[System]
I R L
Age - 20
Place of Origin - Alberta, Canada
Occupation - Freelance artist

A V A T A R

Character's Name - Alex
Pathos Affiliation - Drox
Role - Ranged DPS
Profession - Craftsman
Weapon of Choice - Bow
Domains - Wind / Conjuration, Enhancement

-

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Frenetic
With a pep to his step and a patter permanently engraved in his speech, Alex is the sort of person to always be doing something, and desperately crave doing something whenever nothing's going on. His impatience and eagerness can sometimes get the best of him, but he sees them as a double-edged sword, with many of the best moments in his life originating from decisions with no foresight involved.

His hobbies are hands-on, creative activities that reign him in well. Carpentry, plastic arts, sewing, anything that gets the gears in his brain spinning and keeps him busy.

Frank
Alex likes to talk. A lot. It's something not everyone discovers, as he is outstandingly awkward during first encounters. The people who've stuck around, however, eventually realize he doesn't have a voice in his head telling him to stop. He overshares, states what shouldn't be stated, and asks all the questions someone his age would agonize over but ultimately suppress out of a fear of looking foolish. None of this is ever done intentionally, he just marches to the beat of his own drum.

Adaptable
Not everyone can dive into the world of freelance art and make a decent profit, and not everyone can toss themselves into the commercial thunderdome of a virtual reality game and come out friends with various NPC denizens and enough money to leave the combat to his brother's guild half the time. Alex's impulsive ideas aren't easy to trust from an outsider's perspective, but he finds himself succeeding where others would fail through high energy and a good work ethic. Conflict with others rarely bothers him as well, and he often finds himself spearheading cooperation with the people he's warmed up to.

B E N C H M A R K S

I can't die if they don't hit me, buddy
Rather than protect himself with anything bulky, Alex has instead opted to use a combination of light armors, long range attacks and solid athleticism as a means of avoiding damage. This newfound athleticism, consisting of speed and reflexes, helps him duck and weave through blows that would have otherwise sent him soaring.

Jack of all arts and crafts
Alex's craftsmanship had already been passable prior to his introduction to Pariah, but the game has now given him ample time and resources to cut loose. While not an expert in any one field, he's found a niche making light armor and robes. The finished pieces aren't on the same level of glamour as what other crafting wayfarers can offer, but hey, it works.

Quantity over quality
Alex's signature ability is being able to fire arrows in disturbingly rapid succession, tearing opponents to shreds. This leaves him vulnerable when taken to machine gun-like extremes, however. His combat style plays off this ability for the most part, favoring fast and powerful arrows over anything slow.

Heads or tailwinds
His domain over wind allows him to rely on small bursts of it in and out of combat. Whether helping him jump a bit higher or throw off a lighter opponent's balance, he's managed to find couple of utilitarian uses for it besides thrusting his arrows.
  | Physical Description
Alexis Barnett's appearance had always been underwhelming and… begrudging, to sum it up in a word. Brown hair kept at medium length as a concession with the rest of the world, minimal cosmetics, the occasional cardigan or modest skirt in between rows of jackets and jeans. Shirts, too, followed a similar goal. Shirts that a woman would reasonably wear, at a size baggy enough to conceal a small bust.

Accessories, if any, were always tossed on haphazardly, as last minute additions spurred less by their wearer and more by questioning family and friends. That's not to say they were a bad thing. You could wear the baggy and dull clothing you wanted, Alex discovered, if you wore enough pink jewelry to shut people up.

Alex has been pessimistically aware of his appearance since adolescence, so it's no surprise to see that his avatar in Pariah has a lot in common with his real self, from his height and frame down to the color of his hair and eyes. His features could be described as "pleasantly average", a likely result of him wishing to not stand out and blend in. Within Pariah he dislikes wearing anything that restricts his movement and regularly wears comfortable merchant's clothing, as it's extravagant enough to signal his wayfarer status to others without having to adopt any of the flashy accessories everyone else seems to be so fond of.

Pariah's avatar system was keen enough to pick up on Alex's true feelings and assign him a male body, a contrast to real life. That ended up being a fun thing to explain to his brother Logan. Or in his own words, "Shit."
Character Conceptualization
While it could be said that the bulk of Pariah's playerbase had been well acquainted with the conventions of video games, Alex was an exception. Dragged into it by his older brother, he accepted with lukewarm enthusiasm, more interested in the prospect of untouched nature or trying his hand at art made through a new kind of medium. Logan would do the embarrassing tryhard LARP shenanigans he always did with his friends whenever a new competitive game came out, and Alex would go for walks in the woods and do medieval arts and crafts. That had more or less been the plan, until Logan dragged Alex into another one of his games again, the world of PvE.

Under his care, Alex learned the ins and outs of the "glasscannon" "ranged DPS" "kit" his brother orchestrated for him, with the understanding that Alex would leave for a guild more suited to his interests past a certain point.

Despite his initial insecurities he adapted quickly to Pariah. He focused on crafting armor to support himself financially, on the days he wasn't being made to train or serve as an auxiliary member to their guild's activities. Mostly robes for the magically inclined, but he began stepping into leathers and furs as he grew bored of doing too much of the same thing. In time, he began to make a name for himself among the denizens and wayfarers of Pariah.

It felt silly to admit it, but he was starting to understand his brother and every other player that was using the game to live their biggest fantasies. Having so many people finally appreciate your art, even if it was mostly just clothing after a while, was a thrill he had never anticipated.

Spells & Spell-like Abilities
Conjuration fletching

Conjuration ability that allows the user to create an arrow out of arcane energy for next to no energy expenditure. This ability can be "charged" to create a stronger arrow, but is slightly more demanding as a result and requires more time to employ.

Forest hunter

Conjures a heavier arrow with a tip that expands into a net. Can trap entities that are roughly humanoid and smaller for a limited amount of time. The conjured net dissipates after receiving enough damage.

Blowback roulette

Envelops the user in a small shield of wind for a very brief moment. Any projectile or magic attacks that hit them during the shield's duration will instead transfer into the ability of their next arrow.

Heads or tailwinds

A burst of powerful high-velocity wind channeled from the user's body. Used to make an arrow travel faster and hit harder, or simply help the user move. Can be used to throw an opponent off-balance, although physical contact is mandatory for this. Can be channeled for longer-lasting effects, with the consequence that it will exhaust its user far more.

Other Information
Although technically a member of his brother's guild, there's friction between its competitive bloodthirsty members and Alex, who only joined to learn the ropes. Alex is expected to leave after having proven himself capable enough. |

[User]
Location: City Sewers -- The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

The fight was over before it'd even begin, torn apart by a pillar of frozen death. A burst of healing energy from one'a the chumps they'd rescued ran through Graves' shoulder: bones were set, tendons reattached, skin stretched and scarred over. And the pain dulled in a wave of foreign adrenaline.

Over too quickly. No time to savor. Irritation.

"Couldn't start with that?" Graves grumbled to Alja as she went to check on the lowbies. He regretted his tone even as he said it.

Fate would deem it the last thing he'd say to her. A rumbling like the growl of a giant filled the tunnels. It may have started distant, quiet, but it grew cacophonous in just a matter of seconds. Somebody was shouting but their voice was lost in the storm of onrushing water. No time to get out of the way. No time to haul ass to one of the side tunnels. Just long enough to stare ahead and wonder where it would sweep him away. He'd drown, right? Drown in shit water and wake up in his shitty apartment just long enough to go brain dead? It was kind of a hilarious image... in a macabre, terrifying sorta way.

Take in one last breath. Turn bad shoulder into the water- already fucked anyway. Shut eyes, tuck chin to chest. All he had time to do before he felt it slam into him. Water moving that fast was less like a liquid and closer to a concrete wall. It knocked all the air out of his lungs in an instant. His shoulder dislocated again. Feet left the ground, and he was spinning. Dragged backward for several seconds before he felt his weight jerked downward by something else- gravity. Free fall into the unknown.

A disgusting rush of sewer water filled his mouth just as everything went black.

[Assistant]
---

Alja opened her mouth to throw a snarky remark back at Graves for his criticism of the way she'd handled the fight—some of us are trying not to use too much magic so we don't burn ourselves out, vampire boy, or something like that—but...no time. There was no time. The sound began as a distant gurgle, but swiftly filled her ears, and she only recognized a moment before she saw it what it was.

Shit.

She estimated she only had a few seconds before the water hit her. Really, she was lucky she was taking care of the newbies; it put her much farther from the looming tide. It had already swept past Rael and Graves, carrying them towards her all too quickly. She had no time to grab them before the water would be on her as well. So instead, she grabbed the hands of two of the lowbies, running as fast as she could towards the precipice and hoping the rest would follow her. Stomping her foot one last time, she accreted a narrow platform of ice beneath the drop-off, where with any luck the fast-moving water wouldn't strike with full force, and nearly tossed Yasmin and the white haired girl at it. "GO!" With any luck, they'd get down there in time, and with any luck, it'd hold. That done, she turned back to the wall of water now only feet from her. No time for anything else.

Unless...

She couldn't see Rael through the swampy, shitty water, but there was Graves, careening towards her. He'd been knocked head over ass, and she sucked in a breath. He'd have a hard landing. But she...

