[System]
Age:
24

Year:
3rd

Gender:
Male

Species:
Red Dragon

Physical Description:

In length he is close to 150ft and stands about 22ft in height with a massive wingspan. His body is slender and serpent like yet has a medium build like many European dragon lores. His scales are of a deep crimson red with the faintest amount of shine to it, allowing for near stealth movement in the night. His claws are beyond razor sharp as well as his teeth. Mostly what the picture (taken just before hell had broken loose on that specific castle) Is what identifies Suleykaar with who he is.

In Depth Physical Description:
Sulley stands at an impressive 6'5" at about 230lbs with quite an athletic build. His skin has a slight crimson tinge to it although not very noticeable unless one is specifically concentrating on it. However, his eyes are of a mix color that blend in nicely together. A crimson base highlighted by dark gold while around the eyes are slightly scaly. His hair is a mixture of red and black along with the small goatee that he has and usually remains long and straight though at times he will put it in a ponytail. When he smiles, despite being in human form, remains his razor sharp teeth but are condensed to appear to have a human's jaw structure. His skin is sort o rough despite its smooth appearance and his hands which are quite rough. His nails are of onyx color and have a sharp point to them. He usually wears suits (without coat and tie) however he will also sometimes wear jeans and t-shirts but not often.

Personality:
Despite the reputation his race, more specifically, the kindof dragon he is, Sulley is much calmer than his relatives by remaining indifferent or hiding behind a stoic posture in situations in order to keep the piece. However, he still has a somewhat pompous attitude due to his dragon lineage and may on occasion show this through his tone of voice or mannerisms. He generally is a very kind person to those who deserve it and will do what it takes to make sure that they are safe and secure be it, emotionally, financially or otherwise. When angered, he may lash out violently and with extreme prejudice. Those caught in his wake he shows no regrets as he will originally warn those around the intended target to move or deal with the consequences that follow. Mostly however, he may belittle them or spit a small fireball at them as a warning (growling is usually first reaction before things escalate).

Hobbies:
Music, anything exerting energy and reading books.

Familiar:
Inland Taipan named Kingpin Usually Kingpin remains under Sulley's shirt or in his shirt sleeve, remaining close to the natural heat he gives off.

Extra:
He is a bit of a smoker and has been seen chain smoking packs before. His favorite brands are Marlboro, Nat Shermans and Lucky Strikes. He knows how to play some strings but is most talented in guitar, cello and violin while only having a basic understanding of others. He singing abilities are in between intermediate and advanced while most of his skill leaned towards metal and its variants in which he utilizes his natural abilities such as lung capacity and strength. A few times he thought about trying to go pro but those thoughts faded over time. He does enjoy to fly around in either form, despite what they would teach as far as being discreet. Unlike his older brother, Suley has a knack for magic and is quite proficient with it as well. However, most of the magic he knows is combat based and will not show it unless he needs to, despite the ridicule that he gets from his older brother for it.

Name: Samantha Wolfenstein

Age: 18

Year: 3

Gender: Female

Species: Lycanthrope

Physical Description:

In Depth Physical Description: Sammy stands at 5'10" With a beautifully kept body with curves in all the right places. She has quite a hefty bust as well, sitting at a perky and impressive high DD. However, despite her beautiful figure she has multiple cuts and bite marks on her body but the most prominent is that that runs along her cheek an across her neck, which she will lash out if it's brought up in conversation. She usually wears short brown boots and blue denim jeans with a long sleeve shirt and a shirtless hoodie. On her body she has many tattoos mostly depicting packs of wolves and broken cages with some tats reads:
"The time is now, To stand up tall, All for one, And one for all" and "This is the wolf pack, Brothers and sisters from the start, Nothing and no one can tear this apart" However, she has one tattoo on her neck that seemed to be scratched out but still fairly visable that reads "We are the Wolfpack, You are never alone, Wolves hunt together, And not on their own

Personality: Sammy comes across as that bad girl tomboy believing she can do whatever a male can do. Quick to pick a fight and will talk down to anyone who pisses her off which for her is quite easy. She will also mark her territory anyway possible; fighting, killing, seduction or using more, "animal" like methods. She hates many species and her kind is high on the list depending on their relations to past "issues". Despite all of this, she is quite fragile due to her violent past and only truly wishes to be cared for and loved. She also has a slightly heavy German accent.

Hobbies: Running, hunting, fighting

Familiar: White Wolf named Ghost

Extra: Drinker. Listens to a lot of heavy metal and will blast it despite what people say.

[User]
Wren@KuramaaaZ

Asmund Gjanarsson

---

Asmund caughed. The mixture of ash and dirt had hit him right when he had been taking another breath. It took quite a bunch of seconds for him to get his respiration calm enough to speak again.

"I'm feeling quite a bit fed up with this. If you would allow..." The gifted didn't ask for a response. It might very well be that Laurel was able to stop Vlad, but Asmund knew that he was a different case. The huge man hauled himself towards to charred remains of the tree that had collapsed in front of them. His shirt was very wide, but the moment he tensed his almost inhumanly looking heap of muscle, it was clear that he needed every inch of it. There was no groaning or anything else that would indicate that he was putting himself under a particular amount of strain. After all, he was currently wearing Megingjörð. It was more like a gentle behemoth slowly pushing an obstacle out of the way when Asmund lifted one end of the trunk and turned it by 90 degrees around the other end still lying on the ground.

"And here we go..." Quickly, he had his arm around Vlad's waist and lifted him as if he weighed nothing. "If I see any indication of fire originating from you now I'll break your arm. Believe me I can do that..." Now he turned his attention towards Laurel and started walking slowly along a path that would lead him and Vlad around her current position. "I would appreciate it if you accepted it as a solution that I will try and take our mage here..." - he hooked in the strange hammer in his belt and started stroking through Vlad's red hair gently - "to a boat and head out into the lake. Water should be a quite robust training target for fiery magic, shouldn't it ?"

[Assistant]
'Nothing planned, huh? Perfect time to learn abit bout what I'm up against I suppose. A twitch to the side of his mouth. He nodded after taking a gulp from his drink and leaned back again. Good to know she wasn't busy. He listened to her story, chuckling at the notion of a coven of healers gaining one bad egg. "So a coven of healers, a coven of peace gained a witch of chaos. Hmhmhmhm. Its amusing." He held a thin smile before letting out a plume of smoke from his nose. His smile ceased as he glanced over at the rest of the patrons in the café. "So when did your magic first manifest? What was the catalyst? Some gain it through emotions, some life or death experiences, some even just get them. Everyone is different. Naturally I just gained them but I was lucky enough to also be prodigal in magic so that helped drastically." He looked down to the side, looking back to his past. The red dragon remained like that for a moment before sitting straight up again.

"So If your dedicated to the work and the training I'll be able to help you control and manipulate it quickly. Just don't tell your profe- on second thought tell them. They need to know they're not teaching fast enough or efficiently. I practically tested out of magical theory and manipulation. Mr. Lasik did not like me for a month after I showed him up. You should have seen his face, hahahaha."

Mr. Lasik was the other magic teacher, teaching both theory and manipulation. It only took about a month before Sulleykaar had lost his patience with the teacher before arrogantly demanding that he get transferred to a new class since "his incompetence and lack of experience in the magical art was a disgraceful. How could someone who barely has been through half his elf life not know much about something so simple as magic. This isn't rocket science." The teacher quickly agreed if he could not only finish the lesson but the final exam for the year which involved demonstrations with magic versatility and technique. Needless to say the dragon, the prideful wyrm that he was, showed up and humiliated the teacher by scorching the teacher's clothing with his most powerful fire move. However in hindsight that had not been his smartest move. For one, he had gotten into significant trouble with the Dean and a few other staff members as he was supposed to be "a role model student" and "someone that the staff could count on". Two, he was lucky no one burned alive by the intense heat or suffocated due to the vacuum effect from the fire. He also was lucky he didn't lose his position on the student government. If it hadn't been for him willing to make up for the ballroom incident he would have been both off the SG committee and possibly out of the school for that. He did however reluctantly offer a public apology (while holding back a bit of a chuckle nonetheless), as well as host the next big banquet besides the-.

He shook his head out of his nostalgic daydream and apologized. "Sorry I got distracted. But yes I am willing to start today. We'll need an open field to do this and do not worry about going out of control, I'll handle that. I'll need you if anything to focus on feelings when it happens." He stood up and grabbed his tray, offering to take hers as well before heading out a side door that would lead through one of the schools courtyard and out towards a training ground, anticipating her to fall in line behind him.

