[System]
Physical Form: Clotho is a foot taller than most men, with long arms and legs, and has a chitinous exoskeleton that is a dull brown-maroon in color. Four gossamer rounded wings, transparent green with orange edges, form into a cloak when not in use. Her shell forms into a barbaric-style armor around her shoulders, knees and thighs, gauntlets, and chest. Small spikes line many of the edges of her shell. Her face is crossed with seams, her nose is inhumanly sharp, and her wide mouth is lined with razor-sharp teeth. A shock of black hair more like spines protrudes from the top of her head. Additionally, her eyes are a bright, luminescent green, with layered pupil rings. Instead of hair, two membranous mini-wings protruding from her upper back form into a hood.

Abilities: Clotho's wings grant her the power of flight, which she can perform with almost ludicrous speed and agility. Her insect carapace functions like armor, affording her ample protections. Hidden inside her left forearm is the Stinger, which she can project from her palm for stabbing. The Stinger can inject a variety of toxins into a target, all of which are manufactured chemically within Clotho's own glands. Such toxins include 'poison', 'paralysis', 'mutation', 'subordination', 'blindness', and 'calcification'.

Cloth also has the ability to command bugs and parasites. Aside from conjuring flies, hornets, leeches, worms, and flesh-eating beetles, sometimes in vast swarms, she also controls her own minions in the form of Myrmidons, Lambent, and Antlions. These she orders around via chirp-calls, and she has no true leadership ability.

The true combat ability of Clotho, however, lies in her rapier. With a barbed tip, it can slide into flesh cleanly and eviscerate it on the way out. Its flexible blade allows Clotho to lash the tip around when fighting, cutting and gashing opponents as she opens them up for a thrust. Its deceptive deadliness, couple with Clotho's uncanny speed and notable strength, make it a lethal tool of destruction.

Personality: A certain conflict underlies Clotho's convincing exterior. Deep inside she is still Nona, confused and reticent and immature. This directly disparages with the aged experience of the that melded its soul with hers, whose bloodthirsty monstrosity has guided her thus far as a Keeper. The union of the two distinct spirits produced Clotho, a cunning, intelligent imperialist. Clotho is without conscious barring the distant, faint murmurs of the suppressed girl within her, and will kill without question, though good judgment keeps her from exercising this often. Though self-centered, she is more than willing to make alliances and deals for mutual gain, and will even adhere to them—an behavior unheard of among most such creatures.

Wants/Needs: Clotho lusts for power and control. She wants nothing more than to rise through the ranks of her master and become both his most powerful warrior and most trusted ally. Eventually, Clotho wishes to gain the ability to become a Dungeon Keeper herself, though she does not plan whatsoever on betraying her current master.

Relationships: None

Backstory: Clotho was once human, an urchin of Virens. This premier logging town, situated in the Oerwood Forest north of the Saploya river, was home to over two hundred thousand, but never truly to a girl called Nona. Surviving by her wits and her knack for finding odd jobs, she later became reliant on the family of Theo Rosenstern. Theo, playing the nobleman as well as the romantic, sought to feel better about his own clan's success and gain a girlfriend in the process by hanging out with Nona and helping her get by. Ever in need of aid, Nona accepted, forming an uneasy relationship with the boy while trying to make ends meet. From a young age, the Biomancer's Guild of Virens, responsible for the magical acceleration of conditioning of the city's saplings and crops, had fascinated her, but her own lowly beginnings and ineptitude for magic estranged her from the organization.

It was in this stagnation, during her nineteenth year of a woeful life, that a voice first reached out to her through her dreams. Its whispers, low and meaningless at first, grew in strength as she became more desperate, and finally its message became clear: journey into the jungle and find a special insect. After convincing Theo to accompany her, Nona left in the morning to pursue her dream. Hours later, she arrived in an unpeopled lumber camp miles from the city limits. Upon entering the shack at its center, she beheld a nasty-looking metallic green wasp confined in a jar. In a trance, she seized the jar -totally unresponsive to Theo's urges- and smashed it against the ground, freeing the wasp. Immediately it stung her, injecting into her the ancient soul of an insidious being of darkness—Kafka.
The two minds, girl and monster, melded, and in the process her own body transformed into its current state. Long before the modification finished, Theo took to his heels. That day, Clotho came to be.

From there she imposed herself on the forest, thinking to become a force of darkness. Though the self-appointed Vermin Queen stockpiled quite the retinue of mindless insectoid minions, and gave the nearby towns a great deal of trouble, she never quite lived up to the status of an evil overlord. After a botched attempt to obliterate her former hometown caused an army of avenging townsfolk to converge on her lair, she fled south until she happened to find one of the Overlord's bands. After wiping the plains with them, she sought the Overlord's dungeon, and pledged her service to him without question.

[User]
Emily had spent the time since the attack on the Dwarven outpost mostly in the Mountians. She had learned the Dwarves used lava to fuel some of their forges, and that led to an exploration of the entire mountian network while there was a lull in Horde activity. She was so engrossed in this, that she was rarely at the lair, any almost always out. Never beyond contact, however. Even if Emily was to distracted to anwser, there was always one of the spirits in her mind that checked in, and maybe chatted a bit, if it was the Overseer, or the Kitsune.

But, when the day came, and the Master called all his servants to the Lair, Emily was errily quiet. She could not, in anyway, be contacted. Even the spirits had gone silent, and the entire thing was as if she had never existed, or simply dropped off the face of the world. It was uncertain if the Master would even notice this lack, she was after all just another face in the crowd. A cute, spell-slinging face, but a face none the less. It was not as if she was the most favoured of them all, or had really done anything to attract the Keeper's attention enough to be noticed immidiately when she was mysteriously absent.

[Assistant] (Edited)

[User]
Torrens was not a big fan of downtime. Unlike most other beings, his strength decreases substantially over time, so if he were to just laze around the Dungeon for a week he would dwindle to little more than a small campfire. To keep that from happening, Torrens went on frequent forays out into the world, burning down entire forests just to keep his strength up. He even burnt down a couple of farms just for fun, although he avoided villages lest he draw unwanted attention to himself and by extension the Master.

The rest of his time he spent in the Dungeon. He socialised, chatting with the other champions, or at least those who were sociable in nature. He noticed that Emily was not in the Dungeon. He had also noticed a new being in the Dungeon, who could be a Rogue Being, except that this being who went by the name of Faeles tried to slink away from all contact and questioning. This was rather suspicious behaviour to Torrens. It was possible that this was just in Faeles' character, but Torrens was still suspicious of this entity. He also inspected the work of the Keeper and his newly summoned minions. This was a familiar scene now. As a veteran servant of Dungeon Keepers, Torrens knew that every serious Dungeon Keeper had to have an army, and until now Clotho had been more of an actual Keeper than the Master with her army of insectoids.

As soon as he first saw the winged vanguards, Torrens had been quick to scoop off a handful of that green flame which crawled over their hide. To his mild disappointment he noticed that it wasn't soulflame, but it was at least magical, which made it useful. After getting some more of it, by harvesting some and burning down half a forest with the stuff, Torrens took some time in his room behind the forge to experiment. The magic fire behaved much like normal fire, being hot and burning combustibles, but it was much more difficult to extinguish than typical fire, which is a standard trait of most magical fires. An additional benefit of magical fires is that they are much easier to manipulate into complex forms than normal fire. Back when he had possessed soulflame Torrens had been able to create fiery forms with complex behaviours, such as a decoy of himself, or homing fireballs. This stuff had none of those animated properties, but it still expanded his box of tricks substantially.

Then, finally, the Master called a meeting. Torrens listened intently to the speech. When time came to inspect the scrying spell, Torrens was easily able to get a front row view, since nobody would want to get into a shoving contest with someone who's a couple thousand of degrees. As the description of the plan fell into place around him his face lit up with glee. As the champions began to split up, Torrens advised them, "You understand what this means? If this warlord is an actual Dungeon Keeper, then if we strike at his Dungeon and destroy his Dungeon Heart this warlord will become practically powerless." Torrens gave a maniacal laugh of his own and left, heading to the gathering army and joining their ranks.

[Assistant]
Following the attack on the dwarven outpost, Clotho dwelt exclusively in the region of the dungeon converted into hive. The hatcheries worked around the clock of replenish and then surpass the raid's casualties, reinforcing the Overlord's army. Her alchemist worked to the best of his ability, aided by his assistant and even his captor, and in exchange for his labor enjoyed short hours and real food. When not overseeing her troops, practicing swordplay, or reading, Clotho experimented with new chemicals to try and tease a greater ability to manipulate life out of her stinger. One by one she incorporated new toxins, serums, and mutagens into her venom system, and just as quickly the flawed ones were expunged. Several of her insects gave samples for study, which Cloth broke down into their constituent components with acids before examining under a looking glass. Clotho's chief aim was to improve, be it her forces, her self, or her allies. The attitude of her alchemist and assistant gradually improved thanks to a steady dosage of special chemicals hidden in their food. Slight physical changes accompanied them, but they did not seem to notice. Progress was good.

The grotesque rituals occurring elsewhere did not phase her or her horde. Practically a dungeon in and of itself, the hive's activity continued until its queen was summoned. Upon hearing the call, Clotho flitted into the lab. "I am called for," she announced. "Proceed without me. By my estimation, we should be able to fabricate a type-IV mutagen this very day." She noticed with smug satisfaction that the assistant girl appeared to have unknowingly grown mandibles.