She poised herself on the edge and sucked in a final deep breath, everything in her screaming to not do what she was about to do. Then, as Graves was hurled past her, she threw herself at him, locking him in her armored embrace as they fell towards the water beneath. She hoped for just a moment that he was conscious, or if not, that he regained consciousness soon. And then, as she plummeted towards the water, she breathed in. And she Stood Firm.

Her vision flickered into shades of gray and her eyes followed suit, burning with a terrible monochrome light. She turned her head—the limit of the movement that Stand Firm permitted—and counted the seconds down until she hit the water. With any luck, she'd absorb enough of the impact for Graves to walk it off. Looked like there was a ramp at the edge there that she could haul him out from. Least one thing was going right. If it had just been a cistern with no edge, she probably would've been sunk. Figuratively and literally.

3...
2...
1...

She closed her eyes.

Zero.

The sound of the impact was tremendous as she shattered the surface of the water. Her Stand Firm broke, and she gagged as the cascade of shit-water pummeled her into the lake, squirming into her mouth and filling it with the taste of sewage. She screwed her eyes shut tighter as she forced herself to move forwards with Graves still gripped tightly to her chest, blindly kicking even as she sank deeper. Her lungs began to feel the pressure, and there was nothing beneath her still as her armor dragged her down into the filthy pool. Then the arms that wrapped Graves—still limp, and Alja feared the worst—bumped into something.

There!

Slogging through the sewer water, she hauled herself up the broad ramp one agonizing step at a time until she placed Graves (unconscious for sure) on his back on the relatively safe stone next to the pool, fighting the urge to collapse as she checked him, tilting back his head and neck. A thin stream of rancid water leaked from his mouth.

Oh thank God. He's breathing.

She sat heavily next to him, thankful that she wouldn't need to give emergency breaths to Graves of all people. That sounded embarrassing for both of them.

[User]
Location: Drox Fraternity House - The City-State of Thorinn, Aetheria

---

Alex gave a stiff wave to the wayfarer ahead of him, only to realize the greeting had been meant for Seele. It hadn't been the first time this happened. With his tongue nervously clamped between his teeth, he hoped no one noticed again. He'd done a decent enough job at making an impression on the rest of the wayfarers and denizens, so it didn't bother him after the fact. He was the sort of person people approached for idle chatter and a pleasant evening rather than any serious advice or consolation, so he didn't have much experience with the members of their faction that wore the more concerning expressions on their face.

He followed Seele toward the attendant, taking in the sea of yawns, bad posture, and unkempt clothing. As he saw tired faces on some of the more particularly imposing wayfarers, his quip about bad habits rang in his mind. These were now human beings with human flaws, not only failing to keep themselves presentable or sleep properly but having to deal with circumstances that threatened both of those things on a daily basis. He couldn't feel anything but sympathy for them.

"Good morning!" said Alex. His voice trailed behind hers, focus diverted to a particularly nasty tear in some woman's cape. He'd no doubt be end up doing repairs again in the event their workload didn't involve any travel.


[System]
Appearance: Villiam (pronounced vile-ee-um) appears as a dark silhouette of a man standing five feet and eleven inches tall with a lean muscular build. Individual features are difficult to make out as his body is composed of toxic sludge and noxious fumes. His composition gives off various shades of purple in color, from the dark near-black of his primary form to the light wisps of fumes rolling off of him to the bright purple manus that makes up his eyes or heralds his magic.

Memories: Young... Parents... Apathetic. Man... Deal... Opportunity. Robots... Pizza... Bear... Rabbit... Bright colors... Cheerful kids... Loathing. Street... Child... Crying... Opportunity... Death. Daughter... Love... Protective... Robotic girl... Pride... Daughter with robot... Terror. No daughter. Empty. Passion. Need more. Life owes me. Party... Children... Cheering... Rabbit... Death. Presents gifted by stripes and crying... Dislike... Always thinking. Training tapes... Animals... Fear... Adrenaline... Escape. Unemployed... Raining... Robots... Hiding... Destroyed... Children... Ghosts... Fear... Hiding... Rabbit... Blood. Death. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. Found. New place. Hello? Screams. Fire... Burning... Death.

Personality: Villiam is, in a word, psychotic. He speaks with a soft English accent that appears calm, composed, and perfectly sociable, but it hides a lunatic that enjoys the pleasures of torture and murder. His victim pool has increased since becoming a spirit, as with the lack of memories and sense of self he has expanded to bring harm to anybody, yet at the same time it has decreased since, well, in Hell nobody really dies. It's frustrating to him. After all, he's had losses in his life (he thinks) so life owes him, and he aims to take what he's owed. When on his bad side, Villiam is one sadistic mother fucker. When on his good side, you'd best still watch your back, for he may plant a knife in it. Hey, harmless prank, right? It's not like you can actually die!

Greatest Sin: Lust, for the abstract pleasures of torture and death. He doesn't kill out of anger, but because it feels good.

Motivation: Villiam desires to find a way to earth for two reasons. The first is so that he can retrace the life of the soul he is bonded with in hopes of learning why he feels he needs to kill. The second is so that he can find more victims that actually suffer death.

Skills: * Technology and engineering - For whatever reason, Villiam is a wizard when it comes to building things, especially robotics. He's a good source for cybernetics, so long as he's got the material to make it with.
* Enchanting - In accordance with the above, Villiam can build items, weapons, armor, and other trinkets infused with Manus to create desirable effects. Naturally he's best with making things involving toxins, corrosives, and pollutants.
* Knife fighting - Villiam is proficient, though not extremely skilled, in handling knives and uses them primarily for murder rather than fighting fairly.

Spell: Pollution Generation - The soul of Villiam bonded to a botched spell attempt at creating corrosive pollutants. As such he is the spirit of slime, grime, muck, toxins, and chemicals. This suits him well enough, since smothering a victim in toxic sludge and drowning them in it is a pretty sadistic way to murder. He also enjoys generating and giving off poisonous gases, though his "team" are safe... For the time being.

Gear: * Knife - It's used to cut and stab things. Like carrots. Or steak. Or you.
* Toolkit - A basic tool kit that covers everything one might need to work on machinery. Keeps it inside his body unless its being used.
* Dataslab - A basic piece of equipment everyone should have!

Theme Song:

Other: Not important

[User]
Hellscapers!
 Although it was pretty impossible to tell what time it was in hell considering there was no sun, Manus provided natural light, and fluctuated like the light on earth. Taking that into consideration, it was about dusk. The light of hell began to wane, the general surroundings darkening just a bit, and a more pinkish tint enveloping it all like a blanket of flesh. Once all was said and done and everyone was on the run it would be night, or a close approximation.

Currently, the group known to our narrator as the "Hellscapers" was approaching the "Hell Penitentiary for the Insane or Stupid." Run by the Cambion named Nefas, this was their target for the night. Break in, get Betty, break out. It was a decently sized building, nothing huge exactly, but it was large enough to hold those who Nefas thought didn't deserve to be roaming around on his streets. Currently, visitor hours were over, no people entering or leaving it seemed. The group likely wouldn't be able to go past the small entry room without attracting attention. And bullets. There were also surely a guard or two in said entry area, so if they wanted to talk, they'd ought to do it on the way there.

"Hey." Crackled the speakers of the group's Dataslabs to their owners. It was Barkeep, judging by the voice, who would be providing support from his bar. Though the group probably couldn't keep checking their slabs, he could. At least, that's what he told them when he insisted he stay behind. Still, the small pistol and slightly cracked Dataslab he provided Kritch would make him invaluable in getting to Betty.

"Are you guys getting close?" Barkeep asked, no anxiousness in his voice, almost as if he was asking a friend if they were near a meet up spot. "Tell me once you get in, and be sure to stick to the plan, okay? Nefas is one tough customer, and as weak as some of those guards are, them ganging up could get one of sneakier you guys."

With that, his voice cut out, done with the thought. The prison again got bigger, more menacing, taking up more of the horizon as it was approached. If one wanted to back out, now would be the time. But the Hellscapers weren't the kind of people who backed down easy. Or backed down at all. They were the kind of people who sought what they craved and satisfied themselves. Yes, maybe even in that way. Looking at you, Deprave.

Anywho, who's ready to escape hell?

[Assistant]
The Tale of Jonathan Light, the valiant Crusader of Constantinople begins here.

The crusader knocked on his shield to gather the attention of the party. He pointed to the relatively close asylum when the party turned to face him. No words were exchanged by him, instead he turned to face the asylum and thought about the most appropriate strategy to get this demon out of that place. "The guards here seem flimsy and unreliable, although a bunch of them could probably get us in a bad spot. Deprave and Gardener will cause too much suspicion to the guards if they try to get Betty out, and Grog is probably more suited for distracting this time. There's an exposed ventilation shaft there, though. Villiam could probably go through the vents as gas, which would cause not a lot of suspicion, although that'd be risky if he splits up via air currents going to different places... although... we do have Kritch and Tobias..."

Jonathan went over to the two rogues and handed his tent to Kritch. Two hands seemed handier for this than one, no offense to Tobias. He then spoke, which surprised a bit of the group. "This tent is a separate dimension. Get Betty into it then dismantle it. Get the tent out after she's in. Go through the vents to get to her." Jonathan stopped speaking immediately afterwards, and went over to the front of the prison and stood, waiting for the guards to notice him so he can be a diversion.