[User]
~~~Lainie~~~

Lainie cringed as Sulleykaar asked her the question she'd hoped he wouldn't. It had been anything but amusing. "Well, I..." She trailed off. The words wouldn't leave her mouth. Telling this story would involve mentioning a part of her magic she really didn't want to talk about. She'd have to, eventually... in any case, there was a good chance he'd find out. She just couldn't bring herself to say anything about it right now. "I just, uh... gained it too."

That was part of the truth, at least. She remembered all too well the look of betrayal on a former friend's face. Lainie shuddered, glancing away from Sulleykaar as if keeping a guilty secret from him.

She still didn't know if accepting was a good idea, especially if there was any chance the professors wouldn't be happy with this. This would be nothing like their tried and tested teaching method. Yet, after hesitating for a moment, she stood up and followed him. Unsure as she was, she couldn't deny the thought of it stirred up a slight thrill. It was a risk, but the idea of taking risks called to a part of her, hidden deep inside... No, she reminded herself, that wasn't the point of the training. This was about control. "Ok..." she said, pausing for a second, looking back, then forwards, before following him with small, shuffling steps into the training ground.

[Assistant]
The red dust exploded and in this moments of confusion created by it, Vlad was relieved he had finally left this unfairly powerful woman behind. But this moment of relief was short and cracking wood and a loud explosion broke it. Something heavy landed in front of Vlad, creating a small crater and sending dirt all over the place. The witch nearly lost his balance and barely managed to not fall down. "What the?...." and his thoughts were quickly answered when he felt that presence he felt before, that of that huge man before. And that woman was standing there as well.

Vlad's options were getting fewer and fewer, did he really had to resort to that this early? And his scars were even more painful then before, making it very difficult to think straight. This feeling of helplessness frustrated him so much he could cry. It made him so angry that he didn't care and just would turn everything to cinders. He channeled his remaining energy into his fists but before anything could happen and still being lost in rage, two hands caught him in a powerful iron grip, with enough power that it blocked most of the energy flowing through Vlad's arms. It was that huge man, this time next to him. The man gave him some intimidating words about breaking his arms if he tried anything, which looking at how easily he could keep Vlad restrained, wasn't hard to believe.

But before the witch could say anything, he suddenly stopped moving. His eyes were wide open before fading away into the eyesockets and his head falling backwards and his body lifelessly hanging in the man's grip. His scars were vividly red and slightly glowing. This always happened if Vlad used too much energy in a short amount of time or was heavily emotionally involved into something since that accident, two years ago.

[User]
Sulley with Lainie in tow made their way to the training fields. It was a spacious area with enough room for the training that she would receive from the red dragon. Sulley preferred to "learn on the job" in a sense as the best practice was hands-on. Books can only show you theory and instruction but the actual implementation of said theories and instructions required actual practice. He wasn't considered the Dragon Mage in his realm for nothing. He had gotten towards the center of the field and turned to face her, his posture much more relaxed but seemingly disinterested in what was to come. His arms folded, his head to the side and his body slightly leaning he eyed her up and down, getting a better look and sense of the type of girl she was. Timid, low confidence and low self-esteem could be seen in the way she held herself though it could have also been because of him, he hadn't taken that idea out of his mind. He cocked a brow and gestured to her.

"So, I suppose you can show me what you do know and what your limitations are." His mouth tightened as his throat seemed to glow before spitting a fireball at the ground. It was small in size, around that of a soccer ball but left a nice mark in the ground, splintering off only in a small 12 inch radius. It burned hot and violently until subsiding into a more candle like flame, simply moving with the breeze. He glanced down at the flame and back to her. Not feeling like explaining himself much more than his statement a moment ago, he backed up a few feet and stood there, waiting for her demonstration.


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 18

Species: Gigan

Birthday: May 22

Blood Type: B+

Height: 10"5'

Weight: 284 ibs.

Measurements: 32D-23-36

Like: Mornings, Gale, sleeping, eating, sleeping again, her gun, seeing Gale smile, long walks through Meridian, botany, gardening, flowers, big windows that she can climb out of easily, and small things.

Dislikes: The Renoirs, Egrits, moonless nights, mean small people, mean tall people, hot days (which are all too common in the Meridian), and Gale injuring herself.

Parasite: Rorschach - a parasite that replaces an unknown part of Ash's body, only Gale has seen it activate and live.

Appearance: Ash is a ten foot tall Gigan, with a pair of stubby yellow horns and peach colored skin, her eyes are an expressive yellow, topped off by badly kept white hair. Ash usually wears a striped jacket, and a white undershirt that barely fits her elongated arms, along with her jacket, she also has a bright red bow tie around the collar of her jacket, fur mantle included, which matches the hair on top of her head. She also carries a Gigantian machete as a secondary weapon, alternatively to her .30 caliber Canopian anti-tank rifle; which can often be found slung over a shoulder, with Gale attached to its long barrel.

Biography: Ash's origins lie in the cold wastes of Giga, where she was born to a family of Gigan, whose names even she can't remember. They dissipated from Ash's life when she was nine, and she found her way to little Innsmouth through a lowly Elven caravan. After she had strayed from the Elves that had been with her for so long, she found her way to a small family of bat Ferals who, despite her size, took her in. Their giving attitude had touched her so deeply, that she had decidedly stayed with them. Everything went well for a few months, Ash managed to live a relatively normal life tending to flowers, and getting a proper education--until Gale's parents died. Gale's mental state immediately declined, and as it did Ash was the only thing left to keep it from falling into madness. The next seven years were hell not only for Gale, but for Ash as she was treated to all of Gale's hatred and sadness, but Ash soldiered through it. In those seven years Ash and Gale grew significantly closer as Ash slowly became a pillar for Gale, but despite the pair becoming so close, Gale still doesn't know much about Ash; save for what she's been around to witness.
In fact, nobody knows much about Ash.
After Gale decidedly joined the Medicis, Ash decided to buy a new home in Little Innsmouth where she and Gale can rest in relative peace in between hits. Now a days the pair just hang out, so to speak, lounging in their shared home, and on occasion tending to the flowers covering the interior of their house. When the pair are not scattered through out their home in Little Innsmouth, or breaking backs for their employers, Gale rests on Ash during the night; almost like a Gigan mattress.

Blockbusters:

Maul (Level 1): Ash unsheaths her machete, and hyper extends her arm, using it to whip lash her opponent several times--blade included.

Bullet Hell (Level 2): Ash loads a special 'slug' round into her rifle, which fires numerous smaller caliber bullets in a flurry of lead, which all impacts her opponent; effectively juggling them in the air to open them up to a counter attack.

Bloom (Level 3): Ash activates Rorschach.

[User]
"Well well... That bat doesn't seem to be ordinary."

Juno Bernstein swung her legs in a carefree way on her seat, seemingly oblivious that a wrong move would topple her off her rooftop seat and down to the pavement below. The reddish steel gauntlet on her left hand stood out rather conspicuously against her quality suit, complete with a real hand-tied tie tucked carefully in the jacket; none of that clip on thing for her. She wondered briefly if she should have brought a telescope instead of a binocular instead, as her left eye was naught but an empty socket.

"HOW CAN YOU TELL?"

She took off the binocular, and looked at her left hand, the green eye on the back of the gauntlet staring at her as she did the same. "The way she moves, what she wears, and how she carries herself. Everyone has many different tells. Thats how I can see which one's worth filching off."

"YOU ARE SMART. NOW WE'RE HUNGRY. WE EAT."

"Yeah, yeah, stave it off with this. We'll get some food after we get a good mark," She shoved a snack bar into her left palm, watching as a maw suddenly appeared and started crunching on the bar. As the taste of chocolate flooded her mouth, she resumed her vigil on top of the roof. Juno knows where the bat lives, and it would be a simple matter to find which floor and number as well. The lost relative trick always works. But she would need her tools for that sort of heist, and today she was looking for a simple mark, a target to swipe money off and run.

It was a bit tight this month, the mafia was cracking down on rivals now, and while normally that wouldn't concern someone who stuck to doing small crime, one of the local bosses was getting a bit overzealous. The shadows were getting a bit hotter too now that there was apparently some hotshot cuffers looking to jump badges. How's an honest thief going to make it through the month without starving with all these happening?

Just then she spotted a couple, a very well to do looking couple moving to where she knows was an alley, a shortcut out of the crowd. Which also means those two weren't average joes, since civilians don't usually go through that shortcut.
"I'm thinking that's a bodyguard and someone's rich wife. Marionette?"

"I'M THINKING OF STEAK."

"That's the spirit." Swiftly wrapping up her left hand in bandages, Juno moved silently through the rooftops to intercept them. Should be easy money for dinner.

[Assistant]
Morgann Lacroix, dressed in her usual show attire minus the mask, strolled down the dark streets of New Meridian, the light from the nearby street lamps causing her tall form to project a massive shadow of her figure. At this time of day, everyone had already hurried home, so Morgann never worried about someone asking for her signature or some other typical request. Almost every night for the past few weeks, she would grab dinner at Mad Man's Cafe, and nobody bothered her while she did so. Eating with the carnies at Cartes was okay, but it got on her nerves. The voices of her co-workers were jarring, and not only that, they never shut up. Dinner would last for about two hours, so the magician would find herself in bed with a raging headache.

"A star like me shouldn't even have to associate with such peasants anyhow," she snarled, approaching the dimly-lit cafe. Morgann likes to think she's the best magician in the kingdom, and while she is quite good at working with magic, she was nowhere near the best. Perhaps she is somewhere in the middle of the scale, but that was it for the moment. She clearly feels that she needs to be just as good as her father, but that might take at least fifty more years. A magician of his caliber was, and still is, quite rare.

As soon as she walked in, she slid into a booth without a word, slowly sliding downwards into the seat to the point where her shoulders were hunched forward and the brim of her purple top hat covered her eyes. "It's been a long day," she breathed softly, looking around the vacant room. There was a single man at the register who glanced in her direction before coming over to take her order. She promptly replied she'd just like a coffee if possible, and the worker hurried away. "Bus boy better make it quick," she growled before looking out the window and up at the starry sky, sighing quietly. "I kinda wish I was back at the circus now, to be honest," she murmured.

