[System]
False ID Name: Alex Edward

Nationality: Polish Jew

Age: 19

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 16.5

Appearance: Akiva is a tall, gaunt young man. He has pale, white skin, and blue eyes. His hair is on the darker side of the spectrum, and is almost always unkempt and messy. He has no facial hair, and can easily blend into a crowd. He often wears regular, almost boring clothing.

Other Appearance: He has a small scar on the bottom of his chin.

Superpower(s): Friction Manipulation.
Akiva can manipulate the surface of any structure to a certain degree. When he puts his bare hand down on a surface, and concentrates, he can alter the friction and firmness of said structure. There are quite a few limitations. For example, it has a radius of 10 meters. This range can be frustrating on brick surfaces, as every small indent counts towards those ten meters. Along with that, it takes five seconds for the effects to begin, and five seconds for them to wear off. Also, depending on the molecular structure of the surface Akiva is influencing, the effects can be either magnified or reduced greatly. It can be conducted through certain materials, should Akiva wish it (See Equipment). A con is that it CAN effect living matter, but takes an hour for any effect to kick in and will most likely kill the subject it is used on.

Skills: Due to living a fairly quiet life, Akiva doesn't have many skills. At most, he is good with ropes, pulleys, and all things related to physics, as they have fascinated him since he was young. Otherwise, nothing. He has very little experience with guns, knives, or anything of the sort. Is fluent in English, Polish, and Yiddish. Knows the family traditions by heart, and has memorized all of his grandmother's recipes.

Personality: Akiva is very quiet. Often choosing not to speak, he merely observes and acts. Everyone else caught up in banter? He's on the lookout for any traps. Due to his ethnicity, Akiva holds a strong hatred for those who work under the Third Reich. He is not one to get attached to people, and is just trying to accomplish his goal and survive.

History: Akiva's story begins long before his birth. For generations, the Eichholz family of southwestern Poland has dreamed of moving to America. Away from the plagues and blights. Away from the famines brought on by a poor harvest. Away from those damnable neighbors and their tendencies to trash all they saw. No, America would be a land of promise. A land of prosperity. And so it had been the Eichholz family dream to move to that beautiful land of freedom and crops aplenty. Unfortunately, most of them wouldn't live to see the day.

War was brewing. Years had passed, and most of the Eichholz family had given up. Their attempts had been all but squashed by the glaring restrictions placed upon them. There was no way for them to get to that promised land. In Germany, those damnable Nazis had taken control. Their campaign to segregate and oppress Jews was a menace. Distant, yet looming ever closer. Soon enough, that nightmare would become an all consuming part of Akiva's life

Akiva was born in 1923, in a small farmhouse. He lived with his 6 siblings, mother, father, two uncles, and his grandmother. His blessed grandmother. He adored her so. Sweet, charming, and funny. She taught him everything she knew about cooking, and even spoiled him by buying him physics books when they went out to town. But, they shared more than just bloodline. Akiva first exhibited his power when he was a young boy, playing in the fields. His father came out to check on him, and found the soft dirt felt like pavement. He rushed the boy to his grandmother, who had also exhibited such abilities in the past. With her guidance, he was able to learn more about his powers. He developed the ability to not only increase and decrease firmness, but increase or decrease friction. Life was good and grand. Eventually, using his knowledge of physics, Akiva invented his grapple. A long metal rope, with a silk string running inside it. It had a handle on one end, and a hook on the other. By using his power, Akiva could meddle with the rope and the grapple independently of each other. Alas, he could not control them both at once.. To go along with this, it allowed him to conduct his power. Akiva could change the friction and firmness of wherever the grapple landed. However, he could not manipulate the grapple and the ground at the same time. One day, though, he would learn how. So he swore.

Life was interrupted in 1939, when Germany invaded Poland. The family panicked, and began to pack in a rushed manner. They couldn't be caught by the German troops, or they would be brought to prison or subject to whatever heinous experiments the Germans performed on the Jews. But, they couldn't save everyone. They lost both uncles and three siblings escaping Poland alone. Yet, the death that would hurt Akiva the most was his grandmother; She had died early on, shot by some German trooper. This filled Akiva with rage, yet he knew he couldn't fight back. In the end, only him, his father, and one sibling survived the escape to England. Almost immediately, Akiva registered for the draft. Even more hastily, he exhibited what his powers could do. So, he was registered to the Westminster League of Extraordinary Individuals. Not out of a sense of justice, but a sense of revenge.