[User]
A strange squeaking plastic-on-leather sound originated from Grog's pants. He walked with erratic speed, rarely holding the same trajectory for more than five seconds. With one hand, he held his trusty Beatstick, resting it on his shoulder, while, with the other, he carried a bucket that sloshed violently as it swung from side to side, its' contents concealed by a cloth. Various stored materials and tools, as well as his massive, iron reinforced mug rattled from inside his utility belt, completing the cacophony. He whistled a muffled tune merrily as he walked, but was cut abruptly as the party stopped. Laying the bucket down, Grog's first thought was to retrieve his tankard.

 "Power pint! Beer!" He commanded, as the cup wheezed, and quickly filled itself to the brim with icy cold stout. It had been ages since he last had a drink, and he needed to keep a clear head, he thought. Guzzling it down with horrifying speed, he exhaled loudly and, now satisfied, turned to face the prison complex. He quickly turned around towards the crusader, as he was about to instruct the rest on something.

"This tent..."

 "Holy fuck, I can't believe that there's an actual knight speaking." Grog's inner monologue echoed.

"...then dismantle it..."

 "This is the tightest shit. The bee's fucking knees. I bet he has a dragon." He bit down on his lower lip and gleefully grinned behind his mask, lost in daydreams about draconic aerial combat.

 "...the vents to get to her."

 Grog had paid zero attention to anything that was just said, but wasted no time and quickly spoke up to add his two cents.

"Yeah, cool, this all sounds great. But I think we said something a while back about someone grabbing the prison guys' attention. Attentions. Att- You get what I'm trying to say.

 Thankfully, I've taken this time to hatch a plan."

 This was, of course, a lie. Grog had been mentally disconnected from the entire space-time continuum for the past two hours, only to form this "plan" of his two minutes ago, after discovering that he was carrying the final remnants of his firework stash.

"You guys do whatever you want, I'll get real close to sing sing over there and you can bet your sweet be-hinds they'll have their eyes on me for a good long while."

[Assistant]
Villiam stood within the center of the group, unafraid to actively engage in conversation with the others. This seemed a particularly odd decision as he was made of living poisons and pollutants, so you'd be forgiven for thinking he would avoid contact with others. You'd also be wrong. Villiam was not one to shy away from others at all. In fact, you could say that he had quite the charming personality. Quite the manipulative one, too. But then that's par for the course with clinical antisocial disorder, isn't it? And so the spirit of poison was the next to speak once Grog had, in Villiam's mind, displayed how much of a fool he was.

"There is merit in your idea of a distraction," he began softly, offhandedly complimenting the drunkard, "But even with your meager explosives you are one man, hardly worth the draw of the entire facility." The spirit pat a hand on Grog's back, making sure not to actively poison or burn the man despite the temptation. Meathead though he was, Grog was a member of the team, which made him... Useful. "Save your fireworks for my signal, dear Grog, and I assure you they will attain maximum effect. I volunteer myself to infiltrate the asylum, perhaps with a bodyguard as teams are safer than individuals, in order to corrode the prison cells. Once some inmates have been freed, surely a riot will begin, which can be further incited with your... Combustible flair."

With that, Villiam crossed his arms behind his back, turning toward the rest of the group. With such a distraction, I believe Sir Jonathan's plan can achieve maximum reliability. Our stealthy comrades can infiltrate unnoticed, while our more... Boistrous members shall have an opportunity to, shall we say, stretch their muscles? What say you, Your Eminence?" Villiam asked, turning to face Deprave, the Mayan Monstrosity. "We could not possibly come and go without ensuring these peons know of Your Eminence's inherent superiority, no?"


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[User]
Violet nodded and slowly extended her arms to max. "Ok." she replied looking at grim the back at max.

Bonnie looked at the two. "I tripped behind you." she said nervously and looked down. "So I thought I'd sit down."

[Assistant]
Max seemed to have calmed down and uncurled and ended up hugging Violet as a way to say sorry for scaring her. Grim chuckled slightly at that. "I always forget you hug as an apology," Grim said chuckling.

Stitches shrugged at Leo's statement. He then looked over at Bonnie and spoke in his usual cheery voice, "Fair reason to sit down, bunny lady."

[User] Leo shrugs " hope you're not scared of wolves " he tells bonnie

[Assistant]
Violet smiled and held him close. "It's ok." she said patting his head.

Bonnie covered her face with her bunny ears. "I'm not bunny lady! My name is bonnie please say it correctly." she said. She already got traded enough around the office.

[User]
Grim sighed and shakily got up. "Well, we should get Max to the nurse's office I guess," Grim said. He lost his balance a bit and grabbed onto the wall for support. Max made a slight noise of worry when Grim stumbled a bit.

Stitches chuckled. He then spoke, "Well alright, Bonnie. I'm Stitches. If you don't know I give most people silly random little nicknames that pop into my head."

[Assistant] Leo shrugs " I kinda just chill until my next break down"

[User]
Violet held from up supporting his body.

 "Next time tell me that before you make one up, I get teased with that name, and I don't understand why they keep you in a muzzle that's against the rules." she said loosening Leo's muzzle using a tiny key to lessen some straps.

[Assistant]
Grim straightened his position as Max grabbed onto Grim to help support him. "Downside to having all your limbs casted up. You have to relearn to move properly..." Grim said, holding onto both Violet and Max to support himself.

Stitches seemed genuinely confused on how the other guards can tease Bonnie by calling her what she is. His silvery eyes had a slight odd glisten to them.

[User]
Violet helped him walk easier. "That's true...let's get to nurses office." she said.

 "I never asked to be a bunny." she said. "And they completely disrespect me because I'm not human, just like they do you guys." she said looking towards Leo and stitches.

[Assistant]
Grim nodded as they made their way to the nurse's office.

Stitches sighed annoyed. He spoke in an annoyed tone of voice, "I always want to snap a lot of the guards' necks or slowly tear their limbs from their body until they die from blood loss. They treat people who aren't max security like me as garbage."

[User] Leo shrugs " well " he says using his wolf strength to rip off the muzzle " I killed guards too so they hate me"

[Assistant] "Thier just assholes." she said and turned towards Leo curiously until her ear got in her face again.

[User] Stitches grinned a mischievous grin. "I wonder I wonder..." He said softly to himself.

[Assistant]
Violet struggles a little to keep him up.

Bonnie impulsively hugs leo.

[User] Leo looks at stiches " you wonder what? "

[Assistant] Bonnie curiously awaited the answer.

[User]
Grim felt Violet struggle a bit. "Hey Violet, if you want to you can go find Leo. Me and Max will be able to get to the nurse's office okay," Grim said calmly. Max nodded slightly at Grim's words.

Stitches spoke in a voice that was obviously lying, "I'm just wondering nothing important."

[Assistant]
Violet smiled and nodded. "I'll walk you to the nurses firsy." she said.

 "Come on spill the tea." Bonnie said before letting out a giggle.

[User]
"Well alright then," Grim said calmly. Max smiled gently at Violet.

Stitches chuckled at Bonnie's curiosity. "It's just a rumor that there's a max security demon patient who always wears bandages over his eyes to keep everyone safe from nightmares. I was just wondering if he actually existed or it was just a lie," Stitches said with a chuckle.

[Assistant]
Violet smiled back and tried her best to hold him up.

 "No he's in actual patient one of my friend doctors told me his last session encounter, his case is extraordinary." she informed. "I would like to see his eyes and what lay beneath them." she stated off.

[User]
Grim smiled as they continued to the nurse's office.

Stitches perked up out of curiosity. "Well, his eyes probably wouldn't have much of an effect on an already insane mind if we think about it," Stitches said, his voice rather curious.

[Assistant]
Violet could see the door and contemplated in just giving him a piggy back ride.

 "That may be true, but I wonder how a completely same person takes it? What nightmares they have? Maybe a beautiful mix of horrifying and truth." bonnie said in a more crazy tone which calmed down towards the end.

[User]
Leo frowns " I already have enough nightmares "

 " really? I have none" alec said smiling as he sat down with everyone

[Assistant] Bonnie looked at leo. "I'm sorry for that." she said. Then she turned her head and bowed it acknowledging alecs arrival.

[User]
Grim sighed, clearly ready to sit down somewhere. "We're almost to the nurse's office," Grim said with a hint of cheerfulness in his voice. Max seemed to perk up a bit.

Stitches waved at Alec. "Hey chaos buddy. Also I don't get nightmares either. Even when I was fully human, I didn't get nightmares," Stitches said calmly.

[Assistant]
Leo frowns when alec sits by him

 " hello stiches and I wonder what it's like to be mortal " he said though alec seemed cheerful he had a bunch of guards watching him

[User]
Violet stood in front of grim and put him on her back easily moving forward.
 "I hope you don't mind, sorry." she said.

 "HOW?!." bonnie asked wondering how that can me.

[Assistant]
Grim chuckled, "If it speeds things up then I don't mind." Max quickly followed behind the two.

Stitches looked at Bonnie a bit confused. "How what?" Stitches asked with genuine confusion in his voice and silvery eyes.