And in that very moment, Morgann realized how lonely she was.

Right before dismissing it and assuming she might be sick.

[User] Ash smiles gayly "We don't have to go to Meridian, we can just go to that campy little cafe down the road," she assures Gale, making sure that the clothes the Gigan is wearing look nice, and smell nice enough for her to wear in public. She puts Gale down atop a couch to her right, wedged in between a pair of vases that look much too large, and much too heavy for a normal person to lift. She stands up, hunched over in the suffocating closeness of her room, and begins to piece together her rifle, attaching springs and other key components to its ornate base, and screwing the lengthy barrel on. This go on for ten minutes, until Ash situates the rifle's leather straps with a satisfying 'click', and slings it over her shoulder, the tip of the gun scraping against the ceiling. The large Gigan then bends over, and picks up Gale "Would you like to ride on my gun?" she asks, motioning to the chromatic barrel.

[Assistant]
Gale looked up at the barrel that, compared to her, was gigantic. Without a word, she swiftly hopped from Ash's hand to the top of the barrel, flapping her tiny wings to steady herself. "Alright. I'm happy to go there," Gale replied quietly, crossing her legs and sitting flat on her butt, making sure the bandana around her eyes was tightly knotted. "Thank Goddess she did not want to go to Meridian," Gale thought, flattening her ears against her head. What a rude thing to think. This was Ash's choice, and had she picked New Meridian, Gale would have had to live with it. She should stop being so selfish.

Gale hopped from the barrel to the nape of Ash's neck and crawled up so that she could sit right on top of her head, perking her bat ears up as a way of preparation for the sound of the night once they left the apartment. "Oh, I forgot..." she murmured, jumping off of her head and landing on the ground with her wings spread to slow the fall. She dashed off to the hallway near the kitchen and hooked a right, throwing open her white bedroom door. She didn't need echolocation to find Brandy Station. She already knew where he was.

Her room was empty and, quite honestly, depressing, with walls of white and a plain brown carpet floor. The only furniture within the room was a twin-sized bed, a mahogany desk with a charming portrait of her menacing family members, a tall wardrobe, and on the wall sat the rack that held her sword up for the world to see. Without a second thought, she leaped up and snatched the sword from its hooks, landing right on her feet. "Time to go, Brandy," she whispered to its black sheath, wincing as the case rattled in an excited manner. She could feel its chilling connection bonding with her body and its resources as she slung the weapon over her back before slamming the door shut and dashing back to Ash. She quickly scrambled up the Gigan's leg and found her way back to Ash's unruly blonde hair, sitting with her legs crossed just like earlier.

"Lead the way," she murmured quietly, adjusting the tall collar of her black down vest.

[User]
"Dontores my boy, do you have any idea where we are?"

A teenage boy sat on the roof of a building he didn't know, in a city he wasn't familiar with. He looked into the distance, eyes half-closed, fist under his chin, taking in the scenery.

"Does it even matter?" He said.

A thick steel-bound tome laying besides him suddenly floated up in front of him.

"Culture my boy! Culture!" The book said, a voice coming out from its pages, "How would you expect to blend in if you don't know culture?"

The book danced along to its own words, a familiar and tiresome dance. The teenager didn't see a point in it, but then again, he hardly ever saw the point of anything.

"You know as well as I do," The boy said in a tired tone, "That it's your fault that I can't blend in anywhere, right?"

The book turned its cover to him, it had no expression but he could easily imagine its grin.

"You're the one who gave half your body to me, my boy." It said,

"And you're the one who decided to take my clothes with it." He retorted.

His body was half covered by a thick, wispy shadow that only left one glowing eye visible on the left side of his body. Whatever clothes he put on, the shadows would cover it making disguise impossible. Perhaps if the Grimoire wasn't illegal, it wouldn't have been a problem.

"I will admit that this city is quite new to me," he was gloating now. "The world has changed much since I was last released."

The book turned towards the horizon and stood still, as if enjoying a sudden breeze.

"Well, you shouldn't get to used to the city just yet." It said, "Change is on the winds, and it comes on swift wings."

"Nuul," The boy said, turning towards the book, "How many times have I told you that I don't care?"

"And how many times have I told you," Nuul said, shadows radiating from his pages, a dark fist emerging from its depths. "That my name is Grimoire Nuul!

[Assistant]
Ash waits patiently as Gale retrieves Brandy Station, slumped over by the front door, and once Gale is situated on Ash's head, the Gigan clumsily opens the door to their house, and manages to squeeze through. Once Ash is out in the open, she stands at her full height with a relieved sigh, looking down at the crowd; who begins to part to let Ash through. She walks with a surprisingly brisk pace, taking into account all the obstacles of Little Innsmouth, properly gaging all her ducks, and side steps to compensate for the bat feral on her head. "It's busy out today, how did you manage to find your way home?" Ash questions as she approaches the door to a local diner, the wonderful smell of cooked food flooding her senses. "Something smells yummy," she comments, lifting Gale off of her head, and guiding her to the door. With her index finger, and her thumb, Ash grips the handle to the glass portal.

She opens it slowly, letting the tacky silver bell ring, and giving Gale a light push inside, following after her with a light grunt, forcing herself through the human sized frame of the door. Ash's knee slides across the dirtied tile floor, followed by its opposite, and once Ash manages to slide her gun past the door, she stands up; hanging her head low. "Dagonian cuisine . . ." Ash mumbles with a content smile, clasping her hands together "You have money, right Gale?"


[System]
Appearance: Malachi is a man of imposing stature, standing at 6'8" and weighing over 350 lbs, solid of physique and feature, with enough muscle and scarring for a small army. However, an extravagant hairdo and easy smile prevent him from coming off as brutish or scary. While his dark eyes and steely gray hair don't do much to offset his desaturated palette, he does have a few dyed streaks in his 'do and the green of his outfit catch the eye, specifically the green cloth decorating his steel-ridden leather armor over murky black cloth pants.

Age: 42

Race: Half-elf

Abilities: Malachi possesses the upper limits of human strength and constitution. His is an almost supernatural fighting sense; acutely aware of his surroundings and himself, he wields astonishing finesse and martial prowess. Thanks to magical stimulants, he also boasts great regeneration and not half-bad magical resistance.

Skills: Malachi's ability is more than skin deep, not just natural talents and magical enhancement. His origins and the ensuing life of fighting, long before he rose to the status of 'champion', demanded unwavering, constant education and training. He worked hard over decades to become a masterful brawler and whispered-of warrior, filling himself with expertise, tactics, and mastery. However, fighting is not at all who he is. Malachi is a skilled hunter, builder, charm-maker, and companion. He boasts a number of mundane skills related to upkeep and mending, though none terribly extraordinary, despite his own extreme overstatement of his cooking ability.

Personality: Powerful, genuine, and full of life, Malachi is a vivacious warrior. Though respecting of strength, he doesn't believe it is anything more than a tool, and though lauded as many by a hero, he decries heroism and his own status. Malachi desires no particular glory nor strives for any particular ideals. Instead, he only wishes to live truly and fully, and for others to do the same.

To that end, he's both critical and dismissive of ego, secrecy, dishonesty, supremacy, and propriety, as such sometimes coming off as rude, compulsive, selfish, and disrespectful. Those who display such qualities find him a man of brutal and unrepentant honesty, who doesn't find it necessary to deal with the slightest lick of nonsense. However, he's a true friend for those who show him strength of will and heart, putting his empathy and intelligence toward helping them live better lives, too.

He loves fighting, in particular fair fighting, but not killing, though he will harden his heart and do so if there's no other way. Despite the good he's done for others, he insists he's not anyone special, and doesn't in fact go about making others' benefit his goal. As such, he doesn't often see the big picture, and requires direction in order to accomplish big things.

In short, he's a straightforward fellow, a fighter at heart who wants to live life to the fullest.

History: Hailing from Sydane, an industrious nation of mountainous islands linked by natural bridges and abundant shallows in the southern sea, Malachi found himself surrounded by war at a young age, owing to Sydane's neighboring nation-states Ishkigal and Venbajeer. As the scion of a prominent fighting family in a culture that prized martial ability, he drilled from a young age. Though essentially a commoner, his larger-than-life, straightforward attitude landed him an unlikely friendship: Ephraim, Sydane's crown prince and future king, who found him a refreshing change from the nobility. Their camaraderie thrust Malachi into the forefront of the action when war came to Sydane's shores.

Too soon, he found the wonderful life he so enjoyed under assault. Fellowmen, friends, and eventually family fell in that six-year war, and while Malachi's innermost values remained firm, the war never left him. His love of peace and plenty served him well, but he found himself growing bored. Fighting, he had learned, was a part of life. To that end he served as a mercenary, powering through thick and thin, until the day of his old friend's coronation. After that, he left his land behind, roving across Unira to see what the country had to offer. He ate, drank, fought, and made merry, fighting heroic battles and taking care never to lose his life. Uncaring of what others thought, he lent his strength to whatever cause he believed in, and grew both rich and famous as a mercenary. Eventually, with the reckless abandon of his youth faded away, he settled down in the fortress town of Giltersain, married, and had three children. Thoughts of his homeland had faded.

Everything came rushing back, however, when news reached the town of a catastrophe not far from Sydane. The latest expedition into the furthest reaches of the mine below Ishkigal, now an economic powerhouse following its defeat and reconstruction decades ago, had broken forbidden ground. Nightmarish creatures, twisted mockeries of man, surged from the ancient, chiseled passageways to slaughter all in their path, their plagued fangs twisting their victims into gibbering minions to join the flood. Heroes from across the continent flocked to the city and delved below, and despite his wonderful life Malachi joined them. Old friends by his side, he adventured into the lowest depths imaginable, where the nighmarish bones of an eon-forgotten civilization sprang to life to annihilate their disturbers. No word exists of what exactly happened down there, since those few who returned -irreparably changed- refused to speak of it, but those who came carried with them ancient weapons, found and used by necessity. Malachi wielded fists of stone, or perhaps fossil—pieces of Those who came before. They served him as both weapons and as reminders: that heroism was a foolish fantasy.

When war erupted across Unira not long after, spurred by the ambitions of Emperor Lucius, the former hero took no side. Leaving the nightmare beneath Ishkigal far behind, he took refuge with his family in the far north of Alliance territory, fighting bandits and undead, and eventually, Empire soldiers that came to claim his life for their own. Eventually, Malachi did take up arms for the Alliance, his campaign culminating in the Tiarden Alliance's surprise victory. One battle did not win the war, however, and Malachi -grievously wounded- knew his limits. Faced with death in battle against the Empire, Malachi panicked and chose to be sealed away for the sake of the future, leaving his family behind.

