway introduced to her to music which she found a pleasant escape from the constant hunger and other myriad sufferings. She lived life this way for a number of years, until she was around 10, when her older brother managed to get her taken in by social security. A foster home was found for her relatively quickly, surprisingly enough. Though initially Sofia was rather wary of her new parents she slowly adjusted to the fact that they weren't out to hurt her, quite the opposite in fact. Sofia was home-schooled by her new parents once they overcome the trust barrier and she also acquired glasses, for she was rather nearsighted. Around four years were spent this way, with occasional visits from her older brother.

Sofia had began to become accustomed to her new life style and was just beginning to feel normal. Her foster parents were driving home from a party gone late with perhaps a bit too much to drink. Just enough to convince themselves they should be able to get home alright. Her older brother had worked late that same night and wanted to stop by the house to drop of a present he'd gotten for her. He'd just pulled into the driveway in his beat-up junkyard car that barely ran and turned off the engine. Sofia foster parents blindly smashed into the rear of it. The collision killed all three of them, despite its relatively low speed nature. Sofia, sound asleep to the sound of music still playing through her earbuds, found out in the morning. It was a mind numbing experience and the final thing that triggered Sofia.

Her entire life had been a mess from the start and just when she thought it was getting better, it had all collapsed. In one night the only people who'd ever been kind to her, the only people she'd ever cared about were gone. The built up stress of her entire life to this point seemed to crash down upon her. Sofia closed her eyes and curled up in a ball. One of the police officers there tapped her shoulder gently, or rather tried to, finding that his hand passed through. Sofia felt nothing, merely heard a cry of alarm. Dully, she registered more voices, getting near and crowding all about her. With mechanical movements she plugged in her earbuds to a song she barely heard and the voices faded away. Sofia was that way for a while. Those there naturally called in the incident as it was and kept an eye on her un-moving body. Sofia opened her eyes after a few hours and looked around to find it hadn't been some sort of horrible dream. So she stood up and walked away. A couple of people nearby tried to stop her but she closed her eyes and kept walking. Some time later she opened them to find herself near her old home. Shrugging to herself Sofia sat down somewhere. Then she got hungry. So she walked into the closest store she could find, grabbed some snacks, entered the bathroom, and used her power to waltz out. Life for her continued this was, mindlessly living by taking what she needed and spent doing nothing. At some point or another she was followed, which must've been rather difficult for her purser since it would've involved chasing her through several buildings, though she did have a tendency to travel in a straight line. When Sofia sat down to eat her snack she was greeted by someone with an offer. She shrugged. She had nothing better to do after all.

Personality
Motivations: Sofia has a distinct lack of motivation at the moment. However mixed into that is the faint desire to have something to care about and someone to care about her. Sofia would like to be happy again, but doesn't have the will to try for herself. She is with her current group because she figured it had to be better than what she was doing and villains reportedly have the most fun. Right now it probably wouldn't take very much to convince her loyalties to change, though that may not be very clear. However if she manages to get attached despite her derangement it might become very difficult for her to let go.
Sexuality: Undecided
Likes: * Music
* Food
* Cleaning
* Dancing
* Sweets

Dislikes: * Reading
* Those better off than her
* Whining
* Cars
* Drugs/Alcohol

[User]
Jason

---

Everything was.....

Complicated. Extremely complicated. Benito had gained some kind of phasing ability, maybe? Touch based, hopefully. Making stuff just vanish and reappear at will was.... Interesting. Useful.

All the local groups were being offered a vial, minus the Jacks. Over a snub that didn't matter.

Idly he wondered if anyone would make the connection that they'd stolen the vials.

And the mole. Brought up and basically confirmed.

Who it could be, though.... Jason didn't know enough about any of these people to make anything beyond guesses at.

Jason glanced at his team. He... He wasn't equipped to control this situation. He talked better with his fists instead of his mouth.

---

---

There was so much going on, so many noises. So much action.

She'd guarded Messiah for her attack, and Furnace had showed up to help control the heat. She wanted to snort at him, but she knew it was silly.

Things were going great. Civilians evacuated, most of the goons home, Ceramix was falling.

She gave a baby goon a swift thunk to his head with her tail, just enough to make him see stars before scooting him towards Noble for proper restraining.

This was amazing. She'd felt so... Alive.

Ceramix was immobile, about to be dealt with when the most ridiculous crash exploded from the golem's chest area place, causing Lillian to wince at the noise and the flying debris.

There he was. Shatterpoint.

"Shatterpoint has been located!" shouted Inkscape. "He is now priority number one! Converge, everyone!"

Lillian shank, returning to human form, and ran towards Alessa.

"I can't react fast enough transformed to combat Shatterpoint," she said quietly as she drew near, keeping a safe distance from her girlfriend so she didn't have to worry. "I...I don't know what to do."

She could probably handle the remaining thugs in human form, but she didn't feel very useful against the rock Golem or Shatterpoint.

But then a thought occurred to her.
"Inkscape, what if we removed visual sight? I could get close enough to rely on sounds to pinpoint him and try to foam him!" she said into the comms excitedly.

[Assistant]
CreepSheila Hopkins

Villain's Meeting
Visible

---

So, watching everything around her using her power, Sheila had been able to stay calm around most things. Even when Whipstitch had thrown that chair into the wall, she had managed to keep herself stiff and not reacting. However, over there, this one lady cracked a glass and then cut her own hand. THAT made Sheila flinch, her hands closing from involuntarily imagining the pain. Why would she do that…!? … Something with her power, Sheila figured, but then her power did something to someone else when she cut herself? What kind of terrible power was that!? … Well, fortunately, it didn't work in here. Phew, honestly. Sheila made herself calm down.

The man who had tried to take over the Rockers backed down from his earlier boldness and politely requested one vial. … Sheila silently prayed said new recruit he'd be getting would be the traitorous sort and they'd split, because she didn't want him to get more lackeys. Humming guy spoke, but it was just a joke. Nobody here was going to drink and show off their new powers. It was nice of Benito to show off the vague outlines of his. Banishing and returning objects? Didn't sound too bad… unless he could do it to miniguns or enemies, that is.

Broker spoke. That girl that cut herself was "Healer"? Healer of Lethal Force. … With that much black, she didn't look the part. Why would a healer cut herself? Powers are mysterious things, Sheila concluded for not close to the first time. Then, Broker spoke to Creep.

Creep kept quiet and tried to keep her posture straight. She wasn't exactly flattered by the praise, he felt too much like a sleazy businessman trying to get on the good side of a customer. Still, he provided the answers. Patriarch knew already. The vials had been stolen from the Community. Issued a recall, so the powers came from Broker but made a round-trip by the Community. Those were some odd circumstances, but alright.