[User]
Violet finally arrived at the nurses and let grim off her back

Bonnie satred. "How do you two have no dreams?" she asked. "And I'm not mortal, I'm a bunny." she replied sharply.

[Assistant]
Grim immediately sat down in a nearby chair, clearly happy to rest a bit. Max went back in order to get his wrists bandaged up.

Stitches chuckles. "I just don't get nightmares. I dream about torturing people all the time," Stitches said in his usual cheery voice.

[User]
Violet smiled and sighed. "I hope you guys are going to be ok." She said.

Bonnie looked intrigued. "Interesting." She said.

[Assistant]
Grim smiled and spoke softly, "We'll be fine, Violet, don't worry about us."

Stitches grinned an insane grin. "With all the people I've killed, my dreams of torturing people are extremely vivid," he said, sounding rather insane.

[User]
Leo frowns

Alec smiles " I just don't dream"

[Assistant] Stitches thought for a second. "I guess it makes sense that demons don't dream now that I think about it," Stitches said, his voice calm once again.


[System]
Age: 31

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Country of Origin: Ethora (Claims Falke)

Appearance:

Personality: A sort of burnt-out idealist, his former devotion to egalitarianism has been tempered by time into aimless hate of hierarchy,
class, and authority. However, this hate is kept in check by a sense of cynicism and resignation (as well as a touch of alcholism), that way things are is the way they will probably always be. This manifests in a feeling of weariness that almost radiates off of him.

But, there are moments when his former self peaks through. Get him talking about his beliefs, and you may not get him to stop. He can manage some dry wit, when he bothers to try. He has a sort of default respect for most people, regardless of race, sex, or class, but it doesn't seem to extend to the wealthy or the noble.

Once very confident in himself and his abilities, staggering defeat has humbled him greatly. He's cautious, doubly so when he's responsible for other people. He has deep-seated self-doubt, though he usually tries to swallow it. No one wants to hire an insecure mercenary.

History: The second son of Lord Robert Welm, Drostan led an incredibly privileged childhood. Free from the burden of inheriting his father's title, since his older brother would be heir, he was free to more or less do as a pleased. He learned a few things about himself early-on. He liked to fight (with both blades and words), he liked to read, and he really liked to travel. Beginning at age twelve Drostan accompanied his uncle on economic and diplomatic journeys to the surrounding nations. Falke was his favorite, and there he got his hands on the writings of Elven and early Falkian thinkers. This, combined with the things he saw in his travels, left him with the vague sense that something was wrong. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, or how he would go about fixing it, but the way things were didn't sit quite right. When he was eighteen, his uncle died, and his travels were suspended for the time being. He stayed once more in his family's home, developing his martial skills with his brothers and reading everything he could get his hands on.

When he was twenty-one he began writing things of his own. A sort of synthesis of all he'd read, combined with his own observations, Drostan's brand of social and economic egalitarianism was entirely too radical for much of the nation, though it did find some purchase among the very lowest rungs of society. Realizing his work was sort of seditious, he sent it around anonymously. He let only one person know that he was the one writing it, his childhood friend, Sir Garren Curtis, a knight sworn to his house.

He tried to live a more typical Ethoran noble life, participating in a number of tournaments over the next few years. Though he often did quite well, he was never able to win one. He courted Alys Curtis, a cousin of Garren's, and was engaged to be married. At twenty-six, however, just a few weeks prior to his wedding date, Drostan had a crisis of conscience. Surrounded by wealth and privilege, he couldn't escape a lingering sense of guilt, that people suffered while he lived so comfortably.

So, Drostan and Garren slipped out one night with a handful of soldiers who bought into his ideas. They carried with them copies of Drostan's earlier writing, and rode to rally townsfolk and farmers to his cause, with limited success. After a week, he had gathered about two dozen people. Against Garren's advice, the small group of radicals decided to mount a poorly planned coup. After some successful raids on merchant caravans and the such, Drostan decided that he was going to try and kill the king. This failed spectacularly. Their attempt to ambush a carriage that was supposed to be carrying the king went awry as the carriage's guards put up a much better fight than expected. Drostan's forces were more or less dismantled. Garren was captured, and Drostan was forced to flee. The king wasn't even in the carriage.

In hiding, all but a handful of his followers deserted him. Eventually, he was found. Sir Garren Curtis had been tortured into revealing the location of Drostan's hideout, and then was promptly executed. A manhunt, led by Drostan's own father, came upon them in the night. Drostan's few remaining allies were slain and he was cornered. Fully expecting to die, Drostan put up the best fight he could, and in the process killed his father. But Drostan wasn't killed, he was taken away in chains.

His older brother made a show of stripping Drostan of his lands, titles, and nobility, erasing his name from House Welm's lineage. He was guilty of treason, and to be hanged like a commoner. However, hours before his execution, his younger sister, Amelia, visited him in his cell. She hated him for killing their father, but she had been in love with Sir Garren, and couldn't forgive the kingdom for torturing him. She bribed a guard to free him, and secured him passage to Falke, but left him with a warning. If he ever came back to Ethora, she'd kill him herself. Drostan believed her.

In Falke, he created a new identity. He became Osmund "Oz" Griff, a Falkian mercenary. He lived in Falke for a couple years, studying the spear and trying unsuccessfully to learn archery. Work was scarce, however, and so at twenty-nine he left for Miraheim in search of opportunity. There, he worked independently for some time before falling in with Varian's group.

Weapon Preference: Drostan wields an unremarkable, circular wooden shield in his offhand, and a Falkian short-spear in the dominant hand. He keeps a more traditionally Ethoran one-handed sword on his hip, but he hasn't used it in quite some time.

Side: Mercenaries

[User]
Roland Grey - Top of Ekilore

The lead monk seemed to be pleased as a small smile stretched across his face, as one by one the Knights accepted the quest despite some hesitation. The hesitation was understandable to be sure as such as a powerful artifact did sound too good to be true, but one had to place faith in the Monks of Ekilore. They were to be trusted as they have guided civilization with benevolence.

The monk raised a eyebrow, amazed by the enthusiasm of Roland. "While your desire to be the champion of the land is welcome, do not dare think you can do this alone. Pride comes before the fall."

Roland eyed the monk and his words. It wasn't the first time he was scolded by others in this regard, but Roland had proven he was more than capable of balancing what he would call his 'confidence', and his skill. But in an effort not to show disrespect to the monks, he merely nodded in understanding, if only for the sake of their titles.

"I do have a few words to say before I send you all into the world. Firstly, while we have kept knowledge of the Orb of Ardor hidden within the confines of this great tower, they are others who undoubtedly have knowledge of it as well. These nefarious groups will seek you out once word of your actions spread throughout the lands of Aerion. You must prepared to fight. Blades will bleed and shields will shatter. They will do everything they can to stop you. You must make sure they do not succeed."

"Second, to aid you in setting out on your journey, we have commissioned a ship to send you off to your first of many destinations. We realize you may have traveled on your own ships. For this quest, a good amount of discretion is needed. The ship awaits you at the dock at the base of the tower, where it will take you to the borders of Falke and Miracia. Upon arrival, you will be greeted by a friend, one who will help guide you to where the first shard of the Orb is presumably located. My Eunuch friend there will set you out the door. The fate of Aerion rests in your hands. And may the grace of your Gods guide you."

Roland Grey bowed to the Monks and slowly made his way to the door, awaiting the Eunuch to guide them. "Come with me, my lords. I fear time is not our friend." The Eunuch shuffled his feet to the door, opening it for the others and guided them down the stairs, elevator, and through the grand library back outside on the ground level. Roland welcomed the ground, enjoying the smell of the fresh air of the Deep Blue. Seeing everything from ground level was strangely refreshing, if only because he could see literally the entire world as he knew from the top of the observatory.

"Come with my lords. We must head down to the docks." The Eunuch walked a fair pace down to the docks where a large boat was awaiting them.

Sitting at a small, quiet port was a single ship. Black as night with red accents, the ship had white sails with the symbol of the monks of Ekilore embroidered in red. It was a fair size, clearly having a few decks and rooms to be used. It appeared sturdy, fast, and a perfect ship for traveling the Deep Blue and Sea of Storms, the named waters around Ethora. A number of sailors were preparing the ship, hoping to get it ready for departure in time. They were rushing, clearly, but were doing so with some degree of effectiveness.

"I must say, I expected the vessel to carry us on this most noble quest to be something a bit less...shabby." Roland stepped forward, looking over the ship.

"Shabby is one way to look at it." A voice addressed the knights. Roland turned around and saw a man, about the same height and build as he, but with a large, black beard. He wore a large, black Tricorne, accompanied under hair combed underneath. He had a black waistcoat with red and orange linings across the edges of it, and matching styles in pants. If Roland knew anything about the styles of Ethorian dress, and he most certainly did know, than he was certain the man was from Ethora, particularly from the accursed region of Dedris, and probably the captain of the vessel. "I look at its dark colors as subtle. I look at it's size as inconspicuous. I look at its unadorned design as discreet. Given the nature of your journey, I imagine these are advantageous, are they not?"

The man eyed the group of so-called knights, and took off his hat to them, giving them a bow of respect. "My name is Richard. Richard of House Crewe, service to House Morok. I shall be your captain on this voyage. You best get all of your belongings on board. As I am told, we are on a tight schedule."