Equipment: The grapple, a simple switchblade, a leather cookbook, and some vegetables

[User]
Jean stood next to the truck. He looked quickly and made a fast, overall glance, and many of the Westminsters were still gathering or walking towards their transports. Their faces told all one thing: they all were nervous or afraid. Not one had probably seen a day of combat or fired a rifle in anger, Jean thought. They hadn't seen a dying comrade or faced German Panzers, but they all had had different stories and tragedies behind them.

"Hurry it up!" Jean shouted to the rest of their small League, in a very stern voice, almost demanding. "We don't have all day, and we are burning daylight The boches are waiting."

Jean climbed to the truck and a few other already sat on the benches. He tried to take a more reaffirming tone with his voice, saying: "Try not to worry too much. I've been training parachuting for months, and the falling down is quite a fun experience. Just don't look down when you jump, or you'll freeze at the door." Jean took a glance at each one of them. A woman as tall as a child, a blonde Brit with glasses and a Chinese woman of almost meek appearance.

"By the way, the name's Jean, the sniper of this troupe." Jean again measured each one with his eyes. They all look green, he thought in his head. "How are you feeling? Nervous? Afraid?"

[Assistant]
Maria felt as the troop carrier jolted, a soldier quickly hopping into the cab at the front. She sighed and anticipated the question already, tossing her cigarette neatly out of the rear of the vehicle, the white stick twirling neatly and landing in a patch of mud. First, she turned to the Spaniard, he had to know about his… Added weight. "Oscar, you're carrying three bars of near-solid gold. Be careful, yes? Before you ask, it's because paper notes can go out of style, but gold? Gold is always worth something. We're only humans after all." She smiled and rubbed her hands together, feeling every pothole and rut that the truck drove over painfully through the seats.

What else… She had the Welrod, the field agent kit was tucked away in her sausage bag inside the plane, along with a few other important pieces of equipment. Mostly money, some identification papers that would be needed to get around. The unusual nature of their group would make any travelling damned hard, but she reckoned if they split up and went in small groups, they could easily make it through the checkpoints. If she went with the Englishman, and the Polish girl came with them, they would just look like another family. The Spaniard would cause some serious issues; men like him were normally in the army, but she had the documentation to show that he had an exclusion pass to the military…

The Jew. Fuck. If they gave him a closer look and even so much as suspected that he was part of the persecuted group, they were all fucked. The same with the Gypsy too, although he, at least, had the benefits of being Irish. Irishmen in France weren't rare per say, but It would still be an unusual sighting when they moved away from Paris and started heading towards the German border. Also, there would be the small matter of Hydragruppe. As soon as reports of superpowered individuals attacking Nazi soldiers came, they would be out in a flash.

