[System]
Roulette Co.
TBA

Black Dragons

Status: Active
A lieutenant of the Black Dragons with a determined, somewhat boisterous personality. Always partnered with Pacho, he tends to be the one who does all the talking. Loves a good challenge more than anything.
Fighting Style: Muay Thai
Special Techniques: Shadow Glide - The user maintains their stance and becomes lighter than air, propelled forward by the power of their chi.
K̄hīpnāwuṭh phin: Translation "Pin Missile" - O-Chul forms a powerful, piercing spear of chi from his knees for a crippling, piercing blow.
Super Arts: Thæng bx lbīch (Translation: Beachball Spike) - The user generates a large ball of chi with amplified kinetic properties and spikes it at an opponent. It carries enough kinetic force to smash cars, and uses the opposing directional force of impact to bounce around, making it a largely unpredictable pinball of doom.

Status: Active
One of the lieutenants of the Black Dragons, and always partnered up with O-Chul. A very silent man, not even his partner knows what he's thinking most of the time, though he seems to enjoy a good fight just like O-Chul.
Fighting Style: Okichitaw - A relatively modern martial art that combines traditions and movements from multiple native tribes of the Americas. Most movements use weapon-based stances and strike with the forearms, and the style draws upon tribal wisdom of the 4 cardinal directions. Pacho himself has altered the style to include quick chi-based strikes to manifest weapons.
Special Techniques: Falcon Dive - The user manifests a large axe or tomahawk made of chi with an electrical element and hurls it toward the opponent.
Super Arts: Thunderbird Clash - Pacho envelops himself in a cloak of chi so thick he appears to become a golden bird made of living lightning, then streaks toward the opponent in a display of power and speed. His body is invulnerable to harm from all but the largest, most powerful attacks in this state, making dodging far more practical. It comes with a dangerous recovery time afterward.

Titans
None discovered yet

Iron Maidens
None discovered yet

Phoenix Kings
None discovered yet

Brujah
None discovered yet

Street Sharks
None discovered yet

[User]
Chris had a nasty feel of the two guys being too much for his fighting style - It had a peculiar flaw of being not so effective when it comes to one-on-one fights, as Kurenai Ryu Taijutsu is more focused on facing groups of enemies rather being focused on direct duels, like Kyokushin Karate, for example.

He was there, busy, getting something to wipe down the blood of his wound, and followed Llexe shortly after. With such a limitation in his martial art, staying away was the best solution. Chris also heard Light claiming she could regenerate herself, with her Wolverine-like heal factor, but the same couldn't be said about the other.

Still, while he got a neat look at Cobra and Viper... wow. A few more slashes and that unlucky woman would look just like something out of the mutants he fought in Brazil.

[Assistant]
Wound by wound Llexe fulfilled her promise, though when she calmed she would doubtless realize that she'd yet to lay a finger on the scum that actually stabbed her. The crimson dervish left her eyes as her assault wound down, their fury evaporating like puddles on a hot day. As the adrenaline left, the pain from her wounds rolled in, and its distraction left her totally oblivious to the appalled samurai blindsiding her with his glorified club. The impact stunned Llexe and knocked her right off her victim, rolling once before coming to a stop on her back, left arm and both shoulderblades scraped by the ground. While she did feel inclined to leap to her feet and rip her attacker a new one, she could not move until the stars in her vision cleared away, and the fog of pain and tiredness dulled her killer instinct.

After a moment, she found herself confronted by Kiyoshi, whom she treated to a blank stare. What was he asking? "Um." Following his gesture she glanced at Cobra, her dispassionate gaze unaffected by the bloodcurdling sight. "Told 'er not to," she muttered, as if that explained everything. If her response was somehow unsatisfactory, she did not get the chance to find out from her questioner. Soon after, another vehicle appeared, this one markedly different than the bikes of the snake sisters. From the jeep came two men, both rippling with muscle and bold in their choices of clothing, to greet the fresh meat personally. Llexe didn't bother paying attention to what the colorfully-tattooed one said, only rolling her now-white eyes and sighing when he -like her employer- made a corny show of strength by wrecking his own stuff. While she didn't remember Roulette saying anything about bozos like these, who obviously had nothing to do with the break-in, any chance to knock some skulls together was a chance to hone her craft.

Llexe made to rise and engage, but a jolt of pain stopped her. Her Rage had worn off completely, leaving her skull, jaw, and knife-wound hurting something fierce. She attempted to get up anyway, only to receive a worse throb and collapse to her knee. Try as she might, she couldn't get mad about old wounds, which meant just standing up was be a problem, let alone thrashing these deadbeats. While she struggled, gritting her teeth, Naja and Sam took the new arrivals up on their offer. A scrap would begin any second now, with Llexe languishing on the sidelines. The thought of being relegated to bystander pissed Llexe off, but not anywhere near enough. Annoying as it would be, she'd be sitting this one out.

[User]
"Looks like we've got some challengers. Good. I was hoping my day wasn't going to be wasted." The tattooed man glanced to his companion, Pacho. "I'll give you first pick, buddy."

The Native man looked between the two fighters, Sam and Naja, very closely. Then his eyes settled on one, and he uncrossed his arms long enough to point at them. "You," he spoke very curtly, addressing Naja. Pacho moved around to face her directly before taking a fighting stance, facing his chosen opponent from the East. Interestingly, the stance he had taken was one the fighters would recognize as the stance of a knife fighter, or perhaps someone holding a club, yet he held no weapons. Even his hand was loose in the way one would be when gripping a weapon.

"I guess you would pick her," the Asian man shrugged. "Yeah, big guy wouldn't be too good for you, I imagine. Lucky for me I can break through walls like him." He stood facing Sam, taking his own stance, one much more easily recognized than his companion's: he was definitely a practitioner of muay thai.

"I'm guessing you're not much of one for acrobatic movement, am I right big guy? So we'll just have to see how long it takes for your defenses to crumble. Something tells me you won't die as easy as my last sparring partner." The Asian man sudden jet forward at great speed rivaling Naja's own boosting ability, but strangely enough he didn't move a muscle. It was as though he were somehow gliding just barely, imperceptibly, above the ground. In a flash he was upon Sam, unleashing a number of strikes from his fist and elbows, each punch folding into an arm attack. The strikes carried with them a piercing force. They weren't breaking Sam's skin, but they still hurt.

Meanwhile, Pacho hadn't made a move toward Naja, holding his position steadfast. His focus was unbroken by his partner's fight. It was as though only he and his opponent existed in a white void, and he would not make the first move.

---

O-Chul: Style discovered - Muay Thai
Special Technique discovered - Shadow Glide: The user maintains their stance and becomes lighter than air, propelled forward by the power of their chi.

Pacho: ???

[Assistant]
Sam was not a fan of O-Chul. The man was a prick, so much could be deduced from the way he spoke and his callous disregard for his own vehicle. O-Chul also seemed confident that he could break through Sam, it seemed every passing moment only heightened Sam's desire to kick the snot from O-Chul. Sam was done with listening to this drongo talk and started to stomp his way towards O-Chul.

Sam was completely unprepared for the sudden rush of speed from O-Chul, finding himself already being barraged by painful blows. Sam could only grunt in response to the attacks. Sam tried to raise his arms to defend his sides, but his slow movements were of little use against O-Chul's quick and sharp attacks. Sam was quickly losing his patience.

Letting out a growl Sam lurched forwards trying to power through O-Chul's attacks, Sam's arms reached out in an attempt to grab O-Chul's shoulders. If O-Chul couldn't move those he'd not be throwing out any more of these punches, plus Sam would get to punt the guy across the street.

[User]
Out of all of them, it was Sam who stood up behind her and did a similar pose to that of her own, just much larger, her in his shadow. Naja blew out a bit out of her nose. This amused her, just a tad. Still, it appeared it was her and Sam. No words needed to be exchanged, they knew what to do. Honestly, she looked forward to experiencing fighting side by side with this giant man.

Hm, so their enemies were going to pick their opponents? Questionable, but alright. Suppose she could play along. Naja frowned a bit as Pacho picked her. Did he do so because he was interested in fighting her, or just because he didn't want to fight Sam? … Suppose it didn't make much of a difference. Starting to lightly jump on her heavy metal feet, Naja turned to him in a fighting stance of her own, turned with her left towards him, both hands raised and legs ready to lash out.

'…' She could have talked, really. Most assuredly would have if she was facing O-Chul. But this man, as Naja inspected his odd stance and silent persona… suppose they'd do their talking with their limbs. This man held his limbs like if he held a weapon. Naja knew enough to figure she should probably treat him like he actually was. Now, Naja had plenty of grappling techniques from baji quan to neutralize an opponent coming for her with a weapon, but until she knew what he'd do she'd go with the more long-ranged savate style.

To begin with, let's box his hand. Naja approached from the front and boxed forward at the hand. If he was starting to counter, then she'd be pulling back or attempt countering herself with her grapples. If he started guarding then it was time for another punch at his face and then for a swift kick to his midsection with her left leg while she stood on her right. If he did something unexpected, then she'd deal with it then. It all depended on his reactions.

That stance, not to mention how he looked… hm…

[Assistant]
O-Chul continued pounding into Sam's body in a lightning fast flurry, each strike becoming two in the patented method of muay thai combat. Sam's insides were quickly getting bruised as the force pressed through his skin, beginning to damage the blood vessels and muscles, but this had a price. The Asian fighter was so confident in his power, so focused on smashing through Sam's well built body, that he failed to notice the slower man's movements, like when you take your eyes off of something figuring it to be of no concern, only to realize too late it crept up on you whilst paying it no attention. The larger man's grip was painful to O-Chul, who let out a gruff rasp of pain. The surprise, the powerful fingers pressing into the meat of his shoulders, prevented him from being able to properly escape the grapple. Instead he did what he had been doing all along: Go on the offense. He met Sam's kick with a sharp knee strike, focused on Sam's shin. "K̄hīpnāwuṭh phin!" he shouted as his knee connected with Sam's leg. A burning hot spear of dark blue chi radiated forward on contact, burning through Sam's clothes and deep into his flesh. The attack had not only penetrated his normally unbreakable skin, but it still carried the blunt force of a muay thai knee strike, which didn't feel too good either.