She zoomed into the gathering chamber and awaited the Overlord's appearance. To his announcements she listened attentively, believing his plan to crush both enemies to be plausible now that her own insect forces would be bolstered by the ranks of demonic warriors newly summoned. Dutifully she hovered above his scrying spell, examining in only a few seconds the significance of the image shown to her. All the while, she considered all she knew of ogres. Unlike the orcs, blindly aggressive and strong, and the trolls, renowned for their ability to wreck havoc not only physically but psychologically, the ogres always struck her as a surprisingly complex breed. Each individual had layers, the first one most often that of a brainless brute. An ogre as the commander of a rival horde of evil did not bode well in her mind.

Scheming and strategizing already, Clotho made a beeline back to her hive to begin preparations.


[System]
Age: 20
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Appearance:

Reasons for being in the asylum: Anxiety, depression, multiple suicide attempts, sudden psychotic outbursts
Level of security: Medium
Bio: While not much is known about his past, he has hinted at him being abused in his childhood. He was found by one of the Asylum's guards outside, unconscious and badly beaten. He has been brought in to get help and the asylum have been unable to find or contact his parents.

Name: Grim
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Species: Half Kitsune half supernatural being
Appearance:

Reasons for being in asylum: Anger issues, psychotic outbursts
Level of security: Medium
Bio: Grim was found badly scarred and shivering in the cold. Doctors were surprised he survived for as long as he did. When asked about his name, he stated he didn't know his name. They assumed amnesia but he answered all the other questions with ease. Someone assumed he didn't have a name. Someone else joked he must have been the grim reaper's kid and that's how he survived. Everyone just calls him Grim now.
Extra: He's the only one allowed close to Max when Max is having one of his psychotic outbursts.

Name: Stitches
Age: Unknown
Gender: Male
Species: Half zombie
Appearance:

Reasons for being in the asylum: Insanity, schizophrenia, cannibalism
Levels of security: maximum security
Bio: He was found in an abandoned, rickety, old mansion that was filled with odd science equipment. When he was discovered in the basement, the explorers who found him thought he was dead because of how still he was, the fact he was covered in blood and the fact he was without a pulse. He ended up snapping the neck and eating one of the three explorers which gave the other two the chance to call the cops which caused him to be restrained and dragged off to the Blood Moon Asylum. When he arrived, he refused to give any info except for his nickname that his creator called him which is Stitches.
Extra: He hides his stitching under bandages and clothes. Also he prefers to either snap a person's neck of dismember them piece by piece.

Name: Kane Morgan
Age: Unknown but assumed to be late teens to early adult
Gender: Male
Species: Demon
Appearance:

Reasons for being in asylum: Insanity, schizophrenia
Level of security: Maximum security
Bio: He was found standing in a circle of 7 heavily mutilated corpses. When brought to the asylum, he refused to answer questions about his past and age and only told his name. His eyes were bandaged over but he could see perfectly fine through the bandages.
Extra: He never takes off the bandages. Those who have seen under his bandages had reports horrific nightmares, interestingly enough.

Name: Lucifer Forrest
Age: 29
Gender: Male
Species: Unknown
Appearance:

Bio: A mostly quiet, calm yet twisted doctor. He is known to work with and "help" Grim. He is also known to be a bit manipulative.
Extra: He's rather friendly despite and lets patients, guard and other doctors call him Lucifer instead of Dr. Forrest. He does hate being called Luci however.

Name: Vincent Smith
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Appearance:

Reasons for being in the Asylum: Impulsive, self-harm, anti-social
Level of security: Low
Bio: Vincent was brought in by both his parents for stitching his mouth shut. He explained with a pen and paper that he stitched his mouth shut to avoid his urge to answer people's questions about his tinkering. He did realize that it was an impulsive decision but has stated he didn't regret it.
Extra: Sometimes he cries blood and is "too lazy" to wipe it off. He also likes wearing fake bat wings.

Name: Briar
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Species: Hybrid experiment
Appearance:

Reasons for being in asylum: Attachment issues, anxiety, insanity
Level of security: Low to medium
Bio: Sent to the asylum after a fifth murder case he was supposedly linked to. He kept making the same claims about what happened. He kept saying he never wants to be abandoned and that they can't abandon them if they are just memories.

Name: Alucard Collins
Age: 290
Gender: Male
Species: Fallen Angel
Appearance:

Role: Scientist
Bio: A supposedly emotionless scientist who is calm, quiet yet easily annoyed. He is known for experimenting on Briar and Stitches to find out how those two tick and work.
Extra: He off-handedly mentions that he used to be human and has attempted to make jokes involving poison. He also has had conversations to no one but refers to whoever he is speaking to as Michael. It's believed he might also be a bit of a vampire. His favorite color is blue.

Name: Cecil
Age: 110
Gender: Male
Species: Angel
Appearance:
Reasons for being in asylum: Anxiety, PTSD, Mute, Haphephobia, psychotic outbursts when touched
Level of security: Low
Bio: Was sent to the asylum after murdering an angel who constantly tortured him and attempting to murder angels who tried to comfort him. Doctors struggle to get through with him.
Extra: He's constantly between favorite colors of gold and dark blue.

Name: Salem Haywood
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Species: Vampire
Appearance:

Reasons for being in the asylum: Insanity, constant murder of guards and innocent people.
Level of security: Maximum in a padded cell
Bio: Not much is known about his past. No one knows if his given age is his real age.
Extra: Has to be kept away from other patients because he's a bit of a rat bastard.

[User]
Leo sped down quickly losing violet as he killed guards in his wake

Alec also gets subdued

[Assistant]
Briar smiled, getting up and gently squeezing Kitsumae's hand. "It's quite alright, I have learned well to not question things after being in various experiment facilities that have thousands of new beings created daily," he said smiling.

Stitches quickly got sedated as the guards were fed up with Stitches and his fighting.

[User]
Violet stopped momentarily to catch her breath before catching up to Leo and run I've read corpse in her wake.

Kitsumae smiled and gently looked towards briar and held his hand. "I don't want to leave you here alone so come with us but please don't watch us eat." She said warning and then smiled hugging him as did her sister.

[Assistant]
Leo had gotten subdued and muzzled then throne in his room with the door locked and multiple guards stationed

Alec was thrown in his room as well

[User]
Briar smiled slightly. "Don't worry... I honestly might end up getting hurt by one of Max's friend because of what I did and I'll have deserved it," he said calmly.

Alucard stopped the guards holding Stitches and spoke calmly and coldly, "I'll take Stitches. I need to do a few experiments with him." The guards obliged, handing Stitches to Alucard and Alucard carried him away.

[Assistant]
Violet raced to Leo's cell and knocked heavily on it. "LEO?!" she yelled.

Kistumae shook her head and looked towards her sister. "No we won't let them hurt you." the have him a deafening glance. Then they smiled and led him down the hall to the corpse.

[User]
The guards push violet back

Alec is drugged

[Assistant]
Briar shrugs. "If it's that kitsune guy then I'd be afraid for you two trying to stop him. He gets scary when he's angry and he cares for Max so... in his eyes and honestly in my own eyes, I deserve it," he says calmly.

Alucard soon brings Stitches back to his room, slightly annoyed about no new discoveries.

[User]
Kitsumae nervously laughed and her sister smiled. "Maybe so but we have had much greater opponents." They replied.

Violet punched a guard in the face and ripped skin off the other guards neck.

[Assistant]
The guards tazer violet and drag her away from Leo's cell

Alec yawns

[User]
Briar sighed, "I wouldn't risk it. He did once attempt to dismember someone who threatened Max. Besides like I said, I deserve it. You guys can just take me back to the infirmary or something, even though the nurse would probably be a bit annoyed."

Stitches groaned as he got chained back up. He softly muttered something about Alec.

[Assistant]
Violet yelped in pain before passing out and waking up in chains within her cell. She just curled up and wiped astray tears.

Kistume snickered. "If she she's even still here." she whispered softly.
Kitsumae elbowed her and cupped his face. "You don't deserve it briar, it was because of how you are we all have issues but still doesn't mean you deserve it." she said blushing then taking her hands away and standing elegantly before him.

[User] Briar shrugs slightly. "I was being a bit of an ungrateful brat if I'm being honest... Max didn't even need to be friends with me but he was. I guess I just can't handle seeing friends with other people. So yes I do deserve it," he said. Briar seemed a bit sorrowful and looked down. "I was an ungrateful idiot who hurt someone who agreed to be my friend."

[Assistant] Kitsumae shook her head and frowned placing her hand on his and kneeling down before him. "Briar your not ungrateful, your so sweet and kind don't blame your for such a reason and anyway we're here for you." she pointed towards her sister who smiled giving a sharp tooth grin. Kitsumae bowed her head to him and gently kisses his hand.

[User] Briar smiled slightly before sighing. "I still don't want you two to get hurt... I seriously wouldn't risk you two provoking Grim. He just has this odd aura around him that's cold," he said calmly.

[Assistant] They both nodded and smiled hold his hands and drinking him into the hall.

[User] Briar gently squeezed the twins' hands and followed behind, tripping over his own feet a bit.

[Assistant] Kitsumae picked him up and covered his eyes as her sister fed on the nearby guards. "It's going to be ok briar." she softly kisses his head.

[User] Briar slightly nuzzled against Kitsumae. He smiled gently and felt rather calm.

[Assistant] Kitsumae blushed and smiled holding his body and she rocked hi! Slightly.