So much to worry about… She had known about this of course, it would not be her first time in command, but she felt personally responsible for these men and women. Most of them didn't exactly have a choice on this operation, and she didn't want them all to end up in coffins, or worse, a camp. Of course, they all had the S-Pills*, but she wanted to avoid using those if at all possible.
~~~
Hydragruppe was certainly an interesting little group. Three Germans, one naturally superpowered, two wholly devoted to the cause, and one who it was doubted even knew, or cared, what had become of himself. Then you had the foreigners, most of whom had been subjected to torture in order to cause their latent powers to activated… It was certainly not the best group morale wise, but it would do its job, especially with the so-called 'Angel of the Reich' walking with them. Smiling with her bright blonde hair, she was the very symbol of the perfect Aryan woman. Debates were going on whether it was a good idea for her to conceive, but for now she was still a powerful individual.

*S-Pills: Suicide pills. A small capsule hidden on the agent somewhere, sometimes within reach of his or her mouth, that when ingested causes death in between 30-60 seconds. Vital for anyone who doesn't want to end up being tortured by the Gestapo.

[User]
Óscar turned around as he heard Maria, raising an eyebrow before he lifted a finger to ask her something, quickly lowering it to rub his beard "Hmm...gold could be useful..." he says, nodding and chuckling to himself before turning to the Asian lass and giving her a wave, walking towards her "I better get to know everyone around here..." he thought, his pompadour being caressed by the cold wind of that night as he pulled up his baggy pants slightly, to give the impression of a more "formal" man, even though he wasn't even remotely near that, very rarely actually caring about things and more than likely forgetting about important things...or just not doing it due to him being obnoxiously lazy sometimes.

"Pretty weird to see an eastern "chica" around here..." he says while standing in front of the Chinese woman "I mean, got nothin' against that obviously, it's just "curioso"..." Óscar then crosses his arms, turning his head in order to see the British male and the small Russian woman, using one of his hands to scratch his full beard before shrugging: He thought that the group was not bad, but the various nationalities were the problem, maybe not everyone had the same social agendas or mannerisms, which would either lower the morale if things went south or boost it if everyone took part on interesting chats about each other's cultures.

He pulled his hoodie up, watching as the french male inside the truck started to yell, turning to him slightly "Kinda hungry if I'm honest!" he yells at him, one hand patting his stomach as he winks at him, clearly an attempt at making some progress on the group's feel of companionship and overall moral strength. He didn't actually think it was THAT bad, his firsts thoughts before the french male's attempt to calm him down were pretty normal, he thought: Parachuting into nazi territory would get everyone nervous, right? Anyhow, they had some equipment and, fucking hell, superpowers! Although he knew what he had to do, the feeling of regret about those who he killed back in France were haunting him, they were Nazis of course, but they had a family.

The Spanish man instinctively ran a hand across his neck, his eyes darting around the group as he felt their eyes watching him as if they were accusing him of being a murderer even before getting into the program. Being trained now wasn't a relief either, he just thought he was even more capable of killing, but also on defending himself and his allies, which was what Óscar always liked doing. To be honest, he never took part in any kind of violence, he always tried to achieve a peaceful resolve to his disputes with other kids or people...which more than likely resulted in him getting beaten. But that night in France changed everything, something woke up inside of him, and he knew this, that's why he was scared of going back there, because of what might happen.

[Assistant]
Akiva closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Deployment time. How joyous. He took a glance at his surroundings. The Italian was giving a speech about deployment and the "plan" and all that bullshit. The plan was simple. Go north, and destroy the Reich from the inside out. Or outside in. Akiva had many strong suits, but vocabulary wasn't one of them. No, he had bigger things to worry about than how they were entering the German territory. Like the terrain. For him, knowledge of their surroundings was vital. Hopefully, he would be able to improvise should they enter unknown territory. Second on his list was his "comrades in arms". He took a look around. Some Spaniard with ridiculous hair, a blonde Brit, some Polish girl, the list went on. He took a look at the Asian woman, and his brow furrowed. He had very little contact with the culture of the Orient, and thus couldn't tell her nationality. But, such things did not matter. All that was important was the cohesion of their various abilities, to maximize effectiveness and stealth. There were many things Akiva did not want, and torture by the Gestapo was high on that list. He sighed, and continued to take in his surroundings. The group leader (Her name was Maria? Yes, something like that) was talking to the Spaniard. Something about bringing gold. That, that was smart. Gold had many useful properties. He would give the man a handshake, but he seemed preoccupied. Yes, yes, all were preoccupied. This was a very busy time. Soon enough, they would be within the reign of Herr Hitler. But, then again, it was all worth it. All for the plan, that is what he told himself. All for the plan.

