[System]
Gender: Male
Age: 35
Race: Human

Equipment
* Plain sword – Weighs around 10 lbs, easily swung around. It was meant to be held in one hand, but Rane often switches between stances, holding it in his left, his right, and sometimes both. It was fashioned by a local blacksmith. It's sturdy and doesn't break easily, but also isn't sharp enough to pierce through any more than reinforced leather. Rane adjusts his fighting style to accommodate for this, and often bludgeons armoured opponents with the pommel.
* Heavy plate armour – Courtesy of Lord Janys for several months of dedicated service. Contrary to the quality his sword and other belongings, his armor was made by royal smiths out of finer metals. It originally had golden trimming, but Rane thought it looked ridiculous and had it removed. His lord insisted that he kept the wings on the helmet, and he grudgingly obliged. Its material cannot be pierced by all but the sharpest of blades, and its structure was made to withstand a good amount of force. It has taken quite a beating over the years.
* Wineskin - It's a calfskin sack for some wine. Rane drinks a lot, but usually not before fighting.
* Grappling Chain - Perhaps one of Rane's nastier possessions. It was originally a makeshift weapon fashioned from an old rope and half a bear trap. Since then, there have been many iterations of the weapon, the latest being a ten foot steel chain with a venom-drenched hook on one end. Rane can grapple small to medium-sized foes with his chain and pull them in. The hook was also made to find chinks between armour, and its barbs make it much harder to remove, especially in the heat of combat. The venom he uses isn't lethal, but it's strong enough to cripple a limb for a few hours, given some time.

Abilities
* Red Lapi ring - When activated, it deadens his nerve endings, so he can't feel pain. He frequently misuses his Lapi, leaving him exhausted and wounded. Because of this, he often finds himself with injuries that caution could have prevented.

Talents
* Swordsmanship – Rane fights ambidextrously and often switches hands in the middle of fights. Having learned most of it on the streets, he isn't afraid to fight without honour. He's not a blademaster, but he can definitely hold his own in a fight.

Personality: Quiet, stoic, and utterly boring. He rarely talks, and when he does, it's often no more than a few words. Although he is a mercenary, he's fiercely loyal to his employers, at least until their contract ends. He obeys order without question, and has a distinct lack of empathy. However, he's not a good leader, and typically cannot manage more than ten men at a time. He does have a fairly dry sense of humour, and his sarcastic remarks have landed him in trouble on numerous occasions.

Biography: Rane was a sickly child. His parents were noblemen of a small House, and spent the majority of his youth squandering their money on doctors to try and heal him. Their family fortune dwindled to nothing, and his father grew angrier and angrier. One night, convinced that Rane was the fulfilment of a curse that had been laid upon him years ago, he murdered his wife and threw Rane into the night.

Rane's adolescence was spent on the streets, stealing food and beating other street rats for coin. A strangely generous thief named Wake took pity on him and took him under his wing, and showed him how to survive, nursing him back to health. His ferocity quickly earned him a following. Though he was the de facto leader of their gang, it was Wake who often gave commands and organized attacks. His gang, the Black Boars, quickly became notorious in his city, though he never had much passion for his life of crime. His anger towards his father was his only driving force. As he grew older and stronger, his anger dwindled, and he felt oddly indifferent towards the injustices he had suffered at the hands of his father. He eventually left his gang, leaving Wake in charge, and became a mercenary.

In an ironic turn of events, his first employer, a wealthy foreign merchant, ordered him to clear out the slums where he had grown up. He led a skeleton crew of six untrained recruits, slaughtering his old gang members. Eventually, he cornered Wake, begging for his life, trying to remind Rane of everything they had been through. Without a hint of hesitation or remorse, Rane rammed his sword through Wake's throat.

Since that day, Rane has been roaming across the country, looking for work wherever he could find it. He had fought under countless masters and dozens of different banners. He acquired his ring from a nobleman who believed he would abandon the life of a mercenary to fight for him. Naturally, he left when their contract ended. He had also been knighted by another lord he had served, but he never felt any prestige in the title. He never followed any code of honour save his own, and the will of some pea-brained lord wasn't going to change that.

Life had taught Rane a cruel lesson. Some men found purpose in faith, some in riches, and some in love. Despite fighting for gold, Rane dismissed all of these ideas; the only power he ever acknowledged was power itself.

Other: Rane keeps a locket with his old House's sigil. He has never shown it to anyone, and becomes uncharacteristically angry when someone tries to see what is inside.

[User]
Fynn

In a sleepy village near the coast Lucumbro, all would seem fine to an outsider. No stories, no rumors, no horrifying tales. It was just a hamlet close to Firebird territory. Even if some of the citizens were standoffish, most would regard this as a good place to live. Currently, it was sunny, clear skies, an hour before noon. There were a small amount of people wandering about outside, running errands or some such. Overall, the perfect place for vagrants.

---

Kait Arouraios
One such travelers was Kait Arouraios, who was traveling through, still on the lookout for a master Magus to apprentice. This town seemed promising though, a master by the name of Vivian seemed like she could be convinced to allow Kait to study under her. For now though, she was just stepping out of the inn she had slept in the previous night. Though she didn't have much money, there were fairly large spiders and rats in the cellar, which the student took care of, obviously pointing out the irony in the situation before hand. After said job, she had a free night in the inn, and sleeping in her own bed again felt great.

Kait's first order of business was to get some food, which the inn she had stayed in sorely lacked. But this was a fisherman's town, so there was no way there wasn't some delicious fresh fish to be cooked here, even if she had to light the fire herself. The rat began wandering the streets to find some form of vendor, unsure if the city's layout but still willing to find food.

[Assistant]
"Just another day on the job."

Morada grumbled through clenched teeth. She stood outside The Flopping Lightningfish, not that Morada could read the sign. A tavern filled with washed up fools and day drunks. Her least favorite kind of people. But the ale was good so she couldn't complain. Morada shoved the door open, causing it to swing against the adjacent wall. The bell above the door jingled cheerfully, contrasting sharply against the crash of the door. A barmaid with a plastered on smile, and cloth stuffed down her shirt, began to turn around to greet Morada. But as soon as she saw who, or what, was in the open door her smile quickly pressed into a hard line. Her eyes filled with fear.

Bright yellow eyes scanned over the crowded Tavern, those who were sober quickly looked away or appeared busy.

It didn't take Morada long to locate her target, sitting alone at the far end of the bar. He was a greasy looking human man, slicked back black hair with an ever present smirk on his face. Morada made her way down the bar, people eagerly moving to let the Half-Orc through. The man glanced up at Morada out of the corner of his eye, but made no reaction. Even as people around him were scrambling to move out of her way the man still looked confident.

"Oi." Morada finally spoke, her voice low and rough. "Pay up."

The man slowly turned his head upward, still smirking.

"I do believe that you have the wrong guy, Greenskin. And if I did owe money I certainly wouldn't trust it in your hands, so why don't you run back to whoever holds your leash and tell them to send someone more...civilized."

Morada saw red. Her upper lip curled up in a snarl as she moved with surprising speed for one her size. She grabbed, by the roots, a fist full of the mans hair. His expression turned, very quickly, from cockiness to fear. But it wasn't enough to satisfy Morada's rage.

With a roar Morada slammed the mans head, face first, into the bar. She pulled it back, only to slam it down a second time. She could hear his nose snap from the force, and the streaking and flying blood was a nice touch. On the third trip down Morada stopped this time, mere centimeters from the bar top. She felt him tense and brace for an impact that wasn't coming, and she smirked.

She leaned down next to his ear, smirking still.

"Hows abouts you pay early next month, and I won't have to find you again."

The man nodded feverishly, as far as he could nod with Morada still keeping her vice grip on his hair. Morada stood back up straight.

"Good." She grumbled, releasing her grip on his head and watching him smack face first into the bar.

As the man was still recovering from the beating, Morada tore his coin purse right off his belt.

"I'll be taking this. Thank you for your cooperation."

[User]
The sun's scorching rays beat down relentlessly on Rane as he made his way through the street, sword held loosely in a gauntleted fist. His plate armour seemed particularly heavy in under the heat. Any other day, he'd have opted to be less conspicuous, but the task at hand would not be particularly difficult; besides, nothing parted the filthy, stinking throng like a bare blade, glinting maliciously in the sunlight.

The bustling street was lined with an assortment shops and buildings, and littered with peasants and craftsmen of all trades. The air was filled with a heavy stench of unwashed bodies and horse droppings. Beggars and hawkers gave him a wide berth upon seeing his sword. Those who were brave enough to approach him were sent scurrying away with a cold glare.

The few guards that dotted the streets lumbered about with their chests puffed out and weapons held high. The sun glinted off the rusted pieces of chain armour that dangled off their shoulders, framing an offensively bright symbol on their chests. Ridiculous pointed helmets sat atop their heads, giving them the appearance of a grounded flock of birds. Canned chickens, Rane thought.

Regardless, he sheathed his sword and turned his head whenever a group of them strutted by, beaks in the air and arses dragging on the ground. He had no doubt he could kill them all, but his employer had not mentioned them in his instructions. No need to tarnish his reputation over a scuffle like that.

"Sir, spare some gold," a voice croaked from behind him.

Rane turned around, and found himself face to face with a short beggar. There wasn't a single word that could adequately describe the pitiful excuse of a man hunched before him. A few wispy strands of white clung on to a sunburned head, sitting atop a body that resembled a leper's skin stretched over a bundle of sticks. His face was covered entirely with bruises and wrinkles. A few colourless rags were draped over his sagging shoulders in a failed attempt at decency. His long, thin fingers clasped on to a worn leather pouch that had most likely belonged to someone else at some point. It was a surprise the beggar had not keeled over on the spot.

"No," Rane replied. He turned around and continued walking, paying no more mind to the beggar.

He only made it a few steps before the voice chimed in again. "Sir, honour'ble, noble knight, surely, ye must have some gold in yer pocket for a poor soul," the beggar rasped.

"No. Go away."