For his own troubles, the attack didn't stop the pure force of Sam's kick, which sent O-Chul flying across the street. He collided with asphalt and went rolling back, bouncing twice before ultimately landing on his butt. With a rather pained expression, his got back up with a noticeable limp. He took another fighting stance, but kept his injured leg off the ground. You didn't need to be a doctor to tell that Sam's kick had torn up his knee real bad. "Nice. It's been a while since Anybody but the boss has been able to punish me like this. Don't tell me you're all done, giant man, because I'm just getting started!"

Meanwhile, the Swedish woman shot forward to strike at her Native American opponent with a caution about her, testing his reaction and instigating her own reaction accordingly. First, a quick boxing jab to his outstretched hand to test the waters. Pull back if it looks like he is ready to counter. Her hand moved closer and closer, yet Pacho didn't seemed to move himself. It was only a split second, but the time to perform a counterattack had already passed by, he missed his chance. Or at least, that's what the situation would have been against any other opponent. In a flash crackling energy manifested from his outstretched hand, chi taking the form of vibrant yellow electricity, which in turn took shape in the form of a tomahawk. In a single fluid motion Pacho yanked down, the underblade of the electric tomahawk catching onto Naja's wrist as though it were made of something physical, throwing her off balance. In the same movement, he slid his position around her by 90 degrees, now facing toward the South. In an instant his conjured weapon fizzled from existence, causing no real damage on its own and having only lived for less than a second, just long enough for that single movement.

"East to position, South for power. Southern Boar Strike!" With his other hand, Pacho brought down a powerful forearm strike to Naja's upper back, just below the neck. Had he used this much force on one of those Tunnel Snakes, they'd have been KOed in a single move. Luckily Naja was made of tougher stuff, but she could not afford to let this man's unusual style and ability catch her off guard like that again.

---

O-Chul: Special Technique Discovered - K̄hīpnāwuṭh phin: Translation "Pin Missile." O-Chul forms a powerful, piercing spear of chi from his knees for a crippling, piercing blow.

Pacho: Fighting Style clue - Has ability to create hard matter electric weapons from chi to facilitate attacks, but they only last a fraction of a second.


[System]
Age: 44

Class: Naval Senior Armsman

Equipment:
Light Carapace Armor - Stukov cannot afford to be weighed down in the tight, fast moving brawl of a boarding action, repelling or engaging in, so the only real piece of armor the Senior Armsman wears is a reinforced Carapace chestplate, which also includes his backpack of ammo and oxygen for his rebreathing kit, a model capable of sealing against loss of oxygen, although true void exposure won't make him last long, due to the sheer cold of the Void.

Lucius pattern Mk 22c Shotgun - The shotgun of choice for Stukov, this eight round revolving magazine lets him slam through shells at a frightening rate, with a heavy cartridge that shreds through most enemies not wearing heavy, quality Carapace. And this assumes hits on any given armor's strong points. Like many shotguns, plenty of various ammo types exist for his shotgun, and while Stukov carries plenty of slug and buckshot, he carries a handful of Hellfire and blessed buckshot for handling Daemons in specific. Stukov has no problem using whatever ammo he can get his hands on, or issued for a given mission.

Foehammer - Known by its more humble name the Shotgun Pistol, Stukov uses this as a backup when his larger, bulkier shotgun isn't an option. Unlike his Mk 22c, it is a single shot per load weapon that he usually loads with oversized slug. This is for the reason that if he needs to hit something a distance off, he doesn't need to waste time changing loads in his main gun, or his side arm. And if they are heavily armored, slug has a better chance to punch through than buckshot or most conventional ammo loads.

Combat Knife - Not much to be said for Stukov's knife, it is a fairly standard issue, single edge blade with a point for stabbing as well as slashing. Pretty much a last resort when both his sidearm and main shotgun are of no use to him in a situation.

Flash Grenades x2, Concussion Grenades x2 - Flash Grenades, true to their name, emit a blinding flash of light that blinds both organic and mechanical means of sight for a period of time, making them easy targets so long as they were not protected from the effects. Concussion grenades utilize a shockwave that, while it does little real damage to ship structure or hull, the sheer pressure of the shockwave and the din of noise ensures that, even if the pressure didn't kill a foe, they won't be hearing anytime soon.

Against All Odds: When he was a rookie Armsman aboard his first Imperial Navy vessel, during a transit in the warp the Gellar fields failed and hordes of daemons poured into various breaches in the hull across the Cruiser. Whether it was divine intervention from the God Emperor himself, or sheer stubborn determination from the surviving crew, the Cruiser was able to emergency shift back into real space and drive the remaining daemons and their slaves out the airlocks and back into oblivion where they belonged. The Cruiser suffered over 75% causalities, and could barely limp to the nearest Imperial holding.

Boots on the Ground: Rather than being left to sit around and wait for a new crew to be brought in, the Armsman Stukov was now reassigned to an Apocalypse Class Battleship, since she had recently seen vicious combat and had lost a fair number armsman, amongst other crew. One of his first assignments as part of the new crew was a shore party that was deployed to secure sensitive fleet records lost in a planet wide raid by Dark Eldar. Once again, most of his comrades were wiped out but he survived and personally hauled the reclaimed records back into orbit before the Orbital Bombardment vaporized all Dark Eldar that could be found.

Close Quarters Chaos: Earning his rate as a Senior Armsman, and the right and occurrence of leading junior Armsman into battle gains those that would stand against the Imperial Navy and her vessels. So his first tasking was as part of a wave of Assault craft, specifically the Shark Assault Boat. Under heavy interceptor and bomber escorts most of the first wave of Assault Boats reached their targets, a miracle in and of itself. Heavy casualities were sustained as Stukov rallied any and all Imperials he could find and stormed the bridge of the craft. When challenged to a duel for control over the vessel, he shot the enemy captain cleanly, taking his head off as a fine mist. The following chaos as Stukov led his men back to the boats, leaving the enemy ship in chaos as it fought itself for control as several friendly Imperial vessels bombarded the craft into oblivion the moment its shields failed.

Not one Step Further: The Battleship he was assigned to came under heavy fire and was badly damaged, suffering a force re-entry into the nearby plant and crashing down behind a long forgotten temple to the Emperor. After the survivors took refuge there, they had to hold out until either the Battleship's surviving engines could be overloaded, finishing the beast off beyond any salvage hope, or help arrived. With nowhere to run or hide, Stukov rallied the remaining combat capable men and women, armed them, and held out as long as possible, far longer than anyone short of even an Astartes could consider thanks to tactics and a desperation coupled with nothing to lose. The survivors were saved by passing Inquisitorial vessels, introducing Stukov to work with the Inquisition and, eventually, Inquisitor Caphus himself.

Time with Inquisitor: Nearly ten years aboard his vessels, only recently tasked formally to his retinue.

Appearance:

40K Knowledge Question: Erebus of the Word Bearers Legion

[User]
"Agh... I want to kill whomever had the brightest idea to play this thing so early in the morning..." Catherine groaned as she slowly rose up to a sitting position from her improvised bed. She was still back at the garage. She moved there to sleep in peace and quiet, away from anyone. That said she didn't expect a bloody classical music first thing in the morning via the intercom of this place.

 "At least I can move better now..." She mumbled as she stood up and walked to the nearby vehicle to check herself in the reflection on the windows." Bloody warp... make up won't fix this..." Was the reaction to her own image reflected there. She looked so trashed it was not even funny. The time she nearly died from battling the dark elder wych left her in better state. Granted her body was all mostly healed now, but the dirt and dried blood covering her were another matter all together.

 With slightly stiff movement she walked to the nearest restroom, making sure to avoid meeting anyone. Once alone in there she quickly took off her torn up and dirty top so she can wash up at least. Once all the grime was gone from her skin, she almost looked like an entirely different person! Without much choice she put her torn up top back on before moving out in search of the source of all this noise..

 "I swear this... is worse than torture..." Cath said holding her head as she entered the living room of the first floor only to meet the sisters of battle, the crazy psycho Adrianne and Stukov. Well not that she had much rights in this group or whatever, but considering what she ahd gone through because of her orders, this almost seemed like rubbing salt in the wound.

[Assistant]
Adrianne noted the drop in the room temperature as Stukov walked in, but this was not because of some warp power or psychic anomaly from Stukov's side, but rather coming from the tension between the sisters and the armsman, as she see the dangerous looks they were giving each other.

"Big tempers and big guns. What could possibly go wrong?!"

"I swear this... is worse than torture..."

"Ohh, it's you!" Adrianne commented as she turned around and noted the new arrival to the room, the old guardswoman who she had beaten up earlier. Surprisingly, she was looking rather well despite the things she had gone through. Well, her body at least, her clothes being an entirely different matter!

Adrianne had not made much of an opinion of Catherine yet. On one hand, Catherine's friend HAD thrown her out the window, but how much of a friend Catherine truly was, given her ex status as a covert agent, left Adrianne unsure how much she could blame the guardswoman. Plus, any residual grudges had been sated by the proper beating she had given Catherine, who just yesterday hadn't even been able to walk.

Still, the newcomer had succeeded in diffusing the situation between the sisters and Stukov, so there was something at least!

"Slept well?" Adrianne asked as she cracked a smirk, gently cocking her head to the side as she looked at Catherine expectantly, before suddenly assuming a much more reverent position as she straightened her back and pointed at herself with her left hand, looking a little off to the side as she did.

"I don't think we ever properly met. I am Adrianne Valenthin, Sanctioned Psyker, assigned to aid the Inquisitor by bringing fire to fight fire." Adrianne introduced herself, adding a slight grin at the end of her sentence as she eyed Catherine.

" ... though I think you already got a foretaste of said fire!"

[User]
"Yes..." Catherine mumbled to Adrianne noticing her presence. The guardswoman has been slightly annoyed already at the presence of the psyker. She had already gotten quite the dislike for that woman in the brief interractions they had. Mostly due the psyker's repeated attempts to kill her both intentional and unintentional. The latter being her driving. Well nothing to do about that now, better try to keep as low profile as possible for now and maybe get the chance to leg it and meet up with Sal.

 "As well as an eldar in the warp..." Cath replied with a slightly annoyed voice." Have had better rests before..." She added and leaned on an nearby wall. She still felt some stiffness in her body, but it was already times better. Hell if she was back in her previous assignment back with the regular army, she would have to undergo minumun of a month of recovery, before she can even think of returning to the fields.