[User]
Leo came to and looked around in his cell

Alec mused on another escape plan

[Assistant]
Violet looked around her cell in despair as she began to gag. Then they her doctor came i a smirk on his face.
 "Hello vi, close the doors and lock them." he ordered to the guards.
 "Hello doc." she replied faking a smile.
 "I hate to see you like this but it's so cute." he walked closer and tilted her chin up but she shook her head from his hands.

[User]
Briar slightly dozed off in Kitsumae's arms.

Stitches looked down, his silvery eyes appeared clouded over. He ignored the guards trying to talk to him.

[Assistant] Kitsumae smiled and looked at him briefly then walked towards her sister who offered a guards hand to eat but she denied. "He's so cute when he sleeps." she whispered to her twin who replied with a quiet gigglw.

[User] Briar softly purrs in his sleep. He looked really peaceful.

[Assistant] Kitsumae gently placed his face over her shoulder and arms around her neck as she stroked his hair smiling. Her twin kisses briar on his cheek softly.

[User] His sleepy purrs grew louder and he opened his pure white eye slightly. He yawned before dozing off again.

[Assistant] The twins giggled softly staring at him in awe. "So cute." They quietly said in unison.

[User]
Briar smiled softly in his sleep and kept purring happily.

Cecil stated at the twins from afar, a bit curious of the two.

[Assistant]
Kitsumae rubbed his back gently and slowly walked holding briar gently in her arms. "Lets go to the dinning hall." she whispered to her sister.
 "Sounds good." she replied and tilted her head and saw a guy from afar and curiously stared.

[User]
Briar's tail swished slightly in his sleep as he kept happily purring.

Cecil flinched upon realizing Kitsume was staring back and hid slightly.

[Assistant] Kitsume giggled a bit and waved politely and giving a smile then she turned to her sister and briar and smiled them looked back at the guy. Kitsumae ignored her glance and let briars head resting her head slightly on his.

[User]
Briar kept sleeping peacefully and gently held onto Kitsumae.

Cecil nervously peeked out at Kitsume again, his blood-stained wings a bit noticeable now.

[Assistant]
Kitsume looked startled but then her face softened and she drew closer but cautiously.
Kitsumae smiled and held him closer giving his head a kiss.

[User]
Cecil reluctantly came out of peeking and hiding to reveal both of his blood stained wings and the bandages on his neck and cheek. He seemed a bit nervous about Kitsume.

Briar yawned, waking up a bit but was still fairly sleepy.


[System]
Age: ?
Gender: Female
Breed/Species/Type/Lineage: Deity

Physical Description:

Talents:-Hand to hand combat (including 'god like' speed and strength)
-Extraordinary eyesight (in light or dark), heightened hearing and extremely high endurance
-Healing magic

History:Rikive is the daughter of the God Heimdall and an elven maiden named, Alfrún. She spent most of her life in Asgard, in the hall of her father. She had always been curious about Midgard, but finally came to the mortal realm due to the encouragement of her father.

When she came to Midgard she did not know nor understanding the rules of how the supernatural were to interact with human society. For the most part she had done well adjusting to modern life, it wasn't the first time a god had gone to Midgard to pretend to be human. She had picked up on certain social norms, but some had escaped her notice. She had learned rather harshly that duels of honor were not accepted anymore.

One unfortunate encounter with a particularly obnoxious man, he lost one hand and she was the one arrested.

That one incident and she found herself in debt to the system set up to keep order with supernatural beings. Some had told her to merely run and return to Asgard, but she stubbornly denied such an idea. She would repay her debt as she was honor bound to do.

A few times she had been tempted to make the debt dwindle a little faster using...less than savory means. She was strong and skilled, certain operations would have paid her a lot of money to provide them with protection. However she always refused, it wasn't right.

Psychological Profile:Quiet, reflective, and idealistic. Interested in serving humanity. Well-developed value system, which she strives to live in accordance with. Extremely loyal. Adaptable and laid-back unless something she holds in high regard is challenged. Mentally quick, and able to see possibilities. Interested in understanding and helping people.

Possessions:-Winterthorn an enchanted blade, it's powers/abilities:
 - Sheath transforms into a viking round shield

Yes, and:When Rikive first arrived to Camden and she was still adjusting to modern human society, she met Parael by chance. He proved to be a great teacher (in his own fun, flamboyant manner), helping her to adapt to Midgard as it is now and she considers him a good friend. She is currently helping him by standing as protection and keeping watch for his daycare center.

[User]
What now indeed.

Parry had an unpleasant evening after getting back to the Bunker, not least of all because everyone took the time to berate him for bungling the plan and putting them all in danger. There were more than a few questioning glanes about the wings and the sword that decapitated vampires when it didn't look sharp enough to cut through a tomato.

To the city at large, from a street wizard to the highest circles of vampire power, Parael was considered an eccentric and flirtatious wizard.

de Lacy and Rikive were the only ones who knew what he was. That cat was out of that bag, but there were only looks- nothing asked out loud.

And Parry had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Nothing like eating a bad tuna sandwich, but his hands felt absolutely filthy. Like they were covered in slime and grease. Holding Cym's sword negated the feeling every now and then, but whenever it came back, he would catch a brief flash of something- a metal hatchet burying itself in the skull of a woman.

A bearded man screaming "FIRE!" to a line of blue-clothed soldiers.

A grey sky over an ash covered field, scalped bodies.

Well... this is new.

"Good news: We have a prisoner, and the chief coven on the East Side is blown to hell," Parry winced, holding his broken nose in proper position- he would be damned if it healed crooked. He had slunk low enough to pull a set of old green scrubs out of his enchanted bag to wear. Leftovers from a one-night-stand he'd enjoyed with a male witch. He'd never had binding hexes used on him in that way, and he wanted a memento. "I had a thought- and it's a long shot- but... what about the fairy court? de Lacy had loose control of the court to begin with. I wouldn't be surprised if the Spring Queen has just closed up the hall and decided to wait this whole thing out. Not that I get a say in this..."

[Assistant]
Rikive was tired, she had nearly fallen asleep on the van ride returning to the bunker. After healing Parael's life threatening injuries, Tony's and her own; her magic needed to be replenished. It was a strange thing, she could fight in a battle for days without wavering, but she didn't have the same kind of endurance when it came to her magic.

Unfortunately, anyone that was injured would need to wait for her to replenish her magic before she could heal them.

She had washed and changed into a white tank top and a pair of black sweatpants. She put Winterthorn on her bed and then returned to the main room to participate in the discussion before she had to sleep. "I don't trust the fairy Queen." Rikive said in response to Parael, sitting herself down on the ground with her back leaning against a wall. "Also, if I ever make it back to Asgard, I will be telling the story of your folly, Parael, for centuries to come." She informed him with a small grin with a tad hint of bitterness to it.

She was starting to think she may never see home again.

"I think, what we are in desperate need of, before we do anything else," She spoke loudly and firmly. "Is an established chain of command. Because the way we are operating now is not working. It's chaotic and one of us is going to end up dead soon if we keep doing what we're doing." She brushed a strand of wet hair behind her ear, looking around the room at everyone present, trying to judge who would be a good leader.

[User]
Getting back to the bunker had not been easy, especially considering Beth and the boys had little to no idea how long the vampire would remain unconscious. On top of that, the only driving skills Beth possessed she learned joyriding. To say the trip was bumpy would be an understatement.

Nonetheless, she got them there, and once they stuffed the girl into the hands of everyone else, she joined the long line of folks waiting to give Parael a talking to.

With that passed, Beth paced languidly from one side of the room to the other closest to the door. Her sight pinned on the vampire while the others began recuperations. She bound the girl's hands with some rope she found in another room. It wasn't much to keep a vampire prisoner, but even she would have to think twice before trying to break out of the bunker with a group of very pissed off supernaturals.

"I agree with Rikive." Beth halted to speak, arms crossed over her ethereal chest. "The Queen will have to wait. If this is how badly we fuck up against a bunch of thralls and Rikker's buddies, we've no hope of getting closer to Nemsemet." She'd had doubts before, but following the monumental failure at the Rusty Steak Knife, her mind began playing out as many scenarios as possible to find some way of making it out of this mess alive -- or, well, unchanged.

She took a few steps closer to the rest of the group, her attention still split with the vampire. "It's obvious Parael should not be giving orders," she continued, shooting him a scolding look. It felt strange being on the other side of one. "I would elect Tony, for his background. Perhaps even Flint."

[Assistant]
Gray had taken the opportunity to dress his wound properly. Despite tired eyes and a sore shoulder he was ready to carry on some business. A nap would have to wait because it was time to strike while the vampire was weak. He listened for a moment to the others in the main hall and threw in a comment as he lifted up their 'guest'. "Just make sure it's someone you guys can trust. I think we're all agreed that an event like that shouldn't happen again." His doubts were very high that they wouldn't care to have their new people be in charge of anything. He hefted up the vampire. She was still in dead-weight mode with an improvised stake in her heart.

Gray picked a room with a heavy lockable door and lay her against the wall. "Hey Autumn, I need to borrow you for a second." He requested into the hall. He set up a few chairs in the room and took a seat opposite of the prone figure. Drawing a deep breath he slipped his mask on. "She should start regaining her senses as soon as the stake is removed. She's still drugged so I should be fine but I want you to lock me in here with her. What do you think?"

[User]
Since everyone got back they were all pretty on edge. Perry got an ear full but somehow it didn't seem enough. Arachne was not always a forgiving creature and something as botched as their last venture would spell major punishment at her company. But this wasn't her company so she held off and left it to the others. Maybe later.