Rane continued walking. The beggar followed him. He wasn't sure if the man was brave, or just insane. Whichever one, he certainly was persistent. He would have continued ignoring him, until the beggar latched on to his elbow with his bony hands.

"Sir, please, sir, a man needs to eat," the beggar piped up, "I'd be etern'ly grateful for some gold, sir."

He continued walking, but the man pulled at his elbow, his incessant pleading an assault upon the ears. Rane tried shaking the man off, but his grip only tightened.

Rane sighed. "Tell you what," he said grudgingly, "I may have a few spare coins. Let's get behind this alley, I don't want some thieves getting any ideas."

"Oh, of course, noble sir," the beggar exclaimed in delight, "There ain't no thief brave 'nough to steal yer gold, good sir, gen'rous sir, kind and noble . . ."

Rane brought the man between two buildings, quickly glancing around to make sure they were alone. He looked at the beggar one more time, and reached into his pouch, rummaging about. The beggar's eyes followed with barely-concealed ecstasy, his mouth spread in a wide, toothless grin.

Without warning, his hand shot up and latched onto one of the beggar's rags. The man looked up in surprise and indignation. Before he could speak, Rane jammed the rag into the beggar's mouth and pushed his head into the brick wall, crushing his skull with a sickening crunch. The beggar's scream was cut off by the rag. Slowly, he lifted the man's head, peering at his bloodied face.

"S-sir, please," the beggar mumbled between coughs, his voice stifled by the makeshift gag. Before he could finish, Rane tightened his grip and slammed the beggar's face back onto the wall. He systematically repeated the action several times, until the beggar's muffled wails quieted to nothing.

Rane let go, and the limp corpse slid to the ground. He picked the beggar's pouch off the ground and opened it, to reveal a few bent coppers. He tossed the pouch beside the man and scattered the coins around it. Anyone stumbling upon the scene would believe the beggar had been mugged.

Calmly, he removed the saliva-covered rag from the what was left of the beggar's mouth and wiped the blood off his gauntlet, careful not to leave any in the chinks. He cast the tattered cloth on the ground beside its owner, and left the alleyway, blending back into the busy streets.


[System]
(Ignore the scar/tattoo)

Species: Human/Titan Shifter
Gender: Male
Age: 24
Height: 5' 9"

Relatives: Sister - Henrietta Charlton (17, works as a baker's assistant in Utopia District)

Residence: Utopia District. This is really his sister's home, he just happens to have a bedroom ready should he be in the area and not working.

Occupation: Survey Corps member, soldier.
Affiliation: Survey Corps
Former Affiliation: N/A

Hair Color: Blond/white
Eye Color: Blue/grey

Personality: Scholarly, calm and not prone to instinctive or gut-based actions or reactions. Kindly when required but relatively taciturn and one who approaches others rather than others coming to him.

Abilities: Titan Shifter - his main features or abilities as a Titan Shifter extend to a strong jaw and sharpened claws compared to other Titans and Shifters. His Titan form is muscled and athletic but too heavily set to be considered nimble. In this form he relies on power and speed to crush and tear his opponents apart before they have a chance to respond in kind but his form is by no means slow or lethargic like the Armoured Titan.

ODM Gear - Julius has a natural talent with the Gear although he's not as fast as some users he can correct his course with the most minor adjustments and right himself even in the most out of control situations. He works best as a distraction due to his ability to nimbly evade any Titan attacks but is also capable on the offensive, using his intuitive understanding of the Gear and its capabilities to inflict that fatal injury on a Titan's nape with as little chance for error as possible.

Voiced By (actor/actress): David Tennant

[User]
Julius 'July' Charlton

"Fall back, we'll take care of this."

Julius descended from above with all the force of a lighting bolt, spinning through the air with support from his Gear so quickly that he shot through the Garrison forces aimlessly flying around the Titan, trying to find a gap to attack at its nape without endangering themselves. It was an Abnormal, not taking the bait of the soldier bravely flying within its grasp but instead heading continuously towards Eren Jaeger, its bulging eyes focused on him as it prowled towards its target. His blades dug into his nape cleanly, the Abnormal's focus elsewhere making it an easy kill and it dropped to the ground heavily with Julius standing victorious atop its head with the body below him now steaming as it disintegrated. He was covered in Titan blood, vapour rising from his blades and his clothes as it, too, disappeared in the way only the monsters' blood seemed to.

The Garrison soldiers, tired from the day's fighting and eager to take any chance to withdraw that was offered to them, headed to the Wall and safety, their Gears carrying them up its length and out of the maelstrom of Titans and Scouts. There were far fewer of the lumbering creatures in immediate vicinity although more were heading their way, drawn by the strange attraction of a Titan Shifter. Their heads, too big or too small but never the right size for their unbalanced bodies, drew through the smoke haze of Trost, wide grins and blood soaked teeth enough to strike terror into the hearts of even experienced soldiers. Julius' grey eyes stared coldly back at them, disgust the only emotion he felt when regarding creatures and, not for the first time, he wondered what abomination first brought about their existence.

Drawn back to the present by the thudding steps of a nearby Titan, he left the decaying body of his most recent kill behind and headed to a rooftop, keeping the pursuing Titan's attention on him as another Scout saw the opportunity and took its nape from behind. The body spun and crashed through the wreckage of a house, already damaged by the early stages of the invasion, and the Scout landed on the building adjacent to Julius, waving his bloodied sword in acknowledgement before heading off again.

His attention was constantly being dragged towards Jaeger, where he could see Captain Levi fighting any Titans that made it past the other Survey Corps. With some effort, he focused his mind and left the building top, heading for a higher vantage point from where he could find Sarah and any Titans that might be heading towards them. He spotted her standing over the corpse of a Titan and waved his blades to try and get her attention, hanging from the edge of a chimney by his Gear.

[Assistant]
Sarah Reinhardt
(サラ ・ ラインハルト)
Sara Ráinharuto

Sarah looked upon the vapor that steamed off of the Titan's corpse. With her cold glare, no emotion was evident upon her pale, youthful face. A part of her wondered where these creatures came from, and how she had managed to inherit the powers of Titan in the first place. But that last thing she remembered was a man telling her to "protect his son", and that "his name is Eren Jaeger". Then there was something else he said but was vaguely heard. The next thing she remembered was waking up from her Titan form with no memory yet only one goal: Protect Eren Jaeger.

The flashback faded just as she heard the giant stomps of a walking Pure Titan, just ahead of her. Having to stand in the street may not have been the best move, but as she was looking around for a spot to launch one of her hooks, she took noticed of a sword waving in the distance, just about to buildings away from her standing position. Making a small smile, she knew that set of hair anywhere: Julius, or 'July'. Sarah waved back in acknowledgement, but the thumps in front kept her focused. It was just a smaller, mindless Titan-vermin; a seven meter.

The female waited for the smaller Titan to move closer, and just as this thing started to set eyes on her, she was already on the move. Launching a hook to a building, she propelled herself around it, and aimed for its Achilles. She watched the Titan get distracted by another Scout, before putting a spike into its leg, allowing her to pull herself towards her mark, and make a clean cut. This made the abomination fall forwards, so its nape was wide open. With a flip in the air, she striked, only making a huge slice gush out of the gaping wound. With this one down, Sarah launched herself in Julius' direction, right upon the chimney, reeling herself beside him. "So, what's the score?", she asked him in that calm voice, slightly panting from her latest deed.

[User]
Julius 'July' Charlton

"Score? Two, I guess." He glanced down at his blades, now clean of Titan blood, looking over the recent Titans he had killed in his mind. Normally he was unconcerned with keeping count, the other Scouts did it to maintain a pecking order but he, Sara and Captain Levi were on a different level and no one asked them for their kill counts and assists; although many made up wildly exaggerated figures for them as part of the hero worship.

Around them the last Titans in the immediate vicinity entered the square where dozens from the Survey Corps waited for them, working in teams to distract and separate the instinctive monsters before someone dealt the lethal blow and the corpses fell clumsily into the already wrecked shells of houses before disintegrating. He looked towards Jaeger again and nodded over in the young lad's direction.

"Well, we should head over there for now and find out how he is. The others have the rest handled." He reeled his hooks back in, falling downwards as his anchor was released. Righting himself he pushed past the fast approaching edge of the roof below with a blast of gas and then angling himself to use a Titan as an anchor to pull himself towards the sealed gate. As he passed, upside down as he spun through the graceful arc the Gear's movement produced in the hands of an expert, his blades blinded the Titan and it stopped in its tracks, hands grabbing uselessly at the air in a vain attempt to find its now elusive prey.

Cloak billowing around him as he controlled his mad spinning, hooks finding purchase in the Wall and pulling, Julius shot across the wide open space where the dead and dying, Titans and humans alike, lay in the bloody remnants of the melee the Scouts had returned to. He descended in an arc down to the decaying Titan form of Jaeger, landing on the boulder he had sealed the Wall with, and reeled his hooks back in with the ever-satisfying clunk announcing that they were secure.

The lad was unconscious, clearly not used to his Titan form, with a young woman his age clinging onto him defensively with one blade drawn. Another boy with blond hair stood by them, watching the Scouts saving the day. They looked up at Julius' arrival, Captain Levi having temporarily departed to deal with an approaching Titan.

"It's probably wise to move him out of here. Your ODM work, yes? Let's get up to the top of the Wall for now then."

[Assistant]
Sarah Reinhardt
(サラ ・ ラインハルト)
Sara Ráinharuto

Another gust of wind blew through Sarah's white locks, before she answered her friend with a simple nod. She trusted Julius, mainly because she saw as her equal in the same way they see Captain Levi, probably more on the statistical level than personal means. Gratefully, she also had him help her remember what she knew before her mysterious amnesia. From that moment onwards, Sarah held complete trust in Julius. Both in the battlefield, and personally, they were partners in this war. Not to mention that Julius had to hold her back in her unrestrained times, while tending to act as her conscience. That was how she knew him: A conscience.

