[System]
"I seek strength to protect, not to kill."

Basics
Race:
Lah'na, a Lion specifically.

Gender:
Male.

Age:
33.

Additional Info
Personality:
At first glance, many would think that this feline is nothing but a cold brute without any goals, simply wandering for eternity. And while that may be partly true, Ymahr tends not to heed the whispers of strangers and let it get to him, for they are free to say what they want, so as long as they do not intrude in his mission. While definitely no has-been, he feels out of touch with many youths and adolescents that he feels he may as well be a senile old man, and while it does not bother him that much, it does bring back a painful memory of the past for him, something that he wishes not to ponder on.

The lion is calm, tactical and collected. Preferring to think of a more logical or safer approach rather than facing danger head-on, his wisdom and intellect however becomes a double-edged sword when it begins to mix with his emotions and feelings. They clash like water and oil and often proves difficult for him to express as such.

Rather than staying with groups, Ymahr finds peace in being alone, something that has stayed with him ever since he wandered. Due to his years of traversing the roads in his pursuit of strength, he comes off as an anti-social person as his time alone was most certainly not spent with many. Despite this, he is also shown to be well-meaning and selfless, he simply prefers not to show it often.

He tends to cling to the past often, it is something that both drives him forward and pulls him towards his own downfall.

Appearance:
Ymahr is a tall, and athletically-built lion, something that stems from his various battles during his travels. His fur is mostly tawny-colored, with his chest-area and lower muzzle being mainly white, whereas his mane consists mostly of a dirty-yellow color. The lion's face is almost-always filled a stern expression, almost as if he is expressing slight irritation from his surroundings.

His armor-if you could call it that-consists of a simple scarf adorned with a small trinket, a cloth belt and a simple pair of pants. On his right hand, he wields a gauntlet that is purely aesthetic.

Height:
6'2".

Weight:
190 lbs.

Fight related
Magic:
Miracles. He has a strong preference towards defense instead of recovery.

Class:
Vagabond.

Weapons/Items:
A gold spear, and what little he considers as "armor".

Strengths:
Brute Strength
- Even without his magic and spear, Ymahr is a formidable foe up close and is willing to use his bare hands to confront foes.

Agile
- Though not as dexterous as many of his kind, his speed is above average and he tends to incorporate it in his fights where his defense is one of his biggest enemies.

Instinct
- He may be an anti-social one, but those who manage to befriend this lion will find that he is willing to cross limits in order to protect those what little he calls "friends", even if it includes putting his life on the line just to ensure their survival and/or safety.

Weaknesses:
Solace in Solitude
- Prefers to be alone, he is hesitant to rely on the aid of others unless it was a matter of life and death.

Lion's Pride
- In addition to the above, if he ever finds himself allying with another, Ymahr will often prioritize himself rather than his allies. He may heal and tend to their wounds once in a while but that would be about it, unless that person happens to be someone important to him that is.

Sticks and Stones
- Prone to taunting the enemy and can easily underestimate them just from their appearances. This doesn't apply to just enemies though, he calls them as he sees them, for better or worse. He does not to bear any ill will, but rather to bear witness the potential of his adversaries.

Expose'
- Tends not to use armor and cover himself up as it gets in the way of his dexterity. As a result, he is vulnerable to many attacks, both physical and magical. To remedy this, he tends to rely on casting barriers for defense or using some of his agility to safely dodge incoming attacks instead.

Techniques:
Ymahr prefers to confront enemies from a mid-to-close distance, using his spear to attack from a safe range with quick pokes and thrusts. He tends not to close-in on an enemy until he sees a viable opening, at which point he switches to a more aggressive fighting style that relies more on cornering the opponent and tiring them out with repeated stabs, even using fisticuffs if his spear would-somehow-be unavailable. He tends to alternate between a defensive and offensive style, depending on the situation.

When it comes to using his magic in fighting however, he almost always tries to start every fight by casting a barrier on himself to lessen the damage he receives. As mentioned above, while he may be uncomfortable fighting with allies, that doesn't mean he won't be willing to spare a moment of his time to aid them however.

[User]
As the innkeeper had served others before her, Atlas was able to do a little listening around the room. Well not purposely, but standing around doing nothing makes you look for something to do. The two beside her were having a questionable conversation that she tried her best not to pay attention to. Something staves and removing clothing? Um, anyway...

Meanwhile, there was a curious little Shael the Tothum decided to attune her attention to. He was calling for someone to help, of course, with a slain wurm. I knew that whole mess would come back to bite me in the tail. Atlas thought, shuffling her hooves with mild apprehension. It would be the right thing to go back and help out, who knew what would happen if they left a dead monster carcass out there. The scales were sharp, someone could get hurt if they fell near it. Or most rather, it would attract more terrifying creatures that could harm the citizens of this city.

Her freshly refilled drinks came to her, and she quickly dismissed herself, weighing the pros and cons of whether or not she and most likely not, Rykiar, should help strangers. Making her way back upstairs and in their bedroom, she placed the mugs on the bedside drawer, occupied in this internal struggle. She did just do her Beast form, and was pretty dang tired. Her meal did help regain some energy, so maybe should could just help carry the rest of the creature by foot if others helped. Flying did always take a lot out of her. Although, that butcher certainly did rip them off. That was probably grade A, recently kill wurm. They could have at least gotten a couple more hundred coins at least. Well, then again, she knew next to nothing about bargaining as much as Rykiar thinks she does. She usually ends up just eventually agreeing with whatever price the opposite party wants and she never had the energy to keep going. Hell, this was probably the longest she'd ever think over something.

"Atlas? Hello in there? Please don't tell me you've fallen asleep with your eyes open. We're going to have to sleep in different rooms if you-"

Atlas rolled her eyes, throwing a pillow at the mouse to quiet him. "Shush no. I just saw one of those guys that we stole the wurm from downstairs. He was asking for help to carry it back here." She could already see that Rykiar wasn't interested in hard labor, and neither was she. It was a lot coming from her, being the biggest lazybones there is. I mean, I guess I am bigger than most others, well unless they're a Rakonai or an Orius. Well I suppose it just depends on the person, there's always variation.

"The whole thing is I'm a bit worried about the dead thing attracting more scary things, and said things attacking this cute town."

This still didn't really change the Neth's mind. She looked around for some sort of motive. Atlas' eyes fell upon the last of the baked bread. She looked back up Rykiar and he's brow furrowed, daring her to do her worst. Faster than she's ever been, and fortunately faster than her mouse, the cow snatched up the bread. She held it up out of the much shorter Rykiar's reach, which was quite easy.

"Oh no! Is this the last of that bread? The same bread we both agreed must have been made by angels?" She glanced down, waggling her own brow in playfulness. "I'm so full, but I guess a little bite will be no trouble."  Atlas then slowly lowered the bread toward her mouth threateningly.

"Alright! Alright! We'll go help them!" Atlas then of course handed him the mediocre at best bread with a grin.

Helping others felt almost as good as sleeping for twelve hours, which she'll make sure to do as soon as they got back. Making their way back stairs, which she grew to hate the more she climbed them, She spotted the poor Shael who kept repeating his need for help. Atlas gave him a sheepish smile as well a little wave to get his attention. Rykiar obviously spoke for the two of them and did so.

"We'd like to help!" He exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, most likely swayed by the mention of pay. Now they'd have more spending money, which meant of course more food.

[Assistant]
Erion just stared a bit at the lion, and grumbles at what he said. He just looked angry a bit.
"Calling me pathetic... Want to know why I don't tell people about my type of magic?! Yes I use necromancy, the soul aspect to be exact! I know that the tpye of magic dosen't define the person, but what they do with it! I should be the first to even know that with what happen to me in the past!" he says, walking forwards.

"Ever had someone try to kill you at night, someone from your own party cause he though you were evil and were going to kill the group? Ever had people you believed to be friends just turn you in to a group of people that want to get rid of all type of necromancy, even the soul aspect?! I am sorry, but that is a good reason to not trust people with that information." he adds, then calming down a bit as he look at the lion, standing there. His spirit energy had been moving around him right now, visible, but it dissipated.

"And you tell me that I am pathetic for doubting others! Ever had your own family end up killing your best friend cause he discovered a large scheme crime organization in your own family that you didn't even know about at all! And the irony here is that they used miracle magic, healing victims of their own scheme to get money!" he then adds, then calming down again as he looks at the lion. Erion didn't know how the lion would react to all this... but maybe it was best to come clean with him. Maybe it was best to tell him the reasons so that he understands why he was unsure about telling about his type of magic... and the fact that he didn't trust others

"Sorry that I don't trust others, but with how many times I ended up with people not giving me any respect or even trying to kill me, as well as not even knowing who to trust or believe in anymore..." he then ends up saying, a small tear in his eye... but he cleans it off afterwards. Then... Jim showed up.... again...

"Awww... cry baby gonna have a br..." he was able to say before Erion turned to him and then yelled.

"SHUT UP JIM!" he says before using a large soul blast and pronouncing some necromancy words, banishing the spirit once again.

"S.... sorry.... that dang spirit.... That... is my personal problem. I hear the spirits and everything they say.... but there is one that keep coming back and back and annoying me and... ugh.... I just want to get rid of that one. Even the other spirits want him gone... giving you an idea of how annoying he is..." he says, trying to cheer up a bit. He hoped that the lion would understand a bit more now. He didn't say though his real family name... but knowing how that scheme had been revealed before.... Letendre familly... If he heard about them... well... he would know they are now rotting in a dungeon now... That was a good reason why he didn't want to carry that cursed name with him... A new family name... one that he would stay with from now on.

[User]
The lion was taken aback at the sudden aggressiveness of the fox before him, in that moment it was as if he wasn't the same person he knew earlier. The words coming out of his mouth were vitriolic but at the same time were tinged with grief and sorrow. Granted, the vulpine had been through a lot up until now, something that the lion was witnessing first-hand, truth be told it made him feel a bit uneasy and slightly guilty. Listening to Erion ramble about his past, the leonine man was reminded of his own. He avoided the gaze of the young man, looking forlornly at the ground as the fox was still talking, it was almost like he was being scolded for something he shouldn't have done. When it came to distrust, he was no stranger, in fact many people would be with the way the world is right now.