 "Catherine Valen, corporal, assigned to aid the Inquisitor by getting information out of the cultists before someone comes over and waste the place in fire..." She said in slightly sarcastic tone, imitating Adrianne's presentation. She didn't like the woman for now and she wasn't going to pretend she did... At least she wasn't going to go into open confrontation... just yet.

 "Not bad for fire... but I say lacking in precision... I hope your backside doesn't hurt from my stunt with the whip?" She said with a smile.

[Assistant]
"Not bad for fire... but I say lacking in precision... I hope your backside doesn't hurt from my stunt with the whip?"

Adrianne's eyes would immediately narrow down to slits at the commentary, as she cast a dangerous glare towards Catherine, apparently not amused by her comment in the slightest!

"Oh, I'm perfectly fine!" Adrianne would comment with a scowl, before raising a hand and poking one of her fingers towards Catherine in an accusatory manner.
"Unlike a certain other someone, who couldn't take as much as a light breeze before being bedridden for the next week!"

The psyker would comment, staring at Catherine from beneath the strands of pale hair running down her face, before eventually retracting her finger and yet again assuming her taller pose.

"And precision? Pfff! It's overrated. You don't need to aim if you simply apply enough power!"

[User]
"Heh..." Cath let out an amused grunt with a shrug of her shoulders." Are all sanctioned psykers so proud of beating up an already heavily injured person who could barely move or is that just you?" She asked with a grin, making a pondering expression." Well not that I've anything against you, after all it proved that psykers really aren't that better than guardsmen if it took you so long to take down an injured human... better for me~ I bet that will get me a raise!"

 With that said, Catherine herself left her leaning on the wall posture and stood tall and proud herself. She was after all one of the not many guardsmen who surived past their first and second campaigns." But of course firepower is everything! As long as you can hit that is... I mean... I have this vague memory of someone being thrown out a window when enough precise power was applied to her..." She added with a nod." By the way, is that a leaf in your hair?" She asked, pointing at the psyker's head. Of course there was no leaves there right now, but the mentioning was important." I hope the branches poking your booty back then weren't too uncomfortable."

[Assistant]
"My booty is just fine!" Adrianne would reply with a sour look on her face, at the same time placing one hand against the back of her butt.
"Jumping through window is a perfectly reasonable tactical maneuver!"

Frowning, the Psyker would move her head a little closer to the guardswoman as she glared at her.

"Are all guardsmen this insufferable? In that case, it is no wonder we employ legions of commissars just to deal with smart mouths like you in the field!" She said, having now raised a hand and jabbed a finger in a pointing like motion into Catherine's shoulder.

"Especially those willing to collude with the enemy! I wonder, what were you doing with that fat-assed Slaaneshi heretic I encountered? You weren't sleeping with her or something, were you?!"

[User]
Stukov was half asleep again when the new guardswoman came down, who seemed to have some beef with Smiles. This was....rather unusual, as the former armsman quietly watched the back and forth, Smiles not doing much to hide or not show off her butt via hand placement. He resisted sighing as Smiles leaned closer to the guardswoman.

He winced slightly at her comment on the Commissars and their necessary purpose in executing the smart mouths and such. To be fair, they had a rather miserable life to begin with, hearing their stories, so he didn't really need to comment on that.

Smiles acccusing the guardswoman of sleeping around with the Slaaneshi cultists meant someone had to step in and at least try to get them to play nice. Stukov stood up, the sigh sounding rather odd through his bionic voice box.

"Smiles, Guard Gal, I think there's been enough infighting as it is. Fat ass cultists aside, we got enough to not look forward to without you two at each other's throats, yeah?"


[System]
Alias: Bearman/ Mr. Teddy
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Powers
What are the powers of the bearman, you ask? He is a bear, and he is a man. The perks include being a 3 meter tall musclebound beast with claws the size of daggers and a hide so thick it can stop small calibre bullets with ease. And you get to keep your opposable thumbs! Bearman is an enormous, powerful hunk of flesh and claws, backed by human intellect and the capability to use tools.

Bearman has a distinctive sense of smell, and can track people over long distances. He's also quite fast, can climb with ease, and is near to immune to cold temperatures.

Abilities:
Mastery of a unique martial art called 'Bear Fu'. It focuses on fighting with your bear hands, although there's also a section on armed combat. The reason nobody else can use Bear Fu is because it requires immense physical strength, as well as claws and teeth.

In all seriousness, Bearman is an expert in melee combat, a master warrior who knows perfectly how to use the strengths of his hybrid form. He's also a good marksman, experienced with the use of fully automatic weaponry, a decent pilot and a good driver. He has extensive military training, can recognize most weapons and tactics for what they are, and has extensive knowledge on the subject of bears.

Equipment:
A custom made suit of armour plating forged from molecularly altered ceramics. In addition to being immune to temperatures of up to 4000 degrees, it's impenetrable to all but the heaviest calibres of bullets. This suit would be too heavy for a normal person, but is comfortable to Bearman.

Often Bearman carries a heavy gattling gun into the battlefield. While usually this weapon would be mounted on a tank, Bearman carries it along with ease, allowing him to unleash immense firepower on his enemies. He lovingly refers to it as 'Vanessa'.

Bearman has an arsenal of weapons at his disposal, from rocket launchers to axes. He may carry any number of additional weapons into the battlefield, if he so desires.

Weaknesses:
Bearman is Bearman, he needs no weaknesses! Bearman's only weakness is his hatred for stairs - he cannot walk up them. He also severely dislikes small doors, and tight spaces.

History:
Once upon a time, a man was bitten by a radioactive bear. That man died. It was a radioactive bear, there is no way you're going to survive that encounter.

Meanwhile in Russia, the perfect soldier was being developed. Mad scientists mixed man with animal, to create a being with the best traits of both. A bear supesoldier, the soon to be Captain Russia. However, the soldier in question had other plans.

Nikolai escaped the labaratory after the modifications had been completed. The process had meddled with his brain, and he lost his memories. Even now he cannot remember quite what happened, nor can he remember what group had attempted to mutate him. All he knows is that he emerged as Bearman, and he has been Bearman ever since.

Personality:
Bearman is simple, yet theatrical. He is gentle, with a tendency to make horrible bear puns. He dislikes complexity, and loves to make a show of whatever he happens to be doing. However, he has quite the temper. You wouldn't like him when he's angry.

Bearman is loyal to those he trusts, seeing his friends as family. He's straightforward and honest, disliking nothing more than traitors and liars.

He is also severely grumpy in the morning.

Family
Everyone is Bearman's family!

Friends
Same thing! What's the difference?

Crush/Relationship
Does crushing one's enemies beneath one's claws count?

[User] "Dormammu..." Aiden muttered before he blinked a few times. It took him a few moments before sat up, a dazed look on his face. He sat there stunned before he turned to Isis. "Dude that was so not cool!" He said, throwing his hands into the air. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

[Assistant]
Cassandra actually enjoyed this little fight because they knew what they were doing -AND- both of them were sorcerers. Her head was just going left to right left to right, figuring out what was going to happen.

A few moments into the battle something happened between Aiden and Isis. But it had to be Isis's doing, she suddenly stood up and ran towards Aiden but he was already fine when she got right next to them.

"Oh. Alrighty then. What happened..?"

[User] 533 had become bored sitting around and headed to where she heard the fighting, which was apparently the training room. Missing the action she only heard Aiden say he almost had a heart attack. Moving closer she frowned slightly. "Do it again I missed it."

[Assistant]
Gwen: I drop down when Aiden mentions Dormammu. I look at him "What was that you said?" I look directly at Aiden, my eyes under my mask almost popping out. I point at Isis, "What did you do? Why did he almost have a heart attack?"
Dormammu… a distant memory echoing through with that name. 'I can't REMEMBER. Why can't I figure it out? I have heard it…or did Peter hear it?' I think to myself, a headache setting in, just like every other time I try to remember something. I have photographic memory…yet I can't remember without it hurting…

[User]
"Hey, I'm sorry okay? I didn't mean in...it's what happens when I use my powers. I thought you could handle it. Who's Dormammu anyways? You're the one who said you defeated people like me on a daily basis." Isis glared at him, before sighing and holding a hand our so he could get up. "Sorry Aiden, that was a good fight though."

Isis then turned over to Gwen, who was questioning her. "I became his biggest fear, not that big of a deal."

[Assistant]
It had been a long time since Bearman had seen the inside of a military facility. Again and again they had told him it wasn't, but Bearman could practically smell it. Weapons, sweat, determination..... this was a place where soldiers were trained. Whether they used guns, or some form of paranormal ability, it made little difference. They were the men and women who chose a cause to fight for, who chose a cause to die for. They were the soldiers of this new organization, SHIELD.

Walking through the hallways, he considered the implications of being a soldier once again. He couldn't remember his own time serving the Soviet Union, and as such he had little experience he could call upon. However, in certain ways the concept was appealing. He had always enjoyed fighting, and if one is going to fight anyway, why not do so in a manner that helps people? At least at the moment, Bearman could find no reason not to do so, which was why he had accepted SHIELD's invitation in the first place.

The sound and smell of battle, not too far away. It was not battle with guns, but rather with paranormal capabilities, as would be expected in a facility such as this. For some reason, people were fighting.

Moving on all fours, Bearman rushed through the tight corridors. SHIELD personnel and guards alike were bowled over, some managing to jump aside in time to avoid an unhealthy meeting with the ground. Arriving at the scene of the fight, he found his way barred by a door - and a small one at that. However, there was no time to find an alternate route.

With a crack and a bang, the wall collapsed, as the door itself was propelled across the room, slowly skidding to a stop on the stone floor of the training area. Through the newly created hole stepped Bearman, standing on his hind legs as he marched into the area. The cloud of dust and broken stone that had gathered around his legs like a brownish fog only added to the figure he struck. "Bearman has arrived! Where is da fighting?!"

[User] Gwen: I turn to this 'Bearman' "Oh great…well you already destroyed a door…which automatically opens. I was wondering when the walls would start being destroyed." I roll my eyes at the 'Bearman' then look back Aiden, waiting for his answer.