With a sigh, the female looked to the unconscious boy down below. What was so important about that kid? Why are the other Titans moving into his direction? Clearly, he was a shifter, but why are they moving towards his position? Before she could come up with a possible conclusion, Julius took off. She followed by reeling her hooks back in, so she fell down with him, landing in the wide-open street. Up ahead, she took notice of a Titan that Julius seemed to manage blinding. It just opens the door for Sarah to launch a hook onto the back of its neck, and propelling herself forward towards her mark, and making a clean cut.

With this move, she jumped atop of the still-standing Titan's head until it fell face-first onto the ground. With a thud, right as it landed, Sarah was crouched atop of its head; her swords steaming due to the creature's blood on the blades, the young woman stood to her full height before jumping off the head.

Running across the remaining stretch between the buildings and the now-sealed hole, Sarah jumped atop the unconscious body of the boy's Titan form, just by Julius, and took notice of the two cadets, and the unconscious host of the evaporating Titan. Sheathing one of her swords, that was now clean of blood, she crouched down, and stretched a free hand to the young blonde cadet, really to help him up. "Don't worry. All of us have it covered here. Let's get all of you somewhere safe", she said all of this softly, though it was rare, because of her cold exterior. But that didn't mean Sarah didn't have a care in the world for others.

The black-haired female cadet was hesitant to move, just tightening her grip on the unconscious boy. 'A dear friend, perhaps?', Sarah thought with her narrow, blue eyes on the girl. Clearly, all three were younger than her and Julius, but she wanted to know what had happened. Plus, she never heard about another Titan-shifter on these grounds. It was sad to say, but even though she was naturally stubborn, Sarah will stay back and wait for the outcome.

[User]
They were tired. It was clear in the sagging of their shoulders, the drooping of their eyelids, the slowness of their responses. There were on the battlefield, though, and there were still Titans dangerously close to them even if the Scouts were steadily demolishing them. He sympathised, they were fresh soldiers, green behind the ears and in their first ever conflict with the Titans. Even if they had encountered the Titans before it was another thing to have to fight them, to head towards the predators and come out the other side victorious, against the odds, than to simply escape the monstrosities.

"Come on, let's go." He said decisively, stepping forwards and turning to Jaeger, held firmly in the arms of the female of the trio. She had an air of capability and he suspected that she was the ace of the most recent batch of Cadets but right then she was an obstruction, clinging to the unconscious boy. "There's no time for this, we need to get you to safety." He lifted Jaeger up bodily, heaving the boy's limp form over his shoulder and out of the girl's grasp before turning towards the Wall and firing his hooks upwards into it. "Don't forget what's going on around you, no matter what's right in front." He shot upwards, reeling in his hooks and speeding up the Wall face, emerging onto the broken Wall top.

The tracks laid down only a year or two ago after much conflict with the worshippers of the Wall were torn up and destroyed where the Colossal Titan had swept the top clear, scattering debris everywhere and leaving the occasional bloody smear against the stone surface. Julius turned back to face Trost, watching the others scale the Wall after him and the battle carrying on below them. He saw the flutter of Captain Levi's cloak, a flash of blades and the bright red splash of a Titan's blood arcing out of its pierced nape and was struck, once again, at the small man's finesse and skill. Possessing no small skill himself with the Gear he had never managed to keep up with Levi, losing his control and focus at higher speeds although he was able to pull off some truly stomach-churning manoeuvres where others might baulk at such difficulty.

"Should we wait for Erwin, Sara? He probably wants to talk to the lad before the MPs get their hands on him." He turned his gaze along the Wall to where he could just about make out large groups of Garrison soldiers standing above a crowd of Titans clawing fruitlessly at the Wall, unable to reach their prey. "They'll be here before long, now that the fighting's all over."


[System]
Age: 20 (physically), 35 (in years).
Gender: Female.
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Poltergeist.

Physical Description:

Talents:Intangibility – That walking-through-walls thing. Spirits eventually achieve the ability to switch between being tangible and intangible at will. A sub-benefit of this is invisibility to mortals.

Telekinesis – This is what makes throwing furniture so easy. Requires emotional instability (i.e. mood swings, anger, and grief).

Possession – The ability to take control of a mortal body. The mortal usually suffers memory loss from the moment of possession to their release.

Spiritual Energies - Beth can perceive a variety of these and as such is not immune to the affects of other dead.

History:One randy night between a local girl and an Irish immigrant in 1980 led to the birth of Elizabeth Callahan. Her mother wilted under the pressure of raising a newborn and her father, never intending to stay long in the United States, developed an addiction to drugs and alcohol before she reached the age of three. To say Elizabeth grew up independent would be an understatement.

She never bothered attending high school. The "real world" taught her everything she needed to know. By the time she should have been a junior, she was a skilled thief and hung out with low-level thugs in youth gangs. Around this time her mother went missing. It was assumed, due to her mother's lengthy history with depression that the woman had left to commit suicide. With this and the fall of the gang, Elizabeth abandoned her father and moved with the crowd to another city.

Settling in New Camden, she started from the bottom again. She stole from other gangs, working her way up to the most powerful, until she wronged someone too high up for it to go unpunished. She tried to flee the city under the protection of the millennial celebrations. She took shelter in a trinket shop and pocketed the most valuable of the items for sale, hoping to pawn them off for a plane ticket.

The owner confronted her but Elizabeth pushed the woman aside, but not before she heard the woman utter what would later turn out to be a curse. Elizabeth made a final bid for freedom and was cornered by those she'd wronged. She was beaten and shot, but "awoke" later with an incorporeal body and one of the stolen trinkets, a pendant, hanging off her neck.

Learning the ropes of the supernatural world took years. Gradually she developed a new set of skills, along with an understanding of the curse: she was to be kept in the realm of the living as punishment. Her mortal life taught her not to be so reckless in this new world, and she lived—or rather, didn't—in civil servitude to the Court, awaiting her chance to earn favour as "Beth".

Over the course of twenty years, she attained a vague familiarity with Count Caradoc, a place in his court—possessing the right people offered so many opportunities—and a reputation, especially among the dead. She took the pendant to a small town outside New Camden and buried it beneath the coffin of a grave marked "L. P. Withers". Should anyone discover its purpose she knew the curse could be undone in order to vanquish her. Several years later, the aftermath of the Count's death threatened to mirror Beth's mortal life. Betrayed by her undead associates, she sought out those who would rally against Nemsemet.

Psychological Profile:In life, Elizabeth strived to be recognised and, sometimes, feared. It gave her leverage over those who would hurt her, and growing up with the relationships she had, she understood no one could be trusted. Everything she did, she did to protect herself. She fashioned a new identity for herself whenever it was necessary, and it was necessary so often she tended to forget who she started out as. The façade became habit.

Death provided a learning opportunity and a new beginning. The addition of new threats meant she retained her old intentions, but new abilities meant Beth didn't need to work so hard to protect herself any longer. She became calculative instead of reckless and spent more of her time strategizing than outright fighting. Age, even in death, has proven helpful in creating a wizened Beth. After so many years she recognises the need for a system, but one that is fair and just. She is particularly sympathetic towards the poverty-stricken.

She does nothing without reason, even if that reason is simply to enjoy herself. Which she does happen to do. She considers some things to be naïve or fruitless, such as loyalty to anyone other than yourself, and control; anything you try to cage will inevitably escape. Beth's strongest belief is in ambition and perseverance: with this, you can achieve anything.

Possessions:
* The cursed pendant (buried).

Yes, and:
Beth met Rikive, through Parael, when investigating different strains of magic and all but interrogated the deity to tell her everything she knew about otherworldly spells.

[User]
Karram nodded briskly at each quick command Flint flung his way. And within seconds, he was out of the car and headed in the direction of the club, Oakbane now fully drawn and ready for action. As they walked, Karram concentrated on absorbing some of the surrounding nature energy to power up the blade. Could come in handy.

As they reached a closer position, Flint instantly began firing into the club after Gray had created a diversionary explosion. Several vamps came pouring out attempting to deter the ragtag group, and Karram sliced a few of them down with ease before they could reach Flint or anyone else for that matter. Suddenly, a fire storm whizzed over Karram's head and caused more chaos in the club. He noted Rikive pass by holding Parry's limp body. Hopefully he would pull through despite his foolish antics. But nevertheless, Karram couldn't hold onto the thought for long, as a few more enemies ducked under the flames and came near the group. This time thralls.

Karram knocked one down with a rough roundhouse to the face while simultaneously stabbing another through the head. This was quickly descending into a bloody and explosive mess. Soon the mortal world would be alerted their shenanigans, so they needed to get the hell out of here asap! After dealing with the vicious thralls he sprouted his ethereal wings and darted through the club with almost blinding speed to get a quick view of everything happening within. He saw Tony ripping through beings left and right and saw the overall confusion of all the club-goers as well. Some were springing into action in an attempt to defend themselves and the club while others helplessly fell to the ground with fearful expressions on their faces. Karram covered Tony's back for a few seconds, taking down several vampires who threatened to attack him from behind. He could tell Tony's lycan abilities, while powerful, were not going to stand against this large number of vampires for much longer.

Karram zipped back to his previous position, noting that Beth had just landed atop a vampire just in front of Flint. Karram landed and pointed the sword at the grounded being, but looked at Flint. "It appears Tony is at odds with several vampires and thralls within and needs help immediately. Parael and Rikive have made it to safety. So two questions: are you okay and how should we proceed to rescue Tony?"

[Assistant]
The flames from Flint's hands extinguished as he moved out of the way of the vamp. Beth had stopped him from being sliced and Karrem was soon next to him, his sword drawn towards the offending vamp. Flint was panting, sweat drenching his face as he gulped in breaths of air, the strain of using his power in such a magnitude. People have asked Flint why he uses guns, he has such raw magical ability that can do much more destruction. His answer was simple and always the same.

"I could walk to work, but I use my car every day. Same thing"

"Where taking this one " Flint told Karrem, nodding to Kaori as he scooped up his tommy gun and shoved it into his inside jacket, when he removed his hand from within, he now held a small yellow firearm looking device. "Use this on her, it's a Taser just place it against her and squeeze the trigger. Just make sure you aren't touching her..." He said this to either of the allies in front of him. He wiped the sweat off his brow and turned around back to the fight. "Get her to the van then cover our escape, I'll go help Tony" He said this all in front of Kaori, knowing there was little she could do against the ghost and fairy.