The words of the fox eventually culminated with him talking about his family and how they killed his best friend, a very sensitive subject it would seem, and one for many. The lion was no exception to this and thoughts of his own family come back to him and he sighs, he does miss them a great deal, but coming back now would just...He shook his head, trying to abandon the thoughts and discarding them. The conversation ended with the fox with tears in his eyes. The pangs of guilt were taking over the lion, the one thing he didn't need right now was to deal a crying fox, he wasn't geared for these sort of things!

"My...apologies."

The lion was gritting his teeth and was trying to avoid eye-contact with the fox, all the while salving the pride he had just lost. Then again, it was through his own foolhardiness that he was in the predicament in the first place, so really it was his own fault. Right now there was little he could do to comfort the tearful young man, he might just make it worse. Deciding to risk it, the lion was about to say something to soothe the pain of the fox but...something interrupted their little conversation.

Erion referred to him as a spirit, but from the looks of it, "pest" or "annoyance" might have made for better names. At the very least the tension had dissipated-somewhat, and the fox was looking better than before. The lion closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, trying to decide whether he should be the one to speak up this time or stay silent, lest he cause more trouble again.

"He seems fond of you at the very least."


[System]
Reina/Retarion
Real Life Info

Appearance:
Age:
16
Gender:
Female
Sexuality:
Pansexual
Occupation:
Student
Personality:
Reina may not look like that she cares most of the time, but honestly she does. Reina is very hard to approach since she is awkward, as well as unintentionally intimidating. Reina doesn't want to be a coward anymore.
Biography:
Reina had no memories of her biological parents, all she could remember was growing up with her harsh grandfather, who made Reina take martial art classes 24/7. Reina was constantly yelled at as a child to keep training, one time Reina even passed out from all the energy she used training. Reina didn't have that many friends in school either, she couldn't even have any free time to hang out on the weekends. When Reina was 12 she decided to rise up against her grandfather, but got scolded harshly, which resulted in the lost of sight in her left eye. Eventually Reina came across the game Identity.exe, where she could have a new start and have a better life, make new friends. She keeps trying to escape the horrors of reality by playing the game.

In-Game Info

Appearance:

Username:
Retarion
Gender:
Female
Race/Species:
Human
Personality:
Retarion is much less of a coward than her real life self, she is much more serious and stronger too. Retarion can joke around at times with lots of sarcasm, but is most of the time serious. Retarion smiles a lot to show that she is having lots of fun, and that she can fight with her friends. Retarion will be your knight in shining armor.
Stats:
Teamwork [3/10]
Fitness [10/10]
Agility [7/10]
Stamina [7/10]
IQ [7/10]
Strategy [6/10]

Skills:
- Switch Gun: Able to switch the gun that Retarion is currently using in an instant, there is a cool down of 30 seconds though.
- Spark Shot (Dual Pistols): Retarion shoots at the enemy with an electric bullet.
- Homing Shot (Sniper Rifle): After locking onto an enemy she charges up her gun and fires.
Abilities:
- Tornado Shot (Dual Pistols): Retarion shoots in front of her and a tornado forms around the bullet.
- Wide Shot (Shotgun): Retarion fires a single bullet from her shotgun, then it splits into a dozen bullets impacting an area.
Weapon/s:
- Amnesia (Dual Pistols)
- Flash Annihilator (Shotgun)
- Legionnaire's Rifle (Snipe Rifle)
Class:
Gunner
Recognition:
Approachable
Fame:
Name slips off the tongue once in a while.

Extras:
- Ammo: Only has a set number of bullets, has to buy ammo to restock and fight.

[User]
"Wow, well endowed? Lewd.", SawCutter joked. "I probably went overboard on the big and intimidating sliders, but whatever. I hope I can get a 'Non-Damaged Megasaw' or whatever the shit this thing is.", He'd say while going to grab his Megasaw, the starter version being heavily damaged. "Or I could repair it. That'd be cool too.". He looked at the various new players still spawning in for the first time. Lovely amount of variety, and some orange eyed 'girl'. Pfft, probably not even really a lady.

"Shiet, must be one hell of a busy day. Their servers are probably crying right now.", He'd say. He'd notify this 'Ricki' (pfft) by pointing and sent a message. "you probably aren't even a real girl! fite me trolololol.", then another, "Nah not really, take this party invite, let's be noobs together."

[Assistant]
Viral - Scott
Starting City || Plaza
Scott almost sighed in relief as SC relieved him from the social obligation of being his partner in crime. Maybe SC wasn't all bad, Just a bit misguided. He also asked the all important question of if Queue was a dude. Queue responded with a resounding 'Yes. Also I am this attractive in real life too.' though, his response did accidentally cut into one of SC's patented rambles. Apparently SC was visiting. Scott wasn't exactly sure how good that was.

SC confirmed that the two of them wanted to go to Nohare and then Queue said one of the best things ever. If Scott was more brave, he might have just asked Queue to repeat himself, but he was neither creepy or fearless enough to ask. Besides, Queue could've been any age. He didn't wanna come onto a 60 year old and end up coming onto a 60 year old. Scott then wondered why his thought process ended in a zinger.

SC commented on the awfully worded fiasco that was, ruining any sense of eroticism that Scott had actually already ruined for himself when he brought a 60 year old into the mix. Midway through his rambles SC mentioned a broken chainsaw or something. Although he was beginning to tune him out a bit, the mention of something broken sparked his interest. "May I see that chainsaw? One of my skills is repairing things." Scott asked. Although it was probably stuck broken because it was a game object, there was a possibility he could help fix it.

[User]
"You're a genius, Viral! Here, take a shot at it.", He said while handing the giant piece of machinery over. It really was huge; the massiveness of SawCutter even had some minimal trouble lugging it around. Of course, even a person could drag it around with both hands; yet then it would've just been useless as an actual weapon. Viral did seem like a smart guy, or gal, whatever. Couldn't really tell from the voice...

'Realistically', all it really needed was a tune up; just replace the small heating coils wrapped around the base of each sub-saw and re-align all of the teeth of the same. Apparently it needed 'Adept Mechanic skills' to fully repair; but Viral could repair it to 50% effectiveness, boosting its' attack output somewhat. It's heating coils even began to work, beginning to make the saws glow a slight, dull red. "Hohohohho! Damn, that's rad! Gimme, please?".

"Fuck, now all I need are like... rocket boosters and I'll be the coolest thing ever!"

[Assistant]
John Marks - Queue

Starting City || Plaza

Queue just stood back amused and giddly smiling as the pair started playing mechanical doctor. They were quite the amusing pair. Two giant robots acting like they were back in elementary, about to go off in some adventure. Both of them acting on the other's strengths and covering each other's weaknesses. The romantic in him almost made him burst out in happiness for them, but he quickly resumed control over himself. More and more, John felt a bit like the third wheel, but that was where he was most comfortable. He couldn't wait to see how the two robos' stories would intertwine and roll out.

[User]
Ricki perks her head up like a dog as she gets a notification. She stops where she is to check it out, booping through some menus to find that a message is received from someone. Dang, how many minutes has it been? Already got a message, this is getting really nice. Ricki didn't think she'd get one this fast and early. Ricki opens up the message from the user 'SawCutter' and reads it, half-mumbling let alone half-speaking it to herself.

Ricki stares at the message with half-open eyes, almost unamused. Dang, how many minutes has it been? Internally, Ricki became a little defensive. She understood that with a name like 'Ricki' people could probably mistake her for a guy, but the fact that she practically always uses female avatars and people would still ask her gender once in a blue moon or even claim that she's not a girl made her a little wary. Especially with a troll approach like this. It's just that she doesn't want to be thought as one of those creepy dudes playing as girls because, well, she isn't. But really, that message, like seriousl-- oh hey another message that was fast.

Oh. Oh, okay. He was just kidding around. Ok ok. And lookie here, he sent a party invite. Well Ricki doesn't want to wait any longer for the fun to start, and she doesn't want to keep this party waiting either so-- wait was he kidding about the not being a girl part or the 'fite me' part? Or both? Does he actually think she's not a girl? Why. Whywhywhywhywhywhywh- ok you know what. Ricki thinks briefly to herself; from now on this is a reality of no worries. So if anything, all will be good. Most likely. Hopefully. No not hopefully, most likely. Without delay Ricki replies to SawCutter real quick saying, 'Lol aight' and then accepts the party invite. She quickly looks around for the newly joined party and eventually she would find them, near a forest. From the distance she spotted them she observed them. Two of them were big robots, aw yeah, and then some other chick. Ricki straightened up and and adjusted her hair before she put her thumbs in her pockets, or if there were no pockets she'd just be putting her hands there as if they were, and jogged on over. "What up what up. How we doing?" Ricki attempted to greet casually as she officially arrived.

[Assistant]
"Hey, I can tell you're a little spooked. Probably a bit too aggressive that was, especially for a fucking greeting. You look like a rogue or thief or someshit, two rogues, a healer/tank and a full-tank sounded like a decent party. Y'interested? We'll be hunting mobs until we're level three or four or something.". He wondered if there even were levels. "Shit, are there even levels? I'm not sure.", he'd voice that thought.

"Oh, that's a dude by the way, Queue. Quu? Qoo? Whatever. Also, Would you mind doing PVP with yours truly once we get gooder at this?', he'd note, and ask. "These other two aren't interested. I mean I picked a class that was suited for lone PVP-ers like me, but y'know, still nice to have someone helping.". It really was. He was only with these others because they were being useful, but it was nice to just... communicate once in a while.

"So, tactics? Or just go all out?"

[User]
Viral - Scott
Starting City || Plaza
Scott grinned slightly as CS praised him. His grin was much less visible when CS handed over the massive-ass chainsaw. The damn thing was huge! Even for Viral, it'd be pretty hard to one hand it. Still, with Viral's mechanical skills, it'd be just a minute before the thing began working better. Still, to fully repair it, Viral would need to be a better mechanic. Plus, it seemed it'd be better to just scrap the damn heating coils because they were malfunctioning so hard, and just replace them. Still, he could get them working, even if just barely. By CS's command, he handed the weapon back over.