It was brought up that there was no kind of command at all and that they were just going about things all wrong. No kidding, she could tell that at the beginning. She had been lightly directing things before it all went South. However she doubted any of them trusted her enough to even bother bringing it up. Turning to Gray she looked at the room. "Probably best if one other person joins you, just in case."

She moves her attention to to the group again. Oddly enough the only other person she'd seen that has a head on straight was the one that pointed out the problem. Nodding to herself she spoke up. "What about you? When things were falling apart you took it upon yourself to get everyone out. You didn't panic or lose it in a fight. So I think you would be a good candidate."

[Assistant]
Tony shook his head, "No way on me. As soon as it gets intense, there's not much more than instinct to work off of. I can talk about things and plan things here, in a controlled and safe environment, but I am not someone you can look to for good judgment in the middle of a fight. That's not how it works."

Sure, Tony had a background, but it was a day to day thing, an office and dealing with people within the confines of civilization. In a fight, when the blood was up, lycanthropes were as fast, strong and resilient as anything, just about, but their instincts took over, their primal nature brought to the fore, muting the intelligence of the human. It was a form in flux and enraged, and not even able to properly speak more than a couple words -- and he'd never bothered to try.

But he knew his own limitations; he'd learned them a while ago in deciding how to stay fundamentally out of the society of the Courts and the parallel city of the supernatural and preferred to stay in the mortal world, doing mortal work and forking over a tithe to de Lacy so he could be left alone and in peace. Nemsemet put an end to it and dragged him into this world against his will, forcing him to face things he didn't want to face. He didn't like shaving in the mirror and thinking of the thing inside him that cut loose in some swampy jungle, killing, perhaps eating, people indiscriminately, operating off pure instinct. He already wasn't liking the idea that he might harm someone he knew or didn't want to harm in this situation, and it's why he advocated not going anywhere near the Steak Knife, but picking off a lone vampire instead.

[User]
Flint sat on a fold out chair, he had changed a few moments before into a white shirt and pants, as the others had been resting. He listened to the conversation but preferred to stay out of it, cradling a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He took turns with each, breathing in the smoke then taking a swig of whiskey. He eventually spoke up

"I don't care who is the leader, as long as I don't have to call them sir and do a pirouette every time they ask, like those bastards in command in 1917. Im telling ya, give a man a badge and he thinks he owns the place, why I ought to hae given him a thing or two. Course I couldn't or I would have been reprimanded and at that point I didn't even know I could shoot fireballs or whatever. Anyway in that trench my buddies used to…" Flint began to ramble on about some story of taking a German trench, a few racial slurs where mixed in here and there and most people would find it best to ignore him. A hundred years of information does a lot on the human brain.

[Assistant]
Tony was Rikive's first choice as well, but he pointed out why he wouldn't make a great leader in the thick of a fight. Unfortunately she had to agree, berserkers were great for breaking enemy lines but for leadership roles? Not so much. Beth mentioned Flint and she supposed he would make-and he was drunkenly rambling about some war in 1917.

Right, he was out as well.

Rikive was mulling over the other's and what she knew of them, when she realized Autumn was talking to her. "What, me?" She asked, blinking in surprise that someone was considering her for the position. Because she had kept calm in the throws of a battle? Many of the other's had kept level heads as well. She suppose, she did come from a culture the prizes fighting above all else. She did use to spend some time in her grandfather's hall, filled with all the great fallen warriors.

But...Did that qualify her to actually lead anyone?

She frowned in thought, comparing herself to other viable candidates. "I...suppose?" She responded with a small shrug, not sure what to say. She had never been put in this position before. "The final say falls to the group though." She said, making a small motion with her hand to everyone else in the room. "If they agree then, I will step forward to lead."


[System]
Personal Information
Age: 17
Sex: Male
Date of Birth: March 4th
Grade Level: Third
Appearance:

Personality:
The words that best describe Haruto Okada, according to the people around him, is that he's just a punk; he is without a doubt a very intelligent punk – he's a scholarship student in an otherwise difficult school to succeed in, but with that permanent scowl and tired light in his eyes, it's difficult to see him as anything else but a lethargic villain of society.

However, he is simply a misunderstood individual – there's no denying that he's prone to violence; perhaps his weak appearance gives others reasons to try and mess with him, and it's often ended with fairly gory consequences. After all, for somebody who is known to get in trouble on the streets often, Haruto developed into quite a brutal brawler. In fact, it's surprising how he has managed to stay enrolled despite his bloody past. His most famous exploit was the victory over a boxing club captain back when Haruto was still in middle school, who probably deserved the beating he received. Really.

However, you will never meet an individual who works harder or who counts his blessings every day like Haruto; his lethargic appearance is the result of his attempts to try and maintain his grades amongst other things. Despite the label of "delinquent", he has never skipped class, nor does he take excused absences – in fact, one of his goals is to have perfect attendance, a goal he is doing well on, so far.

Amongst other things, he is definitely a very serious individual who believes in both effort and luck – and the latter is definitely influenced by the former. After all, the lucky should deserve it. As side things, he likes cats and dogs almost indiscriminately - it seems he prefers their company over that of other people. Another thing to note is his insane dependence on his jacket; he becomes incredibly timid without it, and thus fears the time of the week where he has to run it through the laundry.

Combat Information
Main Arcana: Emperor
Compatible Arcana: Fortune/Moon
HP/SP: 70/50
Mask: Lion
Weapon Type: Boots/Strike
Equipment:
•Weapon: Hard-sole shoes – Shoes with tough bottoms, which are brutal in a fight; deals 25 Strike Damage
•Armor: Zip-up hoodie – A comfortable jacket that is a size too big. No effect.
•Accessory: Moon-shaped necklace – a gold-colored, cheap pendant. No effect.
•Clothes: Default Clothes.

Initial Persona
Name: Astolfo
Arcana: Emperor
Origin: Matter of France; en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Astolfo
Appearance:

Skills:
•Zio:
Cost: 4 SP
Effect: Deals 33 Electric damage to one foe.

•Sukukaja:
Cost: 12 SP
Effect: Increases 1 ally's Hit rate for 3 turns. Ally's roll increases by 1.

•Bash:
Cost: 5% HP = 4 HP
Effect: Deals 55 Strike damage to one foe.

•Dia:
Cost: 3 SP
Effect: Restores 71 HP to an ally.
Resistances:
• Slash: --
• Strike: Str
• Pierce: Wk
• Fire: --
• Ice: --
• Electric: Str
• Earth: Wk
• Wind: --
• Light: --
• Darkness: Nul

[User]
Running again.

Running again through the endless forest, brilliantly colored leaves falling all around her. It was deathly silent, save for the song that kept on playing on the radio, repeated again and again like a broken record. All of a sudden her feet caught on something, sending her tumbling down an incline, where she smashed straight into a tree.

Natsuki laid there in a daze, trying to sit up before a bolt of pain ran down her leg. A familiar pain bringing back memories of all those years before. A glance towards her leg confirmed it. It was broken again, her left leg bending at unnatural angles.
"Aah... Do you remember this place?" Tsubaki spoke, appearing out of thin air. "Hmm... everything was almost like it was that day. Almost. I wonder what's missing...." Tsubaki flickered for a moment, her image temporarily changing to someone familiar.

With inhuman strength, Tsubaki picked up a large branch, shoving the splintered end into Natsuki's stomach.

~Natsuki's possessed body~
She dropped the stick, clutching her body, before letting out a loud inhuman howl. The dark miasma grew darker still as it seemed to thicken around her. Collapsing, it seemed she could do nothing more than writhe in pain as the darkness pulsed around her.

***

Her screams echoed around the forest.

"Ahaha~ Don't you remember? Hey? Do you remember now?"

Natsuki gritted her teeth as Tsubaki pulled the branch out, grinning all the while. Or to be more precise, she was looking at herself pulling the branch out. All of a sudden everything clicked in her head, something so obvious it hurts. That was exactly why she couldn't see it. It hurts a lot to be confronted by by yourself.

"I see..." Natsuki grasped the fake Natsuki's hand, pulling herself up, enduring the pain from the hole in her stomach. She couldn' exactly stand up with a broken leg, so she just hugged the fake Natsuki to keep upright. "...I'm sorry... I didn't realize..." Everything... everything here was her own feelings.

Her own selfish desire.

"Eh?"

She was standing in a white space, devoid of anything. Her wounds has disappeared, and she was herself again, no longer trapped in her child body.

No, the white space was not empty, there was a... a person, hovering in front of her, his cheerful demeanour and his smile seemingly beckoning for her to come closer. She moved closer, feeling as if she knew this person.

"That's right." Came his voice. His smile grew wider, and somehow more mischievous.

~Awakening~

As suddenly as she began, Natsuki started retching, coughing up nothing before blowing black gooey chunks all over the pavement. The odd stylized crow masque fell to the ground as she did so, making a very undramatic clack against the pavement. The words of that man echoed in her head.

I am but the faint light of a candle. Though against the brightness of day I am unnoticed, through darkness I will guide you.

"Wha-" She coughed a few more chunks of the black thing, before collapsing on her feet. "Where..."

Her head hurts a lot, like someone was drilling her head in both ears and the bits are meeting in the middle. Natsuki was still a bit more than a bit dazed from all the sudden changes and revelations she just had.

[Assistant]
Shinku: HP: 58/90 SP: 30/30
__________________________

"Uggh." Shinku hadn't thought that Saito'd go for a tough hit like that. . . Or that it'd knock as much strength as it did out of her. "Got me good." She muttered as she grabbed at her stomach. The world around her was a daze at that point.
_________________________________
"You okay Shin-Chan?" A somewhat weak voice called out. "Looks like it hurts."