[Assistant]
Aiden had a slight glare in his eyes directed towards Isis, but he let out a sigh and took her hand of help. He couldn't be mad at her, she was just using her powers. But he didn't have long to properly regain his footing before a on slot of questions cane to him by his other team mates. He awkwardly shuffled on his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uhh he is... uhh nobody, don't worry about it." He clumsily stammered out, trying to find a way to change the topic. Luckily this came in the form of a large speaking bear who went by the name Bearman, a real shocker that one. Aiden never thought he would be so happy to have a giant bear in the same room as him.

--------------

"Smooth move you over grown teddy bear, it isn't like doors open or anything." A dark haired boy in a Three Days Grace T-shirt under a black leather jacket said as he walked through the cloud of dust that used to be the door to the training room. He had a cocky smirk on his face and his arms crossed in front of his broad chest as he looked over the people in the room. "Sup chumps, you can call me Vince."

[User]
Bearman didn't like the smirking one, he looked like a brat. He'd make sure to throw him across the room sometime. In Bearman's experience, high-speed impacts with the far wall had a tendency to severely reduce people's tendency to be annoying. Occasionally due to fear of repetition, and occasionally because they were incapable of cognitive thought. Either way, it was a highly effective method, which he had found need to apply often.

"You build your doors too small! You need a bear-sized door!" Growling, bearman marched across the room, as he looked down. One of the people here smelled like demon. Bearman had no problem with demons, unlike most sentient beings in general. As long as demons didn't mess with him, he didn't mess with them - and as far as he could remember, no demon had messed with him or his family. The others were human, as far as Bearman could tell. Most of them were but children, clearly unsuited for battle. "Why are all these children here, fighting? You should be in your rooms, and let the grownups fight!"

Had Bearman had eyebrows, he would have furrowed them. Whilst this group certainly smelled strange, he found the quantity of teenagers among them disconcerting. What were they doing in a military location?

[Assistant]
Gwen: "Did you just call use kids? I don't know about these people…but I will have you know that I am twenty-three!" I grin at Bearman, aiming my web shooters at both of his feet. Firing the webbing at him, it coats his feet and sticks to the ground. "Now apologize for breaking the door…which by the way, was Hulk sized…trust me."

Turning back to Aiden, I giving him a look of disbelief, "Now, why did you mention Dormammu when Isis became your greatest fear, if he is no one. I have hear the name before, so spill it…" I stare directly at Aiden, aiming my web shooters at Bearman.

'Vince? He sounds like trouble, I don't like his attitude. I might need to avoid him, and focus on these magic users, and that Bearman…reminds me of a more human Hulk.' I think to myself.

[User] Cassandra shrugged not knowing what they were talking about as she finally stood up, seeing that she was knelt down next to Aiden trying to figure out what was going on with him but it seems that, it was taken care of. "Alrighty then..." she placed a hand on Aiden's back giving him a smile. Worried that he might have not been alright, he was pretty frozen back there... frozen with fear. Whatever it was, she was going to be there for him.~ Cassandra was now crossing her arms. "So..what do we do now..?" and then someone comes into the room, but she ignored him being worried about Aiden so she was staring at him until she told him if he was alright!

[Assistant]
533 was becoming disinterested with what was going on. She had come hoping to see a fight, not watch a bunch of girls fall all over themselves for Aiden. Bearman was almost a welcome change of pace as he took the wall down with the door. Some new hotshot made a comment on that particular action and Gwen as usual was still talking. The comment about children was

Groaning slightly she walked over and looked over the hole in the wall. "It looks like an improvement to me. Maybe we should make the rest of the facility to match." Really the state of the place couldn't matter less to 533. So far they were just left to goof around which the others made liberal use of.

[User]
The girl just shot white stuff at him from his wrists. Whilst certainly unexpected, this was mildly annoying at best. Was this her power? To mildly annoy people with sticky white stuff? He'd just....

Frowning, he looked down as he tried to walk, finding that his feet were stuck to the ground. Had she shot him with some kind of glue? If so, that would certainly explain why she'd looked so smug when she'd hit him. "You girls and your glue...." Obviously, however, she had made a mistake. It was a rather large mistake, and one Bearman had been surprised she would make. A mistake that was the undoing of any kind of attack. She'd used it on Bearman!

With grunt, he ripped a grouping of bricks from the ground, the web sticking to the shattered fragments of stone. It took him a second to find his balance, it had been a long time since he'd worn shoes. "You should be old enough to know that it's never a good idea to make the bears angry...." Walking over to Spiderwoman, Bearman cracked a slight smile. His mouth, whilst similar to that of a bear, was quite capable of smiling. It was a rather odd sight. "I do hope these things dissolve. Else the situation might become.... unbearable." The bear chuckled softly.

"Don't worry, Bearman is not easily offended. Neither by your puny doors, or by your glue. Now, where is the food in this building? I could eat a horse!" Smiling brightly now, Bearman looks around at his new comrades.


[System]
"I am Jericho. Come if you must. But you will find that I refuse to crumble."
Military codename: N/A
Gender: Male
Age: 17
Appearance:
Jericho stands no more than a hair over six feet, with about one hundred and sixty pounds of muscle providing a tough, athletic build. He has a light olive tan that brings out his casual, aloof good looks - a smooth jaw, sculpted, expressionless lips and big cider-colored eyes are framed by jagged black hair that is constantly pushed back or to the sides, where it takes on a wavier look.

Jericho dresses casually, but usually in black - t-shirts and jeans are usually worn with boots, along with one of several leather jackets that will keep eyes away from the fact that Seal Judgment seems permanently and symbiotically affixed to his arm. On the rare occasions that it is dispelled, the words "CRY HAVOC" in block caps are imposed on the back of his hand in golden ink.
Personality: Jericho is calm and composed at most times, his strongest form of negative emotion or frustration generally emerging when it comes to Seal Judgment. Around people, he is polite but aloof, taking backseats in conversations even as he effortlessly assumes a command role on the battlefield. Not averse to a bit of fun, but he'll never show it even if he's having it. Confidence to a fault is his greatest weakness, along with a stubborn tendency that isn't exactly offset by Seal Judgment - if anything, it's actually encouraged, begging the question of whether his Spirit fuels his steadfast and smooth tendencies or if it just quietly manipulates it into a path that it sees fit for their well-being.
Biography: Born to a semi-successful family of merchants to the south, Jericho grew with a talent for sales but no desire to do it. Rather, he wanted to put his quiet, confident charm and tactical know-how into something he knew he was meant to do - working with others from a cockpit, not from behind a booth somewhere. His parents, however, refused to let their son - even the second of three, who was not assured a particularly valuable place in the Piper family operations - give away his life with a Core at his back. It was only an attack close to home that Jericho refused to flee from that introduced him to both Cry Havoc and Seal Judgment. Jericho's return home, at the tender age of fifteen with a unique, ancient Spirit and a mech he had proven adept with, caused his parents to quietly acquiesce and disown him as politely as possible. Jericho, unable to volunteer with the KAD for another year, decided to work as a soldier of fortune for twelve months - and took to it so warmly that he continued on for another ten months after that. A close call in which bare fists and Seal Judgment nearly weren't enough to keep him from being gutted jogged the memory of his original intent, and Jericho enrolled as a member of the first class at MCI.
Military Job: Pilot
Mech: Cry Havoc

"And he had in his right hand seven stars: and out of his mouth went a sharp two-edged sword: and his countenance was as the sun shineth in his strength. And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead."

Spirit Name: Seal Judgment
Spirit Appearance: Judgment manifests as a gauntlet of sheer, malleable black material, as flexible and light as gallium at room temperature. Only the creases in the metal, as well as its instant hardening at any touch but Jericho's, hint that it is not a particularly well-designed prosthetic. When hardened, however, the creases begin to resemble some sort of labyrinthine path to the center of Jericho's palm; the gauntlet also lengthens from his wrist up to almost his elbow, revealing seven ornate patterns that trace up the inside of his arm, spaced out in intervals. When Judgment is active, the first of these emits a white hot glow that soaks into the creases, giving the glove a monochrome, striped appearance. Whether the other six provide similar transformations is unknown.
Spirit Power: Seal Judgment's power is twofold - emitting a blinding white flash of heat that disorients an opponent for twenty seconds. When the twenty first second comes, the heat can be pooled together into one source that Jericho chooses - Judgment has been known to cause targets to spontaneously combust over the course of its existence, but Jericho usually deigns to use it to power Vendetta's fire magic to new heights.
Spirit Origin: Seal Judgment has preyed on many a host over the centuries, catalogued inside obscure texts in a manner unique to most Spirits. Where others bond to families or spits of land, Seal Judgment is by all accounts a wanton entity, seeking out hosts and rejecting them after a brief period of time. It will then lay dormant for decades, as if disappointed in its current crop of heralds, before attempting to choose another. It would appear that none has scratched even the surface of the gauntlet's secrets or powers. Jericho Piper is but the latest in the centuries-long procession of the gauntlet's hosts; it bonded itself to the youth a year and a half ago, after Jericho fended off a demonic attack in a local construction area. The diggers had come perilously close to unearthing Judgment, and after watching the young man's combat prowess in action Judgment bonded itself to Jericho and helped him push the fight into his favor. Though it has served him ably in the interim, and continues to do so after enrollment into Mecha Carta, Jericho's research into the gauntlet has wielded little, and the time it allots him to uncover more of its mysteries is dwindling by the day.

"A man of courage never needs weapons, but he may need bail."

Name: CCA-001 MCI-spec "Cry Havoc"
Classification: Sword-class
Appearance: Cry Havoc is ten meters tall and bulky for its class, as befits a mech formerly used for construction efforts. Though it maintains most of the speed of a Sword, some of the old brute reliability of the base CCA-001 remains in Havoc, giving it a burly, swaggering appearance as it walks that contrasts with the aloof, controlled pilot in her cockpit. Havoc is painted with a warm dark blue, flecked and accented with gold. Its name and designation are painted on opposite sides, underneath the arms, along with a hand-sprayed replica of a great walled city in the palm of Seal Judgment in lieu of Jericho's name. When Seal Judgment is activated by Jericho, the mech's fingers become pointed and talon-like, and a crown-like apparatus extends from the top of Cry Havoc's rounded head.
Weapons: * Vendetta: Havoc's cutlass, capable of utilizing fire magic and Jericho's gauntlet to superheat to up to 3000 Kelvin. Generally wielded in Havoc's right hand (corresponding to the hand where her pilot utilizes Seal Judgment) to make room for...
* Riscatto: Havoc's shotgun, generally slung over the shoulder and capable of firing a volley of magic capable of devastating a small crowd. (Think .30-06 rounds) This weapon is secondary, or generally used on human opponents; Vendetta's heat and Jericho's skill with a sword is utilized in conjunction with Seal Judgment against any would-be demons. Though his Spirit can also be used to power up Riscatto, the heat blasts prove less effective when channeled from a gun - and, indeed, can even damage the weapon itself.