A few moments later, someone walked up. She greeted the three men- well, two men and a boy, Scott acquiesced he wasn't exactly a man yet. This one was definitely female, or at the very least was using the voice modifier to pose as one. Though Scott didn't notice it, somehow CS noticed some apprehension in her? Either that or he was going on yet another tangent. Scott had pretty much fully realized his friend was actually a little insane. Back to the girl though, she appeared to be a DPS machine. Light armor, dual blades, all that jazz. As he asked her about PvP, Scott turned his attention towards Queue. "So, uh, anything that needs fixing?" He asked. He ignored CS's question about tactics. He couldn't care either way, he wasn't good at that stuff anyways.

[Assistant]
John Marks - Queue

Starting City || Plaza

Queue watched as the female joined the group and waved as Saw laid out from the get go that Queue was a guy. He was amazed at Saw's ability to just keep talking. Though the female, Ricki, seemed to have some sort of excess energy of her own. Queue wondered if that meant that he was now demoted to forth wheel. He didn't necessarily care, in fact glad in a way, but his mind started to reevaluate the group and wondered if this meant that there was going to be some possible love relations? He thought love, but he knew that as far as online play, it was near impossible for true feelings to actually occur beyond a certain point. He could still dream though...

Soon the other robot came on to him and asked if any repairs needed to be done. "Uhmm..." Queue quickly refreshed himself with his inventory, but again, all he saw was his basic knife and drugs. "No, sorry. It looks like I'm good to go." Queue gave out a nice friendly smile. "Thanks though. So what is it that you wanna do? Saw seems hellbent on going all out with his army off newblings, which is fine. Personally I'm just here for the people. Truth be told, I'm actually a bit of a pacifist." Queue sorta ended off with a bit of a nervous chuckle. He couldn't deny his own actions, but he didn't mean to pry where he wasn't wanted.

[User]
Retarion noticed more players being spawned by the second, first off she wanted to have a duel first. Retarion started smiling for once, starting to get an idea to be able to get some people in. She held one of her pistols in her hands and aimed it upwards. I'm kind of just hoping that some people aren't sensitive to loud noises... Retarion thought to herself before pulling the trigger and firing. A loud gunshot was heard as Retarion took in a deep breath to yell.

"New players! If you wish to have a duel meet me in the forest area!" Retarion smiled as she ran in a certain direction which led to the forest area, she ran past two massive robots, the female, and the other female(?). Retarion arrived in the forest area known as The Great Forest of Nohare, she stopped at the entrance into the woods as she looked back into the plaza area. I'm not sure if anybody's going to come, but I gave it a shot. Ha! That was a great pun! Retarion wasn't panting due to her fitness skill that was a whopping 10, she set it as that due to her fitness skill in real life was great as well.


[System]
ANNASTASIA "Anna" FAUSTIN

Nickname:
Just Anna will work, though she has been given quite a few monikers, mostly by her comrades in the Bratva. One of which is Red Ghost.
Nationality: Russian
Gender: Female
Age: 24
Affiliation/ Rank: Ivolgin Bratva/ Hitwoman

P H Y S I C A L M A T R I X

Height/Build:
5'6'' Weighs approximately 135 lbs. Slight hourglass shape to her figure and B-cup breast size
Skin tone/colour: Pale, almost a cream white
Hair colour and Style: *pictured above*
Eye colour: Green
Blood Type: B+
Scars/tattoos/birth-signs: Though not pictured, she has a black star tattooed below her right eye
Fashion:

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L M A T R I X

Personality:
Cold, moody, and taciturn, doesn't speak at all due to her being mute. She doesn't really smile much either. She tends to have a bit of a soft side, and if she ever sees anyone being bullied or picked on, she will personally deck the bastards in the face, also she can be sadistic, especially when she's killing. She is particularly hostile to men who abuse women, and takes special pleasure in exposing and punishing them. Her mental state is hard to fathom, an Achilles' Heel used against her many times by her adversaries. Many of whom have described Anna as "disturbing", "violent", "insane", "murderous" and "the textbook definition of a psychopath", although she shows little signs of psychopathic behavior.

However, while incredibly gifted, she is deeply troubled by past traumas she's suffered during her upbringing, and though antagonistic and violent, she does not appear to lack any sort of conscience. While she may not abide by the laws of today's society, she is structured by her own moral judgments based upon what she feels is right or wrong. Therefore, it is Anna's own belief that she is entirely sane and mentally competent.

Hobbies/Interests:
She doesn't have time to fiddle with meaningless, trivial things, not when there are contracts to fulfill and people to kill. If she does has some downtime however, she could either be found reading, listening to music, or just burying her fists into a punching bag and killing a bottle of vodka. Anna loves heavy metal music, putting it as her favorite above classical and experimental dubstep. She also smokes, but rarely finishes but half a pack for one day.

Biography:

Annastasia, or Anna as she prefers most people to call her, would be what you call a special case. Born as the only daughter of Svetlana and Grigori Faustin, Anna was thrust into a traumatic childhood with her abusive father, a high ranking government official and a beligerent drunk. Anna and her mother were subjected to physical torment, such as beating, and psychological torment. The combination of the two forced Anna into her mute state. Her father would always say while beating her, "A woman needs to keep her mouth shut and do whatever a man says." By the time Anna was fourteen, her mother, suffering years of beatings and pyschological abuse, committed suicide by swallowing a jar of nails. Anna exacted her revenge on her father by pouring gasoline on him and lighting him on fire. Grigori survived the attempt on his life but he was left horrendously disfigured and quadrapeligic.

Ruled as unfit to be a supseptible guardian for Anna, Grigori lost custody, and soon Anna was placed in the care of Svetlana's cousin Erik Borshevsky, a wealthy man and also a high ranking official in the Russian Government. Erik was at first reluctant to be Anna's guardian but soon grew accustomed to her. Anna resided with Erik at his estate in Stockholm, Sweden, where Erik secretly trained Anna to become an assassin. Over the course of two years, Anna could eliminate a target with quick and deadly precision. She was proficient with an assortment of firearms and skilled in five different martial arts. Erik saw great potential in her and enlisted her as his personal bodyguard, however on Anna's eighteenth birthday, Erik was murdered and she was framed as his killer. Now a wanted criminal by the Russian Government, she fled for America, where she began work at a vinyl record store in Soho while covering her tracks. She also now lives in an appartment with another Russian immigrant, 23 year old Veronika Solovyov, who later became Anna's lover.

She never suspected though her life would take such an odd turn, or that the long dormant skills of a cold blooded killer inside her would be put to the test.

One night, after an argument between her and Veronika over not making enough to support them, she stumbled into a seedy bar in a predominantly Russian district of the city. Little did she know she was stepping into Bratva territory. A man, evidently drunk, tried to get frisky with her, something she didn't take too kindly to, so she whirled around and smashed a vodka bottle in his face. A bouncer soon grabbed her and tried to throw her out, but then she elbowed him in the gut, whipping her leg around in a brutal kick to his face that instantaneously broke his neck. Suddenly another bouncer pulled a gun on her. She quickly disarmed him in one swift motion breaking his arm in three places, ending his sorry ass by slamming his face into the bar. Anna put up a good fight against the rest, but finally she was subdued by the Russian mob.

They drugged her with a tranquilizer and dragged her away to a warehouse near the fishing docks. Once she came to, there were three men standing before her...mere shadows in the dim, flickering light. One man, an older fellow dressed in a sharp business suit, lit a cigar and introduced himself as Paul Ivolgin, leader of the city's Bratva. The man beside him, an ex-Spetsnaz looking haircut and a leather jacket he sported, later to be known as Anton Aleksandrov, held in his hands a sharp, intimidating machete, the other, some unnamed goon, a chainsaw.

Ivolgin was no less impressed with her skill and her brutality in dispatching his men so easily. He offered her a position in the mob, a lucrative one at that. The catch was...she had no choice but to agree. If she declined, then it was certain these men were gonna hack her to pieces and feed her to the sharks. With no position in the matter, she ducked her head, agreeing to the old man's terms.

Since that day, Anna has proven herself as one of the deadliest assassins at Ivolgin's disposal. If he wanted someone dead, he went to her, and she damn well delivered upon it with the utmost discretion. She's even made quite a killing off of it, no pun intended. But she continues to hide her affiliations with the Russian Bratva from Veronika and the fact....she's murdered quite alot of people.

E Q U I P M E N T M A T R I X

Weapons:

Vehicle:
2013 Kawasaki Ninja 250R

Other Equipment:
Stun grenades, garrote wire, a few vials of arsenic, a small, concealable switchblade knife

Prized Possession:
A silver cross given to her by her mother on her tenth birthday. To this day, she still wears it despite her new-found agnostic beliefs.

A B I L I T Y M A T R I X

Expertise:
Marksmanship, stealth, hand to hand combat, fluent in Russian, English, French, Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, Spanish, German, and Dutch. Speaks using sign language. Very acrobatic, skilled in parkour. Can drive almost any vehicle but prefers motorcycles over cars.

Physical Condition:
Fairly athletic

Mental condition:
Considerably sane, despite a few drawbacks. Has suffered nightmares in the past about her childhood and a few panic attacks.

Limitations:
Mild asthmatic, may suffer attacks due to prolonged physical activity, keeps an inhaler on her at all times.

Other:
Bisexual, though with more of a tendency towards women, and a vegetarian. Still smokes despite being asthmatic. Drinks heavily

[User]
youtube.com/watch?v=XynTyxleH1Q

@King Tai

And then all Hell broke loose...

The moment Anna saw the men whip out their guns, that's when she snapped to it. But nary a shot she would fire, at least not first, as she crept over towards an alleyway close to where the Irish fucks were standing, unloading every last round into the cafe....the cafe Anna was certain Anton and his boys were before the shitstorm came rolling over the hills. She got behind one of them, a bloke a bit further away from his mates, then...she got him.

The garrote uncoiled from the sleeve of her jacket, like a Death Adder reeling back for the kill, and then within seconds, it was around his neck, his alerted scream immediately diffused into a fit of coughs and sputters. Anna, her face burning a heated shade of blood, tightening and tightening the metal wire around his throat till it was embedded in his flesh with gory results, even as he struggled, kicking and choking on his own blood seeping from his lips and soaking Anna's hands, she continued to strangle the life out of him with a sickening satisfaction...of seeing the life drain from his very eyes. Once he was dead...she went to work on the others.

The AR-15, supposedly semi-auto, but these boys must've converted them to fully. The 5x56 platform Anna was familiar with, though she preferred a bit more stopping power, like the Motherland's Kalashnikov, when it came to assault rifles. Either way, it would work. First her procedure, and she had to do this quick. She racked the charging handle first, the dust cover popping open, then she dropped the mag, grabbing a fresh one from the dead man's tactical vest he wore under his trench coat.