Nicely enough of him, Broker listed all the parties that were present in the room. The Jacks, the Rockers, Reflections, Lethal Force, Purge's Mafia, Sabotage and Retcon. … What kind of group names themselves after a violation of the unspoken rules? Someone intending to get into serious trouble, Sheila supposed. In any case, satisfied that she had a relatively good idea of where everyone around her belonged now, Sheila felt considerably safer. That was probably a bad thing. Still. It was something. She had a decent view of the villain scene of Denver from here. Broker listed some rules about drinking vials, and they were all good to know.

'… Understood,' Creep simply stated. Came with risks, of course. Drink the whole thing. … So, if she poured out half a vial and then left it lying around for the Community to find, could she screw them up from the inside? Worth considering.

She did not miss the fact that, with the Jacks unable to buy one, for the rest to be bought all remaining ones had to be bought by the available parties. If one opted not to, couldn't afford or so, what would the Broker do? Just keep it? … Hm. Also, the mafia already got one, seemingly for free. She could argue they already had gotten one, but speaking out against this fact would require speaking out against Purge, and she wasn't entirely at a level of self-confidence where she could do that, even if she felt a bit braver now. Huah. Okay. She could do this.

… Naturally, as a Stranger Sheila considered if she could steal a vial from the others if they bought one. Purge was out, and she wasn't sure stealing from a group named "Lethal Force" was a particularly good idea. Sabotage was a thief and probably good at covering her tracks, and Retcon… was a complete question mark. Reflections? She couldn't imagine that guy had amassed a particularly large team yet, it could be safe. But also dangerous. Using knowledge from a meeting like this… it broke the rules, didn't it? … Sheila kept quiet and safe, though she kept thinking…

[User]
Sofia Stien - The Cruise Room

Sofia continued waiting patiently, making sure to keep an eye on Jason in case she needed to do something, and of course to make sure everything was alright. Fake Broker kept talking and talking. Apparently the Community had a spy here? Sofia wondered who mildly but didn't really care that much, no one else seemed to be very bothered about it either. Sofia resisted the urge to doze off and continued listening dutifully. These things really weren't much fun at all. She started thinking about what she would do if left The Jacks. It'd be nice if she could keep all the stuff Broker had gotten her but... That wasn't very likely. She could take all her money and leave but... Maybe she should just talk to Broker about it? Yeah, if they kept having to do scary stuff she didn't like then, she would just ask him if she could not. Simple. He was pretty scary though...


[System]
Nicknames/Aliases: The Viking, Red

 Age: 28

 Gender: Female

 Gift: --Berserkrgang: A gift passed down from the warriors of Norse tales, Kora is able to enter a state that massively increases her physical ability and makes her impervious to pain. The berserk state takes her already impressive strength and endurance and removes the limits placed upon it by the body's natural mechanisms of self-preservation. Her heartrate spikes, her core temperature soars, and her secondary ability goes haywire. She is able to decimate most obstacles in her path, and shrug off even major injury.

These effects are temporary however, and the backlash can be quite severe.

-Chemical Energy Combustion: Adapted cells on Kora's skin are able to rapidly convert sugar in her blood into extremely high heat. Her hands will become superheated and often able to combust flammable material by touch and cause severe burns, however more destructively she can project this heat out in forceful bursts that can flung opponents back, causing great damage.

Loyalty: Erubesco, Knight

  Description: : Kora is, shall we say,a rather distinct individual. Over six and a half feet tall, with wild, wavy red hair and pale skin, she comes across as pretty intimidating at first glance. And for many she only becomes more intimidating fro there.

Kora speaks with a distinct accent, closest to Norwegian, and is able to speak in English and Norwegian, having been born in the Troms region of Norway. She tends to shout when annoyed, or excited, or trying to emphasize, so she'd rather hard to ignore.

Clothing-wise, most of the time Kora has little interest in dressing up, only tending to don anything very feminine when pressed. Most of the time she exists in a T-shirt and cargo pants.

 Personality:
Kora is defined mostly be being quite...intense. In pretty much all ways. If she is angry she is screaming and shouting and breaking things. If she's happy she's also screaming and shouting and breaking things. Most extremes of emotion seem to manifest in destruction of some form, and when she isn't doing any of these she's often listening to far-too-loud heavy metal music or drinking other staffers under the table. She can...grate on people a little.

Kora has a serious trouble controlling her temper, and struggles not to fly into a rage at trivial matters.

 Skills:
-Very skilled hand-to-hand fighter and able to tank damage unlike almost any other.
-Unflinching in the face of danger.
-Unwavering loyalty and tenacity means she is very unlikely to give up.

 Weaknesses:
-Her tenacity often leads her to her refusing to admit that things are too much for her to handle.
-Her generations of selective breeding have left her prone to many illnesses, and had resulted in a massively shortened lifespan, about 30 years.
-Kora has little sense of finesse or sophistication which tends to leave her rather looked down upon in Erubesco society.

 Brief History: Kora is offspring of one of the oldest known gifted bloodlines, dating back to protogermanic in northern pre-roman Europe. The Berserkers. This ability runs in her family, and has been ruthlessly cultivated by the Norrevinter family throughout history, to the point that the family is rumoured to have interbred to maintain the purity of the blood within it.

This has resulted in a line of gifted bred for war. Strong, tall, hardy and excelling at athletic feats they're imposing enough even without the use of powers.
This comes at a price however. The questionable methods of maintaining their purity have resulted in illness and defects, with the average lifespan being little more than thirty.

Kora's own father, Ren, died from this family curse when Kora herself was only about fifteen years old. As a result she was shipped over to attend formal training in order to take up his role. From there, she became an Erubescan Knight.

 Other: -Rarely seen without her mjolnir pendant.

[User]
Knight Norrevinter's concerns regarding the huge metal man with a grip on her arm had all but gone out of the window faced with this new threat. Orion was serving more as cover than an opponent by the time she saw the wall rise up.

"Coward!" Kora snarled, further enraged by the tactics of this opponent.

Then she saw the grenade.

Then she was being flung to the floor as the heavy weigh behind her abruptly shifted. It felt a bit like being thrown down by a wrecking ball, and had she taken Lazos' full weight then a broken knee would have been a far lesser worry, but for reason's Kora's mind hadn't wrapped around at that moment in time, he had not.

Berserk mode in full force, the Knight was not thinking about Orion's attempt to protect her from the grenade, even as the explosion jolted her forwards and she got a mouthful of sand where, unprotected she might have been in pieces on the floor. None of this crossed her mind.
All that was in her mind was getting that man.

As the dust settled Kora scrambled suddenly forward, pulling free from under Orion and stopping for a moment to press her superheated hand against her injured knee. There was a hiss and the foul smell of burning flesh as the wound cauterised instantly.

And with that, she was off at a charge.