Other: Malachi wields a pair of gauntlets, perhaps more accurately describable as shield-fists, that he casually calls the Heavies despite their remarkable -and perhaps abominable- nature. Made of pitch-black stone, they take substantial strength to wield, though the grace with which Malachi does so wouldn't suggest it. Far more remarkable is the Heavies' origin, which has led tale-tellers to hail them as the Dregs of the Planet. Brought forth from the Utter Depths, the deepest dark known to the world, they are freakishly dense and resonant. They absorb all manner of magic, flat-out nullifying most spells and curses that Malachi even comes near, let alone blocks with them. Strong spells that strike them are 'eaten', empowering the gauntlets with their magic temporarily. They resonate with their wielder, allowing weighty blows to create directed tremors and shockwaves. In fact, they seem somehow linked with him, in a manner eerily parasitic. They are resilient -not impervious- to harm, but they visibly regenerate when damaged, and pieces of them possess toxic, degenerative qualities.

[User]
Sylphie couldn't help her excitement. It had been far too long since she was able to shed the blood of sinners, to slay the wicked. Ah, she could feel that warmth, feel her heartbeat quickening... the slaughter of those who did evil. That was what was coming to her soon, so very soon! It didn't matter that the raiders had escaped discovery so far, they wouldn't escape from her. The tiny black-haired girl almost couldn't restrain herself from manifesting her sword right then and there and simply charging out of town...

Until something completely unexpected happened. Sylphie was suddenly spun around by her shoulders and her head was shoved directly into Izel's chest. Needless to say, this was something on a surprise, and even the Pillar of Vengeance wasn't prepared for an experience like this.

"Mmmmmmf?!" was all that came out of the surprised girl for a few moments. Usually she wasn't on the receiving end of being teased, what was this?!

[Assistant]
Byron Cauna
Izel's cryptic explanation took a few seconds for Byron to process—about as long as it had taken Sylphie to realize what her companion was doing to restrain her. There was a brief pause as the beastman turned to look at Sylphie as she squirmed about, temporarily pacified as she was, before nodding to the pair.

"...Right. So... Bandits, I presume? Given Sylphie's disposition, I feel like we're not going to get anywhere until they've been dealt with, then. Fun. Well, if anything, it'll give us a chance to stretch our legs after all this time," he sighed, shaking his head. "Could put the town into debt with us if they're anything substantial, though, so there might be some merit in doing this. Before anything else, though, we should regroup with the other two so I can share what else I've learned. Izel, make sure Sylphie doesn't break free and run off on her own, please."

With that, Byron simply nodded and walked out of the town gates, passing by the pair of guards with a curt nod as he walked back towards the forest. The path that they had taken to get here was not particularly well-worn, but finding the other two along the path they had taken would require little effort.

---

A minute or two of scanning the area let Byron find the pair that the group had left behind waiting; thankfully, they had not moved too far from the forest's edge, which might have made things a tad more annoying, but given that he (and the others) had moved ahead without establishing a firm rendezvous point, the beastman found himself missing long-distance communication devices already. There was no small number of things that he had taken for granted, once he thought about it, but something like that would be far more useful now than it had been on his usual raids back during active duty.

With that in mind, Byron waved to the pair as he walked up to them, glancing momentarily behind himself in hopes that the others had followed suit. If Sylphie had broken away, well... That just meant that he had to make this quick.

"Sorry for leaving you two behind," he began, pulling out the piece of paper that he had taken notes on during his visit to the guild, "but I've got some fairly worrisome news... Us being about 270 years off from the initial calculations of the people who sealed us away, for example. Luckily, given how I, uh... Spoke with the guards, I don't think it should be too difficult to set up a scenario that'd let you two get inside without much of an issue. Before that, though..."

The rest of the issues—at least, from here—were things he could let the others explain for now. Where to go from here, handling whatever Sylphie and Izel had found on their own expedition, or even resolving their initial goal... There was no better time to discuss such things than now, really.

Paladin@Raineh Daze@VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist@Lugubrious

[User]
~Izel~

"Do not worry, tiger." Izel smirked. "This one isn't one to let a cute girl simply run from me, ufu~" Obviously, that was not intended to be as questionable sounding as it was. "I won't let her out of my sight." As Byron left, Izel continued to playfully stroke Sylphies hair, humming a light hearted tune as she did so. She pulled Sylphie from her bosom, letting the girl have just a moment to breathe a bit easier.

"Now now, Sylphie. You heard him." Izel said to the demigod with a smile. "Behave yourself just a bit, hmm? If you do..." She lowered her voice, taking a decidedly lascivious, suggestive tone "...I'll play with you all night~"

[Assistant]
Sylphie couldn't help but be a little frustrated that she was being halted like this. Anything else could wait, the bandits that were harassing this town were in the here and now. If this had been 270 years... then it was even more important she resumed her role as the Pillar of Vengeance, wasn't it? And... ah, it was just... this feeling of having her face buried in Izel's chest was... well, it wasn't a common feeling for the demigod, to say the least. She disliked being the one targeted. Even if it was soft...

When her head was freed, the tiny girl took in a gulp of air. The hand running through her soft, silky hair was hardly unpleasant. But still, all this was was more delaying. She wanted to get on that mountainside and spill blood over and over, the blood of the wicked splattering on her sword as she felt the heat, the excitement of-

There was no reading Izel's tone in any other way.

"... Ah... you..."

The normally confident and smug girl found herself stumbling a little. Had Izel... really just...

@PKMNB0Y

[User]
Malachi arrived at the rendezvous late, bearing a knapsack laden with sufficient goods to begin a journey. The look on his face suggested that he didn't want to see anyone here again at all, but the brawler had gone against his judgment and joined his coincidental companions one more time. Were anyone to chance upon them, he figured they'd make quite the scene together. While the others exchanged a few words and sentiments, Byron lent him a a hand once again by summing up. So, the little hellion wanted to go and slaughter some poor fools. That eager look on Sylphie's face cemented her status in his mind as a twisted, vicious killer. Sure, she bore some sort of divine power, but lots of people justified lots of things. Whoever was strongest in the end could say what was right and wrong.

With such a powerhouse around Malachi felt his help unnecessary and unwanted -no doubt the others saw him as a simpleton and brute- but he did feel like punching something. At the very least, he could get an idea of the murderous tyke's real ability, and maybe by knocking out a few thieves prevent all of them from being annihilated. Crooks and killers deserved punishment, of course, but paying evil unto evil constituted something other than justice. What Sylphie seemed to have in mind was excessive at best and bloodthirsty at worst. A monster who declared herself de facto innocent. Then again what did he, some meathead from the wilderness, know about right and wrong, and higher purposes? Best not to think about such things, and certainly not to act on them. After all, what chance might a poor lunk like him stand?

The musings more or less distracted him from the perturbing conversation between Izel and Sylphie, which he was thankful for. Whatever went on between them, he didn't need to know. After a sigh, Malachi spoke. "Guess I'll 'elp check it out. Folks in town seemed nice, shouldn't 'ave to put up with any trouble."


[System]
Profession: Grocery Store Clerk (Formerly United States Marine Corps Infantryman)
Age: 28

Gender: Male

Appearance:

Backstory: Grayeson originally hails from the rural areas of northwest Louisiana, growing up with two other siblings. His father disappeared when he was only five, leaving his mother to take up the slack to feed her family. A tin shack with a dirt floor was his home for most of his life until his family moved in with his mother's parents. His grandparents, taught him the old fashioned ways of living off the land and helping his fellow man. But the most important thing he remembers from an early age, is it was his patriotic duty to at least serve for his country. His grandfather, having been an Army infantryman and his father before him served with the Navy as a ship gunner.

During his time during school, Nicholas was deeply invested in his studies and sports; mostly notably football where he received a scholarship to play for LSU. However, an injury to his right knee forced him to reevaluate his plans after school. It was here he ran into a Marine Corps recruiter and his life changed forever. Remembering his lessons on patriotic duty from his grandfather, he decided to enlist as soon as his knee was healed. When this was all said and done, along with the papers signed; he reported for recruit training at Parris Island, NC.

Nicholas quickly proved through his time at boot camp that he was a promising leader and warrior for the United States military. When he graduated from his training, he followed on to the School of Infantry and trained to be a basic infantryman at Camp Geiger. During his time here, he was a squad leader and won the Honor Graduate award upon completion of training. When war broke out in the Middle East, he deployed and served a couple of tours with 3RD Battalion, 4TH Marines out of Twentynine Palms, CA. However, it was during this time that Nicholas began to see the horrors of the war and what it did to his fellow Marines. Some of his friends never made it home in one piece or some never came back at all. This started taking a toll on the young Grayeson, forcing him to turn to alcohol to cope with the nightmares he had from his deployments. His work ethic started to slip, his physical prowess faltered, and he didn't seem to care what happened to him. All this occurred while in garrison, but in the field, he was his old self and always rallying his Marines.

Unfortunately, it all came crashing down when Nicholas's then fiancé revealed she was pregnant, but with a fellow Marine from his unit. Outrage from this betrayal, he left their shared apartment with his pistol and bottle in hand; drove to the middle of the desert. His friends found him three days later, bottle in one hand and seven rounds discharged into his truck. One round was left in the chamber, but Nicholas had passed out before turning the weapon on himself. His friends quickly sobered him up, reported him to the medical facilities, and he spent time in an institution. No longer wanting to serve with the Marines, Nicholas left the service soon after and travelled the country. Eventually, he landed in the city a few weeks prior to the outbreak. Getting a job as a local grocery clerk, he found a sort of solace in this simple life and kept to himself when on and off work.

Part Two: Skills and Equipment

Starting Equipment: {Listed Below}
1.) Eagle Scalable Plate Carrier; three magazine pouches and Individual First-Aid Kit (IFAK) attached.
2.) Tac-Shield Coyote Tan Riggers Belt; reinforced stitching with mounting clips.