 Looking around, he felt useless. He needed to make an impact on the group, or at the very least, get an idea of their capabilities. He figured the Polish or Russian girl would be the easiest to approach. After all, they had both had land stolen from them. Perhaps they could both partake in a kind of vengeful streak against the Reich. Clearing his throat, Akiva spoke, "Hello, you are Polish? As am I. I hope we may become friends.", he said with an outstretched arm. English wasn't his first language, but he certainly had to try. For all he knew, she was Russian. Otherwise, he would've begun with Polish. But, there was no use making a fool of himself.


[System]
Rehsif "Res" Thrawl
Age:87
Race:Elf
HP:❇❇❇
SP:❇❇❇❇
Job:Spearfisher lvl 3
Magical Affinity:Wood lvl 3
Curse:Curse of Brangog lvl 2

AppearanceRes is shorter than most elves due to her experience with the plague as a child. Although she made a full recovery, she was unable to thrive physically like other elven children.

Although she dresses in very worn out clothing, she is always impeccably clean, often bathing and washing her clothes a few times every day, especially while fishing.

Her body is covered in small scars, and her teeth are yellow and cracked, all from her time with the plague. She could pay to have them fixed but she enjoys the way people shift uncomfortably around her when she smiles.
PersonalityAlthough she likes to pretend she is well adjusted, she is a germophobe and has nightmares about her experience with the plague. She fears illness above anything else, which contributes to her loner nature.

She is a reserved and dry person, and does not tend to venture outside of her comfort zone. It takes her long periods of time to make any major changes. She has been content as a sailor and fisherman for the last 77 years and had not planned on making any life changes prior to the Behemoth's arrival.

She prefers to avoid conflict if possible and has frequently disappeared on employers and
friends whens she felt things were getting too complicated. She keeps her connections surface level and pleasant. She has no real friendships or family left, except for her Uncle and his family. She personally does not consider them true relatives, and prefers it that way.

She hates working with others and prefers to get things done on her own at her own pace.

With all of that said, she is not afraid of fighting with people, and will do so if she has to, she would just rather take the path of least resistance.
BackgroundRehsif "Res" Thrawl was born and raised in a small coastal village near Siren's Bay. Her family, known for their spearfishing business, were quite successful. All of the Thrawls and their children learned to fish at a young age, with the older children catching trickier prey with spears. All contributed to the family business as soon as they were able.

When Rehsif was 7 years old, a starved and sickly traveler stumbled into their village. The town folk quickly ushered the traveler to the healer, the fear of plague on their mind. Some far away cities in the human lands had been entirely wiped out, and this fellow looked human. He was diagnosed with nothing more than a head cold and sent away with some herbs to soothe him.

Although the man was deemed harmless, the others were still wary of him. Rehsif's parents, taking pity on the man, plucked him off the streets and invited him to stay at their home while he recovered.

For their kindness, they were rewarded with misfortune. The traveler was indeed a carrier of the Yersinia Plague, a nasty illness that mimicked the cold for a few days before turning most into a bloated bag of sores. He had been ousted by his own people, their healer being far smarter than their own, but the man foolishly denied his condition. Chased away from his home, he unwittingly spread the illness to the kind family that took him in.

Rehsif and her parents were the first to fall ill, followed by their customers, and many others. The human traveler recovered, realizing what he had done he ran away under cover of darkness, leaving the Thrawls to die.

Rehsif's extended family, sure she would succumb like her parents and siblings, had already begun planning her funeral. Hearing the plans of her family, who were unaware she could hear them, was disturbing to the young girl. She began counting and fantasizing to drown them out, humming to herself of pretending she was somewhere else. It would become a habit that she would use to help her cope with stress.

It came as a shock to her uncle when the healer proclaimed she was improving.

A few others in the town also survived the illness, but the majority were not so lucky. After the initial happiness subsided, people began to whisper. Someone heard that just because a person looked fine, didn't mean they actually were. Their own healer, trying to deflect blame away from his failure to identify the plague, encouraged the rumor. Proclaiming that indeed it was true, the disease could hide in plain sight! Just as it did with the human traveler. A total lie as the man was quite obviously sick with something more than a head cold.

People began to distance themselves from the girl, and the other survivors too.

Her 'loving' Uncle, more upset about the whispers than his niece's safety, sent her to live in a small colony dedicated to carriers of the plague.