The pain in her leg must have been unbearable as she forced weight on the foot but if it was she was showing no sign of it, especially when she flung herself at the wall and tore her way up with alarming speed, even whilst dragging her injured leg up with her.

Reaching the top of the barrier the berserker let out a scream of fury and perched on top like some hunting animal, before letting loose another explosive burst of heat below in the direction of the mercenary.

Blood had begun to trickle out from her eyes and seep down her cheeks. She was working with several broken bones at the very least, but it didn't seem to be bothering her at all. There was a good reason that the Citadel saw few concerns in letting the Knight walk the wastes alone. She was capable of becoming a one-woman howling storm of a destruction. A berserker.

[Assistant]
@VitoftheVoid

Walking alongside his little stone barrier Alex couldn't help but feel tired. Despite his best efforts this wasn't going anything like what he had planned. At best he'd get a couple of coins out of this, at worst he'd be chased out of town. It had been a bad idea to intervene after all, if the girl hadn't goddamn exploded he could have at least looted the body. But there was no point to mourning lost goods, and there were other opportunities to be had. A slight smile appeared on his lips as a loud bang echoed through the town. So that left just tin man and the frost fellow. Now this frost fellow looked like he might be an issue, but Alex could probably charm his way out of this situation. And the tin man was the opposite of fire girl, all defence and no offence. If he decided to get uppity he'd just use his killing hand, which could pierce any armour. That was more like it. A little bit of thought, and suddenly his situation looked so much less bleak. With a chuckle he stepped towards the frost fella. This was all going to work out just-

A barely human scream of pain and anger ripped through the air.

Twisting on his feat he saw the fire girl leaping onto his stone barrier. She glared at him with hatred in her eyes, which were now leaking blood. Oh f*cknuggets. How in the ****** *** **** had she jumped the wall with a wounded leg?! What was this girl, a monster?

No time to think, no time to judge. Just instinct. The girl raise her arms and thrust them towards him, unleashing a blistering wave of heat. A hastily thrown up right arm summoned forth a continuous spray of cold water, which hissed and steamed as it collided with the girl's attack. Stepping backwards Alex momentarily had his breath taking away from him. Even with all this cold water he could feel the heat on his skin, and he knew that if he hadn't reacted as quickly he'd have been dead.

Cursing whatever steroids were keeping this chick going he fired off another defensive jet of water as he used his left to absorb the stone barrier the girl was now standing on in an attempt to knock her off balance. Whatever crazy shit was running through her veins right now must be making her immune to pain, and based solely on her facial expression Alex had no intention of getting into a fistfight with this thing. Placing his left hand on the ground he ripped into the earth, creating a crevice that raced towards her. The longer it got the wider and deeper it became, culminating in a 2m wide and 5m deep crevice. Meanwhile his right hand began rapidly releasing a cloud of yellow fog which spread across the battlefield, obscuring vision. No matter how dangerous her attacks were, there was no way she could hit him if she couldn't see him.

Alex himself had already switched to heat-vision, drawing on the vast arsenal of equipment his Hands of Fate gave him. Scrambling back from what was effectively a massive white blotch in his sight he tried to find a spot from which he'd be able to take down this menace. Even her inhuman constitution wouldn't save her when he riddled her with bullets.

[User]
Lyonel Eisen@thewizardguy @ScoundrelQueen @VitoftheVoid

Perhaps in hindsight working with Norrevinter was a poor choice, their own powers would serve to clash against one another in conjunction, obviously ice has always been ill-suited with fire. Though this would not deter him from aiding his fellow Knight, walking away from this fight wasn't an option. He would need to keep his wits about him when using his powers over the cold, a creative approach will be needed for this case.

The battle had quickly escalated before his eyes and Lyonel had learned to be cautious of both friend and foe, Norrevinter had began to slip into her berserk state and the skull-masked man displayed an unique, dangerous power with the use of his hands. The latter was enshrouded by a cloud of yellow fog rather hastily after creating a crevice that threatened to swallow up the Viking. Recognising that the Viking is more than capable of handling herself, even with the injuries she had already accumulated so far, he decides to focus on taking down the mercenary as he sheathes his drawn sword.

Water vapour in the air is now more than ample with the jet streams of water from before having been evaporated after colliding with an intense heat wave. The Knight is now more than capable of letting loose with a icy blizzard of his own, first he would slam his two hands onto the ground before freezing it solid, the frozen earth would snake its way up to the area shrouded by the yellow fog and would lock anyone in place as they would find their legs encased in solid ice. Without any pause to possibly waste this chance he would manifest a barrage of long, sharp, icy shards into the fog, before following up with dropping a huge pillar of ice suspended directly over the area, that used up a considerable chunk of the surrounding moisture to create, straight onto wherever the mercenary was hidden.

[Assistant]
'Curiosity killed the cat' was what the winged boy wanted to say in response to Dawn's rather reckless decision, but decided against it. Of course, Dawn would likely still hear this comment against his wishes, but at the very least he figured she had learned to appreciate when people decided to keep comments to themselves.

His silver gaze trailed over to Lucas and lingered for a moment, looking him up and down as if trying to gauge if he passed some imaginary checklist. There was a bit of hesitation, Drake's undying caution remaining as persistent as ever. He did find Lucas' emphasis of the word 'friend' a bit odd, but had decided not to comment.

"Drake," he introduced finally, his tone carefully firm, "As I'm sure you've pieced together by now. Nice meeting you… Lucas."

He wasn't exactly sure how trustworthy a "trading partner" was, but much like Dawn, Drake also had his own curious side. And seeing how he still had two more water bottles in his bag, he opted to stick around and find out what this new person had to offer.

[User]
@thewizardguy@TechnoWizROK

The Knight slipped out from underneath Orion before the grenade's heat had even dissipated, and was running back toward the active combat before he could even think to yell, "That's a really stupid idea, lady."

Not that she would have listened.

A thick, yellow cloud was forming. A crag and a wall varied the landscape. The second Knight seemed to have show up to the fight, and was spreading ice across the ground to take out the intrusive merc. In combination, it seemed that the other three parties had their hands full enough, and the injured Knight had someone to help take her home. A trained, bonafide member of the Erubescan armed forces, no less.

Which left Orion's conscience clear.

He took one more glance over his shoulder at the scene of chaos, brushed his hand against the earth and Ash, and shifted into something far less easy to spot against his surroundings. Looking like a rather large, man-shaped boulder, he took off a at brisk walk in the opposite direction of the confusion. He kept a lookout for anyone following, his thumb cautiously checking to be sure that the tungsten carbide ring was still affixed around his finger should someone pursue.