Once she was locked and loaded, she popped out of cover quickly, delivering two well placed headshots to the men advancing on the cafe, two loud bangs erupting and two bodies hitting the pavement hard, both a satisfying squelch of red mist and brain matter.

[Assistant]
@King Tai

Anton and Vasili realized that they and irish werent only ones. When two irish men got headshotted by unknown, Anton finished last irish men, firing three times at his chest. Now with building cleared, Vasili immediatly goes to check Delino. Well this was fucked up.  silenly says to himself. Anton goes to check who killed those irish men, he realized that it was no other than Anna, Russian mobs hitwoman. He sighed Little late, but still thankful as always. Seems leprechaun werent that lucky after all. he takes one of the dead irish phones and checks messages. Holy shit...he looks somewhat shocked. Vasili! Get Delino and drive to the Andrews house! Vasili nods, carrying Delino to his car Anna you will come with me, we have some leprechaun to kill in Ivolgin's manor. he slowly walks to his car, getting his bullet proof vest and his SMG.

[User]
Tai@Princeofhearts

Jayce heard the voice of Layla, the Block 66 hacker, warning them a little late of the imminent attack. Jayce ducked behind the wall under a window as a brick was thrown through the window. Jayce pressed his finger to the ear piece. "Yeah, no shit! Where the fuck are you?" He yelled. Jayce overheard Big Zeke, the massive bruiser who shared Jayce's talent in killing fools. "I was at the other building Z, but this shit is going down right now, so where am I suppose to be!?" These pointless comments pissed Jayce off. There was a war breaking out and Layla piped up two minutes too late and Zeke decided to question his previous whereabouts? Why the fuck would that matter? Jayce peeked up, noticing men going around the side of the building. Jayce didn't shut the backdoor either.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

Jayce dashed back around the counter, keeping his body low to the ground as to avoid direct fire from the front assault. Jayce went back through the kitchen, drawing his bowie knife. Jayce hid to the right of the backdoor, waiting for bad guys to come through. Sure enough, three men walked through the back entrance. With his knife poised to strike, Jayce lunged at the first one. Jayce stabbed the man in the chest, running the blade through as deep as possible. Using the body as a shield, Jayce fired a shot at the second guy which buried itself in the stomach, and a second round into the head of the third assailant. Jayce kicked his body shield away, taking the knife out with him. The wounded man had some guts and endurance, as he was still standing, shakily raising his pistol. Jayce smirked as he parried the gun away with his knife and proceeded to stab the man in the eyeball. Pleased with his handiwork, Jayce sprinted back into the kitchen, hiding behind the side of one of the ovens after closing the door separating the kitchen from the restaurant. Jayce flicked the blood of his knife as he holstered his berretta and drew a second knife, this time being his Tanto knife.

[Assistant]
As the old Irish addage went, May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you're dead. And the devil, in this case a pissed off redheaded Russian woman with a penchant for bloodshed, sporting quite the vicious scowl, knew well those sukas were dead before they even reached the pearly gates.

She slung the AR over her back; it would come in handy later for the bloodbath that was about to go down at her boss' manor in the countryside. Then, taking a few more spare mags from the bodies, along with one of their USP .45s, she nodded to Anton, knowing well where they were going. He didn't even have to say anything about it. She got over to her bike quick enough, slapping down the visor on her helmet and revving the engines with a fearsome war cry. Somebody wanted to fuck with the Bratva today? Then certainly they were gonna have Hell to pay.

The manor wouldn't be the only place though that was getting an Irish shitstorm courtesy of Delaney, that fuck. No, all over Little Moscow black vans would be pulling up. Guns would be blazing, people would be screaming, and blood would be flowing. Apparently they had one hell of a bone to pick with Ivolgin and his associates, those Block 66 guys came to mind. Good bunch of typical gangbangers. Not the sort Anna would really associate with, unless she was looking for someone to grab a drink with from time to time. Nevertheless, they were all walking around with targets on their backs, even her...and of course their boss. A bone to pick. Anna would be picking more than just bones out of their bodies when she got through with them.

She pulled up beside Anton in the middle of the street, signing over to the Russian attack dog quickly, "I'm going on ahead, comrade. Warn the others they've got hell coming. They probably know by now."


[System]
N A M I E

"I'll show you that I'm capable!"
A G E

16

O R I G I N

Tokyo, Japan

P E R S O N A L I T Y T R O P E S

Resilient
Temper
Stubborn
Aspiring
Dutiful
Pompous

D E S C R I P T I O N

At around 5'6", Namie grew a little too fast for her body to catch up and appears deceptively leaner than she should be. The telltale signs of that is the impressive muscle definition that Namie manages to get when she flexes. Her natural lighter brown hair has an impressive length reaching her rear end but she usually keeps her air up in a pigtails. Her wardrobe and general presentation of herself is relatively laid back with variations clothes that an athlete would wear: team shirts and jackets, running shorts or tights, and so on.

Q U I R K T Y P E

Emitter

Q U I R K D E S C R I P T I O N

Specialized glands under the skin turn viscous fiber into a maple syrup-like liquid that can secreted from the body. The user of this Quirk can mentally alter the state of matter this substance is in by altering the temperature, making it warmer to turn into a gas and colder to turn into a solid. The boiling and freezing points are relatively low in energy requirements as in, in order for the for the user to turn the liquid into a gas, one just has to think about the liquid getting warmer until it reaches around 100 *F and for the solid around 20*F. The user can alter the temperature at their best so long as the substance is touching them and may struggle with temperature altering when the substance is away from their body. It isn't impossible to manipulate the state of matter of the substance away from the person but requires great concentration to achieve the almost telepathic thought with severely ramping difficult with distant from the substance (a feat Namie struggles with presently). The substance in all forms is noted to be quite dense, sinking to the bottom of a glass of water in both solid and liquid states. The user of this Quirk must maintain a high fiber diet and overuse of their Quirk will result in extreme dietary fiber loss. Low fiber in the body means that they will have horrid bowel activities and can even risk some more severe consequences of too much Quirk use.

C A P A B I L I T I E S

Namie has maintained a very healthy amount of athletic activities such as team sports, swimming, and weight training. Although not the biggest, strongest, or most standout Quirk, she still did very well in the psychical tests. Most of Namie's experience with fighting comes from petty sport squabbles, usually due to a bit of stubbornness or self-importance on Namie's part as losing wasn't ever her intent. Outside of a few school yard brawls, Namie hasn't had any opportunity for proper training, leaving her rough around the edges.

C H A R A C T E R G O A L S

Namie is a person of high ambition but believes she is capable of achieving that ambition. She was given a quite versatile Quirk as part of making her capable in her own way but I plan on making her not creative enough to utilize the full versatility of said Quirk. Thus the aim is that Namie will have to work alongside others to discover not only creative Quirk applications but also to discover a bit more about herself. She hasn't really learned to work well alongside others. This is due, in part, to her past where her father had to travel around Japan a lot for work, often moving him and Namie around the country. Namie never really had time to fit in anywhere and make lasting friendships. Her selection of Ishin is in part due to her internal desire to finally be rooted long enough to make friends but mainly due to wanting to very capable as a hero.

Another character arc that I'd like to explore is the reason why Namie wants to be a hero. Her father works in the civil department, using his Quirk to help with rebuilding and building roads. Namie's mother passed away early in Namie's life so she never really got to know her and even though her father is quite reserved about talking about Namie's mother, she knows that her mother was a hero. This creates the ambition to use her mother's power to do her memory proud. Along the way, discovery of what actually happened to Namie's mother could reveal a potential antagonist or anything the overall story might profit from.

[User]
P e t e r

---

• Ishin Academy, Sapporo (Japan) •

April 7th -- School Grounds

---

"Oof!"

Before Peter knew it, he was on the ground. Surprised, yes, but not that surprised. Turns out when nobody can see you, they don't realize you're standing in the middle of the walkway. Someday, someone's gonna invent something to help out with that. Something besides a belt with flashlights all turned on and pointing downward, like what he wore in elementary school. He stopped once he got to middle school because, while it technically worked, it was weird. And also a bit uncomfortable.

"You guys alright?" Peter asked, standing up and dusting himself off. "Yeah, sorry about that. Invisible. Happens a lot." Peter chuckled a bit to try and lighten the mood. He decided it best not to mention the awkward situation that totally didn't just happen. He wasn't that kind of boy, either. Mirror, who had seen collapses like this quite often, was more interested in the newcomers. He gave all three of them a large, heartwarming grin and a wave. Friendliness first!

"So are all of you part of 1-A as well? Maybe now would be a good time to introduce ourselves, then. I'm Peter Koro, I'm a transfer student from the US." Peter moved up against the wall next to Mirror so people wouldn't bump into him. Probably. "And, well... This is my quirk. I look forward to classing with you!"

After that, he slid down the wall into a sitting position to rest his legs. He'd been standing during the entire opening ceremony so Mirror could sit in his seat. Even if the teachers already knew the nature of his quirk, it probably would've distracted the other students if Mirror had stood in front of everyone while one of the seats remained "empty". Technically, they both could've sat in his seat, but there was something very disconcerting about occupying the same physical space as someone else. Even if that someone else was just a visual version of himself.

---

Tags: @Asura@Inkarnate@GodOfWar@Raijinslayer

---

[Assistant]
N a d e s h i k o

---

 • Ishin Academy, Sapporo (Japan) •

April 7th -- School Grounds

---

Now thoroughly out of her own head and aware of the present, Nadeshiko couldn't help but be confused by the situation. She hadn't seen anybody in that split second before the collision... Yet, there lay the black haired girl, face aflush and squirming like she had been mounted by a sex crazed foreigner. Her words only made less sense, until the giggling of another individual caught the attention of a certain jelly girl.

Peering up at the blue-haired female who found this situation so amusing, the sudden planting of a foot on the air above miss-blushy-face cemented the situation in her mind; she had run directly into an invisible boy. One who, quite irresponsibly, decided to stand right in front of an already occupied door frame. At least she could deny being at fault here.