Located just outside of Chanel Town, the colony was little more than a collection of tents and shacks. Crime infested and ridden with rats, the environment was a stark contrast to the prosperous world outside. At the age of 15, Res left the orphanage, the neglectful caretakers never realizing she had gone. Setting up by the river, she grabbed a stick and sharpened it, she could barely remember how her Mother did it, or was it her Father?

Either way, she began fishing to supply her own food and soon realized she was pretty good at it. She enjoyed the silence and time alone, often finding herself zoning out to the flow of the river.

Scraping together a living by trading fish for supplies, she realized she needn't remain in the colony any longer. Just as she was planning her escape, and after a decade of scrounging a living in the colony, healers from the capital were dispatched to dismantle the "backward, shameful remnant of a time gone by."

Apparently, the rumors of people being able to spread Yersinia as carriers was just that, a rumor.

At the age of 17, Res was free.

The hundreds of people who had languished for decades in the rotten camp rejoiced, reuniting with family and friends as they one by one were retrieved by their loved ones.

Rehsif waited and waited. Her Uncle never arriving. Instead, she was given a letter by a Flandysrian aid worker and sent on her way.

Apparently, in her absence, Uncle had absorbed her inheritance as his own. Selling off her family home, and claiming rights to the business for himself. He apologized and assured her she would always have a place with his family in their home if she chose to come back.

Bitter, Rehsif tucked the letter away. She would pay her Uncle a visit someday, and he'd be sorry.

Hitchhiking her way to Chanel Town, she was able to secure a job on a fishing vessel, a trade she honed for many decades. Traveling around the coast, she would hop from vessel to vessel, never staying too long in one place. Her Uncle's letter always in her pocket as a reminder.

At the age of 67, Rehsif finally felt ready to confront her thieving Uncle.

As luck would have it, and her Uncle was always lucky, the Behemoth fell. A bright light in the sky so far away, her crewmates were not worried about their imminent safety, but they all knew that it was far too bright to be a shooting star.

It was not long later when the waves came, along with the rush of wind.

The ship, finishing one last round off the coast of Lacerta, was nearly tipped over, throwing Rehsif and many others overboard.

Dizzy from being tossed around in the ocean, she watched in horror as her crewmates were thrown and pulled under by all manner of horrors. Metal, smoke, tentacles, she couldn't tell if it was one creature or many, all she could do was attempt to swim away from the chaos, but she wasn't entirely lucky. Perhaps it was something in the water, or perhaps it was just the proximity of one of the beasts, but Rehsif soon found herself suffering from a strange ailment.

She was eventually discovered by the city garrison after her curse manifested, rather inconveniently, during a busy day in the market. Trying to sell the last of her catch, some customers began to argue. One man shoved another and the next thing Rehsif knew, an all-out brawl had ensued. Before she could step out, someone had grabbed her by the collar and was about to land a punch before she sent the stranger flying.

It was all very dramatic, and aside from a few broken bones, the man was not seriously injured.

Rehsif felt lightheaded after the incident, crumpling to the ground as she tried to keep the curse under control. When the garrison arrived, she was too tired to fight back.
Coping MechanismEvery sanity point spent causes Rehsif to think she is displaying plague like symptoms, the lower her SP the more contagious (in her mind) she becomes. At 0SP she perceives herself to be a walking plague, and acts as if she has the symptoms (madness, scratching her skin, panic.) When using her curse, if Rehsif is able to roll a high enough number she avoids losing a sanity point, if the number is low she loses a sanity point. Rehsif must take a short rest to recover sanity points, while resting she cannot interact with other characters or help with the plot, she must roll for how many turns she will rest.

She recovers 1 SP after a successful short rest.

[User]
Mort's beak moves as if to speak, but finds that the effort to form words is too much. He knows the Harpy leader by name, from some Who's Who thing he'd read back before all this misfortune. He wants to blurt out his family's proud name. He wants to also shrink into a corner and sleep and never wake.

Still, the talking statues make him wonder if maybe there's some purpose left in the planet for him. The idea of a purpose is a small twinkling light at the end of a dark, tortuous tunnel. He decides to take on whatever the fates have planned for him, and speaks in assent:

"Statues babblin' under some dumb light trick ain't no basis for a system of government, ya loony hoots. Y'all are off yer rockers. But I'm tired of that dungeon, and a breath of fresh air to stretch my wings in is more than this humble bird can ask fer."

[Assistant]
With every ebb, the statues' glow seems to urge Lans' fury to rise, tugging at his chest, drawing out occasional grunts. He keeps his head down and closes his eyes to avoid any provocation. His temper has gotten worse of late and he wonders if being free of the dungeon will help in this regard?

He glances around. He's seen his peers before as they were brought into the dungeon. "Strange," he muses, "We were all accosted at the same time and appear to manifest the same rare condition." But his imagination suddenly goes wild and his chest heaves for an instant before closing his eyes.