3.) BlackHawk SERPA Lvl. 2 Tactical Holster; mounted on the right leg by the belt.
4.) Eagle Assault Pack; reinforced stitching and taped up straps.
5.) Two Meals, Ready-to-Eat (MREs) packed inside Assault Pack. (One halfway eaten).
6.) CamelBak Hydration Carrier; attached to Eagle Plate Carrier. (Half Full).
7.) Mechanix Reinforced Knuckle Tactical Gloves.
8.) Black, zip-up hoodie.
9.) Blue Jeans.
10.) Danner Rugged All-Terrain (RAT) Hot-Weather, Steel-Toe Boots.

Starting Weapons: {Listed Below}
1.) H&K MR223A3; equipped with 30-round magazine, Trijicon 4x3 ACOG, Foregrip, and Sling.
2.) Kimber 1911 Tactical Entry II; equipped with 8-round magazine and Surefire Flashlight.
3.) SOG Jungle Warrior Combat Knife; 8CR13MOV steel fixed blade with molded Kraton handle.

Skills: {Listed Below}
1.) Black Belt, Red Tab Marine Corps Martial Arts Program (MCMAP)
2.) Small Team Tactics (i.e. patrols, conducting searches, ambushes, raids.)
3.) Improvisation Skills (i.e. using materials to construct items for new purposes.)
4.) Hunting and Fishing (i.e. stalking prey and field dressing prey.)
5.) Proficiency with assault weapons and vehicles.

Part Three: Personality, Psychology and Physiology

Bravery (1 – 10): 8.

Psychological Stability (1 – 10): 5.

Reaction Speed (1 - 10): 7.

Physical Strength (1 - 10): 7.

Constitution (1 - 10): 8.

Party Control: No.

[User]
"What, where am I?"

Detective Norman looked around, with his bloody eyes, sighing in distress. "What the?" Detective looked around in the debris. It was a wreckage, muttering to himself. Norman put on his ARI Glasses, perhaps he could get evidence from the wreckage he just found. He found a sign of gore, life butchered. Who would of done such a thing? Norman crouched down to the blood, touching a sample of the blood he found. "Who would do such a thing." Norman sighed to himself. Norman got up, walking. Taking off his ARI Glasses, he put them in his tuxedo pocket. Suddenly, blood came dripping down his eyes and nose. He had triptocane inside of his pockets, taking one he calmed himself with some of the tripto. He decided to put on his ARI Glasses again to see what else he could find. Detective Norman slipped on his glove, he looked at a small office home-shaped like. He wondered if he could find anything, he kicked opened the door, stepping his first step in. It was a lifeless, small grave office. Just like the one he had when he was first hired to be in detective force, Norman sighed. Norman shut the door, finding a chair at the desk, Norman locked the door before sitting down. Norman figured that someone was here before him, he felt a small shake on his shoe. Norman took off his ARI Glasses and his glove on his hand, looking below his chair, he kicked the body off him. In disgust he looked at the body, "Ugh.." Norman looked at the skylight for a minute, coming towards him he felt like he saw something going to attack him. He paused for a minute.

[Assistant]
Norman's eyes we're turning red, he didn't realize. He put on his ARI Glasses again, slipping on his glove. A big map popped in front of him, and a fake world appeared in front of him. The blood came under his ARI Glasses, he took off his ARI Glasses. Sighing to himself, he put them down, taking off his glove.
He was paranoid, crazy he didn't know what to do. He was so crazed out, blood came out of his eyes. He started to move around, ruining his stability, he took a dose of his triptocane drug. He fell into his chair, sighing in relief.

[User]
His hopes raised a little with the firework of explosions outside the apartment, but quickly faded when the makeshift defense that he had just made was quickly approached by the horde inside. The previous one fell quickly; this was the last one before the entire level, which a good amount of people were on, would be swarmed.

"Uh... might need a little help here!" He called down the hallway as he swung a crowbar at the first of them, with a sickening smack. He swung again, but the next zombie, by some stroke of luck, pulled the crowbar right out of his hand and almost had him beinding into the face of one of the monstrocities, which was quickly being backed up by what he could see to be a minimum of ten more. He pushed himself back and went into the room besides him, pulling out a rather flimsy broom, and in his other hand pulling out the gun. He didn't want to waste ammo if he didn't have to... but considering a small assortment of tables and chairs were blocking the landing, there wasn't too many options until the others arrived to give a little help.

[Assistant]
Tyson was still searching for useful stuffs inside his apartment unit. More explosions and gunshots can be heard coming from the sky above the apartment. Tyson gathered a bag of stuffs and put it on a sofa, and walked near to the window beside his bed to check out the situation outside. He saw a helicopter, firing towards the lower level of the apartment. But it was not a good time to stop and enjoy the view of a metal bird shooting at the zombies, Tyson need to leave this place as fast as possible.

Tyson grabbed his equipment and was about to leave the bedroom, but he heard noises from the living room. He hold the knife he took earlier firmly in his right hand, preparing to face the unknown lurking in the living room. "Uh... might need a little help here!" After Tyson heard the shout, he moved towards the living room silently. He saw a guy with a crowbar fighting off the zombies. The door was not locked, that explained how they got inside.

"Hey! Watch Out!" Tyson ran towards a zombie and stabbed it with the knife in his right hand. But it was probably not a good idea to go near the front door now, as more zombies started to appear outside the front door of his apartment unit.

[User]
The sounds of the creatures below his position started growing louder, immediately followed by the sounds of furniture breaking and shuffling of rushed footsteps. Moving his way to the railing and peering over the ledge, Nicholas watched as a group of corpses made their way over his makeshift barricade. All the good the attack helicopter managed on the outside of the apartment building, amplified the inside's horrors to turn into frenzied monsters. The sounds of a struggle from two of the survivors caught wind in Grayeson's ears and he made his way down the staircase to help. In one of the nearby rooms, he watched as a few of the creatures drunkenly made their way inside the open doorway and were slowly followed by their "friends." Slinging his rifle behind him and snapping it in place, Nicholas drew his combat knife and made his way quickly to the oncoming horde. A few caught his scent and turned their attention towards him instead of the peoplw inside the room the others went into; allowing whoever was inside, some time to deal with those in the room. A forward kick to the chest of the nearest one, Grayeson watched as the creature to fell back into it's fellow monsters. This would cause all of them fall in a bowling pin fashion and back down the stairs they were trying to scale. Without skipping a beat, Nicholas turned his attention to the one on his right, which was slowly making its way towards him with its foul-smelling mouth wide open. Reaching up and grabbing the creature by the throat, he slammed it into the nearby wall and "inserted" his blade through its temple. When the corpse finally went limp, he let go off the body and threw a quick elbow to the face of the monster encroaching behind him; causing it to stumble backwards some. Following up with a side kick, Grayeson watched as the creature fell off the railing and into a group of corpses below him. With the monsters having trouble recovering from their snapped limps from their tumbles down the stairwell, he checked to ensure there were no more immediate threats and turned back towards the open room.

"Hopefully whoever is in there is still alive... otherwise this would've been pointless." he told himself, stabbing the area connecting the spinal cord and skull of a lone creature as he entered the room.

As another creature started turning its attention to him, he moved just in time to side step out of the way of its open jaws. Throwing a hammerfist into the creature's chest, simultaneously sweeping the back of its knee; Nicholas dropped the corpse on the ground with a hard thud. Without skipping a beat, he put his knee into the monster's chest and "punched" his knife through its temple. Removing his blade, he spun around and swept the leg of the nearest creature to him. Rolling on the floor and next to the grounded monster, he slammed his knife through the nose of the creature and watched it also go limp. Rolling backwards and on to his feet into a combat stance, he took into account there was one monster left and it was the police officer and someone else he was actually helping out. Knowing the policeman could handle at least one, he also notice he had drawn his sidearm and was pointing it towards the remaining corpse. Reaching up and motioning for the "hush" action, Nicholas prayed he took what he was trying to get at to end the monster's existence. Turning back to the situation outside the room, Grayeson made his way back out the room and watched as more of the monsters were starting to gain momentum up the stairs. Taking a deep breath and wiping off he sweat from his brow, he readied himself for another fight in the fray.


[System]
Age: 28
Appearance:

Height: 166cm
Weight: 74.5kg

Likes: Music, her scarf, flirting, having fun with friends, experiencing new things, playing an instrument, making people laugh, drawing, dancing, not working, otakudom.
Dislikes: Working, dishonesty, death, depressing topics, serious topics, bullies, things that aren't fun, normal people.

Party Trick: Ryoki has a deck of tarot cards. Should you request it, she'll give you a reading. Using the power of the arcana, she can supposedly tell you your future. Of course, if that doesn't cut it, she can play just about any instrument, and has a large stockpile of puns available if all else fails.

Profession: Ryoki is an aspiring musician who works from home. She has a wide variety of instruments that she owns and plays, but is best with violins, guitars, keyboards and saxophones. Not to mention singing; she loves to sing! She uploads her music on to sites such as YouTube and makes her own albums. She's not world famous by any means, but still makes enough to make a living. Mostly. Ryoki also works part-time as a voice actor, getting job offers every now and then to voice characters for anime, games and so-on.

Bio/Personality: Ryoki has always lived in Shine City, and is rather upbeat and daring. She's willing to give just about anything a try and, for better or for worse, doesn't have any real sense of shame. She'll flirt with boys (and sometimes girls too) and loves to tease. You could say it's in her nature to try make others feel good about life like she does. Ryoki comes from a rich family who wanted to give their daughter the opportunities she wanted, and, as such, they allowed her to pursue her dream of making music. Ryoki has followed that dream ever since she was young and has found herself climbing the ladder of fame and success one rope at a time. She still has a long way to go, but remains persistent, working hard as she aspires towards becoming a top musician. She'll sometimes perform at Mochavine Cafe and Bar, as it was the place where she first started out as a musician. She's never had much interest in romantic affairs, despite the flirting. She's also secretly a bit of an otaku.

Themes: Main Theme, Flirtatious and Sexy Theme!, Sexy Theme 2!

[User]
Kyle couldn't help but stifle his laughing as the man could hardly contain his yawning. Clearly he wasn't prepared for the morning, Kyle could usually relate, but he had actually gotten to sleep at a decent hour last night, who knows what this man was up to.

"No apologies friend, the name's Parker, Kyle Parker. To answer your question I WAS a student, me and university didn't agree and I'll leave it at that to spare you all the gory details of my failings. I wouldn't have had you for a teacher, but my roommate at the time seemed to-"