As it seemed the giggling pig tails girl, apparently named Ume, helped the poor mountee off the ground, Nadeshiko set off to standing herself up, although the image of a dark skinned hand did catch her off guard and cause her pause. Following it up the attached arm and to the face of it's owner, Nadeshiko blinked for a moment. A foreigner? At Ishin? The school was known for it's nationalistic pride, as far as she had read. Why would anybody not fully Japanese want to attend it? It was not as if one could simply end up at Ishin; it was a very prestigious school.

Questions to be asked later, perhaps, by one much more bold than she. She wrapped a handful of smooth, squishy digits around the girl's outstretched hand and allowed her to help pull the rest of her gooey form back onto her feet.

"I am fine." Nadeshiko answered curtly to the much taller female, noting there seemed to be trepidation in the girl's question. No doubt nervous, the slime girl thought, to be such a sore thumb within a very homogeneous population. She empathized with that, on account of her own very different set of looks. Orbs of soft pink gel shifted, directly themselves towards the last known location of the invisible boy in regards to this newcomer's question. "Carelessness, and an invisible boy." She informed the dark skinned girl, before shifting so she could face miss-blushalot.

A small bow accompanied this, a soft pout upon Nadeshiko's rosy lips. Despite it not wholly being her fault, she still felt quite badly about her actions resulting in so much distress for the poor girl. "I am sorry to have caused you so much trouble."

[User]
S h i o r i

---

 • Ishin Academy, Sapporo (Japan) •

April 7th -- School Grounds

---

Man, I look like a dang fool, don't I?

The black-haired girl took the hand of the turquoise-haired girl that had introduced herself as Ume. As she made it to her feet she closed her eyes for a brief moment as she rubbed the back of her black-hair, still obviously embarrassed as she let out a half-uttered chuckle. "Oh me? Yeah, I'm just about gravy. Guess we're all scatterbrained or somethin'."

As she opened her eyes, lightening her dopey grin, Shiori listened to Ume's second comment; a light-hearted joke done at her expense. Though in all fairness it was pretty embarrassing. Especially considering a few of her classmates had walked in on the awkward situation. She almost wished nobody walked in when they did, but if it was the catalyst to making some new friends in Sapporo she would have no issue about it. Embarrassing accidents happened all the time, after all. Still, she was happy that the entire class and especially their homeroom teacher hadn't been around to witness it. But given they hadn't, Shiori didn't have to worry about it; she wasn't much of a "what if" and "should've" kind of girl in the first place, anyway.

"Yeah, I guess that was a little wild, huh? As for me, I'm Shiori Kanemaru, but you can call me whatever you're comfortable with! Also, it's no problem! Accidents happen! Was my danged fault for gawking at the door anyhow." She stated, introducing herself to Ume and the slime girl before looking in the direction of the boy, or more specifically his voice, who ran into her and indirectly caused this whole mess. His tone sounded apologetic and it was a big accident due to her trying to gawk at the classroom instead of not be in the way. So if there was anyone that should've been sorry in Shiori's mind it was her and not the boy or the slime girl. Still, he seemed nice, though it was obvious he had distinctly American sense of manners even taking away his admittence that he was a foreigner to Japan.

Shiori smiled warmly as she responded in kind, "Like I said, don't worry about it! Ain't your fault I'm a 'lil stupid."

It did not take long for her to notice more students piling into the hallway as the minutes carried on and as exciting as it was, Shiori realized they should've started making into the classroom. Shiori didn't want to get a demerit for blocking the hallway and not being prepared for class, certainly. She kept her eyes on Ume before glancing back toward the classroom itself. There may have been a lot of students to interact with and introduce herself to but this was the first day at a new school and she didn't want to make a bad impression had the teacher showed up suddenly.

"Well I'm going to go find my seat. Don't 'xactly want to give off a bad impression."

Shiori turned around and entered the classroom, trying to match her seat assignment with the tables in the room. Each table was set up in a particular structure, though it look little time figuring out which desk was "number four" due to the fact a piece of folded paper stood on each table with the corresponding number. Shiori, too, wondered why the desks had been organized in such a strange way. What kind of purpose could it be? She pulled the chair from the desk as she sat down, moving her material to the desk in turn.

[Assistant]
N A M I E

---

---

1 missed call
Dad
Following the Opening Ceremony, Namie had wandered off to try and seclude herself from the rest of the school eventually finding a hallway that was hardly seeing any foot traffic at the moment. Once there, Namie found relative peace as she exchanged glances outside the window down the phone in her hand. She should call him back and let him know everything was alright, right...? But maybe she shouldn't right now. The whole point of choosing this school was to make her own choices and figure things out by herself.

I'm fine, dad. Just heading to class. Namie thumbed in her text and left it at that. Besides, the two of them didn't end on the highest of notes when Namie left. Ever since she made the decision to attend Ishin Academy, her dad has been strangely aggravated about the selection. He never made it clear why but Namie thought she knew. Due to the circumstances of constantly moving, the two formed a fairly powerful dynamic as it has just been the two of them. They had time to make friends but never to keep them as they moved from city to city. As it stands, they were each others greatest friends and with Namie choosing to move away, her father probably felt alone. That's maybe why Namie was taking her first day a bit tougher than she thought...

Namie hurried on to class shortly after sending her father a text, she got a reply back almost instantly but she ignored it for now. She had to focus and as she rounded the corner to her classroom's hallways, she saw a collection of her future classmates gathering in front of the door for some odd reason. Bits of the conversation managed to reach Namie's ears and she figured an accidental bump or something happened, though she didn't care beyond knowing the reason.

"Excuse me." Namie muttered only giving an unenthusiastic expression and tone to her classmates as she brushed past those that were still outside the class. Once inside the classroom, it didn't take Namie long to find her seat as her eyes were drawn to the lone desk in the front row. Hers. Part of her wondered why she was designated as seat one but the other parts of her were glad for the recognition and the opportunity, with those prideful feelings starting to creep into an arrogance that made her think she was just better than her classmates in some way or another.

A few of her classmates had already settling in their seats and even though Namie had a momentary urge to turn around and greet them, her mind drifted away to other thoughts about how school will be like and the now waning concerns about her father. Did this school really think they were trying to be scary with that introductory speech? She could handle it and if she's already number one in the class, she had a better shot than most in this room.


[System]
Age: 45
Race: Human
Description:

He stands at 6'2", a tower of years of built up muscle. He wears a dark earthen blue tunic over a white linen three button pullover shirt. He wears a pair of black shorts(under his pants) and a pair of dark gray hosen(medieval style pants). He'll wear a chain mail shirt and these pauldrons

additionally he'll wear leather knee and shin armor.
He wears a small gray hood and a bear fur cloak.

Weapons: He wields a large crude looking war hammer and a falchion. Additionally, he has one small crude throwing axe.

Biography: Hugh was once part of a great order of paladins. They had much land and ruled with wisdom. Their lands were prosperous and fertile. Many were jealous of their lands, but no one had the courage enough to take on the great and Noble order. Their paladins were fierce and formidable fighters. They all stood higher than 6' and were towers of muscle. They were truly terrifying men. But they were brought down under scandal. Fabricated accusations about them stealing their riches and enslaving other groups of people for labor. The scandals kept growing until they were set upon by every surrounding nation. They stood no chance. Many were killed, only a few escaped.

They have been long since forgotten, after being hunted for almost two decades, and killed off, until it was concluded that they were finally extinct. Hugh hid among tribes of barbarians to survive. The tribe was good to him, making him one of their own. He had built a life of simplicity. Some warring between other tribes would often end with them being brutalized and then integrated. Hugh had found the love of his life among one of the taken tribes. He had a few sons and lived very happily, until they were set upon by a purge of the "savages".

Hugh's tribe was wiped out and he was orphaned once again. He had brutally killed all the "civilized" army he could, but it was too late. His tribe was all gone, along with his family.

He became a wanderer, and left to find life as a mercenary.

Demeanor/Attitude: Neutral Good. He mixes the bearing of a barbarian and a paladin. He fights like a barbarian and a demon, but talks and has the manners of a paladin.

Other: I'll add stuff as we go on.

[User]
The wizard was a little surprised at how many people went to his little table and in so little time. He was hoping for one more person though ,but this will have to do. He cleared his throat to get everyones attention. "As some of you know, the ones who read the parchment on the bulletin, that I need you all to join together for a task. The reason why I require so many bodies for this task is ,because the job might just be that difficult. This isn't as simple as it sounds. This ancient city is now abandoned yes, but new occupants might have moved in and the traps within could be numerous." He paused handing out scrolls that gave the same info as the one handed to Vivian. "The Mages guild is paying you all 1000 gold,... Each. All you have to do us retrieve the chalice illustrated in the scroll. If you still don't know why it requires so many people, you will find out soon enough on your own."

 Vivian's eyes darted around her as she looked to her 'companions', they looked reliable and strong. She was relieved to see a dwarf had come to the table. He would most certainly be useful in combat. Then there was the giant tower of a man. He was pretty big, and looked like he could handle himself. Then there was this elf, who was a bard. Bards can be useful in some cases but she wasnt sure if this was one of them. Of course there was the marksman too. She sighed and shrugged. "Alright I'm in wizard. Do we get a map anyways?" The wizard nodded and slid a map forward. The abandoned city was about fifty miles away from the city. The entrance was stuck on the inside of some large plateau. She noticed a lot of geography was drawn about the map and then just handed it to the dwarf. "You dwarves are experts in geography so best to leave it in the hands who can understand it." She added. She looked back to the wizard. "When do we start?"

 The wizard then handed out another parchment. "I know it would be rude to send the lot of you out into the dangerous sands without certain supplies. Take this to the stable man, his name is Zane. He will give you a wagon full of the desired number of bed rolls, tents, food and water. I also threw in a couple bottles of my favorite mead from the Oasis. Once you get the wagon. You can all hurry off to get the chalice. We don't want to waste the time given to us." He then lifted up his satchel. He then made his way around the table. "Just remember, take the chalice to the mages guild and you will be paid." He then left them to their thoughts.

 Vivian looked to her new friends. Lowering her hood to reveal her silver hair and dark skin. "Well when do you all want to start? Now or rest a bit and then go?" She asked.

[Assistant]
'I don't honestly mind' The bard smiled at the drow elf as she scratched her hair lightly. She finally finished adjusting her harp and looked at its strings tightness, finally placing it on the table lightly as if she didn't want anyone at all to touch it. She then sighed and gotten herself deep in thought as she thought of the gold that she could receive in this quest if she doesn't screw up.