"No, I'm fine. It just looks bad." Was said from an irritated voice before a small hand touched her arm, "Ouch!"

"See? I knew it."

"Fine, it hurts. So what?"

"So what?" The weaker girl tried pulling up the other, "I just get to take care of you this time!"

Shinku smiled and slightly nodded in agreement standing up practically on her own. "Alright. I hope you know what yer' doing, Mayoi."

Mayoi smiled back, "Of course! We'll even go to the festival later this week! It'll be fun!"
__________________________________

"Shinku, you sensed it too, right? Your inner self. Call it forth." It was the transfer student, Kazuo. Shinku had forgot about him in the madness that had been brewing in the last minute or two.

"My inner self?" Shinku questioned as she looked up to see Saito rid of something from his mouth. Something shadow-like. Not long after she felt a power around her and felt her insides lighten up as Saito donned a mask. As if the blow she had taken from him earlier had never connected practically. She put a hand out to Kazuo attempting to push him back slightly and standing up. "My inner self. . . Huh?"

Off to the side she saw carnage as classmate fought classmate. There was Ito, Minto and the boy with the difficult to pronounce name. In her mind she reached deeply to find herself. I am thou and thou art me. "I see." Shinku mumbled to herself. "I am Jeanne d'Arc, Swordmaiden of Faith!" A blond woman with armor and sword appeared above Shinku as a traditional fox mask materialized on her head.

"Persona!" Shinku exclaimed pointing her right hand like a gun and aiming at Gruffydd. "Be my sword, Jeanne d'Arc!" Zio! (roll 18, 29 damage.) Jeanna d'Arc raises her sword with Shinku and points at Gruffydd starting a small amount of static and strengthening its power to a small bolt of electricity that zaps the dark-haired foreigner. "Take a nap, it'll make you less cranky." At that, she pulled off her mask and let it disappate alongside her persona before turning to her roommate who. . . Well, didn't seem to be in the best of conditions.

Quickly she made her way over to Natsuki and kneeled alongside her. "You're not going to hit me with a stick again. . . Are you?"
___________________________
Shinku: HP: 53/90 SP: 26/30

[User]
As the rubber band suddenly struck Haruto in the head, the lion-masked boy was shocked at just how much damage such a small and weak projectile could've possibly dealt towards him. Growling, Haruto prepared himself to retaliate whoever just shot him, but a bolt of lightning struck him straight into the chest. Without even a chance to guard against the attack, the lion-masked boy couldn't even give off a sound of surprise before he was sent flying backwards, hitting the wall of a building before sliding down onto the ground, unconscious.
____________

Haruto
0/70 HP (x_____x)
50/50 SP
____________

However, inside of Haruto's mind, the damage was powerful enough to send a jolt to both the shadow and Haruto, causing the demon to release its grip onto Haruto – grunting as he landed on the floor, Haruto quickly recovered and stood up, glaring straight at the demon. Growling, Haruto began to advance towards the lion-faced shadow, which simply stared at the walking boy.

"Yeah…you're right. All I ever really had was this anger, and this hatred, towards a faceless man that I will never see receive justice for the crimes against me."

The lion-masked Haruto, once unconscious, now woke up screaming as the lion mask began to crack into pieces. Jolting in place, despite all the damage dealt to his body, Haruto began to roll around, screaming in pain, jerking around as if an unknown assailant was attacking him right at this moment.

"So I'll let the anger consume me, the hatred devour me, and you control me – after all, we're one and the same, aren't we? I was ignoring my basic nature for the longest time, but it's about time we joined together again."

Reaching forward, Haruto's hand touched the right index finger of the shadow in front of him, and the two simply merged as one – a bright light grew from where their hands met, and as the light dimmed away, the gigantic hallway disappeared as well, leaving Haruto in the darkness. However, the solace was comforting and familiar – the boy did not mind it at all.

The lion mask snapped in half and dissipated, and Haruto lurched forward, vomiting out a black material that kept on leaving his mouth. After a few seconds, Haruto managed to wipe his vomit and looked up, seeing a knight dressed in silver armor and a black cape floating right in front of him.

> By facing the difficulties and hardship he held within, Haruto Okada has acquired the Persona Astolfo.

With a smile, Haruto realized that he had absolutely no energy left to even move and join in the concluding fight – with a sigh, Haruto collapsed on the ground once more, stuck in the place between awake and dreams.


[System]
Age: 18

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Weapon:
Two metal tonfas, Artorius and Gwenhwyfar (formerly Lawnslot). Both are identical, visually, save perhaps a few differences in internal mechanism. In the traditionally held position, the longest part of the body aligning along the forearm, the forward facing post is actually a shotgun barrel; though standard shells are the usual ammunition, dust rounds can be loaded instead. The storage area expands along the spine of the weapon. The recoil is often used for propulsion when useful. The primary length of each tonfa actually has a blade running along it, resembling one half of a sword, to be specific.

This is because both weapons are capable of combining into a large, long sword; Caledfwlch. The two weapons reconfigure in such a way as to create a long, straight two-handed sword with a straight crossguard. The shotgun barrels are reoriented as the crossguard, one pointing to the left and the other to the right, used to enhance the power behind his swings.

Artorius and Gwenhwyfar both have one other unique attribute; high capacity batteries built into their frame. Each battery continuously siphons a supply of Aura from Benjamin, building the energy up so long as they are, in some way, upon his person. This energy can be released with a button built in below the shotguns' triggers, on the handle of the combined blade, or on the handle of the smaller tonfas. The release of this energy usually is used to power his Semblance, and must be replenished over time when discharged.

Joyous Guard
Expansion Calibrated for Ultimate Resistance
B. Lloyd #8 of 7

An expansion device manufactured to work in conjunction with Artorius and Gwenhwyfar. In its default form the Joyous Guard is a tower shield, large and incredibly heavy. Two racks are integrated into its back side for holding the two tonfa when not in use. It can be held in hand, affixed to the forearm (vertically or horizontally) or stored on Benjamin's back. The top and bottom sides taper off into wedges, enabling it to be used as an offensive bludgeoning weapon when affixed horizontally to the forearm. Its connection to the forearm is carefully designed to ensure that both tonfa are compatible in use when the shield is in play, though Joyous Guard is primarily intended for use with Caletfwlch. The shield is manufactured from dense, durable metals, making it even heavier than it looks. For this reason Gravity Dust was used in its construction, making it nearly weightless in Ben's hand. Notably, however, it is Aura-coded to Ben's Aura; in the hands of anyone not on its whitelist, the Gravity Dust reverses and makes it too heavy to be lifted.

Joyous Guard's secondary configuration requires the use of Artorius and Gwenhwyfar. The shield unfolds, incorporating the transformation mechanisms in both tonfa to provide the necessary components for the configuration. Namely they provide part of the edges and part of the hilt of the immense two-handed sword Joyous Guard becomes. The effects of the Dust carry over in this form, ensuring that Ben can swing it almost as easily as he would Caletfwlch. In fact, due to the nature of F=ma, a swing from it will be many times as devastating with a fraction of the effort. Like Caleftwlch, the shotgun barrels incorporated into the hilt aid in granting increased force to its swings.

Finally, in a tertiary configuration, Joyous Guard can convert while affixed to Ben's forearm by splitting down the middle and orienting the magnetic racks used to hold Artorius and Lawnslot along the two horizontal halves. The Lightning Dust used to generate that magnetic field, in this form, cranks into overdrive to turn the shield into a forearm mounted electromagnetic cannon. Slow-firing, but incredibly potent in its offensive power. Artorius and Lawnslot are absolutely necessary for this configuration, as they provide the additional structural stability needed to let Joyous Guard withstand the considerable forces exerted. As a bonus, however, this makes their shotgun barrels useful in this configuration.
Specialty: Benjamin is a highly adaptable fighter. He lacks dedicated defensive capabilities, but his weapons serve very well as augmentation to forearm blocks. The lightweight nature of his weapons, however, also means that he is a highly agile fighter. His preference is to move as quickly as possible, landing strikes when opportunities present themselves and evading blows (blocking if absolutely unavoidable).

Use of both his Semblance and Caledfwlch is exceedingly rare, to the point that they have not yet been used during his career at Beacon. Both are abilities and options he keeps to himself, aces up the sleeve. Ultimately, his style permits him to act as the situation demands, though the drawback to the continuous siphoning of his Aura, as well as his lack of any dedicated defensive tools, is that his personal defenses are noticeably lower than others'.

Semblance: Deinamig: Benjamin is capable of using Aura to fuel an individual section of his body to well beyond its usual limits. Fueling his legs, for example, will drastically increase both speed and power of his legs, and fueling his arms will do much the same. This can, theoretically, be applied to any section of his body. The Aura for this is usually provided by the resevoirs built up within his weapons, but that supply is not infinite. If a situation arises where he is unable to tap into it (or it runs out) he can directly fuel his Semblance with his present Aura.

Personality: Benjamin is a friendly guy. He also, at first glance through his performance in school, nothing to write home about. Average or slightly above in all his classes, with the only oddities appearing once one takes a closer look. His homework assignments represent minimal effort, while all examination scores actually place him near the top of the grading scale. Between the two, depending on how the class is run, they average out to roughly average grades. In short, Benjamin doesn't bother to do his homework until the last minute, if at all. He conforms to a decidedly nonstandard view of what is important, and what is not. Things he views as "busy work", such as most homework assignments, are treated with at best casual disregard, while things he views as important (tests, examinations, practice, getting to know people) works at. His strange views actually are rooted in a single opinion; if it isn't something he needs to do in order to do well in his life, it doesn't really matter. People skills will be important, combat skills will be important, all of the knowledge he amasses will be important. So he takes his tests and exams seriously, but at the end of the day… Who's going to care, once he leaves Beacon, whether or not his did his vocabulary flash cards?