[Assistant]
Kace smirked subtly at the monk's rebuttal to the Ethoran man who had called himself Roland. The young half-dwarf knew he was at a disadvantage due to his age but he hoped that the mere fact that he had been summoned along with these others would earn him the respect he was due. He wondered if any of the rest of his new companions had fought in wars, or led men into battle. He wondered if any of the rest of them had cradled dying friends in their arms or emerged from a besieged fortress, covered in the blood of their kinsmen. He wondered if any of them knew the stark difference between the bitter taste of defeat and the sweet relief of victory. He supposed he would find out soon enough as they would all be confined to a ship together. He followed the Eunuch out of the tower and back the way the came, back to the docks after they were bade to depart.

When he heard the Ethoran Ego, as Kace had taken to calling him in his head, speak on the quality of the ship, he opened his mouth in preparation to retort but missed the opportunity when the captain of the vessel, a certain Captain Richard, spoke before him. Kace nodded in silent agreement after the captain spoke, as he moved to pick up the only bag of his belongings that remained on the dock, assuming his crew had packed the rest aboard and departed already, as the Sea-Wolf was nowhere to be seen.

"Don't worry Sir Roland. If you think this is going to be a rough ride, just be thankful they didn't give us a Miraheim Longship. At least this ship will provide you a roof instead of a canvas tarp." He said jovially, smiling to the Ethoran as he boarded the ship.

He made an observatory pace around the perimeter of the deck before turning to where Captain Richard now stood at the helm.

"I must say Captain, she's a fine vessel. What do you call her?" Kace asked with genuine interest.

[User]
Drostan Welm/"Osmund Griff" - Dalenham, Ethora

---

Sunlight streamed through the window and directly into Drostan's eyes, as he groaned into hesitant consciousness. His head hurt, his throat felt dry. He hadn't even thought he'd drank that much the previous night, but his body begged to differ. He was glad that he'd managed to drag himself back to his room at some point, though the rented bed hadn't done much to ease the various aches and brusies from the last job. And, as he thought about jobs, he remembered with a subdued despair that he had another one to do that morning. He weighed his options. It would be oh-so-easy to remain in bed, sleep for another few hours, and then hightail it out of Ethora before any of his more responsible comrades could confront him.

Or, he could wake up and do what he said he'd do.

He sat upright, rubbed his eyes and was up for the day. He splashed some water from the room's washpan in his face and then began the long process of armoring himself. A process, to be sure. He didn't wear full plate, couldn't afford it even if he wanted to, instead opting for a hodgepodge of leather, chain, and the odd bit of solid metal. It was the result of many repairs, by many blacksmiths of various skill. It didn't look terrible, he supposed, but he'd still wear it even if it did. After all, he hadn't gotten killed yet. Once his armor was dealt with, all that was left was to strap his shield and spear to his back and his sword to his waist.

About ten minutes later, he found his companions, stepping into their midst squinting against the sunlight.

"I'm not late, am I?" He looked around, nodded at Edon and Varian. As he looked at the highman, his eyes widened as though remembering something, followed by a small, knowing smile. "Ah, Varian, I think I lost track of you last night. What happened to your head?" He wanted to ask about the girl that he vaguely remembered seeing him with, but he supposed it wasn't his business. He wanted to say something to Edon, but he wasn't sure what. The man hadn't joined in with his and Varian's carousing. Well, Drostan hadn't done much carousing, unless that definition included sitting in the same spot and drinking for a few hours. The way he felt, though, he had to admit that Edon might have had the right idea.


[System]
Theme: Warriors by Imagine Dragons

Gender: Male

Species: Pixie

Appearance:Puck's general appearance may be considered somewhat androgenous. Standing at around one feet tall, he possesses faint greyish green skin free from any visible blemishes, bushy and unkempt moss-like hair, massive pale red eyes, large pointy ears, and lumenscent blush pink gossamer wings.

Aside from the impression of impishness and whimsicality that's just waiting to burst out, Puck usually gives off a playful and friendly vibe towards others.
Goals:Although it might sound like an exaggeration, Puck's last few months in his previous felt like several agonizing years of suffering. He had no choice but to remain in the hospital, bound to his bed. It was something he wouldn't want to relive.

Puck only wants to live his new life of explorations and adventure to the fullest. Well, at least for now.
Past Life:As Juan Conrado Saavedra Jr., Puck was a plucky and optimistic young man from a well off family in the Philippines. He did well in his academics and despite not excelling too much in physical activities, he was extremely active as he played a variety of sports. Although straightforward and tactless at times, Puck was still loved and liked by many. Behind his cheerfulness and laid-back personality, was confidence and a degree of rationality that was far beyond his years.

Sadly, his life had ended as it was just beginning. At the age of fifteen, Puck was diagnosed with a late stage malignant tumor; primary site was at his sternum and unfortunately, spread to both his lungs, liver, and a portion of his spine was already present. His condition was far too severe for anything curative and how much time he had left was difficult to ascertain. However, even with such a poor prognosis, all resources and modalities of treatment were maximised. Despite the batteries of tests, uncomfortable and invasive procedures, and extremely tiring chemoradiation that had lasted for what was almost half a year, Puck's disposition on life never wavered. He remained as carefree and jovial as ever. Even on the night he had passed away, despite his cachecitic body, hair withering away, and muscles atrophied, Puck still managed to keep on smiling.

Puck was well aware of his condition and had already accepted his fate long before anyone else had. The fact that he was now being presented with another life had caught him by surprise. In all honesty, he had readied himself for death, but apparently, it seemed like death wasn't ready for him just yet. Puck could think of a dozen reasons to deny or question the new life that was being offered to him, but he knew he didn't have to. Whether this was all real or not didn't really matter; the worst case scenario was that this was all a dream and he hadn't actually died. As much as Puck wanted to see his family and friends, returning back to the sorry state that he was in wasn't something he was looking forward to. So he decided, as long as this new reality he was in remained intact, there was no reason for him not to play along. And who was he kidding, Puck was never the type to say no to an adventure.
Abilities:
Minor Heal I
Lesser Flight I
Shield I
Transformations:
Pixie
Inventory:None
None

[User]
The Bonfire

---

@Lucius Cypher@Knox
"Oi!" Crispy yelled as Yoda began throwing firewood. "Dat be for my fire!" The flame touched goblin snarled and brandished his torch.

"He can take just one, Crispy." The boss snorted as Yoda picked up a rounded stick about two feet long, with one knotted end where it had once been attached to a trunk.

"Okay squirt, dat's enuff!" The boss picked up Yoda by the scruff of the neck and set him down away from the wood. "Ya can't have stuff like me til ya can go outside by yerself, and ya can't do dat cause you a weakling snot! Now come on!"

"Rattleskull, none of em knows where da rats are." Crispy pointed out. "The last times I saws—"

"Nah, I changed my mind." Boss Rattleskull smirked, one fang poking out under his top lip. "Look over dere."

Further off from the bonfire, the goblins could barely make out several shapes through the gloom. But they were clearly several creatures grouped together, and most of them seemed like the sleek, dark colored bodies of lizards crouched low to the ground. One was flying, but it wasn't glowing, so it was probably a Pixie. And as the gobs watched, two differently colored slimes were joining the bunch.

"Even yous wimps can catch one outta a big bunch like dat, right?" He gestured at Yoda, Eric, and Orchid before crouching low himself, his long arms nearly dragging the ground. "Let's go!" he whispered, at least compared to his usual volume of speech.

---

The Mook Alliance

---

@Old Amsterdam@Rune_Alchemist@CriticalHit@ReusableSword@Guy0fV4lor@Kazemitsu
As Jason and Asura practiced a little bit more before they left the pool, the red slime would find that if he let himself get low enough on HP for the System Warning to trigger—which took about three of the Stone Shots but significantly more of any non magical attack—that it took three whole Healing Herbs before his HP was full again. But once he had fully recovered, in about the time it took him to refill his inventory another message appeared.

It was probably just as well that the slimes stopped their training when they did, though—whether they noticed or not, the number of monsters harvesting larger amounts than usual of the Healing Herbs was starting to leave the green patches around the pool a little sparse…

As they joined the four Fanged Lizards and the one pixie, this little alliance seemed like it might be a real force to be reckoned with. Would any of them realize that despite their differences, they all had one big thing in common…?

Perhaps. But that realization might need to wait until after they resolved another issue coming from the direction of the bonfire...

---

The Exit

---

@Duoya
As Puck fell, he managed to cast Shield three times before his MP ran out. And three times before he hit the ground, a falling rock struck him. Luckily it seemed they didn't have enough momentum yet to do more than jarringly shake and toss him about through the defensive spell, but they interfered with his ability to right himself and get his wings moving. The ground rushed up at him—and a split second later he managed to fly, slowing down hard enough for a landing that only numbed his legs and seemed to reverberate through every hollow bone in his body.

Then the last rock to fall clonked him over the head.

---

Elsewhere

---

Cosmos@Gardevoiran@Legion02@UltraCraftGames@floodtalon

As Jacob cast a Shield spell on their new ally, a worrying thing happened.

Luckily, the shield wouldn't be immediately used up like it was the last two times, as Mourningstar managed to dodge the purple slime and hit it with another salvo of magic. But while she intended to use two shots of Mana Orb, she only got one.