'but it will depend on the others'

[User]
Bjoric grumbled at the drow handing him the map, forcing him to place his drink on the table. Looking at the map he saw the he saw the plateau marked on the map, the distance looked to be about three days travel. But he suspected travelling through the desert could make it take longer.

At the elfs non-comital anwser to the drows question, he barked "Grow a spine ye pansy." Stuffing the map into his pack he took another drink from his tankard. "I need to sleep in a bed that's not pitching about like a drunken bull, and food that wasn't vomited up by a pig." With that he made his way back to the bar, calling to the bar keep for food.

[Assistant]
Ellyn just laughed at his remark in embarrassment, she liked flowers but she didn't expect to be called a pansy out of all things. 'looks like nobody will enjoy my company after all... oh well' She smiled, trying to cover up her embarrassment from what he called her.

Eventually she looked at the bar in worry, wanting to give back the tankard the barkeeper gave her so she could drink her beer. But was worried to because of the dwarf, she sure as hell did not want to be called a pansy again, in the end she sat down and decided to think up of some poetry to give her new-found but weird allies some hope and some fortune upon the upcoming quest.

[User]
"A drow," Varus began, speaking softly and quietly so as to not allow anyone to hear him. "... A dwarf... a marksman... and a useless elf..." Varus shifted his head over his shoulder once more as to catch a glimpse of the party, his eyes scanning over the party of four, with his eyes lingering on the drow before he turned around.

Drow could be some trouble... Varus thought as he grabbed the pitcher of water and gently tilt it to pour water into his cup, setting it down after a few seconds. No matter, I reckon I could kill the drow if she tries to do anything... probably, Varus grabbed the cup of water, tilting his head backwards and downed the cup of water quickly before setting it down. Without any other unnecessary actions, Varus turned around on the stool and hopped off, walking over to the group before stopping parallel next to the drow. Swiftly, Varus took out his dagger and stabbed it into the table without even so much as looking at the others who would soon to become his "allies."

"Varus Tyrparin at your service," He said in the same pompous voice he had used to talk to the bartender.

[Assistant]
Sana listened to what had to be said and leaned back in her chair slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest.Well I had wanted to get a good night's rest before we began but I guess I can sleep in the wagon. Sooner we're done the better, she thought to herself as she leaned forward and shrugged.

 "Anytime is good for me," she muttered aloud. "Tonight or tomorrow, either way." She would have added more but as she looked over her companions for this journey she wondered if it would just go in one ear and right out the other.

Perking a brow at the ensuing treatment towards the elf she shook her head. Rising from her seat she took a step to the side and pushed her seat in "I ain't leaving without eating first though," she started flatly before wandering over to the ba ignoring the dagger in the table.

Walking up next to the dwarf she resisted the urge to use his head as an arm rest. "You know you have to work with that pansy and trust she has your back. I thought even dwarves had that much common sense. I guess I gave you more credit than is due," she stated coldly as she leaned down to look him in the eye.

Tossing some coins on the bar she eyed the tender. "The pipsqueeks meal is on me," she said before turning on her heels and walking over to a clear table and waving the barmaid over.

[User]
Outside the city, an abandoned orchard waved in a light evening breeze, the cider-tart odor of spoiled citrus radiating into the muggy desert air surrounding the once treasured assembly of trees. Not far away was the high fencing of a compound that belonged to bandits, and from inside came the sound of raucous festivities. Why not? Barrats thought. Every day you've avoided death by the hangman's noose or on the end of a guardsman's sword is a cause for celebration when you've lived the life of a bandit.

At the gates there were various outlaws and hanger-ons milling around, some of them drinking, some attempting to stand guard, and all of them in a constant state of argument. To the left of the compound, the orchard rose to a small parched hill peak and on it sat a lookout tending to a small fire. Sitting tending a fire isn't the quite the desired position for a lookout, but, otherwise, he was one of the few on this side of the compound who seemed to be taking his job seriously. Certainly, they'd failed to post any scouting parties. Or if they had, then the scouting parties were lounging under a palm somewhere, blind drunk, because there was no one to see Barrats and the dozen or so men appointed to him as they crept closer, approaching a man, who was crouching behind a crumbling sandstone wall, keeping watch on the compound.

Barrats and his aide, Fel, rode a little ahead, side by side, as was their preference, happy to be with one another and pleased to be within sight of what might be another opportunity to restock their provisions and gain some insight into their destination, each undulating with the slow, steady rhythm of their horses. Both rode high and proud in the saddle despite the long, arduous journey. They might have been advancing in years – both were nearing what was considered middle age to the high-bloods – but it would not do to be seen slouching. Nevertheless they came slowly: their mounts were chosen for their strength and stamina, not speed, and tethered to each was an ass, laden with supplies.

Behind them came Roal, who had inherited the bright, dancing eyes of his mother, his father Fel's colouring and bone structure, and the impulsiveness of both. He would have liked to gallop ahead and climb the slopes of the nearby dunes to the compound to announce the impending attack,but instead trotted meekly behind, respecting his both father's and supervisor's wishes for a modest approach. Every now and then he swatted the flies from his face with his crop and thought that a gallop would have been the most effective way to rid himself of them.

As the group neared their target, Barrats got a better look at him. A round-faced elf, a little shabby, and probably too fond of the grog himself, if Fel's guess was correct. This was the man who, according to their contacts at Zaphere, was good at loosening tongues, though he'd looked like he'd have problems loosening his own drawers.

[Assistant]
She looked to everyone as she thought of this poetry and tried to make up some good rhymes, but she kept scrapping it in her head because she thought it was not good enough to be a piece of poetry, eventually she stood up and sat back down quickly. Thinking nobody would have pen and ink here or it is but just hoarded somewhere.

'everyone is soooo freaky...'

In the end Ellyn got up and walked to the bartender to ask for pen and ink so she could write her poetry. Hoping he would say yes, the moment he nodded he gave her pen and ink, thus she thanked him and returned to her seat to start writing the poetry.

[User]
Hugh was taken aback a little by how quickly they accepted them as their questors. No interview, like most high end, high risk, high profit quests. He stood silent, fading in and out of the conversation. The trauma of his last 20 years would come back to him in these little lulls of time between jobs. With a sudden cringe and grimace, he shook his head and brought himself back into the conversation, back to the current world.

He noted the dwarf, who seemed older and most likely more experienced than he. He had great respect for the dwarves. A great race and civilization, born into hard work and toil. He had less respect for just about all other races, especially elves. Creatures born into privilege, never working the soil, or toiling under the hot sun and in the dirt like the humans. But many humans were born into the same kind of privilege.

Hugh was annoyed by the young elf whom came up and stabbed his knife into the table. The action caused him to give an instinctive low growl, usually found menacing and intimidating to most, but not pricks. A very barbaric looking man was always underestimated by an uptight prude, and Hugh had already formulated the opinion that this elf was a pompous prick, a level up from uptight prude.

"I say eat now and start in the morning. Fuck it all." Came his unholy language, as he turned and headed over to the bar.

He grabbed a stool, from the selection, too vigorously resulting in it being destroyed. It fell completely apart in his hands. He was confused beyond belief. It was something that happened to him every now and then. He was very capable of gentleness and virtue, but the trail had made him exasperated easily. He noted that the bartender was distracted by the drow female's request and he threw the pieces out the doorway.

Finally, he sat down next to the dwarf. "Greetings from one old man to another." He motioned to the bartender, and asked for whatever was currently being served with a cup of strong lager.


[System]
The basics:

Middling height, lean, mid twenties. Blonde, wavy/curly shoulder length hair usually kept in a ponytail. Modern-day comparison would be almost a Charlie Hunnam type appearance, just with curlier hair and a little rougher around the edges, but that should give you some reference. Light olive skin tone. Wears a few small rings in his ears, generally kind of scarred up, is rarely truly clean. He packs light for a vagabond.

His eyes are important. They're blue, but a really intense telltale cobalt (think Lapis Lazuli). It's an obviously not really human color. It is unique to his kind and is widely known as a way to identify a shifter since it's one part of their appearance they cannot change. The same is true of their blood, which is distinctly a dark graphite color. This is a natural phenomenon, but people have come to believe that they are creatures of the Darkness because of this.

A note on shifters:

Sometimes called Blackbloods, Greybloods, or other variations of a similar nature, they are shunned by society and generally viewed as untrustworthy, deceitful, wicked, and undoubtedly touched by the Darkness. They are capable of changing forms--anything from tweaking their appearance or copying another person, to becoming an animal. The animal must have some level of brain or basic intelligence (so not a fruitfly), blood (so not a jellyfish or coral), and it has to be something that exists in the universe (so no Manbearpig). Some forms are easier to hold than others, all take effort. There are ways to inhibit or prevent a shifter from changing shape.

About Rohaan:

First and foremost, he has a lot of names. Rheoaan, Rohaan, Rio, and his family name is Ja'aisen. All three of his given names are his actual names--not nicknames. But which one he offers up depends on who he gives it to. The first and shortest is for strangers, the second is for friends, the third and longest is reserved for family.

Secondly, he's a thief. After winding up on the streets as a kid, he was taken in by a pirate captain and traveled with him for many years. Eventually he wandered inland to harass the coffers of the bourgeois. In some places, he is known for his lawlessness and is wanted by the law. He is rarely interested in the prize in particular and more often is in it for the pursuit of said prize.

He's easygoing, has little love for authority, and likes to stir the pot a bit. Is friendly if anyone will give him the opportunity, but he's more than willing to be violent if someone gets in his way. Survival is paramount. Tenacious, jovial, foolish.

[User]
"You're not from around here, are you?"

Rohaan most certainly was not. For one thing, he had not been to his homeland since he'd left it as a child. But truthfully, he didn't actually know with any certainty exactly where he was from. He had an idea, a region at least, but he'd never found it on a map or any sea charts he'd ever seen. He and Berlin once spent hours sorting out where he'd come from, and the only thing they'd settled on was that Rohaan was from an island somewhere off the southern coast. But was that south directly? Southwest? Southeast? There was a lot of coasatline down there. And he'd never tried to scope it out.