No good. His temper is rising. His eyes force open, as if to release the pressure building. He starts breathing harder, as if the increased breaths will help his efforts to subdue the rising tide. His hands ball up into fists. His vision starts going into a distance.

And then it all stopped.

Lans, relieved and surprised, focuses his vision to see what changed him so quickly. He just sees his comrades and his mind races... were they truly chosen? Did curses relieve each other somehow? He begins to have hope again... something he did not think he would feel in a long time. Perhaps there is a way out of this spiral into purgatory? And although he never really truly believed like the devout shamans did, Lans finds that his faith is suddenly brimming and overflowing.

However, he had no words for the Council. His upbringing taught him not to speak during such times. It was unbecoming.

[User]
Rehsif glanced around the room and couldn't help roll her eyes, yet another example of the decadence of rich folk. How many people could they feed with the cost this building incurred on a yearly basis? A lot she wagered.

The booming voices of the statues blasted through her mind, triggering a headache. Dehydration and sleeping on a stone floor was almost as bad as being hungover, at least she thought it was.

Facing the Council of Light, she barely listened to anything they had to say, her head was throbbing and she was starving.

All she knew was that she'd somehow managed to survive this long, and that was something to be grateful for.

The Mer Admiral commanded the others to speak, the Chicken Man seemed annoyed at the statues as well, and the Orc looked like he wanted to break something... or take a large dump. She couldn't really tell.

When it came time for her to speak, she opened her mouth but nothing came out, clearing her throat, she tried again, "Uhrm... If I can get a shower and... and some water, I'm up for anything." She looked around at the large statues, "Also those statues are a bit loud, if they could lower their voices a bit... I have a headache." She swallowed, her dry throat sticking together.


[System]
| B I R T H N A M E: | Freyja

| E P I T H E T H: | "Tranquil" Freyja, "Loafer" Freyja

| R A C E: | Human

| A G E: | 34

| F U N C T I O N: | Vice-Admiral, Commanding Officer of G5's 2nd Patrol Unit

| A P P E A R A N C E: | While the picture above might display Freyja relaxing after a training session, she generally goes about in a turquoise V-neck with slightly loose gray pants that hang to her shin, all under her often worn Justice coat, if not something similarly casual. When it comes to appearances, she has a dark green suit with a black tie that's more fitting of the Vice-Admiral position she holds.

| P E R S O N A L I T Y: | Once full of a youthful bluster and passion, Freyja is more like a burned out husk these days. She seems more engaged in gambling away her excess earnings or checking out the local eateries than actually performing justice. Her patrols are whimsical, and her direction is easily swayed by the suggestions of her subordinates. Though she only barely meets her quotas, she'd never been assigned an objective she'd failed to meet until being sent to G5. And, despite rumors sprouted from her unseemly nature, no division of hers has yet to fail an inspection, surprise or otherwise.

| A B I L I T I E S: | Freyja is incredibly capable in both Observation and Armament Haki. She carries two swords but only fights with one at a time, having amazing precision and dexterity, backed by a scary amount of raw strength. Her movements are often subtle and deliberate: it's said that she could cut a straw, and the deed wouldn't be noticed until it fell off when someone went to drink.

| S K I L L S: | Though her lax nature makes her skills harder to discern than they should be, Freyja is the type of person who works best when pushed into a corner. She can boast a commanding voice, and she's rather sharp, having the sense to come up with decent ideas and plans on the fly. Call it good direction, as she also has a sense for navigation. Though her best skill of all may be her ability for bullshittery: most of her reputation comes from the reports of men who worked under her. To many of her superiors, she's only ever been a regular, stand up Marine.

| B I O G R A P H Y: | "For Justice!"

For so many of her years, that simple mantra was Freyja's code. Her meaning. Her way of life. It wasn't something she could put into words, and while her attempts satisfied whoever wanted to know, it never satisfied her. But if she couldn't put 'Justice' into words then it would have to be actions. She trained in combat and naval scholarly reading, often holding a book as she did simple exercises. Her diet was bland but efficient. She even got training from some local veterans, who were impressed with her diligence. By the time she was 16 she'd been admitted into Officer Academy, graduating one year early at age 19 as an Ensign. Promotions quickly shot her through the ranks, and she was eventually assigned to the Grand Line.