Upgrades: None.
History: Havoc began life as an unassuming construction mech manned to assist with digging and lifting beams. Manned by Jericho as he walked near a half-renovated diner under attack by demons, he petitioned to keep it and emancipated himself from home, first maneuvering in the mech as a boxer would with the added x-factor of Seal Judgment. As time went on, this technique proved more and more hazardous to Jericho, and upon enrollment in Mecha Carta Institute, he went about ordering a pair of weapons that alleviated his problems with range, and overhauled the mech from the Core up to make it uniquely his.
Extra: Steel Salvation

[User]
"Riiiight. Gonna have plenty of those here..." Evangeline never understood people and their fixation on the past, or status. Probably because she didn't have status, but still. Status didn't matter in here, anyway, Erikal made that perfectly clear. She really hoped that other people were more grounded. Down to Earth. Speaking of down to Earth..."

Sealing up the repair hatch, the mechanic slid down the ladder from her catwalk to reach the floor below. Wasn't much more fine tuning she could do before tomorrow. So best to get to know the other people.

And see their MECHs.

That too.

[Assistant]
"...provided by the government will need to see me before class tomorrow morning."

As the last words slipped from Commander Slin's mouth, Rose watched quietly as the group of students departed, nearly hidden behind one of the Institute's support pillars. Everyone here is so young, she thought. Discerning pilot from mage was of little challenge; The pilots carried themselves differently from the mages. Cocky, arrogant to some; there was something about a pilot that was divergent, so young yet they carried themselves like they were ready to take on the world, not stopping to think about the repercussions. A dangerous way to live.

Gazing at the empty courtyard; minus a few lingering conversations, the pale girl halted for a moment to take in the Institute. It seemed like just yesterday she had left home. She could still hear the simmering of stew, feel the heat of the heart, bask in intoxicating smell of lamb and barley permeating the air. The Mecha Carta was... different. The floors were polished to the point of reflection. The air was sterile and without dust or pollen. There was no crows calling off in the distance, just the gentle humming of incandescent bulbs overhead. The sensation was overwhelming, yet Rose did not mind. Something about the calm and order of the situation granted her much needed rest from the transient life. Best capitalize on it while it lasts, Rose mused, turning to head for the library.

Rose drifted through the halls of the library. The library was a strange mix between old and new; some rows lined with old books, others with cases, filled with receptacles for data chits for use in hand held readers. I should probably study some casting articulation techniques... Rose debated, ...but a good cook book sounds appealing. Floating through the halls on her leather shoes, Rose rounded the corner of a towering bookcase, nearly colliding with a man clad in denim and leather, a peculiar black object on his arm outstretched for a book. Panicked, Rose attempted to flee, stumbling backwards into a waist high marble column, knocking off an ornate vase.

No! Rose's mind scrambled as the vase raced towards the floor. Instinctively her slim hand extended, her mangled fingers extended towards the floor as if she was signaling for a small animal to halt. Instantaneously the floor of the library fissured, a strange swirling void appearing from the polished granite. Into the void the vase vanished, appearing less than a moment later in Rose's raised hand, another dimensional anomaly resting less than a meter above her leather glove. Swiftly Rose shifted her stance, setting the vase down on the pillar before sliding in an elegantly panicked fashion to the next isle of books, pressing her back up against the end on the shelving. Maybe he didn't see me, she hoped, frozen in the isle, her pale face flushed with embarrassment.

[@Plank Sinatra]

[User]
Chimere continued standing in the courtyard for some time after the largest swarm of trainees left. Her eyes glanced down to a small piece of paper in her hands. A pamphlet with a map. She stared at it for some time with her consternation shown mostly by a twitch of the upper lip.

Sometime later: Nope, that's the hospital. The fact that they have a mini-hospital on hand is... Huuuuuh.

Sometime later: Nope, that's a big open room with too many chairs.

Sometime later: Nope, that's a room of shelves and books. Quiet, but still a few people.

Sometime later: Nope, that's a restroom.

Sometime later: Nope, that's a big garage. Huh, busy. Avoid.

Chimere finally reached her intended destination. The dormitories. A deep breath was taken as she examined her room number, and attempted to locate it.

Sometime later: Nope, this is the guy's area.

Sometime later: Maybe? Nope.

And then, it was done, Chimere stood triumphant, comparing her ticket to the sign and feeling pretty good about herself. No one else is here yet. Guess it's just mine.

Huuh.

She sat down hesitantly on her bed. Her body suddenly overcorrected back up and forward, upon sinking down into it further than expected.

Slower.

Chimere slowly leaned into the bed this time, eyes on the alert, scouring the room. Then, leaning back, she rested on it, finalyl stopped scanning the room.

Weird. Squishy but bouncy. She blankly at what was above her, hands restlessly gripping the frame. Now what?

[Assistant]
"Calm down, Judgment. It was another patron." Jericho sounded like he was trying to repress a small laugh. "Yes, the problems you face inside a school library must be truly legion. Now quit being a baby and relax. You're making my arm uncomfortable. ...Well, that I won't even pretend is dignified enough to reply to."

Jericho walked out from the aisle he had been traversing with two books gripped in his right hand. He was clutching them with his fingers tenuously, as though he were scared of damaging them somehow, but after a second or two he raised his arm up and shifted his grip to better get a hold of both his tomes of interest. He spared an odd look at the vase on his way out, but walked over to a table and set both his books down nonetheless.

There was a flash of white in the corner of his vision. The right side. Bright white.

Unnatural.

"Don't be crude," he said calmly, still standing and turning to face the pale woman. She had pressed herself tightly against the end of the shelf, with ramrod posture and a stricken face. She was clearly uncomfortable with the thought of his approach, so he waved slightly with his uncovered hand and didn't take a step towards her. From his chosen table to her, there was a distance of ten, perhaps fifteen feet. Plenty of distance for both parties to stay aloof.

"Sorry to startle you. That must have been quite the catch."


[System]
Age:
25
Race:
Human
Plane of Origin: The Vrihins Wastes
-Majority of the planets in this Plane are lawless lands where criminals and crime syndicates rule, though are still a few major lands where there is strict order and laws, but even there corruption runs wild. Most of it are desert-like areas, though technology is vastly advanced, the majority of people still ended up living like animals. Though the technology for traversing Planes had just been recently discovered, still considered highly experimental and dangerous by authorities.
(Think sci-fi wild west for the setting)
Backstory:
Marcus grew up and thrived in this corrupted environment. He became known for his ability to hack into corporations to steal their data and then sell it on the black market, He ran countless other scams as well, and getting caught up in many other risky adventures. But one particular adventure was a con with a powerful crime gang, Marcus tried to double cross them, the profits would have been astronomical in numbers. Unluckily, the authorities also wanted him, and he was caught and thrown in a prison. By the skin of teeth Marcus escaped, but he knew he couldn't stay there, his last option was to find a way through to another plane. By sheer luck Marcus landed himself from this plane to another that the Stone-Turner was passing through. Seeing that they needed recruits, he figured he could live his old life behind and dodge the consequences.
Notable equipment:
Revolver: capable of shooting regular bullets as well as fire bullets (Marcus only has 15 rounds of these)
Hacking Device, CR4-DL:
more of a keepsake, not much use out of his own plane, as it is incompatible with most of the foreign technology
Notes:
N/A

[User]
Vincent Ventri

---

---

 Vincent looked out at the star as the captain spoke, he was a military man himself and knew how important tradition was to different crews, his own team had had a tradition as well, a sort of initiation of sorts that they all had to complete before they would be allowed to fly on a mission. Vincent looked back to the captain.

"Yes sir, not one to shirk tradition 'specially not so soon."

 He smirked as he stood and stretched his back, it had been a few years since he had least flown but you would had never seen the rust. Vincent made his way on to the main deck in order to head down with the remaining recruits, the others had assembled there and were already waiting, Vincent threw on his flight jacket and sunglasses before getting all the way up.

"I hope I haven't missed the party."

[Assistant]
As the crew is gathering on the deck Sir Gorchek is standing in front of them, half his body flat on the ground whilst th e other half is raised upright like a human. If you didn't know him you'd think he was a monster due to his centipede like appearance and the large pincers on his face. Thankfully everybody on the ship has had some form of interaction with Gorchek and most of them know he's a really nice guy. On top of being the ship's quartermaster Gorchek is also like the resident dad. He watches over everybody and treats the crew like his own.

"Hello everyone and welcome to Trozzk!" He throws up 20 or so arms, the giant star burning in the distance behind him. "I know you're all really excited to get down there but there's some stuff we need to cover first! Safety and all... Hello Vincent thank you for joining us!"

Gorchek leans his body grotesquely over the railing of the ship. "If you'll all look down you will see our landing zone. Trozzk is pretty barren for the most part, not much lives here, but that doesn't mean it's not dangerous! If you wander off too far, you'll die." Gorchek now points four of his arms toward the back of the ship. "The Stone-Turner processes Drinnium fast enough that, by burning through about a thousand pounds an hour we can produce a limited atmosphere! You'll be able to breathe and move around just fine as long as you're within a mile of the Ship. Now keep that in mind because I can't bear another funeral this year!"

Gorchek turns back to the crowd and begins to take a head count. "Alright... Looks like we're all here! We'll be keeping the Stone-Turner in air while in Trozzk, that way it can better provide the oxygen we need to a larger area. So everybody get to a shuttle! Shuttle one is going to be... Virum, Lanestol, Orky, Artemis, Meili, Marcus, and myself. Vincent, would you care to be our pilot?"