Still panting, Flint began to walk towards where Tony fought. It was chaos around him but it seemed many people where pre-occupied. A vampire spotted Flint and was soon rushing towards him. Flint focused and splayed his hands towards the creature, air began to rush into the vamps mouth and it soon exited violently outwards, exploding the chest and lower jaw of the blood sucker. The husk collapsed as Flint continued, performing the party trick a few more times before he began to sway, the exhaustion was soon getting to him but he had to keep fighting. He removed his revolver from its shoulder holster and fired it rapidly at anything that came close. He barely made it to where Tony was slaughtering when he fell against the wall, his gun empty.

"Not yet…. Not… yet" He mumbled through gritted teeth. He eyes fluttering to stay conscious.

[User]
Tony was being overcome quickly; a vampire took a while to heal wounds if inflicted, though it was hard to really inflict the wounds because they were fast and strong. A lycanthrope, by contrast was faster, stronger and healed rapidly enough to stay in a fight, unless the wounds came faster than the healing. Give a lycanthrope wounds in beast form, put them down and they got back up once they were able to heal it.

But shoot them with silver and it was all over, the silver had to come out before they could do any of that. They were weak as a mortal once it happened, with the silver burning into them, disrupting the uneasy spirit barely contained in the weak flesh.

The best werewolf hunters of the ancient era used slings, because they understood that a ball from a sling, a silver ball whirled around on a rope and then released expertly, was the best way to embed silver into the werecreatures while making it very hard for them to extract it. Arrows could be pulled out, swords tended to stay in the hands of users. So on and so forth.

But firearms came along and made it possible to put silver into werecreatures with more ease than a sling, which took such immense skill that it was reserved for a few people who did it from a very young age. A firearm was a weapon a peasant could employ with a small bit of training. It's why the armies issued them. And as more weapons were made, faster loading, more accurate, longer range, the werecreatures became easier to kill; aim a silver bullet for the skull and take them out in one shot. Silver bullet to anywhere that entailed an instant fatality was bound to finish the were fast, if the bullet wasn't pulled out.

Or you shot the were and followed it up with a fast attack to rip them to shreds when they were writhing around or otherwise distracted by the silver. It burned like nothing else, even when it came out.

In the era of rapid fire ballistic weaponry, it was even worse, if one was willing to spend on such rounds. Hunters did, for example; facing multiple baddies, they might load silver, magnesium based tracer and steel-jacketed hollowpoints, the lead exposed, figuring that the mix of rounds gave them a fair chance of engaging different types of supernatural bad. Silver, fire, iron and, of course, lead. Shotguns were popular too -- #4 buck had 41 pellets; if they were silver, it was impossible to dig them all out of a werewolf and get them back into the fight fast. More was better; double-ought buck was a thing for mortals putting down mortals, but some hunters going after weres specifically loaded birdshot, just to have a huge number of small silver pellets going into a werecreature.

It's why lycanthropes adapted and learned to fight in ambush, to get the hell away from anything that smelled like silver. They were cautious as a result of the way much of their own society figured out how to fight them and turned modernity against them.

In any case, it was also why some smart vampire grabbed a shotgun that was there in case of an emergency and shot Tony in the fucking back with it.

And it's why he went down with something like just seven 21 grain pellets in his shoulder, but it was enough to turn a rampaging were-lion, tearing through, holding his own, into a vanilla mortal black man in a lot of pain just like that.

[Assistant]
Beth remained crouched on the floor by the tackled vamp with a hand on its chest to keep it down. Her ethereal boots, the very same she died in, met the edge of a puddle of blood spanning from the door to halfway across the club. Celestial and vampire intermingling. She pulled her eyes away from the vicious battle when Karram's sword appeared above her captured vamp. That helped.

Her eyes darted back to the fight as Flint began to give orders. Any other time, she might have had something to say about that. But today Beth was all too happy to do what he said. She took the taser from his outstretched hand and seized the vampire by the arm. Pulling her to her feet, with a grip tight and threatening to give the vamp a terrible sensation, she made for the door. "Come on," she called when she reached the doorway, sparing Flint and Tony a final glance.

With nauseating horror she watched Flint collapse against a wall, and soon after, Tony felled with what she could only guess were silver bullets. "Get them out of here!" she shouted to Karram, gesturing the the slumped bodies of their allies. This time, her voice bellowed over the din.

Parael was in for the world's greatest ass-kicking should he survive.

Beth raced out of the club then, the captured vampire girl in her hands, and took the quickest route to the van without passing through any buildings. "Stay still and I won't have to hurt you," she muttered to the girl. "And maybe they won't either." She shoved the vampire against the wall opposite the van, not daring to bring her any closer to Parael's body and the blood that surely coated the inside of the van. She pointed the taser at the girl's abdomen with her free hand, and called into the van to Rikive without taking her eyes off the vamp. "Tony and Flint need rescuing! How soon can you get there?"


[System]
Rank: Swords of Sanghelios Commando

Species: Sangheili

Appearance:
Tar (right) practices CQC tactics with an energy lance

Skills:
Experience of piloting Banshees (Type-27 & Type-54) and Type-57 Phantoms
Covert infiltration
Sabotage
Close quarters combat
Military administration & combat training
Application of non-standard weaponry

Preferred Weapons/Equipment:
Type-1 Energy Sword for hand to hand combat
Type-52 Mauler for closing with targets
Type-57 Carbine for medium/long range engagements
Commando Harness (halopedia.org/Commando_harness) with propulsion unit
Type-2 Spike Grenades and Type-3 Firebombs, if available

Background:
Tar 'Mdalak was born on Brissekh, a pristine frontier world, in the 2520s. Her father was Tarkr 'Mdalakai, old swordsman and kaidon of the planet's largest settlement.

Her homeworld was heavily tapped by the Covenant for fighters, with nearly all Tar's numerous siblings conscripted into the military.

Tar was desperate to earn glory along with her brothers, but the Sangheili ranks wouldn't have her. The place of females was to guard their home keep, and a lot of the Covenant traditionalists preferred it that way. So instead she served as the captain of the guard for her father's keep.

Frustrated with the relatively small scope of her responsibilities, Tar put all her effort into modernising her troops. She expanded their training far beyond basic guard duties, incorporating asymmetric warfare tactics and mechanised detachments.

She also supplemented the traditional energy lances favoured by traditional guard units with the latest Covenant weaponry, like Carbines and Beam Rifles.

There were lots of opponents to her reformist vision, especially seeing as she was a female wielding significant influence over the old kaidon. This often resulted in skirmishes between would-be dissidents and Tar's well equipped militia. It was in danger of boiling over into all out civil war until the Brutes attacked.

The Sangheili-Jiralhanae war hit Brissekh completely by surprise. None of the Keeps received warning of the raid until Brute RCS class cruiser was in low orbit. Before any of the Keeps could react, they'd destroyed the space port and bastion compounds before deploying two companies of heavy infantry to kill as many citizens as they could find.

With the distress signal sent, Tar deployed her troops to the large city outside the Keep. With everyone behind the fortifications, maybe they could hold out until friendly ships arrived.

However, her father wasn't content to cower behind walls while Sangheili across Brissekh were slaughtered. Despite Tar's protest, he struck out for the landing zone with his retinue, seeking a duel with the War Chieftain. They found each other, but survivors say Tarkr 'Mdalakai was separated from his bodyguards during the fight and captured by the enemy.

When Tar found out her father had been imprisoned, a much worse fate than death for Sangheili, she went mad with rage. Abandoning her position near the gates of the Keep, she plowed into the marauding Brute hordes. Her vigorous training and agility let her use the Brute numbers against them, with the weight of bodies allowing her to get in close and butcher them.

When her Energy Sword expired from overuse, she took Maulers and Spike Grenades from eviscerated Brutes and pushed forward. Whipped into a frenzy by their commander's raw fury, her troops set upon the Brutes with a cruel precision. The narrow streets of Brissekh's main city ran with Jiralhanae blood.

Such was the ferocity of the Sangheili counter attack that the landing party never even reached the gates. And when a nearby Swords of Sanghelios battle cruiser arrived to help, the Brutes fled the system, taking Kaidon 'Mdalakai with them.

Upon meeting the rescue ship's commanders, Tar immediately invoked the right of release, an intention to rescue her father from a shameful life of capture. In the spirit of Thel 'Vadam's liberalisation of the Swords military, the cruiser's captain granted her passage and enlistment aboard.

The cruiser gave chase to the Brute ship, but it got away. They searched for the aggressors, but the trail went cold. Tar vowed never to give up, but accepted that she needed to contribute.

She quickly fell in with a squad of Brute hunters that were formerly part of the Silent Shadow division of Covenant crack troops. They were operating from the battle cruiser and had learned of Tar's plight. When they realised her ability in combat, they offered her a place on missions slaughtering any Jiralhanae they could find. Tar gained a reputation for exceptional cruelty when it came to Brutes, often appearing to exact personal revenge on each combatant.

It took three long years of searching before Tar got a solid lead. Some of the Brutes they'd interrogated had heard a rumor Sangheili kaidons were being held on Brute ships near a Forerunner construct known as Sarcophagus. Her squad tried to convince her the intel was shaky at best, but Tar didn't care.

She parted ways with Silent Shadow and set out on her own. Finding passage aboard a military vessel, she gained access to the Sangheili-Human facilities on Sarcophagus by joining the colony's defensive contingent.

However, despite searching for months, Tar could find no trace of the Brute cruiser. To make matters worse, she couldn't stray far from her unit for fear of being tried as a deserter. Many of the assignments on Sarcophagus were for life, but Tar certainly wasn't planning on staying that long if she could help it.