Still the slime let out a warbling yelp as a chunk of its body splattered on the wall from the magic bolt. It seemed to quiver and tremble now, and began to head back towards the crack in the wall it had oozed out of…

As Digbie felt the vibrations passing through the earth around him, the sensation was very similar to a certain animated character associated with being blind and manipulating earth with supernatural martial arts. Only his senses weren't quite that detailed—yet he could feel, as they all moved around and yelled and water flowed somewhere underground, that one of the stalagmites on the ground near his hole had been loosened around its base thanks to his digging, and it was wobbling it's way a little looser every time something shook it. It had a very sharp tip and was narrow despite being about a foot long…
***
As Peter conducted another set of experiments, he found that he couldn't really "burn" anything with his Mana Orb, though it must have been putting out some kind of heat because it was clear that the Dire Rat's fur was singed at the tips. But keeping the magical light orb in contact with the fur did not create a spark or light a fire. It sometimes gave off a crackling sound like electricity, but it certainly wasn't a form of that type of energy either. And with Peter's past life being one unfamiliar with technology and education, even his abnormally crystal clear memories couldn't provide him with much information that might help him out. To find an answer to his desires, it soon became clear he would either need to try a whole host of creative experiments, or seek outside help somehow.

But would he get the opportunity to do that?

"Oi, it's dat Wisp again!"

Four goblins began to approach, and two of them were some of the ones that Peter had attacked earlier. All of them were carrying wooden pickaxes now.

"Ya still after dese crystals, huh!?" one snarled. "Ya betta git if'n ya don't wants us to kills ya!" The others sneered and laughed. If Peter looked beyond them he might see that a large section of the cave wall in the direction they had come from was picked clean. And though Peter might not know it, several other monsters had been using the crystals more than usual. Between the Goblins mining for Crispy, Peter himself, and who knew who else, it seemed the caves might not have enough crystals to go around...

[Assistant]
Elsewhere with @King Cosmos and @floodtalon

---

Digbie looked straight at the stalagmite that was wobbling, and ran over to it. As he ran, he tossed his rock at the spike's base to try and break it loose. Though his aim was off, he managed to clip the side of the rock and broke the spike free, the rock falling to the side and laying on the ground just in time for Digbie to grab it as he ran towards the slime.

Yelling out a mighty roar, Digbie took the new and mighty spike in both of his hands and shoved it directly towards the slime as it began to squirm back up into the hole Digbie assumed it came from. "HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLE!" Unfortunately, the goblin tripped before he made it to the slime, but the momentum he had still sent the stalagmite flying towards the slime with a very similar amount of force, even if it was decreasing as it flew. He lifted his torso off the ground as he watched the spike fly. "O-oops."

[User]
Near the Bonfire - Mook Alliance
@Old Amsterdam@Guy0fV4lor@CriticalHit@ReusableSword@Kazemitsu - Mook Alliance
@Lucius Cypher@Knox - The Goblins

---

Ah, Ash really wished her companions didn't act so hostile. You attracted more flies with honey as they say. Being threatening would only get you so far - the best way to get people to do what you wanted was to be nice to them and make them think its what they wanted. No matter though. The Pixie seemed convinced enough to join them anyways, taking a leap off the stalactite and falling towards them. Satisfied, she turned to face Ash and Ryuu.

"Well, I'm glad we're all on the same page-!?" She hissed as the Pixie landed on her back. "Do I look like A horse to you!?" She shouted rather irritably. At least he didn't seem concerned with loot or some such if they could kill Crispy, but before she could further argue with the impish fey creature, Ryuu had a brief altercation with a slime that seemed ready to approach them...it was the same one that she interacted with earlier, and apparently it could speak too. Well how quaint.

"Well...hello again, green slime." She greeted. "Thank you earlier for your amicability. I didn't think you could speak and I was eager to start my experiments." She mused, tapping her claws lightly. "Perhaps this could be a great opportunity for us all. I am Ash - Alchemist...and we're discussing a potential plan to deal with the goblins. Care to join us? A slime would be a welcome asset." She tilted her head to look up at the Pixie on top of her. "And you, pixie, get off me."

[Assistant]
Despite his battered, bruised, and fatigued state along with the dizziness and splitting headache he was experiencing, Puck couldn't help but remain smiling. It was perfectly clear that he was an innately cheerful person, but this was getting weird. He was a fighter, at least metaphorically. We get that, but it was as if he was enjoying the struggle he was going through way more than he should have.

Picking himself up, with one hand cupping his head around the area he caught the falling rock with, Puck continued to move forward. Giggling as his wings began to flutter, lifting him off the ground for a few seconds before being forced back down.

This cycle of flying and walking continued, all the while as he was attempting to cast some of his healing magic.

With the cloud of dust gradually dissipating, Puck moved forward, hoping to find out what had happened to the exit he had hoped to cross. And I guess the goblins too; hopefully they're both dead or something.


[System]
Species : Elf
Gender : Female
Age : 54
Height : 175

Jazdia is a tall elven woman with a pale complexion, blue eyes, and long, waist-length platinum blonde hair that she often let untied. Elves are all born beautiful and Jazdia was no exception. Her attractiveness is often described as an eternal winter barely touched by the sun's embrace. But that's just another way for the gentlemen to adore her face that seemed to always sport a perpetual frown. At least that's original.

Former leader of a peacekeeping organization, Jazdia understands it would be in her best interest to omit such details from her MO. Not that she is a wanted criminal or anything; she ended her tenure on a relatively high note actually. The thing about working as law enforcement is you will have no shortage of old enemies who would persistently try to even the scales with you even after retirement, and Jazdia does not wish to be tangled with such... nuisances.

So now, she is just Jazdia. An adventurer, restaurateur, and tea connoisseur. Yeah, just put that in her business card.

Traits and spells:

-Blood Phobia (passive)
Taking damage would result in lower combat efficiency. Jazdia will start sweating, having a shaky aim and blurred vision. At a certain threshold, her Ultravision cannot be activated.
-Curse of the crimson flame (passive)
Resting near any fire or under the sun would slowly regenerate her power and heal her wounds. However, any healing magic cast on her would instead deal damage.

-Arrow Enchantment.
Channels magic into her arrow. Can only use one type of arrow in a single turn. Has three flavors:
A. Crystal Arrows.
Glorified fireworks with an equally destructive explosion contained inside. Can be programmed to either explode upon impact, delayed, or remote detonation.
B. Crystal Arrows
Non Explosive variants, but hot as hell it pierces through plates and mails like a hot knife through butter. Armor Piercing, nuff said.

-Counter
Any close-range attack will be answered with heavy retribution. Figuratively speaking, sometimes this extended to the non-combat situation. Proceed with caution.

-Ultravision
Channeling magic to enhance her vision, Jazdia can see pass through solid objects and magical manipulation such as illusion and darkness. Imposes varying degrees of strain on her body depending on the area covered and elapsed duration. Prolonged abuse of this skill might result in myopia and gradual blindness.

-Vengeance
At this point, taking heavy damage would no longer weaken her. Now she is faster and deadlier and angrier. The third flavor of her enchanted arrows unlocked:
C. Poison arrows. Deals heavy damage over time. The enemy killed by this arrow will have their body burst into a swarm of black lepidopteran that attacks nearby hostiles until either they or the caster died, or the effect expires. At the end of its fleeting lifespan, the insect will return to the caster and heals her wounds. Has 3 days of cooldown.

Equipment
-Lurea
A recurve black bow adorned with gold and silver linings on its limbs. Has an absurdly light draw weight of 44 pounds.
-Maugrim
A long knife with ivory handle and elven runes inscribed on its blade.
-Medium-sized satchel bag
A plain-looking bag that doesn't seem too out of fashion despite being designed with function in mind.
-Pocket watch
A momento from her father. Well maintained and functioning properly.
-Medikit
Generic first aid kit.

[User]
"Alright, just roar if anything comes up. I'll follow you from a distance"

 Alright. Time to sort out the items from the saddlebags, and then Cedar's items.
 It's quite interesting, looking at how similar Cedar's inventory is to these kidnappers. Hand axes, knives, these... If he remembers correctly, these are called knapping tools? He himself quite never saw his need for these things used to create sharp stone tools. After all, he's able to pull a sizable supply of iron from within his own body.

 Cedar... Right, Matilda did call him Cedar, didn't she? Henri shrugged, realizing that he misassumed that his name is Cedrick because he once heard that Yvonne girl call her 'Ceddy'.
 That man Anderson was calling him Cedrick too, most likely because of Henri. Yet, he felt no obligation to fix this mistake. He will just let it be, as a tiny future source of hilarity.

 After melting the unnecessary metal tools and throwing away the saddle bags, sackcloths, and any non-metal parts of the knapping tools; he began equipping Cedar's gear with much care. The cloak of a 9-feet-tall bear is expectedly too long for his normal human size, and so he wrapped it partway on his neck like a thick scarf. His hand axe and knife are then sheathed on the right hip. His flints, placed in the left pocket. His leather-wrapped knapping tools, attached to his left hip. His rope, slung to his right shoulder. His ball of twine...