Rohaan let a slow smile spread on his lips. "No lad, I'm not. Not remotely. I can guarantee you ain't never heard of the place I come from. Ain't important. But for the record? South. Really south. But like you said, don't matter. Lemmy hear this plan of yours." As he spoke and without looking behind him, he reached up a hand and dropped his very very bare apple core onto a plate held by the resident serving lass as she passed.

Rohaan watched the boy as he explained he was going to the Capital and why. At the mention of Orthreloth he just sort of laughed as if remembering something fondly, but that mirth sort of melted off his face as Xander went on. He squinted at the parchment he was handed, slowly making out the words. Many were unfamiliar to him, and though he did learn his letters, he was never very quick with them. Rohaan handed it back when he was finished, then leaned back in his chair and gazed at the fire for a moment as if thinking. He was silent for a long time.

It was a bad idea. Rohaan was full of those, so that didn't necessarily stop him. But it was something to consider. This lad was probably some upstanding type, liked well enough back home. And all he wanted was to save his sister. Rohaan, on the other hand, was not the sort of man one wanted to be seen with. He was not a 'good' man exactly, though he wasn't the monster most made him out to be. Life had cornered him and he chose to fight—that was all.

Rohaan knew what it was to be alone. He knew what it was to be desperate. And he wondered if this kid from some little hamlet would make it alone. Judging by the fear in his eyes, he probably wouldnt. And the shifter remembered clearly being half starved, severely injured, and hiding out in an overturned barrel in a filthy shit-strewn alley. He remembered a bear of a man wearing sailor's clothing coming towards him with an offering of bread, hard cheese, and an orange. Berlin had saved his life in more ways than one. It was time Rohaan returned the favor.

All of the casual mirth seemed to have left him as he turned his chair around to face the lad directly. He was very serious as he leaned forward and said, "I have been to Orthreloth. Now, provided you can actually survive the trip there, they won't just let you walk into the Athenaeum—-" he said this a little bit slower, it was a somewhat unfamiliar word to him, though he'd heard it before "—-just because you ask nice. As far as they know, you're a dirty rotten thief. Now, I don't think you are. But they don't know that."

Rohaan spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. "But I am. The dirtiest and the rottenest. In fact, I have a bit of a warrant out for my arrest in Orthreloth, actually. The city guard and I go back a ways." He chuckled a bit. "The Cloaks too. That's a story for another time. My point is, I can get you there, and I can get you in, and back out again. No one better. But before you gimme some sad story about how you ain't got much coin, or worse, before you start throwing it at me, I don't want it. Money ain't worth much to a man like me. No, what I want from you is merely an answer. It has to be honest! And you have to promise to keep things quiet."

Rohaan glanced around for a second, then very carefully pulled up his hood—just a little. The firelight finally reached his full face, and even in the orangey firelight the chilling too-blue color of his black-ringed irises was sharp and distinct. Even if Xander had heard nothing of shifters and their infamous eyes, it was obvious the blonde stranger was not exactly human.

"Just how far are you willing to go to save your sister, Xander?"

[Assistant]
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Sarah!" Xander yelled, his back pushed against the exterior of his hamlet farmhouse.

"Heheheh...No Sarah 'ere ta save ya now boy…" The grotesque darkness addled beast growled.
The creature, humanoid in form but more darkness than man took a step closer slowly pulling a crude curved short sword from its belt. Bearing its blood stained yellow fangs, the strange beast of pale green skin seemingly decayed and stretched over his sinew and bone cackled with glee. Its body covered in cloth and loose hanging bandages, large bat like ears lined with golden rings. Incandescent eyes of topaz, peered through Xander's skin fueling the slobbering jaws that moved just enough to allow its pointed tongue to flick a wet tongue over its dry teeth.

Slowly the creature raised the rusty steel blade above its head, glistening in the moonlight. Above its head, the blade wavered. It's adjusted and tightened. The blade fell from its clawed hand. Its eyes spread wide. Its jaw went slack and a blade erupted from its chest, black blood dripping over the nearly forged steel.

"Come on Xander," a feminine voice cried out in panic, "we have to move!"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
That was only the first time she had saved him that night. The creatures had swept across the hamlet in the late evening as people were winding down from their evening meal enjoying the crisp summer air. They were not equipped to burn. Such fires would betray the darkness as it moved in secret. But they began by gutting the homes closest to the forest before moving into the hamlet proper before. Two guardsmen on duty. They couldn't even sound the conscription alarm. The tailor had done that before he was cut down with the guards standing only a few yards away. Of course, they were fighting their own battles.

Despite how fast Xander and his sister fled, they had no one to run to. Their parents had been entangled in their own battle. They had been trained to fight to a certain extent, but none of it could have prepared them to combat the darkness. The first had only been slain because she had feared the loss of her baby brother. Subsequent encounters had not gone so well. Evasive maneuvers, parry, dodge, feint… both of them had learned them all to varying degrees. But there were too many of them. Every scatter point seemed to lead them to another encounter.

So they did what children do when they have nowhere else to turn. They stopped running and they hid. They used their knowledge of the hamlet and found themselves a quiet place to hide. Their biggest danger had been their inability to see. From their nook upon the storage space of a barn, nestled in amongst the bales of hay they could not keep track of their enemy. As they were laying in wait, hidden, the adrenaline had begun to wear off and a drip of blood tickled Xander's leg. A drip of blood that had fallen from a gash on the girl's arm. His sister's arm.

But the darkness moves like a wave. It had swept over the hamlet of Pyre, taking with it whatever lacked the strength to prevail. But it would not recede back to the forest from which it came as though it were the ocean. Instead, it pressed onward as if it were still cresting along the plains of the southern Midlands.

While Pyre gathered its dead and made its dying comfortable, the darkness moved on. Rumors spread quickly that the King's riders on a routine patrol had come across their path and quickly thwarted the threat. Word of mouth suggested that they had not left a single monster to roam the land. Of course, Xander had not the means to go carousing through the grasslands to see his vengeance fulfilled.

Looking up from the floor Xander turned to face Rio. His eyes determined, and he spoke sternly trying contain the apprehension in his voice.

"To save my sister, as far as I have to go.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

[User]
Rohaan smiled, but it faded quickly. This kid needed to know what he was in for. And Rohaan wasn't so sure he did. There was the matter of survival out in the wilderness with all the Dark creatures out there, and some that were as plain and untainted as a lamb and yet just as wicked, if not worse for knowing better. Rohaan was well acquainted with those sorts, and he had the scars to show for it. But he could help with that, Rohaan had been dealing with those sorts of problems since he was a boy. No, what bothered the shapeshifter was the fact that the kid did not know who he was, and did not seem to know what he was either. He would not have someone who wanted to destroy the darkness find out halfway through the journey that he was a grayblood. Rohaan was not of the Darkness, and neither were his people, but that didn't stop most people from believing that.

"Understand something, Xander. It's going to be dangerous. I think you know that, and that's good. Believe me when I say I sympathize with your cause and I want to help you. And I can. I will. But first you have to know who you're taking up with. If we part ways here and you learn nothing else from me, learn this: be wary of people, Xander. Not all of them are good. And not all the good ones are who you think they'll be. Protect yourself. Because very few people in this world will do it for you."

Rohaan tipped his mug all the way back and tipped his chair back a bit on its hind legs to reach over and set his empty mug on a nearby table. "My name is Rheoaan Rohaan Rio Ja'aisen and I'm a black-blooded shapeshifter with at least one warrant out for my arrest in almost every kingdom. I was raised by pirates, and it's entirely possible I've killed more men than you know." He shrugged casually. "Dunno how many people you know but...you get the idea. I'm a compulsive pickpocket and I have a loose moral compass. Now, I'm not a complete degenerate monster and I'm not of the Darkness, despite what people would have you believe. But if none of that bothers you, and you're willing to bring me along with the understanding that I'll bring some logistical problems, I'll see to it your sister gets that medicine, and that you live to tell the tale. You don't have to decide now. Sleep on it if you want, I'll be here. I want hot breakfast." He grinned a little and shrugged.

"I got me a bunk in the big common room. Top one next to the window, if you need to find me for any reason." He stretched out, folding his hands across his chest as he enjoyed the heat of the fire.


[System]
BASIC
Goes By (Nicknames): Yavvie (Elven Children), Yavanna (All), The Brightest Star of Rivendell, Bright Star of Middle-Earth. Dearest Child, Dearest Grand-daughter (By Her Grand-Parents)
Royal titles: Lady of Rivendell/Lady of Imlardis. Princess of Rivendell/Imlardis, Her Highness/Your Majesty.
Other Titles: Daughter of the Stars, A 'Sensitive' others refer to her a Psychic.
Age: 67 *Looks 18-19*
Gender: Female
Race: Elven Hybrid *Mortal, Noldor and Sindarin Bloodlines*
Other Bloodlines: Teleri and Vanyar *Through her Grand-mother Galadriel's relatives*, *Maiar through her father and his relatives*. Celestial*Through her mother.*
10/20 Elvish, (5/10 Noldor, 3/10 Sindarin, 0.5/10 Telerin, 1.5/10 Vanyar) 7/20 Mortal, 3/20 Maiar

APPEARANCE
Face Claim: Adelaide Kane
Hair Color: Raven Black
Eye Color: Green *Sometimes crystal Blue, when Sad/Grieving. Intense brighter Blue, when Stubborn. Silver when Angry/Betrayed.*
Skin Tone: Creamy
Height: 5'6"
Weight: 118 Lbs
Body Build: Slim

Bow:

Sword:

Daggers *From Lake-town* 4 of these:

Sword from Erebor:

Combat Suit:

Dresses for Two Towers/Return of the King

Her Cloak

PERSONALITY

OVERALL PERSONALITY
Likes: Hobbits, Elves, Dwarfs, Humans, Nature, Music, Dance, Peace in Middle Earth, Summer, Starry Skies, Rivers/Seas/Oceans, Animals.
Dislikes: Death, War, Orcs, Greed, Liars
Strengths: Combat/Fighting, Healing/Medicine, Intellect, Singing, Conscience Views, Kindness to Strangers, High Resistance to Harsh Temperatures, Enhanced Senses ect.
Other Skills: Star Light Manipulation, Elven Magic, Telekinesis, Acrobatics.
Other Powers: Telepathy/Visions, Telekinetic Hovering/Flight, Light of Purity-Deadliest to any evil enemies.
Weaknesses: Horseriding *Arwen's the faster rider*, People taking advantage of her niceness, Stuborness
Fears: Spiders, Sauron/Saruman, Loosing her loved one's

Elegant | Compassionate | Tender-Hearted | Fun Loving | Courageous | Innocent | Pure | Talented

Yavanna is the youngest child of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian. Many people, of Middle Earth believe that she and Arwen; are the symbol of peace and love in Middle Earth. Just like her elder sister, Arwen. The young elf is blessed with beauty and grace. Over her life, she's been taught the magic of healing. She's a skilled, talented healer among her people. Being Innocent, some people take advantage of her loving sweetness and niceness.