[User]
Grikgar /Grik/ Seeker
// Unggoy Ultra // Demolitions and Artillery // Location: heart of the beast

Grik held his fire for what seemed like an eternity. The vines were thrashing more and more and Tar was still within the blast radius of the fuel rod. He knew he couldn't fire prematurely that would cause serious damage to Tar and the others but how much longer could they hold back the ever approaching vines.

Hearing a cacophony of noises behind him made him glance back only to see a wall of vines surging towards them. The sight of it reminded him of his encounters with the Parasite. That was a creature that he very much wished never to encounter again. It seemed the plant was trying its best to get rid of something that was stuck in its throat as it continued to thrash and lash out.

That's when he saw it loose its grip on tar as she was pulled back up. Grik didn't need to hear the order to fire. The moment they were out of the blast radius he squeezed off two rounds with mere seconds in between each shot to make sure they wouldn't collide. If they found its mark at the middle and top of the bulb he was sure it would kill it. However, his comrades were still a bit close and may be hit with at least some of the heat from the explosive.

[Assistant]
Vael 'Virisusai

---

The damage that the fuel rod gun caused was immediate and pronounced. The sheer intensity of the heat was enough to penetrate deep into the bulb. The vines again reacted, but this time it did not seem to be a coordinated defensive response. Rather, they moved and spasmed seemingly at random for a few seconds. As the bulb served as the being's "mind", damaging it was like damaging an animal's brain. Those who had been constricted by them would find it as an opening to act.

Vael and Ryker had only just managed to pull Tar from beyond the blast radius. Even still, Vael's shields flared from the heat. However, this was an opening on which they had to act. Grik had created an opening to the creature's core, so as soon as Vael could get up off the ground, he took aim with his plasma rifle and fired straight into the wound at the top of the bulb. The plasma could now hit straight to the core of the bulb where it was vulnerable, causing yet more random thrashing among its vines.

[User]
Yalu 'Suumko

The helmet Yalu wore picked up the ensuing sounds. Some parts of him were constricted tighter, some slackened, including his left hand holding onto the middle of his scattershot. The weapon was still stuck fast. He let go and tugged at the vines keeping his right arm pressed against his chest and wriggled it free. He ignited his wrist blade, grabbed at the vines holding his head and shoulders, and sliced them off in one draw. Finally, he fell free and found himself swinging upside-down from vines closer to the ceiling.

The situation he took in was self explanatory. Catching his breath, he reached over his shoulder and found a grip on his needle rifle. He drew it and aimed forward.

"Good hit, Grikgar! Our turn now..." Yalu said. The sight flipped up -- towards the ground from Yalu's perspective. The bulb lit up in the crosshair. He pulled the trigger as rapidly as he could. He did not need precision as much as enough blamite crystals in close enough proximity within the creature's new wound.

[Assistant]
Spartan Lucas Ryker

The heat from the explosion caused the SPARTAN-IV's shields to flair, but it wasn't enough to break them fortunately even as he fell backwards from the sudden lack of resistance from the plant as Tar rejoined them on the platform. Standing up quickly, Ryker pulls his DMR free of it's place on his back and fired on the now exposed weakness of the Tengmaa. "Burn in hell, you crazy, carnivorous freak of motherfucking plant life." He fired most of his clip into the thing before stopping, taking a moment to see if the hail of fire had the desired effect as he quickly swapped out the clip, six rounds still in it for later.

Infiltrator Comi'Masam

The moment the explosions were done, Comi drew her plasma pistol once more and fired into the bulb with the rest of her new team, stopping her barrage just in time to allow the weapon to cool down before she resumed firing another burst. She would repeat this until the order to stop firing came from Vael. Her energy sword remained active and she would use it to lance out at and slice any vines that got too close down, though with the wounds inflicted to the bulb made their efforts weaker and less concentrated.

[User]
The suggestion that Spartan Aviza had made about using the M379 charge against the massive Tengmaa bulb apparently went unnoticed among the squad, since there was no comment made about it in the slightest. The charge would have been quite dangerous to use but even more so effective against the hostile force that was trying to turn them into it's next source of nutrients. Instead, they focused upon cutting down vines that got to close to them and attempting to do any sort of damage. Thankfully, Aviza had decided to stay back from the edge of the pit that lead to the heart of the carnivorous plant, using her SRS99-S7 AM Sniper Rifle to fire upon the vines in the distance. If they managed to get close enough, she would then switch to either her underslung shotgun upon her MA5B Assault Rifle or Energy Sword to cut through them.

A few of the vines had managed to end up getting a bit to close for comfort, drawing her attention away from what was happening at the pit to make sure she did not end up with a barb somewhere soft on her armor. The sound of her underslung shotgun firing off flechette shells echoed through the chamber as they tore through the vines with great ease. What did bring her concentration back to the center of the chamber was hearing from Vael that Tar had been caught by a few of the vines. Aviza swiftly moved to the edge of the pit, but kept herself at a safe enough distance to not be grabbed and dragged in afterwards. Without saying a word, Aviza took a half knee stance and aimed the cross hair of her SRS99-S7 AM Sniper Rifle at the vines below, firing off a few rounds that would hopefully do massive damage to the vines. The thought of tossing Tar her Energy Sword came to mind but that might end horribly, instead she kept aim, firing at what she could.

This continued untill Grikgar fired off a few rounds from his Fuel Rod cannon at the Tengmaa bulb, giving them their chance to put it down for good. The intense heat from the explosions going off caused Aviza to shield her eyes for a few second, moving backwards in case Grik fired again. Lowering her arm to look at what remained, she noticed that they now had the chance to do some damage. Instead of firing immediately, Aviza took her M379 charge and tossed it down into the pit where it landed safely. It would not go off untill she detonated it, and she was going to make damn sure everyone was outside of the cave before she did so. For now, she returned to firing off high caliber explosive rounds at the massive Tengmaa bulb. As she did so, she checked her teams coms and spoke, "Does anyone need any medical attention? I can tend to injuries immediately." Aviza would then reach out to Shih, "Two things, I would like full medical diagnostics on the team and then I would like an update on the storm outside please and thank you."

[Assistant]
A Tengmaa bulb's hide was tough for a reason - all of the plant's digestive and nervous capacity was contained within that control centre. However, the plant's evolutionary pathway evidently hadn't prepared for a barrage of radiation, explosives and bullets. So when the bulb's vulnerable innards were exposed under the water and promptly cut to shreds, the Tengmaa quickly lost control of its numerous appendages.

The first to go limp were the half dozen thick trunks which stretched all the way out into the sunlight, gradually tapering at the end. Next were the serpentine manipular vines coating every surface of the cave interior. Then, with nothing left to distract the invaders, the throbbing cilia inside the pool trap promptly died.

And with that, the Tengmaa bulb unmoored from the position it had held over the cave's onward descent for decades. First came a sickly snapping noise as the struts supporting it detached. Then, with a sound like a giant toilet flushing, it disappeared into the large hole on which it had previously been sitting. This was how it had filtered waste water out of the chamber to stop it flooding before.

The water rushed over the rocks, disappearing down the waste chute after the bulb. The chamber was filled with this roaring sound for a while. This new opening also helped disperse some of the toxic particles from the room, though Tar still choked uncontrollably as she struggled to her feet and surveyed the area. Water was pouring in from the opening above their head and another gap along the wall from them (the other cave opening, most likely). It wasn't enough to refill the bowl below them though, so it quickly emptied until just a few carcasses lodged in place remained.

Fanning her mandibles with one hand, Tar got up, walked to the edge and wordlessly jumped down into the barren bowl. Her energy sword's pommel had fortunately gotten stuck in a crevice and hadn't washed away, so she carefully picked it up. Looking up toward the ceiling and coughing lightly, Tar returned her lost sword to its mount on her back, with the other one.

She pointed upward, to the feeble shaft of light shining down on her from above. "I see the way up the mountain! I remember now - it is an invigorating climb."


[System]
Age: 25

Gender: Female

Status: Single

Occupation: Part time librarian // Part time retail slave

Appearance:
*Note that the above image is not a representation of her weight*

Hair: Originally light brown, currently dyed purple
Eye color: Green
Height: 5' 8"
Weight: 216 lbs
Skin tone: 'Redhead white' (Pale, pinkish, burns easily)
Ethnicity: Some mix of white European - she isn't really sure what

Personality: Sarcastic, Introverted, Likes to thrill-seek from the comfort of a book.

Background: Caity - not short for Catherine, or Candace, or Caitlin, or heaven forbid Cathleen, thank you very much - grew up in what she considered a fairly typical way. Her parents divorced when she was ten, and she lived with her mother the majority of the time. Times spent with her father weren't outright bad - she did snag a couple new gaming systems out of him - but they were never actually pleasant. Her favorite part of summer was spending it with her mother's family up in a lakeside cabin they rented. It was the only time of year she willingly spent too much time outdoors - most of it in the water until her skin shriveled up like prunes.

At the age of 25, she works part time for the local library. She technically isn't a librarian, since she doesn't have her masters degree, but in the small town library she works at, it's close enough. However, since the budget only allows her to work part time there, she also works part time as 'a retail slave'. Or, she did, until the store she worked at liquidated its assets and closed.

Desperate for some money to pay off frivolous things such as student loans and rent, Caity scoured the papers looking for some extra income. But the paper had nothing for her. Instead, a message came through to her profile on a dating website. An older man, looking for someone to marry his son. Caity thought it was a scam, but after some time talking to the man, she agreed to marry the son in what she would later think of as a fit of insanity.

She hasn't quite figured out how to tell the gentleman she doesn't want to marry his son after all... even if it does mean he'll pay off her student loans...

Likes: Books. Her Grammie's cookies. Tattoos. Video Games. Coffee.

Dislikes: Dogs. Sticky Candy. Being in stressful situations. Living where the cold hurts her face. Raw onions.

Other Information:
Has dated and been in a serious 2+ year relationship before, though is currently single.
She may be a bit chubby, but she's (mostly) happy and comfortable with her body. Anyone who doesn't like it can go take a long walk off a short pier.
Lives somewhere in small-town New England.