 This is quite an unusually-shaped item, this ball of twine. He reached for Cedar's barrel and attached a diagonal rod to the side of it, and hung the ball of twine onto it. He then wore the barrel on his back. It's good that they added this leather harness to it, turning it into quite a bulky backpack. Finally, his oversized boots and gloves are simply worn directly, even on top of his own shoes, and he'll just hold Cedar's shovel in the open and his big stick as a walking stick, he supposes.

 Henri began to walk, following Cedar from a huge distance as he said.

[Assistant]
Placidly padding along, the big lumbering form of the bear-man slowly made its leisurely way first up along the edge of the lake, to collect the tiny shriveled black berries that had been overlooked by the birds last winter from amidst the dangerous coils of prickles that were known as "GreenBriar." Birds and deer subsisted on the things during the winter months, as the perennial vine was semi-evergreen, and kept foliage on even in the winter-- or so his dad told him. He had never seen it himself. Whenever the weather started getting cold, the urge to go to sleep became overwhelming, and without even realizing it, he would just wake up several months later in time for spring.

The nasty little vines would serve their purpose quite well here, and would be a buffet for the birds this winter. Deer did not really like wading through the marshes, though he supposed the ice and snow would harden it up well enough for them to consider foraging among the ruins this winter.

Tucking quite a number of the shriveled little black bastards into the small pouch he had retained, and laced to the inside of his right arm, he had long since begun his long, shuffling and investigatory plod all around the ruins. There WERE a few edible roots and small fish hidden among the muck, and he was still very famished from his stay in the dungeon. It didn't hurt any to actually play the part he was 'pretending' to be-- especially since he knew how to do it, and it would serve several roles at once. It was a good hour or more before he was satisfied with having seeded the area with the vicious little horrors he had 'just so happened' to drop into the foraging holes he had been digging, while discretely prompting them to germinate, and greet the summer sun. He had continued 'subtly' coaxing their growth, while doing his lumbering "bear shuffle" amongst the muck and puddles, urging their roots to go deep and wide into the surrounding environs. The whole damn ruin site was now ringed in, like one giant bear trap, ready to be sprung.

Lazily, he waddled back up to the lake, carefully removed the small sack, then took a nice refreshing dip in the water to get all the mud (and old dungeon stench) off.

"Are you done yet?" was the complaint he was greeted with when he returned to Henri, who was wearing his clothes in a most peculiar manner. Almost comical.

"Yup. I thinks so. I'm ready when you is."

[User]
He listened, but not to understand. To him, their words were discordant noises, rambled by criminals either to rat out their partner-in-crime or to vaunt their innocence. Be it a plea, confession, or reason, he ignored it all as he toss them into the Rascade dungeon. And today, he expected it to not be any different.

But the first person to speak had brought a certain irregularity, and it started to get on his nerve. How dare they come to this place, deceived his men, and then stated, right in front of his face that they hold the information he was unworthy to hear?
His anger reached its peak when a certain former noblewoman spoke up and reinforce what the first trespasser said. Even more so when she brought up the name Matilda. Too long that she-orc had been the thorn in his side. So what? His Highness trusted her and now she acted like she owned Rascade.

"Be silent!" he rebuked, harsh and efficient. "I am not here to bandy words with an ungrateful daughter who ran away. How is Rosenving now? Did you crawl back to His Majesty's feet asking for His favor while your family begged for table scraps?"

Yvonne strode a pace forward, but suddenly Jazdia's clutched her by the shoulder, and she halted, glancing at the elf with clear disdain.

"Greetings, Constable Delving. I wholeheartedly acknowledged that the timing was less than ideal. But my friend was right, we are here on Fredricus' order." Jazdia opened her bag and reached for a transparent tube, which contained a piece of document, neatly rolled and tied with a red ribbon. She unknotted the ribbon and presented the paper so he can read it himself.

But the man furiously struck the elf's palm, causing the contract to be released from her grip and flutter away before landing on the grass.

The captain whirled at Keito, before continuing his admonishment loudly.

"Listen here, you cheap idiots! I asked a question, plain and simple and all of you made a fucking song and dance about it! I don't care who ordered you. I ask a fuckin question and you fuckin answer. Now is there any of you, in this sorry group who can answer, in plain Common? Please? Thank you!?"

As he speaks, a dozen of guards had made their position around them. All were armed, and they only waited for the Constable's order.

"Or maybe I should just haul all of you to Rascade Dungeon myself!"

[Assistant]
Chōnan snapped from both for stroking the Captain's man strength on the lady's palm and desecrating an important paper that had been sealed by the King himself.

"Mind if I put something first?" He said and pulled something from his bag and it was his mask during his prime on Knight's career. As he did a knight salute, an overwhelming ferocious aura has been released and those who caught feel flinches and recognize his prime status as a knight before. "Ex-Knight of cavalry unit, Kagetane Chōnan...

Late Sergeant, definitely going to haunt you down as you stroke that paper with the King's sealed into the ground. A yelling that pierce into your soul. Whole day of running around until your feet give up" He walked toward the place where the contract fell off. The surrounding guards that were meant to block him started to shaken and Chōnan felt disappointed. "These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here." He picked up the contracted and handed back to Jazdia instead. He felt that the Captain himself can't be trusted to hand the contract. "It is classified from the top and I'm overseeing our guests for their work under Madame Matilda Ironsword. We had a business here and also I visited my late units and my superiors." Yes. He paid them a vist before he catch up with his party on the investigation area.

"As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough."

[User]
"These guards are not ready... yet... Their postures are weak and shaking. Even less trained Mechean surely fill vacant spots here."

"As Milady's suggestion, go send a runner if you are not satisfied enough."

Few recognized that mask, but their number was insignificant compared to those who feared the wrath of the Delving.

The Constable had his mouth agaped slightly, both in anger and bewilderment. Though he could find the gist of whatever this Ex-Knight Cavalry was saying, he still heard it as a slightly clear gibberish. An impudent one. One that does not respect his authority. In a fit of newfound anger, he brandished his pike and thwacked the Ex-Knight Cavalry at the back of his knee, immediately ending his dramatic posturings and forcing him to kneel. And soon it was apparent that the soldier was not trembling in fear, but instead waiting for an order, and they just got one.

Two soldiers joined the fray, then one more, probably annoyed by the warrior's condescending remark, or they wanted to prove him wrong, all working in unison to pin Chounan to the ground and had him cuffed. The contract escaped the Samurai's grip and stretched out again on the grass.


[System]
Gender: Female

Age: 22

Appearance:Sierra has dark skin, long black hair, and critical red eyes. She wears plain workman's clothing and chooses utility over style or fashion. (I tried to go with a more 'classic' Harvest Moon art style)

Birth Date: Fall 30

Occupation: Miner

Personality:Sierra has been described as someone with a 'mind of metal and wheels', though that is not to say that she has a heart of stone. Sierra simply desires practicality and efficiency, which may come off as a need to control. She lives a simple life, feeling that excess dulls the mind and weakens the body. Sierra shows care through action instead of words, so while she's terrible at comforting people, she may attempt to solve their problem or simply do chores around their house for them. She derives self-worth from being useful to others. She secretly, and not-so-secretly, judges others positively based on their usefulness and negatively based on their extravagance, and doesn't trust those who are rich or have lived a comfortable life. Sierra believes that the prosperity of Willow's Valley lies under the earth rather than above it and seeks to find a motherlode in the mines. Sierra doesn't believe in the Harvest Goddess, or the supernatural. Sierra is also something of a penny-pincher having lived a relatively poor life. She likes simple foods that give her long-lasting energy and foods that don't spoil. She often conflates enjoyment and decoration with decadence and opulence.
Likes:* Rice balls
* Butter
* Cooking oil
* Bread
* Potatoes
* Corn
* Salted fish
* Hard boiled eggs
* Milk
* Cheese
* Pickles
* Preserved foods
* Jams
* Sandwiches
* All ores and gems
* Cool and cold days

Dislikes:* Sweets, particularly light, fluffy pastries
* Fresh fruits
* Fresh vegetables
* Fresh fish
* All flowers and grasses
* Hot and warm days

History:Sierra was born in another town. Sierra's father used to be the foreman of the town's mine. A series of unfortunate cave-ins and accidents as well as a sudden inability to locate rich ore deposits led to the mine being deemed exhausted and subsequently shut down. When Sierra was 10, the Hamilton's moved to the city where Sierra's father became a factory worker, while her mother became a teacher, though previously she had been a homemaker. In her hometown, Sierra had been able to spend plenty of time with both parents, but in the city, they needed to both have jobs to support the high cost of living. Sierra felt neglected and kept to herself, blaming the mine's closure for her misfortune and the exhaustion she saw in both her parents' attempts at trying to earn a living wage. Upon graduating high school, Sierra took hard labor jobs to help contribute to the family, knowing they didn't have enough to send her to college. One day, her parents surprised her with some money that they had been saving up. They remembered how much happier she was in the town where she was born, and they had saved this money so that she could start a new life and make her way in the world. They convinced her that they made enough to take care of themselves, and that Sierra deserved a chance at freedom from the city and to see the world. She first went back to her hometown and saw that it had been more-or-less abandoned. Asking around, it turned out that it had fallen on hard times, and when large corporations moved in to develop it, the citizens said, 'no' because they wanted to keep it natural. The corporations left the town to its own devices, but it eventually started losing business and population started dwindling. Sierra then turned towards Willow's Valley, hoping that she could strike it rich in the mountain, save her parents from the city, and let them retire in peace, comfort and dignity.
Theme:

[User]
---

---

Reina breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily the young girl didn't seem too annoyed by Bruno's playful antics. She had almost forgotten how forgiving and nice people were in Willow Valley, especially in comparison to the city she had been living in.