Kyle paused realizing that this man was suddenly distracted by something, turning to face whatever it was, Kyle could hardly blame him as the sight came into view. A beautiful young woman, long golden locks, a tattoo adorning her face and those eyes, damn those eyes. Though he didn't hear the words of his new acquaintance he stepped back in near synchronization all the same to allow the girl towards the bulletin board to put up...flyers or something, Kyle was dumbstruck, absolutely slack jawed. Realizing he was finally staring, Kyle quickly turned around and felt his face heating up, his hands shaking slightly, "What in the hell? he thought. Normally he was confident enough, but for whatever reason he felt like jelly in the presence of this girl...he had to talk to her, but that thought absolutely terrified him.

"What the hell am I doing, she is way out of my league, I don'- ...seriously what the hell am I doing? Doubting myself?" Maybe it was the weed making him extra anxious, but something was conflicting him from approaching her and just saying hello. Hell he wanted to do more than that, actually talk to her, have a conversation, how to convince her though...he knew the answer. Breathing in deeply he steeled himself, barely noticing Shou walking off in the other direction to do gods know what; Kyle was on a mission!

Kyle approached the girl as she was posting up her flyer, "Excuse me, miss, may I uh-... um... (oh crap...)," as she turned to face him her eyes suddenly pierced his vision again and his brain went to jelly, cursing under his breath in English he tried to regain his composure; he gulped down his words and tried again.

"Hi, I'm Kyle Parker, could I interest you in some breakfast?oh yea...this'll go over well."

@Narcotic Dollie

[Assistant]
Saturday, 10:00 AM

After an exhausting night at work, Amaya crashed hard. There had been a few snags, but otherwise work went smoothly. However, now she was currently at her desk in her dorm room working on an essay due as part of her final in biology. A steaming mug of green tea was perched just to the top right of her sleek silver laptop. Amaya wasn't a big fan of breakfast, despite knowing how important it is, but she was planning on a trip to the gym later which required some energy derived from breakfast. Which is why a mostly eaten bagel sat on a plate to her left. Listening to some instrumental musical to help her focus, the blond tapped away silently in her quiet room. Unfortunately, nothing good ever lasts for long.

"AHHHHHH!" A screech filled the dorm room, managing to pierce through the headphones that Amaya had been wearing. She jumped, startled before whipping around to see her room mate, Rachel, leap out of the bed she had been sleeping on to grab her purse at the foot of the bed. "Is it still there, please tell me it's still there." The brunette whined, rummaging through her disorganized purse. "Thank the lord! It's still there?" She sighed.

"Mind sharing with the class what's going on?"The startled girl giggled.

"I had a dream where I spent all my money on a trip to the mall and it was horrible! I didn't even buy cute clothes!" Rachel complained, flopping back onto her bed. "What time is it?"

"10:05" Amaya replied, turning back to her laptop. She only had 150 more words to go to fulfil the requirement, but something told her that she might end up having more problems staying within the maximum rather than achieving the minimum. The only response her room mate gave was a dejected groan. "Listen, you can explain to the neighbours what that loud noise was, I'm going to the gym for a bit. Then I have to go shopping for holiday gifts. I'll see you tonight,"

The brown eyed girl gathered her gym clothes, wallet, purse, phone, and laptop just in case she decided to work on her essay in the park or somewhere on campus. After exiting the building she walked to the gym. It wasn't too far away, but then again there were many places Amaya wasn't willing to walk to. She preferred spending her money on other things other than transport. Besides if anything sketchy came up, she was confident she could take care of herself. Once arriving, she checked in through the front desk, flashing her membership ID to the person on duty. "Is Devin here?" She asked.

"If he's here, he's probably working out around the treadmills. Pretty sure he's getting ready for a marathon or something." The receptionist explained. With a word of gratitude and a wave, Amaya headed into the locker room to change into her clothes. When she came out, she went in search of Devin. She found the Egyptian male right where she'd been informed.

"Hey Devin! Do you mind spotting me?" The slightly shivering girl asked. The air inside the building was cold because of winter and the fact that no one seemed to be at the gym.

"Sure," He huffed, getting off the treadmill. "So how have you been? Found any potential guys since you broke up with that asshole?" Devin asked cheerfully. He was pretty blunt about things, but was so happy all the time that he made it seem like it wasn't all that bad. About four months ago, Amaya had broken up with her abusive boyfriend. It had been pretty bad, but she has pretty much recovered since then. Except for a few scars that are still on her body.

"It's been forever since that happened, I'm fine, and you know it!" Amaya grinned at her friend. They both stopped at a bench press as the petite girl slid under the bar. "Also, I haven't found anyone new,"

"Hmm, what a disappointment." The dark skinned male mused. "1, 2, 3." He counted off before lifting up the bar.

"What about you? I heard you're going to be in a marathon?" Amaya asked.

"Yea, there's going to be one in a city close by. You interested?" He asked, his eyes glinting with excitement.

"Naw, I have finals to worry about and after that, I'm crashing for awhile." The friendly banter went on for awhile, and they switched positions. After an adequate amount of time, they parted ways. Amaya did a bit more exercise before changing back into her normal clothes. She gathered her things and headed towards Shine Junction to do some gift shopping. On her way there, she noticed a packed Mochavine. Apparently everyone and their mothers wanted to get some coffee for the morning. The pale girl simply laughed to herself and continued on her way.

[User]
"Ah, pardon me, miss," Murmured a voice to Nori's right, causing her to pause and look up at the stranger. 'Geez, he's tall,' the blonde thought, the corners of her mouth twitching up into a smile. The gentleman was incredibly good-looking, with glossy silver hair and mischievous brown eyes. He actually reminded her a lot of a particularly stubborn white fox that had always tried to find a way into their family's chicken coop during her childhood. She instantly liked him.

"No worries, fox," Nori grinned before turning back to the notice board and sticking another piece of tape to her flyer.

"Excuse me," a different, noticeably more accented voice came from her left. "Miss, may I uh-... um... (oh crap...)," Nori turned to regard the man curiously just as he muttered something garbled sounding under his breath. This stranger towered over the florist as well, standing almost a foot taller than her. "Hi, I'm Kyle Parker, could I interest you in some breakfast?" the brunette asked in a soft American drawl, his hands twitching slightly as he looked down at her with kind blue eyes. His face was slightly flushed and he seemed nervous as hell, which Nori thought was just about the cutest thing she'd seen all week.

"I'm Nori," The golden eyed girl told him before admitting in a teasing voice, "and I already had breakfast. Plus, it's kind of packed in here, don't you think?" she asked conversationally, a slow grin spreading across her face as she finished adhering her poster to the board and stuffed the roll of tape into her purse.

"But I was hoping to put a few more of these up at the arcade," Nori paused here to wave the last couple of flyers, before resuming with, "...and I could go for some of their nachos right now, seeing as how it's almost lunch time. I wouldn't be opposed to some company," the blonde confessed, stepping a little closer to Kyle as someone made their way around them.

"So Kyle Parker, did you want to go get some nachos with me?"

@BeastofDestiny

[Assistant]
"Let's just say a little bit of both." She sighs, rubbing her temple as she exchanges change for coffee. "Staying up late recording scripts plus not being a morning person is a recipe for disaster." The lady chuckles, putting on a bright smile as she took a sip from her coffee. Even with such a shallow sip, Yutaro could see the light returning to her deep sea-like sapphire eyes. It was like she'd been blessed by some kind of unseen clarity, like the world was opening up around her. Setting the small cup down for a moment, she calls to the bartender. "Oh, yes, and can I please have a bag of your best coffee beans?"

As she studies the man with apparently no sense of secrecy about her, she couldn't help but feel as though she may have seen him around before. He carried the demeanor of someone of upper class from what she could tell. A casino worker? Perhaps, but it wasn't definite. Even so, Ryoki smirks as she made mental note of the man's finer features. Perhaps she could use them for later...

'Well, might as well enjoy myself, even if it's temporary.'

Leaning over the bar slightly, moving closer to him, Ryoki grins as she closes the gap between the two. Her suggestive and somewhat questionable movements made her already prominent 'assets' even more-so. She was always considered to be 'top-heavy', and she often used it to her advantage in times like these; she used it well. "Soooooo, what about you? What brings you to this quaint little part of town, handsome?" She asks, cocking her head to the side in curiosity. "Feeling the downside of fatigue after a long night's shift, or is it something else?" Ryoki cocks an eyebrow, smirking as she speaks. She certainly was a straightforward one...


[System]
Appearance:
Gender: Male

Age: 1920, appears to be 16

Race: Human

Element: Light-natured; formerly Dark-natured

Dream:

Less of a dream, and more of a mission, Marshall's conscripted is to collect seven hearts steeped in sin; one for each of the Seven Deadly Sins. It is not a matter of if, he's able to succeed, but once, that he will be allowed to dream of death forbidden.

Home:

Yoltaire; a land of darkness, where overcast sky and lasting rain is the norm, is where Marshall hailed many years ago under a name forgotten forever. Naturally a denizen of the Dark, his cursed existence has many him an outcast in his own land, and such, he calls no place home; merely a place to rest before moving on.

Gimmicks:

Immortality has its talents. Marshall cannot die in a technical sense, but be majorly incapacitated via removal of limbs; his Dark nature, though, makes his body easy to repair, should he be able to recover removed limb. However, if he should lose his right arm, he also loses his primary means of attacking: the Touch of Virtue – a ranged magical artifact that serves beings of a Light-nature with the ability to shoot light in thin beams from the fingertips, or a large beam from the palm. However, being of a Dark-nature, Marshall is forced to shoot his own blood; now saturated with the Element of Light.

Furthermore, despite his immortality, Marshall has a "limited ammo counter" equal to two pints of blood, before he starts to suffer from the effective of blood loss as he's still human. This can be temporarily mitigated, however, by successfully drawing blood from a bleeding target (usual victimized by puncture or slash damage before his "turn", or suffering a bleeding effects) within melee range, and "actively reloading" with this foreign blood. Due to its foreign nature, Marshall can weaponize someone else's blood differently, using the ether within the blood to deal elemental damage or even cause status afflictions, such as natural toxins. As such, drawing blood inherently changes the shot "properties" until he exhausts this ammo.

However, Marshall cannot draw blood by just seeking to do so, or if impeded from making direct contact, such as by armor.

Personality:

Blunt. That's the best descriptor for Marshall's personality. Before becoming cursed by his benefactor – of sorts – into servitude, the thief known, currently, as Marshall Chambers was a brash and confident "reliever of items". Never overconfident, but, pridefully, willing to maintain his reputation, Marshall gambled it all away in a moment. Having lived generations gone, seeing the ups and downs of many, and longed to join those gone Marshall is withdrawn and blunt, whenever he needs to speak to someone.