[Assistant]
Kora, steam billowing off her shoulders and blood streaming down her face, barrelled forwards at a charge. The leg of her uniform on the injured side was soaked in blood and leaving spotty trail behind her, but she seemed to be shrugging it off like it was nothing. Clearing the widening void between them would not have been a problem. She sprang towards the yellow smokescreen, feet thudding into the dirt on the other side and into a continued run... for the two steps it took until she hit ice. An eruption of steam turned it to water, and also threw the knight's feet from underneath her.

She fell back and tumbled into the crevasse, bouncing several times off the rocky walls before hitting the ground with some force.

The berserker's mind was going at miles a minute. It took her a few moments, kneeling on her shattered knee at the bottom of a deep hole, to realize what had just happened, and what it meant.

There was another gifted.

Someone was-

"STEALING MY KILL!" her roar echoed across the waste.


[System]
Appearance:

Symbol:
Age: 18

Height: 6'0

Weight: 130 Ibs

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapons: He wears bracers that have a retractable 7-inch blade in the shape of an arrow. When retracted, the bracers shoot 10mm rounds. Each bracer holds 20 shots, with extra ammo in pouches on his belt. A visor he wears with its own Heads Up Display uses a pair of crosshairs to show where he is aiming his weapons, improving his accuracy. They were designed and created by his dad when he unsuccessfully applied to Beacon around the same age as Robert. They are the only physical objects remaining from his family's past.

Specialty: Robert is best at fighting an opponent one on one, and because of this he relies heavily on teammates when in a large conflict with multiple enemies. It is also because of his helpful and team-player attitude that his teammates chose him to be the leader of his original team, RPGD, to his surprise.

Semblance: Robert's semblance allows him to subliminally affect probability fields, causing improbable, but not impossible, "unlucky" events to occur to enemies within his line of sight. At the time, Robert has no idea that he even has a semblance, let alone has been using his semblance on himself for years to increase his already bad luck to near-immeasurable levels.

Personality: Robert is an average geek with an interest in subjects like comics and ancient world history. Most groups of people would probably describe him as everyman due to him not having much in the way of impressive skills while others might see him more as a goofball thanks to his usual optimistic and joking attitude. When the going gets tough though, the red haired boy is a good person to have by your side as he will never give up or surrender, even when all may seem lost.

Eight year old Robert sat in front of the television, playing with his toy cars and action figures. Behind him, Robert's dad sat in a reclining armchair, half reading the newspaper in his hands and half listening to the TV. "John, could you help Scarlet with her dinner," Robert's mother called from the kitchen. "Yes, Marian," Robert's dad answered, walking towards the small toddler that was Robert's sister. Robert looked up from his toys to see the news channel that was on show the words "Breaking News". The anchorwoman then read the new news, "A warning to all human families living in neighborhoods with large majorities of Faunuses, the organization known as the White Fang, previously known for its peaceful protests, has been attacking humans in the before-mentioned neighborhoods. This recent aggression is suspected to be a result from-" Robert's dad turned the TV off. "You don't need to listen to that garbage, son," he said. He then walked back to the dinner table where Scarlet was playing with her food. Robert went back to playing with his toys. Unbeknownst to the Fallson Family though, a small crowd gathered outside.

Six Faunuses stood, looking at the happy family inside. "Burn it down," said the leader. The other five threw Molotov Cocktails at the two story house, the fire quickly spread throughout the bottom story and the roof. No one inside knew what was going on, all they knew was that the house had spontaneously burst into flames. Robert's mother screamed, Robert's sister cried, Robert's father yelled orders, and Robert continued sitting there confused, trying to understand what was going on. His father grabbed Scarlet, his mother grabbed a family photo album, and they both sprinted towards the staircase. As they reached it, his dad stopped and turned around, "Come on, Robert!" he cried. Outside, the leader of the attack turned and grabbed a baseball bat that was strapped to his back. It suddenly transformed into a grenade launcher, and one shot was fired. The single grenade incinerated the wall it struck, as well as the three humans standing next to it. In a flash, Robert's family was gone. A single, burning photo floated into Robert's lap. He stood there dumbstruck at what just happened. The creaking of the roof brought him back to reality though, as a large burning beam fell from the roof. He tried to dodge, but was too slow. It fell right on his back, pinning him to the ground and burning his flesh. He was able to quickly wiggle out from under it though, and jumped out of the hole in the wall that the grenade had made earlier. He laid on the lawn of his house, clutching the photograph from earlier. He saw the six Faunuses slowly approaching him, ready to finish the job. The sounds of sirens around the corner stopped them in their tracks though, and they escaped. Robert continued lying there, unable to move, sobbing. One of the officers picked him up and carried him to a patrol car. After sitting in the passenger seat for several hours, one of the firemen walked up and gave him the only other thing that survived the fire, his father's visor and bracers which were in the basement during the fire. Afterwards, the officers and firemen left Robert alone. Bad choice. He rose from the seat and walked off into the night, passing a street sign that read "Loxley St." Robert's eight year old mind thought of nothing but wanting to be alone.

For the next several years, Robert would live on the streets. Stealing food and other necessities only when he had no other choice, and only from people who could still live without those necessities. Witnesses would often report to the police that the only thing they saw before their things were stolen was a figure with a green hoodie.

Robert didn't go it alone for all those years though. He did make some friends at a restaurant named Fryer Tuck's Diner; namely Tuck, Alan, and Miller. If not for them, he might not have been able to go to Beacon as they were the ones who helped him acquire a GED as well as the application for Beacon. If not for their moral support and assistance, he would have probably never gotten off the streets and into the prestigious academy.

Theme Song: Kansas - Carry On Wayward Son

Based off of: Robin Hood

Color: Rosso Corsa

[User]
Beryl Harken- VGNB Dorm

All of a sudden Beryl was right in front of Luke. Her eyes were so dark of a blue that they were almost black and they shone with interest as they fixed themselves on the collection of fairs that stood proud in their defiance of the laws of physics. Her mind whirled through all the possible reason for such an anomaly. Anything from some odd side effect of his aura or semblance to some piece of faunus ancestry that made that bit of hair stiff enough to stand on it's own.

Or hair gel, hair gel would do the trick as well.

For a second her hand started to move towards the odd bit of hair. Fortunately for Luke, she realized what she was doing and stopped herself. Making a small coughing noise as she backed away.

"That's some very interesting hair you have there."

[Assistant]
Luke Schwarz -- VGNB Dorms

Gray eyes wide with surprise and back bent at a harsh, near-stumbling angle, the short young man looked for all in the world to be a deer in the headlights under her inquisitive gaze.

"Uh, yeah... I suppose I do." he replied, as she backed off and he finally found room to right himself, inwardly glad his own newfound degree of balance hadn't failed him when one would be almost certain it would, due to the lack of traction involved in wearing socks as opposed to shoes or even bare soles.

In truth, he was certain he'd seen far wackier than his own. Hell, he wasn't even the only person here with an ahoge.