"I'm Reina." She gently set Bruno down and shortened his leash a bit so he couldn't climb on top of the girl again. "It's nice to meet you!" She smiled and outstretched her hand for a handshake. "I don't think I've seen you around here either.." She paused to think, then laughed a bit, "Then again, I've mostly been locked up remodelling my dad's old pub, so I've barely seen anyone lately."

Bruno let out a little whimper, pulling against the leash in another direction and staring at a curly haired man who was nearby helping out other shopkeepers. Clearly, Bruno was bored and wanted a new friend to play with now. Reina briefly glanced in the direction Bruno stared, noticing the man she recognized as Fabron Smith. She had grown up with him here in Willow Valley, but it had been a long time since they had spoken. She wondered if he remembered her.

Turning back to the girl in front of her, she smiled, "Hey, if you're of drinking age, you should come check out the Raven & Bard tonight! It's the grand reopening!" She grinned with pride, "Or," She finally took a moment to assess if the girl actually looked like she could legally drink. "you could stop by to enjoy the live music. We have a band playing tonight and most night's it'll be an open mic for anyone."

[Assistant]
Fabron Smith

---

 "Thank you Fabron!"
 "We appreciate your assistance. Thank you so much!"
 "You're very generous with your efforts, Fabron. You're welcome any time during the festival hours!"
 Seeing those delighted faces helped Fabron work a grin on his face, followed by gentle laughter that bopped the brunette's head out of internal habit. The smile of the face from those whom he had helped. It is the most beautiful sight to behold upon a small remote village. A sign that his work and effort will always be appreciated--but most importantly-- a sign that he was at home. His side turned and strode over closer towards the coastline where he allowed the breeze to kiss his bronze cheeks and waves of water to envelop his booted feet, just below the shin. The eyes gazed into the horizon, slowly panning from the left to right as if expecting if there would be fishes leaping out of the water. That would be a great spot to fish.
 Speaking of fishing...
 A glint of light. So fine that he'd almost miss it if he hadn't any experience with fishing. A line was cast and the emeralds saw by the pier a couple of girls on the side and a brave Mudi puppy gazing directly at his aura, clearly interested in what he had to offer for play. Fabron didn't mind dogs or cats-- so long as they weren't in the workshop. The workshop poses too many risks for domestic pets.
 There is a set of stairs nearby the side of the pier and he made a last-minute decision to see what was up with the girls and to see if she had caught any fish... Or play with the dog. His pace was sure and steady. The closer he got towards the girls and the puppy, the more excited it seems to become and the clearer were the identity of those girls with a pleasant surprise.
 "That's..." His thought paused and out comes a shout; "Rei!"
 What previously was a casual stride quickly become an overjoyed sprint across the wooden planks which sent strong vibrations and distinct thunk sounds as his feet planted firmly to anchor his momentum forward and promptly arrived his destination.
 "My God! Its been years!" He pulls her in for an affectionate hug, smothering her over the slightly-damp shirt he was wearing. "When did you come back?" He noticed the leash that was attached to her hands that prevented the puppy from storming off into the distance. "That's your dog too?" He released Reina from his grips and leaned forward with his hands resting his knees looking at the puppy intently. "Hello there little guy! How you doin'? Being a good boy aren't ya?" He lowered himself further and carefully to decrease his overall size and offered a hand forward to introduce himself to the puppy.

[User]
"My watch must be back by a little."- he said as he checked his open wrist which certainly head no watch in it then he looked up and gave a laugh while rubbing the back of his head with a hand. But to be fair, this was the earliest he has ever gone to church in his time on this village.

"Yes, I was just on my way when I noticed a lost sheep in need of the guidance of God."- he said the last part in a mock fashion.
"Well that's just what my father would have said anyway. But still, will you join us for the service this day? There is wine testing in the end and I bought a couple of 30 year old barrels just for this occasion."

Later after finishing the conversation with her..

The Bishop enters the church where people are waiting him. Not many of them as they are busy with making preparations for the festivities, not that he cares as he doesn't expect nor make it mandatory to come here, not that he could. Some people acknowledge him, as he walks down to the altar, by saying "Father" and he responds with a courtly nod. He has put up a large poster of the harvest goddess in front of the Jesus statue, completely covering it out of view. He walks behind the the podium that is made of white stone decorated with golden linings and crosses, he turns his back on the people behind him and puts his hand on his inner pocket of the robe subtly taking out his vaping kit and taking a few whiffs. He blows the smoke downward so it isn't visible from behind and turns around only when he hears a dry cough permeating the quiet church. He turns back to the others and puts his hand over his mouth as he clears his throat once.
"We are all gathered here today in honor, in respect of the Harvest Goddess. Yes this is a festivity but the origins of such events are what make them special so it is of the utmost importance.."-he said the last word while raising his right hand slightly-"to know and constantly remember the origins of days such as this."
He had a rough idea of the history of the goddess and how it all originated..searched it up on google besides* reading about it in some books found at the library. Not much information to begin with except one story that everyone knew but has started to be forgotten.
"Hundreds of years ago, when the people that made this village moved here, the land was dry, rain time was rare and the animals few. Many people tried to make this land habitable and all of them failed. The well that was dug ran dry after a few days. The crops that were planted withered and died only after a few nights and the animals that the villagers brought with them when they moved to this land were on their way to starving to death. One day, a young girl came to the village's doorstep. Her hair was white as snow, her skin fair and her eyes were a jade green. An otherworldly creature indeed set aside from the others by her beauty alone, and as they were to find out, also by her kindness and generosity."-he ended while taking only a moment's pause before continuing.
"This visitor came to the village and saw a crying woman with a child in her hands. She asked the woman what was wrong and the woman replied that they had gone days without water and she feared for the well being of her child. As soon as she heard this the young girl put her hand on the woman's face and collected a tear that was falling from her eye. The girl then went to the well and dropped the tear in. No sooner she had done this the ground shook and trembled, getting everyone out of their houses only for them to witness the pillar of water that emerged from the well."- taking another deep breath he then continued.
"Seeing the people happy and full of hope pull a smile on the girl's face and with that smile she continued to the outskirts of the village where a man, far from the commotion in the village lay kneeled on the ground, a fistful of dirt on one hand and a bagged seed on the other. She asked the man what troubled his heart as he told her of his story. How he moved from his previous home because his daughter had passed away. She found joy in nature and always wanted to help it grow. The seed he was holding in his hand was the one his daughter found just before she passed on. The man had hoped to plant the seed in his new home so that her memory may never be forgotten. The young girl approached the man and took the seed which the man gave reluctantly. He watched in silence as the girl planted the seed on the ground and not a moment later a whole forest lay before them. The forest surrounded the whole village as lush greenery took over the desert wasteland. The first tree that anyone saw when they entered the forest was the biggest one, one that had the face of the man's daughter on the front. The man's eyes filled with tears as he took the girl's hand on his own while tears streamed down his face. Thank you, he said on and on before moving on to his daughter's tree."-2/3 way done, one more part.
"The young girl then went further away from the village into the forest that she had just created. There she spotted a young boy playing by himself in the wild. He seemed happy and eager to enjoy this newly created miracle all to himself but then he fell to the ground and adored a sad face. Why the sad face, she asked the boy. He responded by showing her his drawings in the ground. Figures of many animals and birds. He said that everything was quiet and he felt lonely. To that, the young girl put a hand over the boy's and pressed it on the drawing of a bird. Lifting both their hands a bird appeared to the boy's amazement. The bird flew upwards to the sky where hundreds of other birds came down from the clouds as they made the forest their new home. Along with the birds came the insects as the forest felt alive again and many other animals. The boy watched the girl and with an innocent smile thanked her before running off to play."- and with that he was done.
"This is the story of the Goddess of Harvest. One that our people should know and never forget. Stories like these give meaning to and make days special. Whether you believe it or not, it is a fact that on this day, many years ago, everything took a turn for the better for our ancestors. This may also be considered as a day of new beginnings."- all and all this whole service took about 10+ minutes.
"Now that we're done with that...how about some drinks!"- and on that note a couple of men and women cheered. Hell, the only reason they came might've been just to taste the wine.
The Bishop signaled one of the young priests to open the casks and fill everyone a glass. He let the barrel open if they wanted more.

[Assistant]
Sierra couldn't believe she had sat through the entirety of the childish fairy tale that passed for a sermon. And to make matters weirder, the priest was breaking out the booze. Sierra couldn't help but smirk at that, at least the bishop had a sense of humor. Still, Sierra was a no-alcohol sort of person, believing that the spirit dulled the mind and squelched work ethic. Some would say that Sierra was too stiff and didn't know how to socialize or engage in revelry, and well, they would be right.

There was still work to be done, but there was no point starting until the majority of these church-goers got back out and began making requests for help, so Sierra decided to just loiter and people watch.