[User]
Vincent Ventri

---

---

 Vincent stood facing the very odd quartermaster, the first interactions the two had had were, less than pleasant, however the two had reconciled the differences once the idea of interplanar travel sunk in, the idea of so many other kinds of people in the multiverse was confounding but the promise of flying under the light of new stars was too enticing. Vincent stepped forward and gave a small salute, two fingers cross body pressed to the shoulder and a slight bow.

"Would be a pleasure."

 Vincent had not spent a lot of time around the others as of yet, most of his time was spent undergoing the needed training that was required to pilot the stone-turner and its shuttles, the controls were entirely new and not very intuitive compared to the Blackwing fighters, he had contemplated talking with the captain about trying to accuire one the next time they flew through Razka, though it would behoove him to just learn to fly the ships they have, likely they were made that way for a reason.

[Assistant]
Orky was gathered up with everybody when he saw Vincent come down and make his flashy appearance. He couldn't help but let a little giggle out. Other than that he didnt know much about him other than him being a dark elf. Orky remembered raiding a dark elf tribe once, he doesn't like the memory so he decides to block it out.

Gorchek began to speak about the specifics of Trozzk. Most of it went in the ear and out the other, especially the science stuff. While Gorcheck was talking Orky remembered how he was very thankful to Gorcheck. He was thankful for how he let him on to the ship and taught him some civility in order to live with people other than orcs.

After Gorcheck finished speaking he made his way to Artemis and Meili to ask them a question he has been dying to know ever since he met them.

Orky makes his way over to them and blurts out, "So how come you guys are like 5 foot when all the Pixies I ever heard of they were like this small." He gives an example of it by making a gap between his index finger and thumb about six inches apart.

[User]
Lanestol followed the shuttle group he was named to, containing Sir Gorcheck along with others he had seen either during his recent boarding or as they boarded the Stone-Turner. He took some comfort in Vincent taking on pilot duties as he had learned the drow elf was a pilot in his own right prior to joining. He took a seat in the shuttle headed for the planet's surface.

"Please do heed the atmosphere zone warning," he spoke up once they had boarded the vessel. "I haven't ever had to test my abilities on saving someone who was suffocating, freezing, depressurizing and irradiating at the same time. That's something I don't think anyone wants to know. That comes with the standard 'ounce of prevention' deal as well."

He took a seat amid the other passengers and pulled out the necklace he planned to leave on the planet's surface. He checked it out again, trying to deduce what was compelling him to keep it instead of leaving it as traditional tribute. He recalled being told it was an heirloom, though he could still justify leaving it. It would be something to identify him and mark proof of his pursuit of knowledge, especially pertaining to his home's epidemic. Everything else was consumable and necessary to help prolong their adventure, and for him, his time to search for a cure. He seemed entranced as he continued to stare into it.

Maybe it has some of the blight on it or in it and putting it down would leave it in open space to spread...or it's a ward to keep me from getting blight...except I've cleaned it and what else I have and I'm off that world, so that can't be it...

[Assistant]
Marcus stood by the group, barely listening to what the captain had to say as he was looking him up and down. The centipede-like body may have repulsed others, but for Marcus he couldn't help but be fascinated. So he shamelessly gawked half the time, though it was not out of disgust.

Pulling loose strands of dark hair out of his eyes, Marcus scanned the group of shuttle one. None of them he had much interaction, and barely remembered anybody's name. Marcus had been quite the extrovert with many of the crew members, joking and sharing drinks. Yet there was still a distance between Marcus and the rest.

He pulled himself into the vessel, right behind the medic. He was grinning from ear to ear, as he took his seat. Though he did notice the medic staring creepily intensely at a trinket in his hand. "Hey fella," Marcus greeted, a slight drawl to his voice. "You leaving that here?"

[User]
Virum listens to Gorchek intently, picking apart every word mentally to ensure he followed directions to a T, no need to make a fool of himself on one his first landings. He followed Gorchek and the rest to the shuttle as the remainder of the crew splintered off into their units. As he passes Vincent he nudges his shoulder.

"Hey just remember to slow down before we hit the ground, eh?" He chuckles and keeps moving, obviously quite proud of his morbid quip. As he reaches the shuttle he gets inside and takes a seat, letting the other passengers go about their business in private. As he buckles in he reaches to his belt and slides out an ornamented dagger forged from a see-through material. He looks it over, turning it in his hand. He had never used it before and didn't even know how, but he thought it would be good to have some kind of protection. That being said he had decided to leave it behind. A representation of his dedication to a life of exploration and learning as opposed to violence.

[Assistant]
Artemis

She looks up as Gorchek gives his speech, suddenly wondering if she wants to down there now with such a limited area to explore, hearing her name she looks up forgetting her worries as they're told to board the first shuttle; turning towards her sister grabbing her arm and squeezing in her excitement "Isn't this awesome? We are finally seeing other worlds." She pauses seeing Orky come towards them giving a small smile, unlike her sister she hasn't actually gotten to talk to him yet "Hey there Orky" upon hearing his question she smiles just holding out her hand. "We get to chose our size, but being small is tiresome and we can only do it for a short amount of time"

Meili

Staring around the room at everyone she wonders what they all could be thinking, turning her attention to Gorchek, her first friend on this ship, smiling as she pulls out a notebook jolting down the key words from his speech knowing how her sister going to get to excited once they touch down that she will have to remind her to be cautious. She sighs having her pen fall to the ground as her sister yanks on her arm, she rolls her eyes awkwardly picking up the pen about to lecture her sister when Orky comes over asking about their sizes. She laughs holding a finger to her lips for him to be quiet as pixie dust shimmers around her body, easily shifting her size to 5 inches and lands on her sister's hand.

[User]
The shuttle sticks around for about 5 minutes, giving everyone time to settle in and finish their conversations. After all it isn't a military vessel and there aren't any strict deployment codes. The ships don't all leave at the same time and by the time Vincent gets into the cockpit and Gorchek is ready there are two shuttles on their way down. The windows on the shuttle allow for a view of your descent. On the way down Gorchek is standing up, many hands positioned on the guard rails and other random fixed items in the shuttle to keep himself steady.

"Hope you're all as excited as I am! It's gonna be great, just don't get your head popped by the pressure as the doctor ordered!" He laughs, his pincers flexing in and out. As you near the ground and the shuttle slows Gorchek shakes. "Oooh! I've always hated this feeling, like being in a really fast moving elevator!" He spares a few extra hands to hold on. Before too long you reach the bottom and a whistling can be heard throughout the hold as a noisy exhaust port vents steam through the top of the ship. Eventually the gears stop cranking and the engine dies down, then the back of the shuttle drops open and hits the dirt below with a thud. "Go crazy kids!" Gorchek yells.

[Assistant]
Lanestol snappee back to reality as Marcus took a place next to him and asked about his necklace. He started to realize he might have become too fascinated with it to the point of navel-gazing.

"Oh, yes. I was going to sell it for supplies if we had more time on Vlana. I've only ever been told it's an heirloom. In which case, people may see it and know it. That aside, everything else is necessary for us. Though, I can't help but wonder what's trying to stop me from parting with it...like it feels dangerous to let it go."

His thoughts were cut short by their landing and instructions to disembark.

"Well, if it gets too bad, hopefully, I can trust the rest of you will help me. I will have to, in any case. And I do." He stood up to exit the shuttle and walk to the planet's surface, looking for a good place to leave his trinket.

[User]
Marcus listened with a slight smirk as the doctor carefully explained why he was staring at the necklace. He murmured a response but the conversation was over as the shuttle had finally made it's landing. Marcus was one of the first people as it shuttered to a stop.

The male clamored out at the first opportunity, quite clumsily too. He took a deep breath once he was out of the way of entrance of the shuttle. Looking over the horizon of the planet, it was beautiful to him. Marcus patted his pockets for some kind of keepsake. He had his revolver, but Marcus had already decided he was dying with that gun in hand. He had his device, CR3-DL, though it was not nearly as useful now, Marcus couldn't bear leaving this behind either. It was only after deep digging in his pockets did he find an item that he had most of his time growing up.

Marcus wandered a bit away from the shuttle, examining the empty casing of a bullet in his fingers. It brought up a lot of memories, a lot of which Marcus looked back at fondly despite most of them being crimes. But, still, a part of him thought it would be better leave those behind.

Now resolved on what he was leaving behind, Marcus looked up and continued forward for a suitable resting place for the bullet casing.


[System]
Gender:
Male

Appearance:

Stands at a large 6'4. Broad of shoulder and hulking in build. Well-defined muscle, though deeply scarred across his body. Favors furs over silks when outside of his armor. Typically favors massive two-handed weapons, and is most commonly seen wielding a massive flanged mace.

Abilities:
Dragan primarily utilizes both blood magic and necromancy in tandem, befitting a vampire known as the Death Knight.

As a blood mage, Dragan specializes in physical enhancement, preferring to fight in melee with a physical weapon in hand. Of course, he's entirely capable of utilizing the other aspects of blood magic as well, resorting to blood weapons when disarmed and blood barriers to defend against magic. Strangely, though, he has never been seen actually casting a ranged blood spell.

As a necromancer, Dragan keeps it simple, traditional, and efficient: zombies, skeletons, and other such more mundane undead with which to drown his foes in a sea of corpses. One will occasionally see larger abominations within his forces, but these are rare and tend to be pre-prepared, with Dragan seemingly unable to raise these at will in the field as he could with groups of lesser undead. Of course, Dragan cannot simply raise armies at will. Without preparation, he tends to be able to create a dozen or so undead soldiers at a time, given enough materials. With the proper rituals and rites, however, Dragan is entirely capable of acts such as raising entire graveyards at once or binding the shambling bones of large creatures into his service.

Both of these aspects combined leave this particular vampire as a frontline general, leading undead armies into the thick of battle.

Personality:
Dragan follows a twisted sense of noblesse oblige in his dealings. To him, vampires are inherently higher life forms as compared to humans, and thus bear responsibility towards them as a result. Humanity in Dragan's eyes are, at the very least, higher than cattle. It would be more accurate to say that he treats mankind as ignorant children: unable to fend for themselves or make wise decisions. Thus, vampires are to safeguard humanity within their borders, and for this service, deserve the blood they require to survive. After all, this was simply the feudal contract as existed in eras past. Only now with more worthy lords to rule over man.