What made his so egregious?

"It's hereditary." he explained, running one hand through his hair idly, almost as if checking if everything was still in order. "My Mom has one. My sisters have one. The only person not to is my father. What's caught Miss Mindaro's eye is that, apparently, it moves on its own sometimes." he said, even as the flash of heat that'd spread across his face faded back to normal operating temperature.

"I've never noticed it before now, but she seems adamant on that being the case."

He deigned not to mention his two-hour stakeout one summer.

It was a long time ago now, anyway. The details were fuzzy.

[User]
Beryl Harken- VGNB Dorm

"Well that certainly sounds interesting. I'll be sure to tell you if I ever catch it doing that."

Beryl had moved over to her bed while Luke talked and was now sitting cross legged on it. She pulled out her scroll and was idly flicking her way through her vast library of songs. All of a sudden she froze before smacking a hand to her forehead.

"Where are my manners. Please, have a seat....somewhere. Oh, there is a chair."

Apparently she had not had much of a chance to check out the room before falling asleep.

[Assistant]
Luke Schwarz -- VGNB Dorms

"Ah, thank you." he replied, pulling up the seat and flopping down into it, bag finding itself placed underneath even as one arm rested against the back. He crossed his legs, suppressing a restless compulsion to rock back and forth in his seat, and lounged for what must have been the first time since classes had begun.

Looking over to the girl as she returned to idly toying with her scroll, he examined her once more, this time under a less reactionary lens. Tall, about the same height as the teammate he was waiting on. Deep blue eyes that bordered on black. Glossy hair, whose sheen could be found on what was easily the most oustanding part of her.

The tail. Easily strong enough to act as a fifth limb, it extended out from assumedly the base of her spine, every bit as trained and coordinated as the rest of her.

Hm.

Strong, limb-like tail, casual balance and agility, natural inquisitiveness...

He wasn't sure if that sounded more like a cat or a monkey, but either seemed plausible. Neither would surprise him, if he'd felt the need to ask.

However, when he opened his mouth to speak, he elected to instead switch gears entirely.

"So, what're your first impressions of all this? Beacon and Vale, I mean."

[User]
Oswald Connoly- Team CODE Dorm

With classes finally having ended, Oswald decided that the time to retrieve Sapphire's daggers was nigh. Of course, he'd have to prepare for the occasion, and it took a few minutes while he figured out what to wear. Should he focus on mobility? If he was going to be searching, that was likely his best bet. Besides, if any Grimm appeared, he could always just run.

Or punch them to death. It had been a while since his last unarmed kill. Even then, he'd had backup and his gauntlets though. A Beowulf would be easily within the realm of possibility. An Ursa would be tougher, but careful Aura use would make it rather simple. The question there became rationing. With his supplies, he could easily take on a single Ursa, but then he might be left with too little to continue fighting if more came.

Mobility it was. Despite his relatively short frame and slow, unwieldy fighting style, without the hundred or so pounds of equipment he wore to combat, Oswald could move pretty damn fast. He wasn't particularly agile or lithe, but in terms of raw speed and endurance, he was one hell of a contender.

Grabbing a gray t-shirt and a pair of running shorts, Oswald quickly changed in the bathroom before making his way to the docks. That was where Sapphire's weapons had fallen over, and he could plan his movements from there.

[Assistant]
Robert Fallson - Lost... Again.

"This is my second week here! How is it that I still can't figure out where everything is?!" Robert shouted. As the clueless redhead rounded yet another corner, he dropped to his knees in defeat. "I'm back where I started!" he yelled, hands raised above his head as if he was grasping at something above and head thrown back as he stared into the light fixture above. "Yeeaurgh!" Robert then crashed forward to lie on the cold, hard tiling and wallow in self-pity. Everything that was in his backpack, which he had forgotten to zip up at the end of his last class, soon slid out and scattered itself around him. "Blargh." The young boy realized this was getting him nowhere and rested on his knees so he could pick up his stuff. Once the floors were cleared of all but one of his belongings, he looked at the cover of the last remaining book. "Of Mice-Faunas and Men," he repeated the title. "Strange name for a book. I wish Professor Albion would have told us a little more about it before assigning it to us." Dropping it in and zipping up the bag, Robert got back to his feet. "Okay, I'm sure I can find my way this time. Third time's the charm right?" As he walked down the halls, he muttered to himself, "I wonder how far the drop is from this floor."

A FEW MINUTES LATER

"This was a bad idea. This was such a bad idea," Robert said as he hung on to the window for dear life. Having seen the familiar sight of the docks just outside, he had decided that instead of trying to find the staircase down he would try to jump out the window and find his way from there. It was once he was clutching at the ledge of the window that he realized how bad of an idea this was. "Oh no. I'm slipping. I'm slipping. I'm slipping! Gaaah!" Robert plummeted towards the Earth as soon as he lost his grip. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and for some reason a certain song began to play in his head. His eyes sealed shut as he came closer and closer to the ground beneath him. This was how he was going to die. A group of students would find his broken and bleeding body lying next to Beacon's Language Hall and everyone would know that he died falling out the frickin' window. Snap! "Ahh! My back! I think I- Wait a minute." Looking beneath him, Robert found he had landed on a soft bush. The sound he just heard were branches, not his bones. "I'm alive. I'm alive! Ahahahaha!" He climbed out of the brush and dusted himself off of dirt, bugs, and whatever else that had been residing in his landing spot. "Man, that window must have been like... 100 feet up in the air," Robert said, staring at the second story window he had fallen from... Yes you read that right, the second story. The melodramatic boy turned back towards the docks and began walking. "Hope no one saw that."


[System]
The Lost Dancer | 罗依芳 | 28
Rank: First Class Warrior
Allegiance: Martial Alliance

APPEARANCE
Yifang is much like ghost: other wordly, still, watchful, pale. Maybe once upon a time she was stronger, but her body has grown thin with age and lack of appetite. Her long hair is one part of her that seems to be cared for daily. Long and dark, a strand is never out of place. When she fights or dances, it flows with the wind.
PERSONALITY
Yifang has grown somber in her late twenties. She is serious and watchful, scornful of too much play. It is perhaps part of the reason why she struggles to grow into a master: her mind is not at peace. The Luo Clan embraces the philosophy of Yin and Yang, maintaining balance between the mind and body. However, very few of her thoughts are positive, forward thinking while much of her thoughts are dark and negative as she seems to still dwell on her fiance's untimely death. There are moments where she is caught smiling, but it is not a comfort to onlookers as its usually at the misfortune of someone else: an elder falling, a child being bit by a dog, or ill omens.
HISTORY
Yifang was young when the devil clans made their motives known the rest of the The Jianghu--nearly 18. The pressure to grow stronger was heavier than ever for the Luo Clan, and Yifang was able to deliver. She ascended confidently through the ranks, particularly skilled with a blade in hand. It was said watching her fight was like watching a dance, a convergence of power and grace that left no enemies standing. It was not so surprising when became engaged half way through the war--who couldn't see her beauty? Her strength?