There is an Pureness about the young she-elf. Yavanna never hates; no matter what the other person may think off her. It's not something, she's capable off. She believes, that most of Middle-Earth are not enemies. They all belong in this world; no matter what race they come from. She values life, and is friends with most. A value, that is not seen in many others. Yavanna will often defend others; even if she does not know them too well.

Due to her rare elven Bloodlines of Noldor, Teleri and Vanyar. Three of the Elven blood-lines, that are not so common in Middle Earth anymore. Yavanna has talents and knowledge of Elvish Magic. Her father, Lord Elrond has Maiar blood; allowing him and his children of magical talents. It comes naturally, especially to Yavanna. Her powers come from the heart, at times her emotions can even control her abilities.

Whilst she's young and curious. Yavanna has explored parts of Middle Earth. She knows the forests outside of Rivendell, rather well. Having ventured out there many times. Lothlorien being one of her favorite places, as her grandparents live there. She's not afraid of adventure and helping those whom need help. When Young Bilbo and company, come to Rivendell during their quest. She is there to offer some guidance and help, with along with her father and grand-mother Galadriel. Be-befriending a few of the dwarfs in that period of time.

After Thorin and his company leave; Yavanna decides to join the company on their task to reclaim Erebor. Despite Thorin's cold, harsh demeanor and reservation, with her joining. Yavanna is set on helping the Durin King and his family/friends. Proving to be a rather valuable alley, and eventually helping warm Thorin up to her and Saeril. She helps, save Thorin numerous times through out the quest. Forming a strong bond with his two nephews and the she-elf Saeril.

When the company gets captured by the elves of Mirkwood. Yavanna tries to reason with King Thranduil, about the release of the Dwarfs. In the midst of it all, she meets the young Legolas. After meeting his son, Legolas. The pair have a slightly shaky start to the start, but despite his coldness. Yavanna saves his life, during the company's escape from Mirkwood. Yavanna finds herself drawn to him soon enough. The pair grow closer, after sticking together for a while. Yavanna is present, during the defeat of Smaug and Battle of Five armies, to save Middle Earth. After Fili's death, Yavanna grieves over the young Dwarf...as he had been one of her closest friends. Her best-friend in fact. Whilst he will be missed by her greatly, he will always be remembered.

Many years later, young Frodo now has Bilbo's ring...and is on a task to destroy it. Yavanna becomes a part of the Fellowship of the Ring. Helping the young Hobbit on his quest. Growing protective of the young Hobbits, that are in need of guidance and helping hand.

BACKGROUND
Place of Birth: Rivendell *Also known as Imlardis.* The Last Homely House East of the Sea
Family:
~ Lord Elrond *Father; Alive* *Half-Elf*
~ Lady Celebrian *Mother; Unknown;Presumably Deceased* *Sindarin/Noldor Elf*
~ Elladan and Elrohir *Brothers. They are Twins; Alive* *Half-Elves*
~ Arwen *Sister; Alive* *Half-Elf*
~ Elros Tar-Minyatur, King of Numenor *Uncle; Deceased* *Half-Elf*
~ Galadriel *Grandmother; Alive* *Noldor Elf*
~ Lord Celeborn *Grandfather; Alive* *Sindarin Elf*
~ Eärendil the Mariner *Grandfather; Deceased* *Half-Elf*
~ Elwing the White *Grandmother; Deceased* *Half-Elf*
~ Finarfin, Prince of the Noldor *Great-Grandfather; Deceased* *Vanyar Elf*
~ Eärwen *Great-Grandmother; Deceased* *Telerin Elf*
~ King Finwë *Great, Great-Grandfather; Unknown* *Noldor Elf*
~ King Olwë *Great, Great-Grandfather; Deceased* *Telerin Elf*
~ Lady Indis *Great, Great-Grandmother; Unknown* *Vanyar Elf*

Other Relations:
~ Legolas Greenleaf *Love Interest/Mate; Alive* *Sindarin Elf*
~ Thranduil Greenleaf *Family Friend; Alive* *Sindarin Elf*
~ Tauriel *Acquaintance/Friend; Alive* *Silvan Elf*
~ Bilbo Baggins *Acquaintance/Friend; Alive* *Hobbit*
~ Kili Durin *Friend; Alive* *Dwarf*
~ Fili Durin *Friend; Deceased* *Dwarf*
~ Dis *Acquaintance; Alive* *Dwarf*
~ Thorin Oakensheild *Friend; Deceased* *Dwarf*
~ Searil Hermiaen *Acquaintance~Later Friend/Mother Figure; Alive* *Elven Hybrid (Noldor/Sindarin/Silvan Elf)*
~ Aragorn II Elessar *Friend; Alive* *Man*
~ Haldir *Friend/Mentor; Alive* *Silvan Elf*
~ Gandalf the Grey/White *Friend; Alive* *Maiar*
~ Frodo Baggins, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrine Took (Pippin) and Meriadoc Brandybuck (Merry) *Friends; Alive* *Hobbits of the Shire*
~ Gimli *Friend; Alive* *Dwarf*
~ Azog the Defiler, Bolg *Enemies; Deceased* *Gundabad Orcs*

[User] Saeril watched and listened to the wise Elven male before her, before having to nod at his request of being able to talk alone. There was a chance that it be rather sensitive and/or disturbing for Yavanna and Kili to hear, and the result can go a lot worse if they stuck around to listen. "My lord", the elder she-elf concurred in agreement, before looking back at the princess and Kili, silently reassuring them that everything was going be okay. Even though, in reality, it really wasn't.

[Assistant]
Kili looked at his god-mother. A little unsure if things were alright. But seeing her reassuring nod. He gave her a light smile; before he and Yavanna left. Leaving Saeril alone in the presence of Lord Elrond; to talk alone. As Yavanna and Kili made their way through the castle; an elven servant found them in the halls and by Yavanna's request. Escorted Kili to a guest bedroom, and made sure that a bath was waiting for them both. So they could freshen themselves up.

Yavanna had given Saeril a little smile before they left. Once she made sure, Kili was alright in company in one of her most trusted Servants. Yavanna had made her way to her own chambers to freshen up.

Lord Elrond waited till his daughter and Kili had left. "Yavanna tells me, you keep getting headaches that keep getting worse?" he asked, with a slight raised eyebrow. Wondering how bad her headaches were getting. "And something about the Dark Lord Sauron rising, which I have to say is true. Even the rest of us have our fears, he's coming back and growing stronger."

[User] Saeril watched as Yavanna and Kili left the room, leaving the elder alone with the Elven Lord. Saeril walked further into the throne room, just as the doors were closed by a servant. Hearing Elrond speak, she frowned a little, just as soon as the Dark Lord was mentioned, as well as her episodes. "Yes", she confirmed to his description of the case at hand, and she sadly sighed. "I believe that fear will be expanded, if he does. My headaches; the constant aching; it ties me to him. My past...involving my corruption...it still lingers within my mind", she tried to find the right words to explain her case. "As he grows, I strongly feel his attempt to take me back".

[Assistant]
Lord Elrond pursed his lips deep in thought as he listened to Saeril explain her situation a little bit more. "I promised my daughter, Yavanna I'll do my best to help you. I shall keep my word." he told Saeril. "Me and my best healers, can try and temporary block your mind from Sauron, ease away the pain as best as we can. But the headaches might return...I can't give a time on how long, it'll be before they return." he told Saeril honestly. He wasn't sure, how much he could do to help her; especially if Sauron was getting stronger.

"I summoned people, all over Middle Earth to meet here in a few days time. There will be a council meeting regarding the Ring of Power. The ring is now in Possession of Frodo Baggins; Bilbo's Nephew. The course of action will be discussed. I would like you to sit on the council, given your experience..." Lord Elrond was careful of how he phrased his words. But he knew Saerils council would prove useful. That's why he wanted her present.

[User] Saeril listened to what Elrond had said, in helping her. If Sauron had his way, many and many tragedies would follow, right behind her. Support was what she drastically needed at a time like this. Something really evil was among them, and her fears of his return were confirmed when he started explaining about an upcoming council that she was permitted to be a part of. "Of course", she said, willing yet slightly unnerved for her presence to expose the truth of her past. "Kili and Her majesty would have to know", the she-elf thought aloud, having to realize that her godson and Yavanna might be present.

[Assistant] Lord Elrond could see her hesitation in telling Kili and Yavanna the truth about her past. He knew how much his daughter had hated lies; so this would not be a good mark in Saeril's books, if it upsets his daughter. "Yes, they will have to know." he said in agreement. "It's up to you, if you'll like to say the truth yourself at the meeting...or myself or Gandalf can explain it ourselves." he offered for her.

[User] Saeril was mentally sorting through her thoughts, having to look at the ground, as Elrond took note of the current circumstances. "I'm afraid of hurting your daughter even more, my lord, given to what I've seen", she admitted, with the addition of peeking inside the memories, as well as the event she had to witness from earlier. After a moment of thought, the she-elf looked back at Elrond, with determination in her eyes. "I believe...we should all tell them, while you and Gandalf also have the knowledge", she answered.

[Assistant] Lord Elrond could see that Saeril was contemplating things over. He rose a slight eyebrow at her words. "Are you refereeing to my sons?...They certainly didn't make things easy on Yavanna, since my wife went missing." Elrond couldn't help but sigh in sadness. Lord Elrond wasn't sure how much she knew, about Yavanna's brothers and the situation at hand. "I can't promise, that Yavanna won't be angry or upset. It might take her a while to see, you were just trying to protect her from your darker self." He knew his daughter's reaction could be bad, but hopefully Yavanna might come to understand one day, why Saeril never said anything before. As she came to a conclusion, he nodded. "Then we all shall tell them, when the time comes." he agreed.