[User]
Nico and Caity

Collaboration of: @Kyrisse and @Light the Dark

Finally, the glitter-dust settled. Caity's mind seemed clearer than it had for a while - ever since the two dancing fairies had appeared in the clearing in the first place. She looked around, rubbing her eyes to rid them of any remaining glitter. She was sure she was supposed to be doing something...

"Fuck."  Her eyes searched for Nico. She had to make sure he hadn't drank any coffee. At least until they knew they wouldn't be trapped here forever if they ate or drank anything.

Finally she found him, on the other side of the clearing. Was that a cup of coffee in his hand? "Fuck fuck fuck."

Caity trotted over to him. "For the love of god, tell me you did not drink any coffee."

Nico looked a little distracted. He thought the dancing fairies were fascinating but he wondered what the dust was. He began feeling as if he needed...wanted to talk to someone... He looked around to find out who it was he wanted to talk to and noticed Caity walking towards him. He raised an eyebrow at her and then looked at the half empty coffee cup in his hand. "Yeah, I did, actually. What? You didn't have any coffee in your house?" he gestured to the door behind him. "I've got a whole pot in there. I'll share if you want some."

Caity clasped her hand to her forehead. She hadn't gotten here in time, damn it. "Thanks, but no. No, I did, along with an abundance of books, but... not the point." How to say it? She was going to sound so stupid. "Think, for a moment, that this isn't a prank by... Howl? Or we haven't all gone crazy. If this is real. I don't know if you read many myths and fairy tales. But the fare folk - fairies, or maybe elves - if you eat or drink food from them... you... stay with them."

"Howell," Nico corrected. "And no... by now, I'm pretty convinced that this isn't a prank. There's no way in the world for Howell to know what design I want for my house," he looked again at the dark liquid in his cup. "I know all that stuff. Never accept a Faerie gift. Do not eat Faerie Food or drink Faerie wine," he enumerated. "The way I see it, we've been brought here for something. That's why they're giving us things...so that we'll cooperate. That makes us even, don't you think? Of course, there's a big chance that I could be wrong. Either way, I don't really know if we'll ever get back to our realities. We've been given houses that fits our needs and wants. By stepping into the houses, we've already accepted a gift. That alone is enough for them to keep us here. So, I figured, drinking the coffee won't make it any worse than it already is." He looked over her shoulder, still trying to figure out why he had such a strange feeling. Who was it that he wanted to talk to?

"Right. Accepting gifts is on that list too." She had forgotten that. Caity let her head fall back, looking up at the sky with a groan. "So much for warning you. So much for remembering the thing about the Faerie gifts. And here I thought I was well read."

Well, she was well read. It was remembering what she read which was the problem. Caity looked back at Nico - he seemed occupied. "Well, I'll let you go. Apparently there is some big fancy ball tonight that I am going to try and not attend. Though that's also where things are supposed to made clear. Damn it. I'm going to have to go if I want answers."

Nico turned his attention back to Caity, feeling it rude not to give her his full attention. "Sorry about... Anyway, yeah, I suppose everything will be made clear later. Why don't you want to attend? Don't you like dances?"

Caity laughed. "The last dance I attended was Prom. At the request of my mother and friends. I really don't think that quite qualifies." She'd much rather be staying at home with a book. She liked dressing up though, on occasion.

She glanced at him again with raised brows. "You must attend a lot of dances. Or fancy parties, which probably aren't the same. Do you like them, or are they just part of the job?"

Even as they were talking, she could smell his cup of coffee. Her mouth watered. If they were in trouble anyway, coffee wouldn't hurt. No more than accepting and loving a house full of books would. Caity didn't even notice herself staring at the cup of coffee in Nico's hands as she finished speaking.

Nico shrugged. "There are parties that are fun and parties that are... well... compulsory," he answered and followed Caity's eyes towards his coffee cup. "I'd offer you my cup but then it'd probably be strange for you to be drinking from a stranger's cup. If you want, I can pour you a cup..." he furrowed his brows, trying to remember what he was supposed to do.

"What? Oh..." Caity blushed and tugged at her ear. "Was I that obvious?" She paused, then added, "Honestly, though, you're less strange then everyone else around here. And the fairies... I mean, I've known you for what... Two whole hours? We're practically best friends."

"But yes. I would love a cup of coffee. Maybe get out of some of this weirdness for a while."

Nico glanced towards the group of people chatting with each other. One had already fallen asleep on the pink haired woman's lap. Figuring that no one would miss him anyway and that maybe going into the house for a while would clear the confusion from his head, he nodded. "Well, your house or my house?" he asked, a telltale grin on his face.

[Assistant]
Tabitha

---

---

@Kyrisse@BlackPanther

While Kieran slept, Tabitha immersed herself in drawing, but something was nagging at her. Something Kieran had said. "He.....has ulterior motives." She was bothered by that. Why would Tachi, who had been so incrediably nice to her, have ulterior motives? Why would Kieran thing something like that, unless....he liked her, too? She mulled that over for a time, as she carefully filled in some details of the sketch she was drawing, unaware that she was drawing Tachi and Kieran together. That didn't make her his property, did it? She was just so confused...she was to be married...so was he...so was Tachi...

Her mind suddenly seized on that, realisation coming to her in a great rush. That was too much of a coincidence, wasn't it? Three of them, having arranged marriages? It seemed rather....a lot. She glanced about her, wondering if everyone else there had been arranged, and if maybe that was how the faires had chosen them. Arranged marriages...they aren't goign to pair us off, are they? She wodnered thoughtfully to herself, as she looked down to Kieran. She wondered briefly if somewhere along the line, somehow, she was actually arranged to one of the guys. That was a strange thought.

Maybe she wouldn't be so strange compared to this. A little concerned with that thought, Tabitha returned to her drawing, thinking that maybe she needed to have a little talk with Kieran. She couldn't go around thinking she might set him off if she interacted with another guy. And she...she couldn't go around having him think she wanted something, not when she believed in marriage. But if they weren't able to go back....maybe she could have a little taste of life, at its fullest extent? Biting her lip, Tabitha sighed softly, her thoughts leading her into a funk, and as they continued to twirl around and around in her mind, she shuddered, hunking down, she tried to appear smaller then she was, as if to singal that she didn't want to talk with anyone, despite the sleeping guys head in her lap. She hugged herself, setting her gear aside.

Just what had Kieran meant by that?

Her gaze went around her, landing on Tachi, his face in his arms, and her heart went out to him, he seemed to be suffering so. She bit her lip again, and shifting got out her phone, managing to do so with miminal movement. Her gaze flickered to Kieran again, but she couldn't let herself be controlled....she didn't want to doubt Tachi...he had been such a good friend to her. She flicked Tachi a message.

Hey, Thong guy! Just kidding, Tachi, are you okay?

Once it sent, she set her phone aside, and looked down at Kieran. He was certainly a fine speciment, and...even with his recent...possisiveness of her, she liked him. She didn't know if anything was going to happen, if it could happen, with anyone, but....spending it with a guy who didn't think she was that odd was...nice.

She could be friends with both of them, couldn't she?

Biting her lip again,Tabitha returned to her drawing, soon immersed in it once more.

[User]
Tachi

---

Tachi felt his thoughts swirling and mixing his emotions. He inhaled and shut his eyes. of all the things... a sound from his phone shook him out of it and he took it out. A choked laugh escaped him and he found himself smiling slightly. He looked up and spotted that bright pink hair. He shook his head and read the text once more.

Tachi looked up again and spotted the guy sleeping in her lap. A brow raised and he found himself wondering who that guy was. He brought his phone up and hesitated before starting to text. His topaz eyes filled with humor, but shaded by the anger he still had....anger and sadness.

Hey art ninja. I'm...I'm okay. You appear to have a sleeping dude on you if you were not aware of that. Do you need rescue? :P

He hit send and his eyes trailed back to her waiting for the response. A light hearted smile on his face and curiosity as to what she was drawing.

[Assistant]
a catch-up post for...

Caterina Versini

One moment she had been drinking her non-fat, 2 splenda, vanilla latte and scrolling through her phone. The next, the world had shimmered away around her. Her latte fell from her hands as Angie's melted away, being replaced by a forest and...fairies?

This must be some sort of joke.

At least she wasn't alone - about ten others appeared in the forest as she did. More than one vomited. Caterina wrinkled her nose in disgust. That was something she hadn't wanted to see or hear. She turned her eyes to her phone, ignoring the commotion around her. The other people could freak out and do nothing to change the situation. She was going to see what was going on.

Scrolling through her contacts, the first person Caterina decided to call was her agent. If anyone had approved this joke, it would be him. She pressed the image next to his name, and held the phone up to her ear.

A computerized voice crackled through the speaker. "We're sorry. The number you want to reach is out of your service area. Please try again later." And then - so faintly Caterina knew she must have imagined it - there was a giggle before the recording cut off.

She pushed her chocolate hair away from her face. Something was obviously wrong with her Agent's phone. Thalia it was then - her personal assistant had to know what was going on. (That Thalia hadn't told her to expect this was grounds for her to be fired, but Caterina wouldn't do that until she was home.) But dialing her assistant's number gave her the same recording - and now she was certain there was a giggle at the end of it.

Home, her mother's cell, her father's cell, her brother - all were met with that same message.

Caterina wasn't impressed. Any other feelings - like nervousness - were pushed to the side. She had engagements and work that she had committed to. Whoever thought they could just whisk her away like some unimportant nobody was going to get an earful.

She shoved her phone in her pocket. Time to find out who was in charge.

Her caramel eyes swept over the other humans. There were people she knew - or knew of - but then there were others... Hmph. She looked around again. Well, Nicolas was here. That was...something. Of course, he was currently talking to some purple-haired plus-size woman in cheap clothing. Why he would even bother was beyond her. She'd have to ask him later.

For now, however... She walked up to one of the fairies. Caterina wanted answers.