As a follower of noblesse oblige, Dragan strives to be as great as he can in his personal conduct. He conducts himself with elegance and decorum. However, this is also matched with a penchant for violence and direct action. Where other vampires prefer subtle manipulations and secrecy, Dragan simply strides through problems with a suit of hulking plate armor, a massive weapon, and an undead horde at his back. He is a lord, after all, and lords do not skulk like cowards when their authority is challenged.

In regards to the Goddess, Dragan is a loyal enough follower that he swears to fulfill his divine mission without complaint. Having served the Queen once already, he sees little issue with working to bring her back.

Bio:
The vampire lord known as Dragan Meszaros, the dreaded Death Knight of eras past, was once known as the crusade's greatest shame. Born as an orphan ward of some irrelevant church of a now-dead god, Dragan grew to be a paladin of the same church, setting out on quests throughout the land. He slew monsters, saved the innocent, and championed the light of his god.

Despite his successes, however, Dragan slipped ever into deeper frustration and melancholy as he saw the same stories happen time and time again. Men create problems for themselves that he had to solve for them. Tragedies and villians were created through human sins. The apathy, greed, and wrath of humanity were greater foes than any mere monster that had ever stood in his path. Men were ever more incapable of managing themselves.

Dragan's final days as a paladin were spent chasing the rumors of a vampire in a great duchy of a now-forgotten kingdom. When he arrived, however, every value he held was challenged. The duke was a vain tyrant, working his people past the breaking point and abusing the fruits of their labor to glorify himself. The commoners barely cared about this vampire in the territory: a few deaths a month barely compared to the starving masses. In fact, when Dragan did finally track the vampire's thralls down to an outlying village, he saw something there that broke him. The people in that village, the vampire's cattle, were doing far better compared to the rest of the duchy. Better fed, working for themselves, and just...happier.

It was then that Dragan knew his truth: man was inherently unable to rule itself. Left to its own devices, humanity would eat itself alive. Dragan gave up. He fell. Returning to the duchy's capital, the once-vaunted paladin launched a brazen assault on the duke in broad daylight, slaughtering him and his meager guard. Afterwards, Dragan returned to the vampire's village, throwing the unworthy ruler's head into the middle of the town square. With the vampire's attention piqued, Dragan knelt before him, stating that he had seen the true light.

Bemused at the thought of taking a fallen paladin as Ichor's child, the vampire turned Dragan. After a period of time adjusting to his new existence and learning all he could of vampirism, Dragan took his leave, setting out on his own with his patron's blessing. Centuries later, the vampire known as the Death Knight scourged the land, conquering a kingdom with his undead army in the name of the Queen. He sought to replace the incompetent rule of man with his own benevolent tyranny. But this was not to be. Not in this era. Such a public, reviled monster was one of the first targets of the Hundred Paladins, made more urgent by the shame that he was once a paladin himself. While the bulk of the Hundred tore through his armies with their silver swords and divine blessings, their strongest champions engaged Dragan himself and laid him low. The Death Knight was shattered with his kingdom, his dreams dashed as the Hundred moved on.

[User]
@Psyker Landshark@Rune_Alchemist

It was enough to make her feel religious.

But Ilena did not prostrate herself.

As they settled into surroundings that appeared safe, the shadow-witch waved at her minions once more, sending them off into the rest of the city to fill their stomachs. Five long bounds brought her towards the satchel where she had smelled the blood, and she immediately uncorked one such vial, downing it all in a single gulp. Delicious. But only in the way that anything would be delicious to someone thirsting. The heart looked edible as well and she pulled the dagger out of it, sniffing at residue left on the blade to see if she could identify it. Dragon? Giant? Or something less common than either?

"Luna," a gesture towards the collapsed thrall. "Please."

[Assistant]
Luna Emeraltide

Luna mused to herself that, were she still alive, she might have been gasping for breath then. Their escape complete, and their safety secured, Luna's body relaxed, her shoulders loosening in the soothing presence of her patron goddess long before they reach the main interior. As they tread through the halls, she remained quiet and reverent, recalling the old days in which she'd visited this holy site. Within the main room, her red eyes glimmered before the sight of Ichor's stone grandeur, and pious appreciation filled her still heart.

She rushed up alongside Ilena, and knelt beside the collapsed thrall, briefly looking over them before gently turning their body over, cradling them in her arms.

"Perhaps, their task was to deliver this meal to us. They are weak, dying," Luna said, looking into the thrall's shut eyes. "I've nothing to help them." Luna looked up to Ilena and Dragan, as if searching their expressions for any sign of a solution. She set the thrall down, leaning their back against the altar, and took a vial of blood for herself. She too downed the vigor in one swift gulp, and exhaled satisfactorily as she felt renewed power well from within her cold veins.

She touched her fingers to her lips, reveling in the taste. A great deal of self-control reigned in her desire to consume the rest, and leave Dragan starving.

"The heart may have been cut out within the city itself, to ensure freshness. I hope that they might awake, so that we can ask questions."

[User]
Giselle de FarryUndead Princess, de Farry

---

Fighting the shambling hordes of the fallen undead together with her lordly companion was but a trifle for Giselle. But even a trifle was no minor thing for herself and probably Aleksiya in such a deprived state, though having an enduring weapon that didn't actively use her own blood helped wonderfully in that regard. Once she had reaped the mindless undead and found the upper levels free of offending hordes, she was nonetheless glad for the momentary respite.

The white-haired vampire couldn't help but to remain a tick annoyed at the tardiness of a certain overly-religious redhead, though.

It was perhaps because of her drained state that it took an extra mite of time for her to realize that the two of them were not actually alone atop the ramparts. Poising her weapon to strike at the new figure, her eyes slightly widened in mild surprise as she beheld a man, and a human, at that. Nonetheless, she flicked her scythe back into a defensive position, even as he spoke. Giselle still had no clue as to the political and cultural landscape of this new era, after all. Certainly, she did not jump to thinking of him as a quick meal as some of her peers might.

"Indeed, and likewise. I would not have expected to find a simple human here, but if you were merely one, you would already be dead if you were." She gauged the man as she parroted some of his words, albeit in a diplomatic manner. The man seemed exhausted; Giselle ventured it was from fighting against the selfsame hordes that had been giving them trouble. More intriguing, and far more interesting, though, were the red vials of what obviously had to be blood adorning the sides of his coat. Combined with the mention of a partner, she was very curious who this man was, and all the more so his partner. What did he mean by vermin, though? Was he referring to that beast's screeching from earlier?

"Hunters, then." She paused, before adopting a slightly apologetic and pained look. "Ah, where are my manners? I am Giselle de Farry. You have us at a slight disadvantage here, ser…" Whether he supplied a name or not, she continued on, after giving Aleksiya the chance to give her own introduction if she wished. "I am curious about that partner of yours, no less than those vials of yours." Frankly, the both of them needed the blood, but they would be negotiating from a very disadvantaged position if she didn't want to take it by force of arms, something she'd quickly pondered and dismissed as a last resort.

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

"We would have use for some of those vials, if you can spare them," she finally said, after a moment's pause, before glancing at her smaller companion. "In return, we could assist you in locating this vermin you seek, within the best of our abilities."

[Assistant]
They'd managed to retreat in good order, and now found themselves on far safer ground. He'd been here before, of course. Centuries ago, back when he'd first explored the world as a fledgling vampire. And now he returned once again, no more powerful than he was when it all began. Full circle. At least he could begin to remedy that in part now. Dragan took a single vial of blood, and with very great reluctance, only a single vial. It wouldn't do to leave any more vampires starving should they make it to the cathedral, of course. He doubted the three here would be the only ones called.

Dragan uncorked the vial and sipped slowly, relishing the taste of fresh vitae after so long in torpor. He could feel a small measure of his strength returning to him. Not nearly enough, of course. But anything was better than nothing. When the vial was drained, he set it down and looked to Luna and Ilena, pondering the situation before them.

"The thrall will likely awaken on her own in time. I don't much care to interfere with another kindred's servant. Some don't take kindly to such, and it would be poor manners after they so generously provided us with fresh blood. In any case, I believe we ought to give thanks to Ichor for our deliverance, before anything else." With that said, Dragan faced the image of the goddess and knelt down, murmuring a prayer under his breath. It seemed old habits died hard for a former paladin.


[System]
Character Information
Alias
N/A
Age
19 - Functioning Appearance
12 - Actual
Race
Android
Gender
Female
Occupation
N/A
Height
5'4"
Weight
284 lbs
Hair Color
Red
Eye Color
Red
Appearance

Written Appearance
Unit 05b is slender, designed that way with a hybrid frame that would confuse one on the gender of her being. Her hair is cut short with the exception of two strands, bound by small white bandages, that go past her shoulders. Moving lower, Unit 05b has two holes just above her shoulder blades which act as her boosters for when she activates them. Additionally, she has three holes on the back of each of her legs which act for the same purpose. Her skin is very pale, almost inhumanly so, but it does little to draw attention so long as she does not do anything stupid.

As far as the wares that 5b commonly uses, it would be a dark gray crop top that ends just above her stomach. The lower part of her body is covered by a long blackened skirt which ends below her knees.
Personality
5b has very little to say about when it comes to a personality, being programmed to have a singular purpose to care for the man who created her and destroy the abomination that wishes to destroy him. That said, 5b is an analytical fighter, always on the defensive as she analyzes her opponent's moves before attacking with brutal efficiency. Even with that being said, without a memory wipe to destroy the development of memories and the likes, she can develop into someone who simply wishes to see herself live a life without being controlled by a scientist. Ultimately, 5b has a bit of a problem with actively socializing with others, not knowing how to actually hold a conversation or really anything.

As far as personal goals go, she does not really know what she wants quite yet. She simply wishes to provide for her master so that he can upgrade her as necessary so that she may perform her program more efficiently.
Background
To discuss the background of Unit 5b, one must first discuss the background of a certain Doctor James Nanos. Doctor James Nanos, when he was the ripe age of thirty four, was living a relatively good life with a wife and a daughter. Everything was going swimmingly, but as the song and dance goes this simply does not last. With the creation of one of his more advanced androids, with a human-like AI that could learn quickly, did not like the thought of simply being relegated to becoming a maid to be mass produced and sold to the general public. In fact, she hated it so much that her AI had essentially corrupted itself, turning it into something that ahd freed itself from its sole program. This was the misery of Unit 5, now known as 5a, as it simply went mad through the various tests that it was put through before the inevitable rampage that ripped apart Doctor Nanos' life. It started by destroying the laboratory it was housed in, augmenting itself with parts from other Androids meant for more violent means before it went on to Nanos himself.