This practical viewpoint extends to many aspects of his life, but he will always make an effort to get to know people. His wit might be a little sarcastic at times, but anyone who he views as a friend will find that few will go to greater lengths for their friends. Aside from his practicality, which more than a few teachers might instead term "laziness", Ben has one other notable quirk. He seldom fights at full capacity. He believes it is always best to have an ace or two tucked away up the sleeve, so that if a situation ever arises where he simply can't handle it, or needs just a little more power… He has something to draw on.

Color: Steel Gray

Emblem: A single inverted sword set behind a shield emblazoned with a crown device.

Appearance: Benjamin is a few inches short of six feet, making about average height for his gender. He has an athletic build, obviously necessary given his school, but he isn't overly muscular.The fighting style he prefers requires nimble movements, mandating that he maintain both a reasonable muscle mass as well as his agility. A faint grin is his default expression, blue-gray eyes bright with life under slightly messy light brown hair. He wears the Beacon school uniform completely unmodified, though it isn't at all uncommon to see him take the coat off and carry it around. When not attending class (and thus not required to wear his uniform), he tends to default to jeans paired with a black or gray long sleeved shirt. Light but durable boots are his footwear of choice, as his usual field attire simply adds some lightweight gray armor over his torso, and perhaps greaves to his shins. Artorius and Lawsnlot are carried at his belt, one on either side.

[User]
Lauren wasn't sure whether it was a commendation of her quick thinking around the survivors or Ben's way of keeping her out of danger. Cap had to know she was the best on the team at that kind of range, and her Semblance practically eschewed Grimm attraction. What was Desire going to be able to do with Unchained Fury, short of lasso any wounded, delirious survivors around?

She took a deep breath and smiled at the man she'd been tending to.

Made sense, tactically. Leaving Amy and Sangue together with the survivors would leave them both looking to the other for direction. Lauren provided a good commanding presence; she practically spoke for Ben whenever he wasn't around, and sometimes when he was. The two halves of the team could keep each other on lock.

Didn't mean she had to love the hell out of it. But she could let it roll off her shoulders.

"Take care, babe."

[Assistant]
Gratia Mindaro – An Old Friend

The half-corpses of the Dodici thugs proved little resistance as Gratia loaded them into the back of the SUV.

Bianca couldn't help but allow her smile to betray her. Gratia and Bianca didn't go shopping together. While she knew they weren't exactly going to be hitting up the latest in Mistralian fashion – she was still excited. She didn't say anything as Gratia loaded in the Dodici instead just waiting for her friend to rejoin her in the SUV and take her wherever they were going to go. She attempted to lick her cracked lips in order to offset how dry they were but it barely helped.

Looking down at herself she couldn't help but laugh. She was wearing a suit nearly five sizes too big and she just ached she was officially a hot mess. She absentmindedly rubbed the base of her wings as they were forced to spread out in the chair. She winced everytime her fingers traced the indents of the chains that had held her up for so many hours. She felt a small tear escape her eyes as she hurriedly swiped at it.

God damn it Bianca, Gratia doesn't need your shit

She did everything in her power to hold in her tears as she awaited her friend in the front seat.

VGNB – A nice Breeze

The Dodici Scion – after some time didn't seem to be waking up. He stirred every once in a while but consciousness seemed out of the old man's grasp. Beryl and Vega could clearly see the rest of the building. It still looked rather calm, no alarms had been pulled but Gratia and Napoli both seemed to be on their own and still separated.

Where and how they decided to go next would be their call.

[User]
"She'll be fine. And back in a sec." The brown haired Hunter-in-training flashed Lauren a quick, mild grin and waved at the SL half of the team before beckoning Amy on. The quip-and-wave combo was pretty cavalier, an excellent smokescreen for nerves gnawing at the edges of his cool composure. Five people unaccounted for. Chances were they were somewhere on this floor, and if they hadn't said anything after all the commotion... They probably weren't alive. Ben allowed himself a quiet deep breath, masked by the movement of drawing his tonfa. The mission was almost over, if they could just keep it together a little longer. No more walking through a creepy, dangerous facility looking for survivors. No more finding dead bodies. For today, at least.

He had Amy fall in behind him with a quick point, slipping out of the cafeteria and back into the hall. Still no more Grimm, at least that he saw, so there was no immediate danger. But best to be careful. Even if it was the nerves talking, gut instinct had a way of keeping you alive. He just hoped he could find the rest of the crew alive. Or at least... Intact. The corpse downstairs had rattled him a little, even if he didn't let it show. First time dealing with a situation like this was bound to be hard.

But he needed to concentrate. He was the Cap. He was Bastille's Cap, and that meant being the best.

The first residential quarters he reached were closed and locked up tight. Metal door, industrial style, probably meant to keep Grimm out in a scenario like this. Like the stairs had been. Still, he was stronger than a Grimm. "Amy, step back and cover me."

The hawk Faunus nodded, stepping back and aiming Unchained Fury's business end at the door. Artorius and Lawnslot went back into the holder, and Ben braced his hands against the door where he felt the most resistance; where the deadbolt probably was. A quick application of Deinamig to the arms snapped the bar with (relatively) minimal damage to the door or the frame around it, and left it free to swing. And after drawing Lawnslot again with his left hand Ben gave the door a light push, making it swing inward.

"Hello? We're from Beacon, here to help. Anyone in here?"


[System]
The Chimera of Lynore

To the south, the province of Lynore was home to schemes most foul. Ideas cooked up to create life rather than simply control it led to a partnership between a druid and alchemist. Their intention was to harness the strengths of the wild and tame them through combination as to make profit off of anyone who would pay for their creations. Bear-shark-humanoids, snake-dogs, and what would later become Luciel was a shift in direction from simply making monstrosities to appealing the everchanging tastes of humanity.
Luciel is one of about 60 such creations intended as servants, the exotic features of otherwise docile creatures serving to doll up what was essentially a small human. Ears and the tail of a rabbit, antlers of a deer and the eyes and fangs of a cat, this variant became popular in the region and were kept by nobles as pets, servants...and such.
Luciel appears around 14ish for his relatively short stature of nearly 4'9. He was personally tailored for the duke's son and carries wavy pink, shoulder-length hair from which matching bunny ears poke out from. Their left ear holds three small silver studs, linked together by a fine chain. Sports two antlers, each with three points. Ruby red eyes cut with cat-like pupils.
Luciel could be described as beautiful in an androgynous way; a lithe slim frame and a porcelain pale doll-like complexion from being confined indoors for most of his life. This is marred by a darkness under his eyes from nights spent laying awake and lingering bruises of various forms, hidden under his clothes from treatment which only ended roughly two or three days prior.

Observably (at least at the start of the thread), Luciel is shrouded in a large section of tapestry likely stolen from the manor of his previous master and wrapped around his figure to obscure all but the shadow of a nose poking out from how he bundled it all like a cloak. The material is tattered and torn in places from a very inconvenient walk through bushes and brush.

Underneath this is his 'servant' attire consisting of a short sleeved white buttoned down shirt under a black vest. Snug black shorts adorned with a long chain wrapping around his waist with slack hints to a pocketwatch, likely stolen. Knee-high boots (3 inch flat-soled heels) with black mid-thigh stockings fixed with garters running up his shorts.

Not his first choice of attire, it lends the question of what his purpose was.
Inventory: A simple pocketwatch, a simple shortsword pillaged from a dead sailor as well as a light crossbow. Two ornate rings too big for him to wear...likely stolen. A keyring holding various pieces of slim metal beaten into the shape of a makeshift lockpick set. Two flasks found at the scene of the wreck which Luciel assumed was water until getting his first taste, their contents seem to serve well for aiding in starting fires, though (sailors' rum).

Enhanced senses - The splice of cat-like eyes gives Luciel superb vision in most lighting scenarios. However, pitch black is still pitch black. His ears allow even a very weak form of echolocation due to their discerning sensitivity (However, this makes him susceptible to sonic damage)

Lockpicking - Leading up to his escape, Luciel had plenty of practice in picking locks to undo his binds. However, magical locks are beyond his expertise.

Natural Weapons - Animalistic by a latent primal nature; though his fangs may be small, determination and their sharpness make a bite from Luciel a suitable deterrent in a pinch. Alternatively, the points of his antlers are whittled sharp.

Through his pact with the abyssal entity which he refers to as "O'Distant Fish", Luciel has an affinity for illusion and ice magic.

Examples of illusions usually work in the way of camouflage which is especially effective in the shadows which he can almost seamlessly blend into if not moving.
As for ice, his strength lies in distractions. Chilling moisture in the air, Luciel can summon small clouds of chilled moisture to distract or temporarily blind those it consumes with the exception of himself. This is mostly to buy time for a precision strike from conventional weapons or to obscure his movement.