[System]
Alias/Nicknames: N/A
Race: Wraith (intangibility, weak telekinesis, flight, vulnerable to magic and magic weapons, advantageous to physical weapons and attacks)
Gender: ♀
Background: Hecate was spawned from negative emotions of man and monster alike during a plague in a nearby town, and given form. She has been drifting around the Everdark for years. She got along well enough with the other monsters, as she didn't really take up room or resources. However, she did grow a love for cooking, despite not being able to eat herself, she'd often cook for her friends. During the attack, she made herself scarce, using her intangibility to avoid the adventurers. She was afraid and could feel the fear and anger in the halls as many people she once called friend met a grisly end.
Personality: Hecate is timid, and one would assume that the negative emotion she spawned from were mostly fear and sadness. She is soft-spoken, and her expression is usually one of sadness, however she has been seen smiling and enjoying herself too. She has a deep hatred for humans and the other races that thought to raid her home, though she had a distaste with them to begin with. She has a deep hidden anger within her as well, that's just waiting to burst. She is also vastly susceptible to magic and magic weapons, though normal weaponry passes right through her.
Appearance: Hecate has the face of a young woman, her face rounded and her eyes an eerie platinum white, just a shade brighter than the rest of herself, which is an ethereal and transparent white. She has long hair that wisps around in the air, the same platinum white as her eyes. She is covered by what appears to be tattered shrouds that hang down to her ankles. She has an eerie beauty to her that's equal parts alluring and repulsive.

Skills:
Combat Skill: Icy wind (A gust of freezing, bitter wind. Flurries and small shards of ice are present in the wind and can graze those she aims it at.
Non-Combat Skill: Cooking

Possessions: N/A

[User]
Interacting with: @RogueFox@Shadow Dragon

"I understand your concern with others..." It was a known fact that not all the denizens of the Everdark were amicable to one another. Some even were outright hostile. "but isn't it a good sign that he hasn't attacked us or even threatened us on sight?" It was around this point that he 'felt' the vampire take his hand and gives it a polite shake and explain to the duo that his magic will only affect those with blood. "No doubt about that sir vampire, but I'm sure you are powerful in your own way." Rather than turn his body away from the hemomancer vampire, the skeleton simply opts to turn his head 180° with his free hand to face the worrywart wraith. Attempting reassure her that the vampire was more of a potential friend than a potential foe. "See, Hecate? He seems a decent enough individual. Give the guy a chance."

Twisting his head back to face the vampire, one could observe that the blue motes of flame inside his eye sockets shape themselves into downward crescents. As if to notify the vampire that the bug-infested skeleton was rather happy. "I take it that this means that we would be travelling together for the foreseeable future?" And maybe even beyond that; as he'd be sure that the vampire also had a vendetta to be settled against those adventurers.

[Assistant]
Interacting with: @Shadow Dragon @Searat

Hecate, upon seeing the vampire's interaction with Mortimer, and hearing that his magic can't effect her, she visibly loosened up. She floated out from behind Mortimer. "I... I will give him a chance." She looked between the two, and though they weren't the company she used to keep, she felt comfort in no longer being alone. "Yes, we will, I suppose... but to what end? I was hoping to find survivors and rebuild the Everdark.... I have had no luck in finding anyone... She let out another mournful sob as ethereal tears fell from her eyes and dissipated before making it halfway to the ground. "Are your plans similar, sirs?"

Hecate attempted to stiffen her upper lip, but sorrow remained evident on her face as she reminisced of the goblins and other monsters she had seen as family. Some Lamias, cave trolls, and even more were among her now deceased friends. She used to cook meals for them from the meats they harvested from rats, small fish, and the rare adventurer who had journeyed too far alone. She cried yet again, realizing that even now she won't be able to cook for her new companions.

[User]
What was that?

Yvain poked her head out of the barren tent. Sound carried far in the Evardark, and the echo she caught bouncing out of one of the nearby tunnels was as fain as it was unmistakable. The chaotic clangs of blade on blade combat. Between who was the question. She darted forward, scooping her torch out of the spent campfire and sprinted down the tunnel towards the source.

Who? Who? She had to keep herself from calling out. The fact that both were humanoid narrowed down the list of who it could be, but those possibilities were still enough to scare her into silence. It could be a survivor from her unit, of course, but it could also be one of the adventurers. One that was still hanging around, or had gotten lost, or had just had so much fun then were still looking for a challenge. The image of the giant, musclebound beast of a half-orc that had brought the pommel of his great sword down directly on her helmet and ruined it came to mind.

Finding one of the full orc mercenaries the dungeons boss had hired on might be even worse. At least she could be sure that the the adventurers probably wouldn't eat her after she was done. It could be a mad skeleton who was off its magic chain and angry at the living. It could be a animated armor stuck in battle mode. It could be two goblin fighting over a patch of mushroom. The number of thing it could be besides a survivor was astoundingly large and almost everything else would probably want her dead.

It turned out to be more other dark elves. The sounds of battle stopped as she approached, replaced with voices. She slowed down, creeping forward so as not to let them know she was approaching. They were speaking her language but she didn't recognize either of the voices. There was a heart shaking sound of cutting, followed by something splattering to the floor. The winner had the voice and the laugh of a madman, enough so to freeze Yvain in place. She drew her sword, slowly, quietly, waiting for the sound of his footsteps to come her way. Instead they pattered away in the opposite direction, down one of the many tunnels, and Yvain let out the breath she had been holding in.

The cavern she stepped into was illuminated only by the light of a single lantern, but even still she could make out a form slumped against the far wall. He was breathing raggedly, using his final breaths to speak kindly to weapon discarded on the floor. Breathing. Breathing! Still alive!

She rushed across the room, kneeling next to the fallen man. She felt something soaking into her knees. A lot of something. Enough something to know that first aide wasn't an option for anything short of magic, and unfortunately enough their resident Cleric had been the first one to go when the adventurers swept through. She didn't panic. Death by other Dark Elf was unfortunately a common occurrence where she was from. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "Yvain, Cry Wolves. You guys were probably here because of me. What happened?"

Light

[Assistant]
Interacting with:@Searat and @RogueFox

"Indeed. Those 'heros'-" He spits the word out like a curse, "-burchered helpless residents of this cave network. I want them to suffer, to writhe in agony the way they made your friends. They deserve it for all they've done to you. Make them weap, fill them with the sorrow you yourself feel this very moment." He raises his arms in the air, beckoning them to him. "Join me in a quest of vengeance. They wish to kill for sport? Let's show them how it feels to be hunted."

[User]
"Oh" The sword thought in a contemplative silence as the large eye in its hilt split open and rolled to gaze upon its dying wielder. It could hear his words but could not reply since they were no longer in contact. What would it say anyway. The fragile creature was expiring. As they often did.
"Perhaps I should have done something?" It mused, trying to understand why it hadn't felt like doing more. Meanwhile it just watched as the dying drow's life essence steadily escape him, a pool of blood growing larger around him ever slowly creeping closer and closer to the weapon.

Then a new figure emerged. The weapon had already been aware of her presence but could now physically see her form as she knelt over the dying dark elf. Curious. He found her actions to be of interest and continued to watch on intently. His wide yellow eye very occasionally blinking.

[Assistant]
Dor
Spider. That's what it came up with, what a disgustingly uncouth thing to mistake her for. As the golem reached down to pet her, Scri'erk instinctively caught the hand with her vicious claws, trying in vain to snip away at the stone. A series of slanderous hisses and grunts in her native tongue erupted from the spider before she managed to speak a more intelligible speech.

"Not well! Broke web! Not well!"

[User]
Interacting with: @RogueFox@Shadow Dragon

"Oh I plan on doing both." Mort said with all seriousness he could muster. "The Everdark is my home now and I have no intention of leaving it as a ruin...but my metaphorical heart is utterly engulfed with the fires of vengeance and nothing short of seeing them being eaten alive by my insects would abate the flames. So, why won't we kill two birds with one stone?" The infested skeleton then gestures to the general area of the dungeon. "If we pursued them now, at our current state, we would nary accomplish anything than to add to the dead. And without a proper home and community like we had before, the next group of those bastard adventurers can easily destroy us even before we could even get anywhere near strong enough to take our vengeance." The skeleton then holds up a finger to punctuate his suggestion. "Therefore I propose that we rebuild the Everdark, better than what it was before, and in the process get stronger and stronger as we nurture this gestating nation of monsters. Fending it from threats within and without and when the time comes, and it will come, we march our armies to the surface and repay them in kind." Mortimer pauses as he revels of what carnage they will wreak upon the surface. "So...what say you my new friends?"

[Assistant]
Interacting with: @Birdboy

When Zarroys hand was caught by Scri'erk his eye seemed to brighten with joy. He didn't see her actions as an attack because it felt like she was tickling his palm. Then to top off the stone cake with the rock cherry on top he got to listen to a symphony of noises that the golem surely felt was a song of her people.

"Not well! Broke web! Not well!"

Not well? Thought Zarroy. He withdrew his hand to his side not really noticing if he drug Scri'erk who was still resisting his affection. He glanced down at the Trapmaster not noticing any wounds on her. Strange... Can spiders get colds? He rubbed his chin in thought as a small voice came from within the ruined home.

"Ma....Ma....Master Tr..Trapmaster" Came the timid voice of the young goblin. The young goblin hopefully caught her attention distracting her away from her bumbling yet well meaning companion. The goblins of Everdark had long since used Scri'erk as a creature of worship using her when possible to get rid of their problems by evading her webs and luring their pursuers into her webs. "The denizen here had a large food storage of meat, if it is to your liking.." The small goblin pointed towards what was once a food storage that was well packed with not just meat, but herbs, and other things. "Zarroy and I, Ginto were sent by Isatar to look for Survivors down here. I don't know if you know Master Trapmaster, but most of Everdark is currently in ruins.."

-----------

Zarroy had not be kneeling idly while this conversation was going on. He had noticed when he ran his hand down his chest a lot of ruined webbing. He had begun the process of peeling the pebble laden webbing off and applying it to the opening that had gotten them to the Slumbering Lantern. After a few minutes of work he backed away from his creation. If it were not for the fact that Scri'erk's webbing was really strong this makeshift web (and the term is being used loosely here) probably would not have stopped a strong gust of wind. Zarroy's top arms crossed while his bottom arms rested happily on his hips proud of his work. He would have to show Scri'erk his handiwork and hopefully this would make his friend well.