At the end of the war, destroying their dream to settle down peacefully together and raise a family, Yifang's fiance was lost. He was killed in their battle against a Transcendent Master of the devil clans--though not without first defeating the enemy. He earned the title "Shadow Bolt Slayer" in his death. Yifang has changed much since then. Those who are old enough, remember her as a bright and friendly woman. She was easy to smile, easier to laugh. Though, since that fateful day, she has grown quite somber. Frown lines threaten to grow around her mouth, pushed back only when she is amused by others' misfortunes. She no longer wears the colors of the Luo clan, but dull blacks and whites. Much of what defines her is as she is versus as she used to be.

Her cultivation has stagnated. During the war, Yifang rose through the ranks to First Class and there was much promise in her potential as a Master. However, now it is hardly fair to call her even First Class as she has seems to grown quite placid--hence her title given by those who know her story: the Lost Dancer. The veteran lives as a self-made outcast on the outskirts of the Luo Clan territory. It is here that she manages an old temple to a nearly forgotten goddess who blesses followers with good health.
EQUIPMENT
Mercy: Her blade gained recognition during the war due to the allies it killed. It is known among the Martial Alliance that Yifang constantly moved into enemy territory to rescue allies. While her persistence and bravery during the war allowed her to save many members of the Martial Alliance (and even some of The Recusant), the acts of evil that the devil clans inflicted upon others left them beyond saving. Forbidden cultivation practices broke minds and bodies, and often only Mercy could free these prisoners. Now, Mercy collects dust. It is not a weapon she likes to use.

Her favored weapons these days put distance between her and her target: when she is seen training, bows or guandao are her preference. If one watches carefully, they will see that Yifang is particularly skillful with a bow, but few pay her much mind anymore.
CULTIVATION BASE
For the Luo Clan, qi is created where Yin and Yang meet. In deliberate movements where one's limb extends away from the body and is pulled back, qi manifests at the range where neither pulling or pushing is happening. In breathing, qi manifests not when one draws in their breath or exhales--but for that moment their breath is held. Disciples of the Luo Clan spend much of their time learning to create qi with this theory via meditation and tai chi. While Yifang still does daily trainings, she struggles with any martial techniques since the war. Nowadays, she uses her cultivation base to heal others and maintain what little strength she has.
TECHNIQUES
Bone Mending: Yifang can harness qi to mend broken bones over the course of a few days rather than the usual months. While an extraordinary ability, she doesn't claim it herself. Instead, she says the goddess blesses her with the ability to help those who seek it. Despite its name, it extends to flesh as well, and can be life saving against bleeding out.

Qi blocking: entirely defensive, Yifang can counter skin-to-skin attacks by stopping the flow of qi in another person's body. She does have to make physical contact with them to do so, but a successful hit to her target's meridian will stop the flow of their qi.

Heaven's Arrow: by focusing her own qi, Yifang can enhance her dexterity and vision. Its purpose is to improve her archery and range attacks in general, give her an eagle's eye whether she is shooting an arrow or throwing a knife. When adopting Heaven's Arrow, she cannot miss her target(s)--though its intense focus makes her farsighted, so to say. She becomes insanely vulnerable to close attacks, almost completely unaware of them.

[User]
Shrine of a Forgotten God
Luo Yifang
Yifang's eyelids dropped momentarily into a blink as Sima approached the shine and visitor inside. After another beat, she looked around and followed Sima to meet her. Irritation tugged her lips into a frown and furrowed her brows as the girl lowered her head, refusing to look to the veteran. She couldn't muster the same gentle tone as the man, but her words were not harsh. "Child, you are more than welcome to rest--" she began and, bristled by such shy behavior, Yifang leaned and tilted her head to see the girl's face hidden under the hood. However, her voice trailed off, recognition flickering across her features for just a moment. She stood straight, sparing a glance to Sima as she crossed her thin arms in front of her body.

Yifang's scowl deepened as the young woman squirmed under their gazes, and her pale hand lifted to idly twirl her own dark hair around her finger. She was quiet for a moment as she thought. "Three heads are better than two, isn't that right? A young pair of eyes could be helpful in an investigation like yours, Sima," she said at last.

[Assistant]
Shrine of an Forgotten God, Henan

---

Vanished @Kidd@Feyblue

---

"You're right about that," Sima replied to Yifang. "I've been out west for so long that I got sand stuck in my head."

Stepping out of the shrine, Sima gave his arms a quick stretch. "We should probably take a few. Rest up and get ready to leave. Ask me any questions if you got 'em."

"And Blue," he looked back at Xiaying. The expression on his face was a strange one. Perhaps it was sympathy or perhaps it was the remembrance of an old memory. More so than a rugged master, he seemed more like a sorrowful man as he shared some words. "It might be a little presumptuous of me to say, but walk with your head high. Doesn't matter if you have to fake it. The world's a rough place."

Looking back at the wilds, he took a place sitting with his back against a tree.

---

An Escort Warrior? @Zeroth@Cu Chulainn?

---

"Euuergh..?" A drunkard at a table seemed to raise his head. As if triggered by the words that came from Yi Hyun-Woo, he tossed a wooden placard at the young man. Though, his drunken state was very obvious considering that he almost beaned "Jin" in the skull.

Although it seemed like he was starting a fight, the drunkard seemed to be a little too faded for a bar fight. Instead, what was important was the information on the placard he threw.

It signified the acceptance of an escort mission. As written on its face, it was a job to escort a merchant caravan carrying supplies to various sects within Henan. Though it didn't explicitly say Mountain Ravine Fist on its face, those words awakening a barely conscious man were effectively confirmation that the school was one of the destinations.

Considering how the leaving date was early next morning, it seemed that the drunkard wouldn't be able to make it to depart in time.

---

The Hunt for the Madwoman @Restalaan

---

"How did she look?!" The bald roughneck seemed to be annoyed. What did it matter how she looked? Still, he swallowed his emotions to respond. He also swallowed his pride as the large Xiao Shan effortlessly picked him up to place him back on his feet. How emasculating. He briefly closed his eyes to remember, but all he could barely recall was her damn eyes. "She had... large red eyes? A red face too. She didn't really loo-" He had opened his eyes and realized that Xiao Shan had already been moving towards where he had fled.

"Ah fuck, wait up."

---

It was certainly a strange sight. Whatever fight Xiao Shan had prepared herself for had been replaced by an indescribable scene. The first was a group of men that had been bruised and battered. They stood in the middle of a clearing with their legs bent, their arms held up, and bodies bereft of clothing save for something to cover their bits. The second group of four had been conscripted in some strange ritual.