Most variations of these spells require verbal and somatic commands to conjure. Being bound hinders their effectiveness while being silenced in any way prevents spellcasting.
Personality: Luciel is soft spoken and often comes off as timid, though he has developed a nasty habit of 'fear biting'. He is inexperienced with the world and is often seen as naive or even foolish, though has enough street smarts and common sense to avoid dangerous situations if possible. Repeated abuse has worn down any love he would have towards humans as well as inherent disposition, leaving him almost seeming 'hollow' at times. Outside of this, Luciel is excitable and eccentric when expressing emotions. Curious of this new world outside of servitude, he has a distinct fascination with the accumulation of knowledge and an abstract method of defining experiences and that which he witnesses in an almost poetic way.

Speaking ill of the dead is not my intention, as they are gone and cannot hear my words no matter how loud I scream.
Existence came as suddenly as one would wake from sleep, and all I knew since then has been one nightmare after the other. It begins with a monster of a man and his monster of a son and ends with both of them dead for their vileness. There would have likely been more, but I was smart enough to know when it was time to leave.
I had spent maybe a day on the run before coming across the perfect place to rest. Unbeknownst to me, the crate of linins was bound to be transferred by boat to destinations unknown to me. Wherever it was, the ship would not reach it as the force of a storm toppled the craft.
To this day, I'm not entirely certain how I survived. I dreamt of a creature within the darkness of the waves who came to my aid, massive as the shore as black as night. Though it did not speak, we came to an understanding that my mortality was left to its mercy and that it had no interest in my soul at that moment. Though I did not hear it speak, I knew words which it etched into my mind; formless syllables and cryptic verses whose very recollection brought power through even the vaguest attempts to pronounce them.
...Existence returned to me as suddenly as one would wake from sleep, dashed upon the shore with the corpses of sailors and passengers as well as their cargo. Quickly collecting what I could, I fled from the shore with no direction or plan.

I was free, whatever that meant. It didn't take long to find a suitably large cave which I intended to take shelter in while endeavoring to collect myself for what was now where my new life began.

Other
- Given the region which he learned to speak in, Luciel carries a bit of an accent vhich I vill be inflictink upon readers. On top of this, his linguistics are shoddy at times and the prose with which he speaks is often either over formalized or abstract like internal musings, a testament to the depth of his mistreatment.
- Opposed to the nature of the entity he made a pact with, Luciel is a less than impressive swimmer. If anything, he has a bit of hydrophobia for any amount of water more than waist deep.

[User]
Gish shared the glance with Rose. This wasn't exactly what she had expected either. She'd thought the place would be empty. She was not thinking there would be a kindly old grandma in there. A kindly old grandma that was so kindly old grandma that it made her wonder whether or not this was some kind of trick.

On the other hand the inside of the place smelled soooooooo good, and no one had ever invited her to eat before. She was dragged passed William by her own nose and stepped over the threshold into the small house. Then she gasped and leaped back in alarm, back outside. She fidgeted there for a moment, then stomped both her feet and wiped them on the grass. She looked down at them, nodded to herself, then stepped back inside.

"I'm sorry." She said to the old lady. "I don't get invited in much so I don't know how to...I mean I forget..." She struggled, then turned back to the group. "Remember to wipe your feet." She said. This was something new and exciting and she'd almost ruined it for everyone. When you entered someone else's home you wiped your feet, she'd seen it hundreds of times. It was small rituals like that that helped separate people from creatures. She thought about how the rest of it went, before turning back to the old lady and bowing slightly. "Thank you for inviting us into your home Miss Mimi my name is Gish it is a pleasure to meet you you have a lovely home."

[Assistant] I stepped back in surprise to the sudden emergence of a stranger inside, going behind Gish and Rose as I stumbled back. But as the old woman spoke I felt more at ease and comfort. I remained silent and awaiting proper hospitality until after gish started wiping her feet. Suspicion and caution took over my conscience. "Um" I began with a nervous pause "Dont you guys think this is little fishy, I mean why is there a friendly old woman down connected to some mysterious hallway. It just seems off." I finished as I had already shuffled behind the group

[User]
The more Rose tried to encourage the group of their safety with her around, the less assured Luciel became. Although, his feelings were conflicted with her explanation of being a witch-hunter, but with it came its own implications that coincided with his knowledge of philosophy. A tall hill blanketed in flowers of emotions and concepts, most would distract themselves with the simplicity of those near the base of the sunny side without ever having climbed its nearly sheer face. The chimera was more concerned with the long shadows of the shapeless tree at the top which offered only the shade he was provided while being dragged up through the dead grass and rocks, eyes forced up into the drifting, discarded leaves.
Cryptic metaphors aside, Rose's words offered a layer of insight that fit with a few sayings and an empathetic speculation: Those who gaze into the abyss are doomed to have the abyss gaze back.

...but if the abyss gazes into you, can you resist taking even a glance?

Luciel blinked, shaking his head, finding himself daydreaming while they were on the approach to the cottage's front door. While it wasn't his first choice, he trusted the enigmatic woman's judgment. Perhaps a mixed blessing, they didn't need to even get within arm's reach before the door opened and an inviting voice encouraged them to come inside.
It was arguably eerie that the door would open on its own with no hand at the knob, but the group seemed keen on accepting the invitation accompanied by rich aromas of food which were enough to lure Gish in. Luciel had been keen to follow, even forgetting about his own dinner plans before the woman hopped back out the door, surprising the chimera who nervously tensed a finger on the trigger.

The flutter of panic in his heart was unfounded as Gish began a strange ritual of wiping her feet in the grass before stepping back inside. Luciel listened to the apology before balancing on one foot to check the underside of his boots which admittedly had their own layer of grime and grit from all of the walking. Being confined indoors, the notion hadn't occurred to him that dirt could be tracked through a dwelling. The etiquette that went with wiping their feet off before entering someone else's home sounded obvious enough that Luciel felt silly for not doing so and almost making the mistake, as well.

It took a tiny bit more effort than flat-soled shoes, Luciel taking almost obsessive measures while discharging his crossbow to use the bolt for scraping even the tiniest bits off before stepping in after Gish. Chalk it up as another display of paranoia, though it came without thinking as the Chimera stepped in with crossbow in one hand and the bolt in the other. Ears standing up at the realization, he let the crossbow hang across his chest with the sling, returning the bolt to the quiver belted to his left leg and clipping the strap over it.
Manners, nervously tended to, compelled Luciel to compose himself in a friendly manner, though he wasn't used to being armed while indoors. It stirred a strange compulsion to stay on guard, though he composed himself respectfully as the woman introduced herself.

Luciel repeated the bow from before when introducing himself to the group, formal and rehearsed with little actual feeling to it. Taught to do it rather than mean it, the consideration was that it was simply the polite thing to do in showing respect...whether or not he meant it.
"Szank you for havink us, Madam Mimi" He said, easing himself back up and to the side, lingering awkwardly to the side of doorway during his introduction which mostly rode off of Gish's coattails. "I am Luciel" he continued, remaining where he was. Being invited was one thing, but actually entering the house was another since being indoors made him feel strangely out of place as if an invitation wasn't enough for him to feel welcome to simply walk about.
He shared in William's concern, but it was lost with the rest of the stressful thoughts swimming through his head which slowly caused him to shake after a moment of standing still. It all seemed unrealistically convenient, but Luciel had no experience or even rumors to go off of when it came to justifying his feelings.

"I-iz a nice home...but iz zeis not a dangerous place to live?" he asked, concerned if the farce of consideration for the woman composed as a question could work a bit of information from her. A reason for staying, a means of feeling 'safe' to live in a cave...if she knew anything about the spooky figures in her 'yard'; there were many questions, but the subtleties would have to suffice as a question for now.


[System]
Gender: M

Age: 26

Career/Class:Soldier / Ex-Soldier

Weapons:
* Basket Hilted Broadsword
* Imperial Dagger
* Norscan round Shield (Took from his first felled enemy)
* Aged Pistol

Physical Description Cyrdic is tall and lean, but solidly built, standing an inch over 6 feet in height. His eyes are reminiscent of shaped wrought iron. His face is ruddy and echoes a youthful appearance, though battles and training had roughed him into the look of a mature soldier. He has quite the rugged quality about him. Two scars mar his face. One parallel to the bottom of his left eye, and another scraping across his right jawline. His legs are long and his his facial hair is only a coarse, 5'oclock shadow thanks to his knife. He's clad in fine and tough leather over a chainmail hauberk, with sturdy traveling shoes and a worn belt.

Mental Description/Personality: Cyrdic isn't a fool. He spent a year apprenticed to a Quartermaster (as punishment for recklessness) and learned how to read and write (to a degree). The best way to describe him would be a hardened, rough soldier at the brink of his youth. He'll use what he can in his disposal to win, though half the time it turns out he'll need to fuck someone up anyway. His fierce independence and rough nature can only be matched by his determination to survive. He's not tactically intelligent, but he has a sense of how battlefields shift and can command smaller troops with his powerful voice. He tends to have a take-no-shit (unless it's from a superior officer) lookout on life. He's amiable to certain people however, and will have a dry wit around those he enjoys (or to people he wishes he could be more honest with). While fighting and killing and marching has been his entire life, he's not particularly fond of being thrust into impossible situations and doesn't lack a healthy sense of self preservation. He's gotten quite tired of working for corrupt officers. He's a devout Sigmarite thanks to his upbringing, and has a hammer chained necklace upon his breast to signify this.

[User]
Emmaline leaped onto the carpet as it soared free of the fray. Bolts of jagged energy were tearing from the shattered orb, blasting apart rock and stone in showers of flaming debris. Chunks of the cavernous roof above began to fall like great daggers plunging into the city below and flattening buildings, lizardmen and skaven alike. If Sotek had won the battle it certainly didn't seem like any of his worshipers were going to be alive to savor it. Well as the High Priestess of Asapth until told otherwise, Emmaline certainly intended to outlive the combatants below.