There are rare occasions, like seeing twinned snowflakes, that his old personality resurfaces for the sake of people; however, he remembers the pain of it, and is swift to cage it. He's a job to do, and the longer it takes, the longer he suffers the hell that is living, in his mind. However, for all his bluntness, he has a soft spot for that which is fluffy and furry, and regularly entertains a kitten or puppy from infancy to the grave.

Background:

 Once upon a time, there was a Human that was born in the shadow of a shadow, under an overcast sky, when the moon was new, and the rain fell lightly across the ever-shaded island of Yoltaire. His name is long since forgotten, even though, he still lives and breathes. His history a memory of being unparalleled in his clan; a thief that could relieve anyone of anything, and gained the appropriate reputation for such a feat. He was brash, yet friendly; confident, yet collected; he took nothing to heart... save for one challenge: Stealing the heart of another.

Longingly, the thief sought for the hand of the daughter of the Clan Grandmaster. Unwilling to relinquish his daughter to any one man, he tasked upon the would-be suitors a single item from the Caress of Virtue – a suit of armor that could be used to snuff the darkness without fail. The Clan Grandmaster knew, even a single piece's absence would set back the production of the armor, and delay the worst, if only for a bit.. It was slightly for his pride in his reputation, and largely for his desire for the hand of the coveted daughter, that the thief swore to bring back a piece.

That was over 1,900 years ago, 1904 to be exact. He was sixteen, by human years, and had been since he met her: the Lady of Virtue, a Primal Beast of Light. He stole into her workshop, into her domain, and over his head. Perhaps, the Clan Grandmaster knew the outcome was undefiable failure, he surmised, as he held to a knee before the being of Light; his right arm burning and bleeding, as the Touch of Virtue bound to his being – surrendering its once beautiful silken look and royal colors of golds and red for a charred fabric appearance and burnt ash muddled with blood for colors.

 Unthinking Light for its cruelties, the thief found himself bound to the Touch of Virtue, to The Will of the Creator, he found himself given a bargain from his pathetic state and surrendered freedom: "Bring seven hearts steeped in sin, one for each, and, with them, atone for the sins you hold yourself. Until that day, wander, forever alive until the True Light fades, unable to die, but able to suffer all pain and loss."

And so, the thief did wander, suffer, and lose; unable to return home, for the light inside him, and unable to stay rooted for the darkness brimming underneath. He wandered, surviving on, as the "immortal mercenary with the bandaged arm," and becoming known as a man that simply would not die – even if ordered at the point of a sword and barrel end of a rifle. Death was too trivial a request to honor, if those demanding it could not even answer a simple question: "Where are six hearts are steeped greatly in Sin?"

Unfortunately, he would find that to anger law enforcement – especially the corrupt – then the sheer inability to die upon command can be spun as something worthy of capital punishment, and rewards by rotting away in a prison cell for forever.

However, for the immortal thief Ziggurat is a mere setback, and, perhaps, a sign...

Inventory:

The Touch of Virtue; see Gimmick

A Lust-soaked Heart; the Heart of a woman steeped deeply in Lust, stilling beating without its hostess...

Selmia's Dagger; currently traded for reasons exchanged between Marshall and the Woman in Grey for his Bowie Knife, a simple knife that has seen more blood than several wars.

Bag of Chilled Holding; a magicked bad that holds temperature and numerous bottles of chilled blood. Ammunition for future occasions. Sadly, emptied out... for now.

Is a Kitten an inventory item?

[User]
Dreams, something every living being had, they are a funny subject. They can appear as the most ridiculous thing someone has ever heard of, yet they can inspire even the youngest of minds. They can even manifest themselves as warnings of what is to come. This dream however she did not know know what to make heads or tails of. She had found herself in the presence of a dragon with its hands bound to its chest, its eyes and mouth sealed shut. Though intimidating, it did not seem threatening. She felt sorry for it, yet she could relate to its imprisonment. It had seemed to speak to her in her mind.

"What-who, who are you" she asked. "My aspirations? Bonds?" She scoffed. "Who would want a useless heiress around, if anything I would be a hindrance to them. The most I would want is to find my sisters, but now the only thing I will get is to rot in this cell."

What strength? I couldn't even stand up to my own father. I did nothing but blindly stand there and watch while my family reaped its benefits off the suffering of others. How could I carry the weight of such a burden when I can't even carry my own If the world has need of my strength, it must be desperate.

"Convictions? Singularly? I've never needed these until now, but I believe that wealth shouldn't be earned off of the suffering of others. Those who gain it that way don't deserve to have it. Life should not be something measured in gold. If I could, I'd find my family and see all of those guilty of this injustice brought brought before it. Even if it means facing certain destruction."

She answered all of his questions without hesitation. It felt as though the only thing she could tell the dragon was the truth, yet it was nothing forced. As what seemed like hours passed, her vision grew dark, it seemed like the world around her had grown dark. Before darkness enveloped the world around her, the dragon let out a roar that sent light spiraling out filling the sky. It enveloped her as well as the other figures and before she knew it, the cold harsh reality returned.

The days seemed like months as the girl wasted away in this cell bound by these shackles. Solitude seemed like the one thing she would beg for in her old life, now, it was the one thing she wished she could get away from. The lack of sun and fresh air had been unbearable, the only connection to the outside world she had was through the slot in the door they would slide her meals through, if you would even call it a meal. It was the only thing she had to look forward to. That and her dreams, dreams that would take her far from this hell, dreams that would see her reunited with the siblings she had never even had the chance of knowing.

Sasha often wondered what they would be like, what they looked like, how they lived, surely they must be in a better position than her's. She sat there in silence as she had always done. It was depressing, soul crushing, enough to break the strongest of wills. It was then that she had heard a voice of one of the prisoners who seemed to be out of his cell. "Sure, as long as it's a cheery one" she chuckled.

[Assistant] Skathi started to stir as she began to wake after so long her mind still flashing back to a battle that has long ended ages ago as she flashed back to the battle she growled as she leaped forward Her gauntlets flashing with a dark power as she lept forward. The fact Marshall let the blast so close to her didnt help much either. "YOU WILL FALL!" She growled out more like a berserker lost in rage as she raised her claw at the one who attacked. She would defend the island and all who seek to harm it will FALL! Though part of her mind questioned the dragon she saw Primals are fickle beings but for one to do so while she had to defend her island was bad. She couldn't allow such distractions no such a slip in thought could mean the death of many. "I WON'T LET YOU HARM THIS ISLAND!" She yelled once more her claw strikes began to come closer to Marshall's face. Rage clear on her face as she sought a strategy first she would take care of this attacker than find her weapon.

[User]
Marshall would have rolled his eyes at such a predictably pointless assault, if they weren't still swimming in formaldehyde. To be honest, he'd expected this much of his roommate; her story was unknown, but her experiments -- tortures, really -- weren't hidden from him. After all, he's been no more than a head in a jar. To what did anyone think to hide the harsh reality of this place from his water-logged eyes? No more than one sensible thought to betrayed the hopes of a child, when they wished upon a star. As such, he figured her durability was high, temper was sky-high, her sense was low, and her rationality was null.

That was good, in this case. As she lashed into reaction range, he threw his hand up, and it latched onto the back of her head. It slipped into the collar of her shirt, and skittered down her back, comically, like an oversized rodent, before fingers enshrouded in light, belying the darkness beneath, curled around the base of tail... and dug in.

'I can barely see, but, I know that was too close.' Marshall mused, as the Erune's berserker charge at him became a flailing struggle to detach his hand from her tail. 'If exposed to the right application of pain, I may be unable to control her, but, I can move her away.' he decided, 'After all, she cannot surmise that a head is capable of the physical feat occurring. Well, suppose, she can, but, the concept is sketchy at best.'

 Marshall tabbed out of his own thoughts, for a moment, as the formaldehyde was starting to, blissfully, drain out the bottom of his neck, and he was able to see. 'Well, you're a cute one. For an Erune, anyways.' he admired for a moment, 'A fair sight, now that you aren't orange.' Marshall watched her lash and spin, 'Hrm. Maybe, a cat... or a dog...? No collar. I guess, that would be immoral or something... Insulting, perhaps? Racist, mayhaps?'

'Gah! Focus, Chambers, focus on not getting slaughtered.' Marshall huffed, internally. 'They do look fluffy, though. I'll sneak a pet in later. Maybe, a scratch behind the ears. If she purrs, I'll know for sure if she's a cat or a dog.' he wandered into his thoughts anew, 'Ah, dammit. Focus on the matter at hand. This isn't time to be thinking about a new pet.' he chided himself. 'I just need to make her... actually...'

It was with an inward smirk that he loosed her tail from his hold, and sent his hand rushing beyond the hem of her dress, and towards the door... just to see if she would chase it, or try to slaughter the head that had no possible means of attacking her. It was a risky gamble, but, hey, if it didn't pay off, he would just regenerate the damage in a few hours.

'Let's see if you can fetch.'


[System]
Race: Gnome

Race Description: Short, curious, social. Average life-span: 60, Age of maturity: 10

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Appearance: Sharp violet eyes (with the left being outlined by a cog tatoo) point out from under dark green eyebrows and unkempt, shoulder length hair (normally kept under a hat). 3' 2'' Tirarian is quite supple and can easily dance out of the way of most attacks, height, Lighter skin with cog tatoos down her spine and over her left eye

Clothing/Armor: An oversized duster (for someone who is 3 foot 2) underneath is a typical outfit of padded cloth armour. She is laden by multiple satchels and belts with potions attatched. Atop her head is the stereotypical wide brimmed hat with a harpy feather and a small flute through it.

Weapons: A very heavy crossbow that requires setting up on a stand for Tirarian, that is even beyond the strength of a normal sized person to wield.(to fire properly she has to set it up) because of crossbow needing setting up she often uses a poisoned shortsword which acts like a bastard sword to her.
A plethora of alchemical arrows, ranging from combustible, to poison cloud to 'deus ex machina' brand. The crossbow is kept on her back while the arrows line the inside of her jacket (hence why it is oversized).
Several kinds of bombs strapped around her
A collection of potions in her satchel

Skills/Abilities: A strong alchemist and a talented tongue
Produces high quality potions which she uses to fund her travelling. (normally by renting a lab whenever she finds one)
Known in the criminal underworld as being able to talk the team into and out of any situation

Backstory: Gnomes in this world are generally Nomads, but at an early age Tirarian's parents moved to Estermere, because of this Tirarian considers herself a Gnome only in appearance. Her father worked as an alchemist apprenticing, and Tirarian's mother worked as a seamstress before leaving the family and Estermere with a trader when Tirarian was 5.