He was not home when the attack happened, destroying his wife and daughter as well as the rest of everything he owned before it went underground. It was a bit later that Unit 5b would be constructed with the sole purpose of revenge, to hunt down 5a and destroy it without hesitation. However, tracking it proved to be more difficult than he would have imagined, and the originally schematic of 5b proved too inefficient to go after the self-upgrading likes of 5a. So, he rebuilt 5b, modeling it after his daughter, and upgrading what he could with what little he had available. It was a hard development process, and he refused to allow 5b to have the ability to upgrade itself out of fear of another incident. James did prove that he was committed, an attribute that puzzled the AI of 5b as it simply did not understand why James refused to build a more efficient model.

It would be ten years later that Unit 5b would be ready to start the hunt, being updated to have a highly analytical mind and with the thrusters to make it move faster as well as fly. This would not prove enough to bring down Unit 5a, who had been busy upgrading itself in anticipation of being hunted by Nanos. The fight was not close, 5b being trounced completely, barely escaped with the majority of her frame intact, her legs having been ripped off and missing a hand. She flew back to Nanos, reporting her failure as Nanos actually tried to comfort her, treating her more as a daughter than a robot. This fact was lost on her, however, requesting that she be fixed and allowed to have an AI on match with 5a so that she may improve by herself should the need arise. Much to her surprise, Nanos allowed this and she was upgraded with the new function of being able to learn, however, she was told than this function was not something that would allow for spontaneous upgrading and told her to experience the world.

She still does not understand why he gave her so much freedom when 5a had none. Though that is for the future.

Though, given the Tournament coming up, 5b figured that it would best to try and win more money for further augments.
Weapon & Techniques
Weapon
N/A
Power Level
910
Ki Color
Red
Techniques
* Perfect Defense (Defensive)- 5b prepares herself for an assault, relegating all functions to a defense allows her to stand against this and block any attack that she can sense.
* Thrusters (Upgrade) - 5b has eight thrusters on her that allow her to fly or simply move faster, with these thrusters she is able to also deliver more powerful kicks and strikes against her opponents.
* Analytic Sense (Upgrade) - With a vastly upgraded AI, 5b is able to analyze a situation and find even minute weaknesses in even the most skilled of fighters. This deadly upgrade is fast, accurate, and ruthless and she will be able to outpredict her opponent in a prolonged fight.

Other:
Doctor James Nanos (NPC) - 5a and 5b's creator. Functioning as 5b caretaker and upgrader for the time being, though he treats 5b more as a daughter due to her being modeled after his daughter in terms of an appearance.
Unit 5a (NPC) - Enemy of 5b and James. Location Unknown, rival, murderer, corrupted AI. Primary Function: Destroy 5a.

[User]
Character Name: Sheeban
Race: Human
PL: 910
Time/Date: Day 1, Morning
Location: Fighter Waiting Room
Tagging: @Slingshot @The Abyss

Well it wasn't much yet but Chanko was fairly sure she would be able to put Hiko on the right path. At the very least he had done a few of the tasks she had told him about. Sheeban had a name to work with alongside the name of his dojo, Tsubasa Temple. Chanko would need to investigate it at some-point if only just to see how much of the basics of sports entertainment that this dinosaur man knew. Some dojos were not as willing to teach the basics of the craft as Satan's Castle was; and Sheeban needed to know just how much he knew before she eventually contacted one of the other members in the organization to bring Hiko in.

But those thoughts quickly dissipated as she was pushed a bit by a spacer, which definitely wasn't super elite. Letting go of Hiko's tail, the monster of a woman let out a snarl as she pointed towards the shorter prey, "SNNNNURK." snorted out Sheeban as her nostrils flared,

"YO FREAK! You think you can get away with pushing The Dungeon's Princess!?" hollered out Sheeban as she clenched her meaty fist and pointed towards Raddik. "SUCH PITIFUL INSOLENCE SHALL NOT BE TOLERATED IN THE COURT OF SHEEBAN." Bearing her teeth in a bestial smile Sheeban glared daggers at the space chimp, "I've broken chumps like you for breakfast without breaking a sweat."

This was followed by yet another scene of braggart flexing of her gigantic muscles "Unlike you, I am an elegant siege machine built to rule and kill. LOOK AT THESE PYTHONS!" declared Sheeban as she once again showed off her arms before moving into another stretch. With another devious smirk she began waggling her finger, "As such a noble ruler, I will give you two options. You shall either kneel before my superior presence or – you will be broken piece by piece."

She held out her left finger before taking her right hand and began to mime pulling it back. "I think those fingers, those joints will be the first to go." remarked Sheeban with a devious glee.

Man, Chanko was in the zone today. There were many sources of inspiration to be had and the show had not even begun! Who knew what inspiration the jeering of the crowd would bring!? But that was for the future, the matter here was that of the present.

"Sooooo..." drawled out Sheeban as the giantess gave out a fervent grin bearing her teeth, "...What is your choice. Choose wisely."

[Assistant]
b]Character Name:[/b] Kin Zoku
Race: Human - Mutant
PL: 910
Time/Date: Day 1, Morning
Location: Fighter Waiting Room
Tagging: @Williwaw @Slingshot

Kin watched the entertainment go on for a bit and when the giant woman went off on the newcomer with a tail, he decided that he should speak up and try and defuse the situation. He took out one of his metal orbs and manipulated it into a ten foot tall and five foot wide barrier of steel that was placed between Sheeban and Raddik. Kin then used his powers to lift himself off of the ground and hovered above them with his arms crossed.

"I think you have said enough for one day. Wait till you're in the ring and try to control your roid rage" he said calmly as he watched the fighters below. He wasn't expecting to be a keeper of the peace, but he was willing to do so if the situation was going to get out of hand. Although the thought did cross his mind that if these two fighters began to tear each other part then that would be two less opponents he would have to deal with in the ring. But Kin wasn't one for hoping that some misfortune befell his competitors and so he just decided that it was best to keep things under control.

"Let's not ruin a great day for the tournament with petty fighting and ego clashing" he stated and was curious to see how the muscle woman would react to him intervening in her tirade at Raddik.

[User]
Yang Wuxin
Earthling Human
PL: 910
Time/Date: Day 1, Morning
Location: Waiting Area
Tagging: None

Yang started to sigh at first. He wasn't interested in conversing with the two women, but at the same time he was probably too polite to actually refuse them. Thankfully, the choice was taken out his hands when a third woman stormed into the Waiting Area. She bellowed about her imminent victory and carried on with her show-boating. Combined with the woman in the hat suddenly bickering with the second woman, Yang no longer had any need to take part in the conversation. That suited him just fine, and he carried on with his meditation.

With his meditation, Yang attempted an uncommon practice known as Image Training. While meditating, a martial artist could potentially project a vivid image of themselves in their own mind. A pair who could meditate on the same wavelength could even spar against each other within their own minds, but as Yang was alone he settled for exercises and kata training. Within his own mind, he was at the bank of a river at the base of a mighty waterfall. The sound of the crashing waters was vivid in Yang's mind, and his image self stood on the shore, performing the usual warm-up exorcises before going into full katas. His hands and feet struck the air at blinding speeds, as punches or chops or forceful kicks. The katas grew more intense until Yang suddenly ended by swinging his arm in a chop aimed at the direction of the waterfall in the distance. The strike was so forceful, so laden with Ki that it seemed to split the waterfall down the middle, but only temporarily as moments later the two streams fused back together into one.

Yang wasn't completely unaware of his physical surroundings during all of this. He was instinctively able to sense the arrival of a handful of others, including a particularly interesting fighter that went into a meditation of their own. Yang wondered if the Pterodactyl was also familiar with Image Training, but chose not to ask in order to avoid breaking the focus of his meditation. But it would only be normal meditation, as Image Training often came with the caveat of being mentally exhausting and Yang didn't want to overdo it before the tournament could even begin.

[Assistant]
Android
PL: 910
Time/Date: Day 1, Morning
Location: Waiting Area
Tag: N/A - Open

Unit 5b had quickly grown lost, though she had understood that the large, strange woman had told her off and had gone on to do many things that did not seem efficient with the time up to the tournament. Instead, 5b backed away and instead chose to sit down and perform a routine diagnostic test, though not out of necessity. She instead chose to do the test in an effort to block out the distractions and oddities that the organics decided to impose on one another, finding it to be useless in her goal of obtaining the zenni to upgrade herself. At least not that she was focusing on diagnostics she could get rid of that distractions.

To the outside world, she would look to be meditating, in a tranquil state of peace. However, in her head there was an orderly amount of information flowing through her central processor, making sure that everything was where it was supposed to be and that everything was doing what it was needed to do. Granted, this maintenance would not take much time as her analytical nature was able to quickly go through and sort the information as needed, certainly faster than any organic could. Yet, as she was categorizing information from her legs, unwanted information managed to storm into the inner recesses of her mind.

"Pathetic. If Nanos really wanted to destroy me, he would have made something that at least stand evenly to me," a familiar voice chastised her creator. Her mind had begun to replay the audio from the encounter she had with 5a.

"I will not destroy you, not yet. I want to see Nanos suffer even further, I want him to know that his efforts mean nothing and that he cannot undo me," 5a stated, anger clearly driving the voice that tormented 5b.

Her eyes opened once more, her hands had gripped her seat and bent the metal between her fingers ever slightly. 5b would not allow herself to fail again, this she had set into her mind, but she had to continue moving forward in order to overcome 5a or else she allow the corrupted AI to succeed in destroying Dr. Nanos. At least now she knew what ambition felt like, or what she could conclude to be ambition. She also knew what anger was, knowing that it would drive her to be irrational and merciless like it did with the organics. However, she knew that the feeling would pass so long as she did not focus on 5a.

She focused her eyes in front of her, instead looking down at the floor and trying to align her thoughts elsewhere.