[User] Hecate listened to Mortimer's speech, visibly shaken by his sincerity, and by the bravery he and Vinashy were showing. She shook her head with a mournful expression. I do not know what kind of help I could be with fighting adventurers. I am not very strong... Though, rebuilding the Everdark is something I very much would like to do. I have not yet traveled deeper into the dungeon... mayhaps we head that way to search for more survivors...?" She gazed at her brave companions, feeling a little more hopeful than she had just 5 minutes ago.


[System]
Age: 19

Personality: Amedea is someone who cares not for the life of a magus. Her goals are simple: to grow up, get married, maybe have a kid and live out a normal life in normal comfort. Her immediate priorities were equally simple: Attend training, go out and drink on Friday nights, sleep until noon on the weekends, rinse and repeat until graduation. To see such a nice, normal life interrupted with no guarantee of being able to return to it irritates her to no end.

Despite all of this, Amedea is known for keeping a cool head at all times - staying in the background and rarely speaking unless spoken to due to hesitating to begin conversations, Amedea never lets her irritation get in the way of achieving whatever goal is necessary. She maintains an aloofness due to a desire not to get too involved in "magic business". If one gets past that, however, they would find a snarky, sarcastic, joking girl who will be with them until the end, magic or not.

Abilities:

Origin: Logic
Quantity of Magic Circuits: C
Quality of Magic Circuits: B
Od: C

Mystic Code: Kawasaki Ninja-ZX - Amedea's beloved motorcycle; the top of the line vehicle was reinforced and infused with various magical defenses and modifications which allow it to run above its already impressive specifications. Magical defenses and qualities protect it from being tampered with or sabotaged by mundane or magical means, increase its durability in the face of combat and, ultimately and most importantly, protect its paint job from being scratched. Furthermore, her beloved motorcycle seems to always be nearby "whenever she needs" it, capable of driving itself to her in her times of need. Having this motorcycle, combined with her mundane combat abilities make her akin to a "modern knight".

As someone who had shunned the magical side of the world for a good portion of her life, Amedea has very little ability as a Magus to the point it would not be wrong to say she might as well not be one. This is, however, counterbalanced by a wide host of "mundane" activities she had the chance to partake in during her life, fully integrating herself into the 21st century successfully. She is skilled in motorcycle riding, is generally athletic and participated in street races with her motorcycle during the nights, raising her reaction times to really high levels for someone who has not seen life or death combat.

As a result of her life in non-magus society, she is far more familiar with the inner workings and mechanisms of a lot more non-magus "crude tools" than most other conservative magus are. Therefore, while reinforcement, a rather basic skill for a proper magus is about the extent of Amedea's abilities she has above average knowledge of the "inner structure" of tools she is attempting to reinforce.

She is also skilled in pistol shooting and knows a variety of basic close combat techniques.

History: Amedea cursed her lot in life. Born to a magus family of moderate reputation, Amedea decided she want none of the paranoid, deadly life of a magus and watched forlornly from her window at the lives of the "muggles" she was supposed to hold in contempt for their ignorance. Soon after, she ran away from home and blended herself in the world of 21st century Britain.

Living a normal, happy life with minimal need for her skills as a magus, Amedea enrolled in the police academy after graduating school. Receiving her beloved motorcycle from her friends as a present, she began street racing during her free time to keep herself occupied. She was on track to join the police force, she had a nice past time and she was devoted to her motorcycle. All was well.

Then her life as a magus came calling in the form of Zeltrech inviting her to be a master - with the not so subtle "insinuation" of terrible things happening behind the scenes. Frustrated beyond belief, she managed to wrangle a year of leave from the Academy "in order to sort some issues in her personal life out" while she went off to deal with this - hopefully temporary - interruption to her life.

[User]
Alexander Nevsky

Nevsky watched on with the patience of someone born to rule as the man he had addressed simply stood there, as if he had been overcome by his Charisma. Which to be fair was a concern he supposed, though at least he wasn't acting like a peasant or something like that. It would be fairly unbecoming of a summoner to do something like that, religion or not. But he was in no hurry, so he waited patiently until the man did respond to his presence.

To put a point upon it. he would admit that his Master seemed a bit feeble, voice low and barely audible were it not for his superior senses. It confirmed what he had already known though, and that was enough to move forward with this whole thing and towards the purpose that he had been summoned for in the first place.

With a step forward he dropped to a knee, head bowed as if he was showing his allegiance to the Khan once again, though this man was hardly the horse borne warriors that had taken over his country. "So I ask, are you my liege?" Maybe not Master, but it was an alteration that shouldn't be a problem, as far as he knew.

---

Cecil Lavernth

Cecil watched with wide eyes as a figure appeared in the circle, created by mana and maintained by the Grail, a Heroic Spirit given physical form at his call. And what a figure it was, strong, two swords, someone that could fight and do the sorts of things that he himself couldn't. A grin split his face as the light faded away to reveal the warrior in full. The catalyst he had gotten had definitely done the job for him, that much was clear. And the relief of having done it right, to not need to worry anymore. That was welcome too.

He took a moment to compose himself before nodding, bowing as well. "Hello. I am Cecil Lavernth, your Master. Let our bond endure until the end of our trial." A prickly feeling appeared on his hand, and he glanced down to see the glowing red there of the command seal, indicating that he was a Master. A sight he had never expected to see, and honestly he still wasn't sure whether it was real. But the red lines were hard to deny, and he memorized them before looking back up at his Servant, Saber.

Looking back upwards once again, he could see that his Servant was confused, and he quickly moved to assuage the concerns that the man might have, even as he checked Saber's parameters. Yep, definitely what he had been hoping for, as he skimmed the numbers that appeared. "Thank you for your support. In a journey like the one we're going to be going on, I think we'll need it." Sure, there were a lot of other strong Servants around, but Zelretch wouldn't have gotten them together if they weren't all needed for the project to succeed.

[Assistant]
Svetleaze von Einzbern

The homunculus stood and watched as her Servant--her oddly modernly dressed Servant--made his entrance. Her first thought was taking in the obvious: he was big. Not just in terms of height, boasting more than a foot on her, but in both breadth and muscle. The muscle was the most surprising part: she expected Servants to be athletic, but to get one that effortlessly gave off an aura of an international strongman.

And within ten seconds of opening his mouth, there was no difficulty in guessing what her Servant liked: from the belt buckle proudly proclaiming it to the sheer amount of jewellery he was wearing Kintoki obviously had a thing for gold. It was something that Svetleaze could respect, both from a seeming desire to look good and her own appreciation for finery. She preferred silver however, at least to go with her everyday clothes; gold on her would quickly mean getting confused with her famous ancestor.

Her Servant seemed... fun. It was the wrong thing to be thinking when called to assist the Wizard-Marshall, but this was the first time in her life that Svetleaze had left Einzbern grounds, and it was impossible to not find enjoyment in a Servant that appealed to her base desire to stand out--as well as look good. Enough so that she unconsciously mimicked his pose with the axe, resting the sword-axe over her shoulder.

"Indeed; I, Svetleaze von Einzbern, am your Master... Berserker?" With his appearance and weapon, many classes could be discarded out of hand: Rider was still a possibility, and distantly Saber, but...

---

Ghyslaine Vinla-Meir

The brunette had been expecting the Servant she summoned to be at least her height, though as a tall woman it wouldn't have been unthinkable to get one slightly smaller. Instead, in looking straight ahead, Ghyslaine missed her Servant entirely for a second. Then a glimpse of white caught her eye and the blood-using magus looked down, sizing up the supposed hero that she had summoned. It was, without any shadow of a doubt, a child. An incredibly poorly dressed child, at that, but she kept her expression neutral until she could ask whether they liked these clothes.

If they did, it would be a matter of persuading her into something more appropriate.

The small girl seemed to happy to see her, yet reluctant to show it and... bearing knives? Somehow, this small and frail-looking Servant must have become a famous killer, as none of the other classes could fit such a frame or weapons. A famous killer indeed, as she said. The mysterious Whitechapel Murderer was this girl? The most famous serial killer of all was a shy girl that... viewed her as a mother? To be called that...

Smiling warmly back at the girl, she crouched down to Jack's level, scarf in hand--and set about covering a bit more flesh, even if it was only because of the length of the scarf against the Assassin's small frame. "Of course! To look after a young girl like yourself will make me happier than any other Servant could."

[User]
Amedea stepped back in awe for a few moments - who wouldn't; being so grossly unprepared as she was? Prior to a week before, the biggest threat to her life had been some potential deranged man with a knife or a gun, now she was facing something out of legends. The other mages, the other magus, might be used to something ridiculous like this but she most certainly wasn't.

Taking a hesitant step forward towards the towering man in front of her, it took her a few more seconds to find any words to say to him but she finally managed to calm herself. It took her a deep breath and a visible moment to calm herself though - something which she feared would lower the servant - hero - legend's opinion of her.

"Yes, I am." she said with a voice that she wasn't quite sure sounded as resolute as she wanted it to be. It was then that she realized she had no idea how to dispel any kind of awkward moment and thus decided to pass the initiative to the servant, "Is there anything you need to say after that?"

---

Shinobu's circle glowed with power; accumulating until he chant was finished. In an explosion of light and smoke, where there was once a lotus flower there was now the kneeling form of a young Chinese youth clad in decidedly not Chinese attire. With a blue suit and white skirt accompanied by a white jacket and thigh high white socks, her head, adorned with a blue hairband with the accessory of a single white wing, rose to meet her master. A red sash fluttered in the leftover minature wind from the summoning as she slammed the butt of her spear onto the ground, striking what she thought was a suitably heroic stature.

"Hmm..." She said as she leaned in, peering at Shinobu and examining her up close with eyes narrowed and her free hand cusped around her chin, examining the magus as if she was some kind of statue or work of art "So you're going to be my master?"