After the events of Estermere she travels the world in search of adventure, making potions out of extravagant ingredients and telling the story of Estermere, involving a cunning Barber, a curious slave, a dashing set of immortal daemon hunters and a very talented Gnome

I quickly threw this together, hope to build her more as a character in the actual game

Decided to bring back an old favourite of mine, which didn't see much use in the last RPs I used her in. Also good to have a bit of race diversity

[User]
Relaxed was not the word one would use to describe the man's demeanor as the gnome began her not so hasty backpedal.

The attentiveness in his ferine eyes and the vigor in which he carried himself eased as he made a slow, calculated approach. Yet, there persisted a distinct lack of trust visible in his motions; his powerful hands, bound in partial, worn gloves flexed their digits lightly and his footfall had again reduced to minimal sound, but it was the way in which he leaned slightly forward that indicated this more than anything. It was not a lunge on edge, but the readiness to move quickly if need be, and if his speed were anything close to his assumed strength, he would undoubtedly cover a gap in a heartbeat - a pounce with brutal force behind it.

As Tirarrian continued her reverse order of movement, "The Red" paused - a gap between him and the rest of those in the area having formed. Undoubtedly thought out the moment she began to give ground, the hide draped hunter took advantage of the turn of events without pause. It was then he stood more upright once more, just as he had initially, reducing his defensiveness to a more passive state; the same aura of wild menace he carried with him ebbing into nothingness as he no longer moved with immediate readiness.

It made more sense in its own context now...

The gnome had withdrawn from the unintentional posturing and not a single participant found themselves in the reach of one another; the safest of solutions for all present, given the company.

"The Red" issued the first of his response in a tempered, measured tone; "You, small one."

The faint spark of primal power in his gaze faded for a moment as he blinked, drawing to mind thoughts. For so long words were meaningless to the beast-among-men - nothing but hollow utterances made by mere mortal things - and for almost as long had it been since he had needed them.

"I neither have time for your mere games nor those of these others."

"The Red" shifted, turning about to acknowledge the injured about in the rooming with a demeaning gesture; it was as though he looked upon them with the same indifference a predator among abundant, cowering prey would. Ending once more with his attention upon the gnome, he shook his head firmly side to side but once, his sizable arms returning to his sides with a continued sense of ease.

"There is an evil among this earth here - this settlement." His rumbling voice continued, a slight snarl of disgust emphasizing the vileness of what it was that summoned him here. "One that offends me to the point of bloodlust."

Palms opened ever so slightly, "The Red" gestured faintly with head, shoulders and this motion toward the gnome.

"With or without you I will find it, but if you value the lives of these others - yourself - then you will."

There existed a tempest of unbridled animal fury to his demeanor, one so clearly of supernatural origin, but at the same time so eloquently spoken to the point he appeared almost an authority on such a matter. It was mildly concerning no less that somehow, someway, something drew his ire from what seemed to be tremendous distance to this place; undoubtedly well traveled as his set inferred by its make and adornment, both in bronze inlaid scimitar and tremendous lioness sark. Whatever means accomplished this summons, felt innate... as though he had a knowing through some connection to these turn of events.

"Will you or will you not aid me?"

"The Red" inquired, a tawny brow raised from beneath the maw of the elder huntress.

@The Fated Fallen@IcePezz

[Assistant]
Isabeau looked like a complete mess and desperately needed a bath, among other things. Still covered in dirt and dried blood, she trudged over towards Tirarrian. Her cowl draped over an arm and her shirt hung loose over her collar bone, exposing a small bit of bandages and scarred skin if one paid close attention as the cloth flowed over her back. She wasn't in a particularly good mood, though it was most likely due to the lack of sleep and or food in her stomach.

She glanced over "The Red" for a long moment, committing every inch of the imposing brute to memory as he and Tirarrian exchanged words. Friend or foe hadn't been decided just yet, but she needed an idea of what she was working with. So if for some reason she would have to defend herself against the giant beast, she just might survive. She couldn't make heads or tails of him, and so refrained from forming any opinion, looking at him with the same indifference he offered her. At the moment, all she could tell was that he was another entitled male, demanding answers from them, like they were children who did something horribly wrong. Pfft ... men...

"To be honest, we will need all the help we can get if we are to defeat the horrors that plague this land. Now if you'll excuse me...", her voice was low and strained with exhaustion, her body, barely able to push past them to the door.

She hoped the tavern wasn't too far from there, walking across town wasn't exactly an option for her. She did remember seeing a blacksmith just around the corner and hoped the Tavern wasn't that far off.

Fated Fallen @Dragoknighte @The Harbinger of Ferocity @Belwicket @KazeXDZ @boomlover

[User]
The large savage seemed to turn slightly, losing his aggressive edge. He made his apologies, though his last sentence was one that stayed with her:

"There is an evil among this earth here - this settlement."

Whatever it was, he could sense it. Destroying that demon had not sent it away, and this evil was deep rooted here.

"With or without you I will find it, but if you value the lives of these others - yourself - then you will." He seemed to puff up again, his eyes flaring with his animalistic rage. "Will you or will you not aid me?"

Tirarrian stood on her back foot still, stunned and feeling a bit like a mouse being asked by a lion.

Tirarrian looked over at Isabeau, who was still standing in her elegant and confident manner. "To be honest, we will need all the help we can get if we are to defeat the horrors that plague this land. Now if you'll excuse me..." She spoke in a heavy manner, betraying her spry looks and revealing her to be far more worn and beaten than Tirarrian could have guessed. She shuffled past the engagement and out the door. Thanks Izzy, scowled the Gnome at the door where she had gone. Pop to the pub and leave the short one to wrap up.

She blinked back at the Savage, having forgotten he was there. If anything he looked even angrier and more defined in the time she had glanced away. No-one here was in a state where they could turn down help. If anything he seemed to be the person here who knew the most.

"I... Um, well I'm sure we'll help you. But we can't really do anything this very instant. Maybe tomorrow morning, if you could find some lodgings somewhere I'll stay here with Kayleth and help the wounded. If we meet tomorrow? Or whatever works for you. I'm sure you'll find any one of us if you need us."

@Dragoknighte@The Harbinger of Ferocity

[Assistant]
The gleaming green eyes of the man known more for what he was, than who he was, looked back to the human woman with an attentiveness that would rub raw the nerves; it was not friendly - it was the sort that knew when it was being watched - but it wasn't on edge, at least as clearly as it was earlier. Whatever the reason, Isabeau herself was uncertain, but erred on the ideal of his own self entitlement; the truth was another altogether, in that this man, or truly this beast posing as one, had no love for any of them here. It was not out of mercy or conviction to save this town, but something much more broad and far, far more indifferent. In the scope of things, one could claim it was nothing short of a dispute over territory that brought "The Red" to Waeldeshore and by technicality not be incorrect, yet such an oversimplification was just that - too simplified. There was more involved... far more to this than any one of them alone, be them the heroes or the scourge themselves.

With a sense of acceptance, "The Red" made no attempt to prevent the woman's departure, but it was unclear if his decision for doing so was out of actual acceptance of her offer or the fact that he had unsettled business with the gnome left rather than her. Either way, his eyes left as she did, back upon the gnome as he remained idly standing.

The two, of quite differing ideals no less, looked to one another for a few uncomfortable, tense moments before Tirrarian eked out a rambling reply. The words "The Red" issued were as dangerous as the man himself, carrying a sense of weight in them that made them difficult to ignore, let alone readily give a "good" answer to. Ideologically the two factions were not opposed; no one was in disagreement about the need to thwart demons, let alone any other faces of evil that would likely arise, but one truly had both the mortal, civilized world meeting head on a speaker of the savage domain - neither agreeing about how to do so, or even readily comprehending the other's perspective.

"I... Um, well I'm sure we'll help you. But we can't really do anything this very instant. Maybe tomorrow morning, if you could find some lodgings somewhere I'll stay here with Kayleth and help the wounded. If we meet tomorrow? Or whatever works for you. I'm sure you'll find any one of us if you need us."

"The Red" proved to issue a firm, albeit subtle nod which proved his agreement.

"Where is it your 'people' meet?" He issued one of his more parting remarks whilst his powerful palm rested upon the worn leather of the scimitar beneath his primal, feline trimmed garb. The almost pad-like palms of the forefinger and thumb toyed with the bronze pommel, of which bore an engraving of a lioness in its weaponized curve; the worn but keen blade itself met along its fuller with a bronze inlay with a similar image.

"I will accept that you, and your others, require rest." His head turned slightly toward Tirrarian, looking lightly over his fur draped shoulder, "But where is it they congregate?"

From one demeanor to another his apprehensiveness and presence of deadly, animal vigor had settled; he was as calm as he was before, albeit just his aura had changed. The radiance of essentia - the spirit matter that fueled his power both mundane and magical - born of Incarnum was what could be felt... that unusual knowing and sensation of his demeanor. In a distant way it even correlated to emotion, just as his drift correlated to the beasts he revered.

@Dragoknighte@The Fated Fallen

[User]
"I... Um, well I'm sure we'll help you. But we can't really do anything this very instant. Maybe tomorrow morning, if you could find some lodgings somewhere I'll stay here with Kayleth and help the wounded. If we meet tomorrow? Or whatever works for you. I'm sure you'll find any one of us if you need us."

After a brief few seconds the man nodded slightly in acknowledgement, just enough to be seen but not to incur the idea of agreement or respect. His hand moved to his blade, making Tirarrian consider taking a few more steps back, but it was as she suspected. He was just moving his hand idly over it. She didn't have time for a full look before he posed her another question

"I will accept that you, and your others, require rest." His head turned slightly toward her, as if he didn't think she was either dangerous enough or worth the respect of fully addressing "But where is it they congregate?"

"Probably some sort of Tavern or Inn, none of us really have lodgings here. Failing that you can ask around, we're pretty distinctive. I'm the only Gnome around here and Izzy is dressed pretty uniquely."

The man's stance hadn't relaxed per se, but she felt more comfortable around him. He just seemed less threatening for some reason. Well, he still has muscles on muscles and a lioness wrapped around his head she reminded herself