"There!" Emmaline yelled pointing at the tunnel through which the Skaven had come. A score or so of the creatures stood hesitantly in the mouth of the tunnel not brave enough to race to the aid of their betters but to scared to flee. Emmaline summoned up another scything bolt of golden light leaving a dozen smoking sets of skaven feet as the carpet raced through the opening and into the tunnel beyond. The interior of the tunnel was twisted by the bite of the boring machine. The tunnel narrowed rapidly as the infernal engine had obviously had no way to dispose of the spoil but had ground it down so that it settled into a smaller space. Behind them came a collosal boom and flash of light that almost seemed to make the walls of solid rock transparent. A great cloud of dust raced down the tunnel behind them like the wake of a bursting dam but with a final burst of speed the carpet outdistanced it before slowing to a coast and then settling to the tunnel floor.

Emmaline looked back the way they had come, her expression as stricken as though she had just been told that Midsummer Eve had been canceled.

"All that gold," she bemoaned wringing her hands together mournfully.

"Don't worry so much," Amal managed sounding a little glum himself, "It isn't a total loss." With a flourish he pulled a golden dagger with a large emerald in its hilt from his bag.

"That is hardly the point!" Emmaline objected before producing a pair of gem studded torcs from her own garments.

[Assistant]
The tunnel still had some faint light which gave them just enough to see by. Amal wasn't certain if it was from the lightning back where they had come from or a light source up ahead. All he was certain of was that Emmaline had managed to outsteal him, producing two torcs before his eyes. He shook his head. "You amazing northern woman." He marveled and kissed her so thoroughly she dropped the torcs onto the ground, her leg popping behind her.

They couldn't stay where they were though, and unless they wanted to go back into a cave-in or worse, angry Skaven, they needed to move forward. Amal picked up the torcs and placed them in the back with the dagger and the now rolled up carpet. They really needed to find a way to get more mileage on it, Amal thought.

"Follow me and keep your head low," Amal whispered to his companion, and she produced a very soft light in her hands just in case things went completely dark. Amal nodded and turned, leading the way into the darkness. He had the short sword and dagger in hand, moving almost like a desert sidewinder as he crept along the cramped, newly made passageway. Crushed rock mixed with dust and jagged stones that had stayed upright from the imperfect design of the skaven contraption's drill.

"Where do you think this leads?" Emmaline whispered after close to an hour of skulking. What Amal found strange was that the tunnel had led into a more natural cavern that moved (if he had to guess) southward. It was larger than the tunnel and it smelled of rat, but so far no skaven as of yet. Not even a squeak or a whimper. Like as not what army was here had all gone straight for the Lizardman Temple City. Lot of good that did them.

"Hopefully some place where I can steal from someone more pompous and civilized." He said, indicating her to follow him after a quick look around. There were some smaller holes leading upwards and downwards, but Amal sensed following the main 'road' would work best. Soon he even felt a small flow of air on his face, and it sped his heart to hope there was an exit. "Do you smell that?" He asked her. He answered before she could. "Humid air..."

A faint screech was heard in the distance behind them. The sorceress jumped but Amal clamped her mouth shut with his hand before she could scream, letting her calm down for a moment. "It seems some rats have picked up our trail." The thief said, his voice filled with such calm deathliness and trepidation that it would have made anyone's skin crawl had they not been used to him. The cries and chitters of the rats did not seem to be made of any large number, which still did not bode well for them. It could be a 6 to 1 fight and they could be wielding the strange green weaponry they had seen in the city.

Minutes sped by and the cavern curved upwards as the two fled, growing smaller and smaller until Amal felt very frightened that it would be too minescule for either to fit through. But it was just large enough to squeeze out of one at a time. Amal motioned for Emmaline to go, the moonlight above them serving as a beacon of hope. The screeches were terrible close now and one could even hear their claws scraping along the cavern floor.

"You first." She said.

"Do you trust me?" He asked her, holding his hand out. It was a strange question, coming from a thief who had done many deplorable things before her eyes. But oddly enough, he had a trustworthiness beyond any man in her life previously, and she took his hand. He smiled, and helped her climb up. Her arms reached out, the rocky hole hugging her hips. Amal pressed against her feet, her body popping up out of the hole and she flopped on the ground.

She found she was on a grassy hill among a copse of jungle trees, overlooking a port town that wafted with smoke beside the sea. Smaller frigates and caravels bobbed within the harbor, and it surprised her so much she almost forgot Amal below. A bag filled with their provisions was tossed through the opening, nearly smacking her in the face. Scrambling to the hole, she reached down to help him up. Her hand extended into the darkness, and was grabbed by a tiny clawed hand.

Suddenly a skaven's head poked out, its nose twitching as it looked at her. It opened its mouth, but rather than making a sound, blood seeped out and it slumped back down into the hole. Scrambling and yips followed until at last Amal's hands burst through the small opening, grabbing the sides and yanking his cut and dirtied body out with a will. Another skaven attempted to ascend, but at that moment the sun peeped over the horizon and quelled its bravado, sending it back into the darkness below.

"Another vacation sounds good." Amal groaned.

[User]
The two adventurers stumbled down the low grassy hills towards the settlement, nestled on the dividing line between lush emerald jungle and cerulean blue sea, the steep pitched roofs and smoking chimnies of the port seemed at once alien and out of place and the only reminder of something recognizable as civilization. Long moles reached out into the ocean constructed laboriously of stone which had been hacked from the nearby hills over the years, slowly replacing what must have initially been wooden versions created from the greenish jungle timber. A palisade wall with a stone foundation ringed the place with towers to twice or three times the height of the parapet at regular intervals. Beyond the walls were fields of crops that stretched from the town to where the base of the hills made the terrain too rocky, but beyond the occasional tool shed there were no permanent structures beyond the wall. Emmaline had to imagine this was because the settlers knew they weren't safe if they ventured out beyond their fortifications. Having just left the company of Lizardmen via a Skaven tunnel Emmaline could appreciate the feeling.

The gates of the port stood open although watchful men in the towers and on the walls kept an eye on them as they approached. The pair made quite a sight, scratched and filthy with dirt and blood and dressed in the tattered remains of sailors clothing. Never the less no comment was made as they entered the dirt streets beyond the walls. As expected from the number of ships in harbor the streets were crowded with sailors and traders from a dozen different nations. Bluff Imperials cried the virtues of barrels of ale from Middenheim, Tilean silversmiths hawked buttons of polished steel, Estalian bravos swaggered and drank on the verendahs of wine shops. There were even a few hooked nose Araybians peddling brasswares and candied dates. Sailors from every nation rolled drunkenly from taverns to brothels, good naturedly for the most part, though occasional drunken altercations were taking place. These impromptu displays of fisticuffs tended to attract gamblers more interested in betting on the outcome than joining in however.

"Hey blondie, I got a gold florin for you if you are looking for a good time!" a slightly more prosperous looking sailor, perhaps a ships officer, called, staggering drunkenly towards Emmaline. Amal smoothly interposed himself and shoved the fellow away, though not before Emmaline caught a wiff of the sour wine on his breath. The Aryabian shoved the fellow away sending him staggering into one of the brothels none the worse for wear.

"I suppose we will need to sell one of our prizes for money," Emmaline mused looking around for a goldsmith or pawn shop that might do. Amal laughed and produced a leather purse he had lifted from the sailor.

"Whatever for?" he asked before taking a gold florin from the pouch and handing it to Emmaline.

[Assistant]
The town was very much a second home to Amal, at least in certain aspects. He had grown up in a port city, and though there was a massive reduction in dry heat and inland sand dunes, it had the same feeling as Al-Hiekk. The sense in the air that there was a potential for violence, but most people quelled their barbaric tendencies to make some coin and survive the harsh nature of the lands further inland.

Amal flicked the gold florin expertly and caught it as they walked. Above the street were rafters where colorful plumed birds squawked and screamed. Some imitated the speech patterns of the men below, spouting out daily calls like "Get your fish here!" As the two walked, they first discussed what they wished to eat. Amal settled for a nice potato with all the trimmings, and he was surprised there was bacon available on the continent that, he should have guessed, was Lustria.

Striding around the corner of the market, the docks were around 100 meters away. A small man with a monocle, wearing a handsome suit nearly bumped into Amal, who lithely leapt out of the fellow's way. He shook his curly haired head as if Amal have given an affront by even being near him.

"I say dear fellow, excuse me. It's no good being rude. I say yes, I wouldn't be having such troubles had my retainers not been eaten by those savage beasts of the jungle! Dear goodness me, this last is primitive beyond measure. Hm yes mm, n-now excuse me I must make my way to the Destrier." He declared.

"Destrier?" Amal mouthed.

"Yes, I do say. The ship that will take me out of this Sigmar-forsaken place!"

"Where is the Destrier going?" Emmaline pipped in.

"Nordland, though it will make a stop at Marienburg I do believe." He said, seemingly confused on why he had stopped to speak to them. It seemed Asaph's compulsion enchantments still held strong on Emmaline. That or, this old fellow was a very talkative chap. "It leaves on the morrow if you care to join. Yes yes, goodbye!" He waddled away, and after a moment of silence the two laughed. "Well, it seems our luck is turning around." The Arabyan said.

"Now for us to get some new clothes," The blonde woman added, pulling at the threads of her garment with a distaste. "And then after that a room."

Amal perked up immediately.