And there she was. With an outfit of strange baubles and designs, bright-red makeup solely around her eyes, and a drunkard's flush, the Madwoman seemed to be riding a makeshift palanquin of branches and clothing. She (and by extension her conscripts) had been circling the other group for quite some time judging by the torn up grass circle surrounding them. Upon seeing Xiao Shan, the Madwoman clapped twice. The conscripts seem to slowly lower the palanquin on the ground as they collapsed from exhaustion.

"I don't remember a woman among your ranks." She said to nobody in particular, her voice aloof and strange as though she was not speaking in her native tongue. "How urbane."

She paused as she sized up the mask wearing giant.

"Well?"

[User]
Shrine of a Forgotten God, Henan

---

 Xiáyīng momentarily seemed to lower her guard. Or rather, it could perhaps be better said that her curiosity got the better of her. The man wasn't saying anything, and the woman had just entered the room and begun to speak. She tilted her head ever-so-slightly, wanting to see what they were doing, what their expressions were -- wanted to make sure they really weren't going to hurt her.

 Then it happened. In an instant, a dark and familiar something stole its way over the dark-haired woman's face, icy recognition descending upon her from on high like hailstones, and sudden, bristling anger flashing towards her like lightning. Not towards her specifically, but rather towards...

 "A young pair of eyes could be helpful in an investigation like yours, Sima."

 She knew. She didn't just know, but she craved the power that Xiáyīng so unwillingly bore.

 It wasn't a request, or an invitation -- it was a threat. Lend her power, or have it taken from her by force. Even if she complied, there was no guarantee the woman wouldn't turn on her once her usefulness to her had ended. If she let her guard down for even a second... her eyes would be taken.

 But she had already seen the woman's strength herself. The path she had walked was long and arduous, and surely, a useless child like her could not possibly hope to match one who had climbed so far, and learned so much. If she drew her blade here, or if she tried to run -- it mattered not. All she could do was comply.

 Her only reassurance was that the man did not seem to share the woman's awareness of her nature. Or, if he did know -- he had called her "Blue," after all -- he lacked the same hostility. She could see it -- his sorrow, and his warmth. It was far too presumptuous to expect that he would protect her, necessarily, if push came to shove, but... for the time being, of the two who had pressed her into service, he seemed much safer than his dark-haired companion.

 "I'm sorry." Despite his advice, it was the only answer that came naturally to her when she was scolded. What else was she supposed to say? Nevertheless, she tried to hold her head just a little higher -- almost high enough to meet his gaze as she awkwardly, unsubtly scooted just a little closer to him, and away from Yifang. "I did not mean to cause offense. I will... umm... keep your advice in mind."

 It wasn't much -- and it could hardly be called an improvement -- but the way she gripped her sword now bespoke a fear much greater than simply being robbed. If she was attacked, she would run, and if forced to fight, she would lose -- but despite the inevitability of such a defeat, she began to steel herself for such an eventuality regardless.

[Assistant]
Shrine of a Forgotten God
Luo Yifang
Yifang couldn't help the slight raise of the end of her lips as the other scooted away from her. Was she really so afraid of the husk she had become? "Well, you have your time to rest," the woman said after Sima took the opportunity to do just that. She paused, eyes flickering about the young woman's figure--messy hair, messy clothes. The vice grip on the sword didn't go unnoticed either. Perhaps it was best to speak plainly. She dropped her hand from her locks and, while she hesitated, did rest her bony hand on the girl's shoulder. "I'm Luo Yifang. As unlikely as it is that you've heard of me, I know of your father. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask.

"In the meantime, I best prepare for our little adventure. The Marital Alliance calls upon us." Another smile tugged at her features, but it didn't quite reach her dark eyes as they lingered on the younger woman. Only then did Yifang pull away step out of the other's way and into the shrine to find which of her few belongings would be appropriate for the quest.


[System]
Human (Vrettonian) | 30 | Female

Appearance
Sylvaine is 160cm tall, with a wiry, athletic build. Her shoulderlength hair is a rare jet black, her eyes emerald green; features that raised more than a few brows during her upbringing. Her skin has marks of combat on it, nicks and scars that Sylvaine does her best to hide. She typically wears comfortable, durable clothes of wool and leather, and is seldom seen without a sword on her hip.

Personality
Sylvaine has that somewhat deadly mix of absolute charm and severe narcisism that tends to make people misjudge and underestimate her in social interactions. Her warm and inviting veneer can change to indifferent ruthlessness in an instant, and very few ever see it coming. Her greed and lust (especially for power, but pleasure will mostly do) knows no bounds. She is an unpredictable friend at best, and a twitchy snake of an enemy at worst.

Background
* Mercenary/Bandit/Assassin (Optional)
* Commoner
* Father was the commander of a company of sellswords and died a drunk beggar, mother is unknown and presumed dead.

History (Optional)
Sylvaine always was her fathers girl, and took his customs and those of his company right to heart. Life on campaign is hard, especially for a little girl among ruthless men, and so she had to become ruthless herself. She first learned how to hide and steal, then to lie and decieve, and finally to fight and kill. Every vice or dark deed you can think of Sylvaine has done, or at least considered. She left her father to die when he lost command of the company and turned to drinking, and took whatever possessions of his still worth having with her. The road is her home now, wherever it may take her.

Motivation
Sylvaines goals in life is to take what she can, and give nothing back.

Capabilities

Attributes

Combat [1/1]

* One handed Sword (1)
* Daggers (1)
* Dual Weilding (1)

Intelligence [1/1]

* Linguistics (1)
*
*

Charisma [1/1]

* Diplomacy (1)
* Charm (1)
* Seduction (1)
* Deception (1)

Health [1/1]

* Fortitude (1)
* Rejuvenation (1)

Faculties [1/1]

*
*
*

Agility [1/1]

* Run (1)
* Stealth (1)
* Pick Pocket (1)

Mysticism [0/3]

*
*
*

---

Equipment
* Longsword
* Dagger
* Leather Clothing

Money
1 Royal, 3 Lordlings, 15 Commons

Languages
Vrettonian, Dre Costan, Northern

[User]
Balance: 1d8+1 = 5 (4 + 1)
Intelligence: d8 = 4
Mari missed the sound of the sea. It was something she'd taken for granted, born and raised near the water as she always had been, and now that it was gone, the world seemed all too uncomfortably quiet. This forest would test her, she knew; Asherah had promised as much, and to become a Daughter of Rán, Mari would have to overcome adversity. She needed to prove she was one of them in heart and mind before she could be granted any gifts.

She stopped at the edge of the gulley, pushing auburn hair from her face. Getting around this would take hours, and Mari wanted to make it deeper into the forest well before darkness fell. She had a passing knowledge of world geography, but without help in this forest she would be hopelessly lost. People lived in the darkness of the wood somewhere, she just had to find them, and perhaps see if a deal could be made.

That meant getting down and through the gulley. Mari noted the very large, very dead thing down there, but whatever felled it was nowhere to be seen, no tracks she could identify at a distance. The smell was strong, though. Best not to linger here any longer than I have to. She started down carefully after securing her pack and her shield, making quick work of the descent. She almost slipped once, but caught herself and kept her feet, setting foot in the basin.

Her boots sank into the mud beneath the shallow, filthy water, but she made sure to keep moving, finding that the muck wasn't severe enough to threaten her. The creature was an ogre, she guessed, judging by Asherah's descriptions from stories she'd told. Goddess, the old woman had a lot of stories. The ogre looked to be a few days dead at least, and the smell grew even worse as she passed.

With no intent of sticking around to end up beside the dead ogre, Mari began the work of climbing up the far side of the gulley, finding it no more difficult than the descent. It wasn't the warmest welcome into the Blackwood, but Mari had already steeled herself for the worst. Whatever the Watery Widow intended to throw at her, she would face it.

[Assistant]
Gundarogs: These creatures are one of two subspecies of 'Rog'. The normal, forest dwelling rog are slightly larger, with sallow or green skin. Gundarogs, however, are their underground dwelling counterpart, skin black as if burned and faces horribly twisted. Gundarogs stand around 5 feet tall, with gangly but strong limbs, and weigh around 100 pounds out of their twisted black iron armor. Hideously cruel and malicious, Gundarogs infest mountain holes and the deeps beneath the earth, ever searching for metals to twist into their crude but deadly weapons and armor, but more importantly for buried demons and forgotten gods to worship. They enjoy torture and feasting upon hapless humanoids, but they abhor light, particularly the sun. The fact that they are here is an indication to a clue about the Blackwood proper, for even under such gloom they would not make their homes above ground. Something about the forest is even darker than it appears, or perhaps they were called? Perhaps both?

The creature squealed in a piercing wail and dropped the scorpion, looking very akin to a cockroach that found a meal repulsive to its sensibilities. The scorpion scuttled away into the brush, making a twisted path through a mixture of bushes and fallen boughs towards Kyiriniae'aea, suddenly forming back into the very confused baby not half a minute later. Such spells lasted a longer time with more mundane and well understood beasts like sheep and chickens. The child was now looking around curiously, unable to fathom what had just occurred.

Behind him, the four Gundarogs had not yet grabbed their weapons, which from where Kyiriniae'aea stood, she could see they were barbed spears and cruel stabbing swords. Rather than screech further or run, they scuttled a few meters away from the fire and watched it fearfully, whispering to one another in their strange, guttural tongue. The flame roared black before their eyes, unyielding from Kyiriniae'aea's cantrip.

It seemed they took the fire as an omen, with the loss of their meal via polymorph simply a further sign as to an entity that had chosen to speak with them. There was no telling what Gundarogs would do if they saw a Silver Elf, as most see them attack when others trespass upon their mountain caverns rather than the creatures making a home in the woodlands. When it became apparently the fire wouldn't harm them, they approached closer and gripped their spears, raising them into the air like primitive men or apes, beginning to chant a string of words that sounded like a strange rhyme.

The child began to cry once more at the Elf's feet, though the things had yet to hear past their chanting.

---

Mari had ascended without error, just in time to make it under the cover of the thick trees when she heard a strange noise in the distance. She found a good tree to hide behind among the myriad of elms and birches, just as she heard an incredibly loud warscream from some winged monstrosity that swooped in from above. It looked twenty feet long from the tip of its tail to it's snout, very dragon-like in appearance save for its brown ridged scales, clubbed tail, and the fact it only had four appendages with small clawed hands at the top of its vast wings.

It was terrifyingly mesmerizing to watch it drop onto the ridge Mari had just traversed like a strange bird, clinging to it before it let its taloned feet slide further into the gulley so it could feast upon the huge Ogre's corpse. It likely was not the thing that had killed the monster, but it would certainly capitalize on a free meal when it found it.

The warrior would be so transfixed on the display of nature, that she would be caught completely by surprise when a strong hand grabbed her mouth and a sudden sound of "ssshhh" would escape the lips of whoever hid behind her. Mari could struggle, but she would hear the next words as follows. "Don't scream. I'm not here to harm you..."

Suddenly she was let go, and Mari would see amid the shadow of the forest, another warrior woman. Tall and lithe, and strong of limb. Her long dark hair was tied into a flowing ponytail, she was adorned with a bronze breastplate and bronze greaves. Her blue eyes contrasted her coppery skin, and she was similiarly armed as Mari with a sword and shield, albeit of different designs. She was also notably taller than Mari.

She held her hands up disarmingly. "We must go before the Wyvern smells us. I am Ithaca, the Road Warden. Come with me and I'll take you to town."

[User]
Roll for deception = 6 + 1 = 7

Sylvaine had had enough of travel, at least for a few days. Having a storyteller for company on the road had certainly helped to ease the boredom of ceasless trudging along some path or other, but the novelty of this luxury had somewhat begun to fade. What she wanted was a proper bed to sleep in, a proper cooked meal to eat, and proper drink to get drunk on. They had all that in Greybridge, so naturally she wanted in. What she didn't want, however, was to upend what was left of her meagre purse into the long-fingered paw of some blackmailing bureaucrat. He would not be getting ten lordling out of her anytime soon.

The notion of looking for another crossing a hundred miles or so downstream was, however, equally distasteful. Cillian was pleasant enough for company, no doubt, but Sylvaine had reached her limit when it came to hiking. Just the thought of campfires and wet bedrolls and endless, tedious marching made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. She would not be going wandering anywhere anytime soon.

That left her in a bit of a pickle. What to do? She looked across at Cillian, who seemed to be thinking the exact same thing. Their eyes met, and she raised an eyebrow. He gave no immediate reply, so she shrugged and made for the notary, pushing past a few disgruntled farmers. One turned to confront her, but put his anger aside when he saw the steel on her hip and in her eye.

"Good sir!" she exclaimed, hailing the man, "I do believe that a man of your stature and character would not demand such a tribute of an old ally of the township!" She walked right up to the armed men, a mask of calm and careless charm on her face, and gave a short bow.

"de Vermeille is my name, Sylvaine, daughter to none other than Rainier de Vermeille, commander of the Blue Blades, who fought for this settlement during the border skirmishes of yesteryears. We were made kin then, we were told, for our service to the people, and would always be welcome when in need of a haven. Well, I am in need of such a haven now, as is my minstrel. A man of your nature would not go back on such a promise, would he? I, for one, would think not."

She beamed at the notary, awaiting his reply.