And that's where things began to change. As Freya was being challenged by stronger pirates, not even her actions seemed to be doing her ill-defined mantra the justification she felt it might deserved. Then, after a nasty strike cut her from cheek to shoulder, she spent much of her medbay visit wondering 'why'? She'd seen 'pirates' who fought for their families with as much fervor as Freyja ever had, and she'd seen Marines engage in dealings that would make the average thief blush. Freya had been helpless when it came to trying to put Justice in to words or actions, but now she couldn't even figure out what it felt like. What finally broke her was a sad incident where she engaged with a pirate crew that had been responsible for some great atrocities, and upon battling with their captain, she discovered that he was a Marine, acting undercover in a mission that seemed bafflingly poor in its planning. Some of the supposed atrocities were faked, but not all, yet the Marine still got off scot free.

At this point, Rear Admiral Freyja already had enough of an income to support herself and her now distant family, so her leadership became sluggish, her actions achieving the bare minimum. With her crew getting discontent, having been used to the more active leader she once was, she was reassigned. Then again, and again. Yet, despite her more reserved nature being ideal for base watching duty, when she met with superiority, she did so with the gusto she once had yet didn't display to her men, insisting that she be in a patrol division despite her lack of affinity. After some time of this, she was finally given what she wanted in an environment where no one would complain more than usual, as she was given a promotion and assigned to G5. And so she's commanded a patrol ship there for some months, her desire for relaxation becoming a struggle against the nature of that ocean so unfriendly to the brave and bold Marines.

| M I S C. N O T E S: | Freyja is in possession of two swords. Her most balanced one is Taranzia. The Skillful Grade sword is a rather long shirasaya with a white hilt and scabbard, the blade within being curved slightly at the end, the edge bitterly cutting. It has gotten Freyja through all too many fights.

Her other sword is a bit more...moody. G'nash is a heftly dadao (the same type of sword that Johnny and Yosaku use), the machete like blade looking odd when paired with Taranzia, the scale patterned hilt looping around for a grip like that of a cutlass. It's moodiness comes from that fact that it is also a crocodile. G'nash was looted from a pirate after having before been fed a Devil Fruit, the Croc Croc Fruit, allowing it to change into fat, 15 foot long man eater of a beast. Freyja's quite fond of him, though most wouldn't find him endearing unless you put aside the long maw of razor sharp teeth, blood red scales, and hard green eyes that look like gemstones without the sheen of a soul. Usually, the beast is lazy, like its current master, the two often lounging in the sun together. But when riled up, it likes to snap at whatever it feels like, usually trying to eat Freyja (and never getting close), and having wounded a few of her men in the past. However, she has also been able to weaponize this on a good day, using his transforming abilities in combat to increase her range and leathality. G'nash's half form possesses sharper teeth, front claws, and three blades running across the top of its long muzzle.

[User]
An annoyed groan escaped the gray-haired and shaggy-faced marine as he peaked around yet another corner in search for his target. Why had they sent him? Surely there were less competent rascals onboard this Warship that could do these pointless tasks, so why had he gotten stuck with the job of tracking down a kid barely half his age? The kid hadn't spent even a tenth of the time in the Marine ranks that he had and yet, that little sneak had managed to crawl his way all the way up to become a Lieutenant Junior Grade. Just thinking of it was enough to make the marine clench his fist. "Dedric Olari, the Lieutenant Junior Grade. Pfft, what a joke."

"Jealousy really doesn't suit you recruit." Dedric had heard the same comments before, people wondering just how he had managed to snag his title, and he always gave them the same answer. "I merely do as I get told, not my fault if that gets me places," A snide boyish grin stretched from ear to ear as Dedric walked up to the obviously cranky marine. "What did you want from me?"

"We seem to be unde-" That was as far as recruit Johannes got before something shook the boat, knocking him off his feet while Dedric stood firm as a pole.

"Attack?" Dedric asked mockingly, having a quick stretch. "Don't worry, I felt the first quake." He added before stepping over the sprawled out man and setting off towards the main deck.

---

It didn't take long before Dedric found himself in the middle of a developing chaos, marines running everywhere, carrying gunpowder and cannonballs, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why. Dedric threw a quick glance out to sea and almost immediately noticed the pirate ship. "Those are the scrapyard guys? Right?" He asked to nobody in particular as he waited for one of those oh so familiar voices to start barking orders.

[Assistant]
Soon the Scrapyard Pirate ship was close enough, the vessel was one of their larger ones, but not one of their warships. That was what Ax figured, anyway. He had read every report the Marines had on the Scrapyard Pirates, not that there was a whole lot of those, as their leaders were all shrouded in mystery, even from the Marines. No scout whom had tussled with their higher ups had ever made it to a safe place to write a report. Ax was looking stoic as the cannon balls hit their hull, the ship's hull surely was durable enough, and the helmsmen were all skilled at maneuvering the Marinara. Frejya came up next to him, pointing out that the Scrapyard pirates surely weren't very smart. The cannons fired on their own vessel, the volleys meeting in the air, their cannons did all but nothing to the Pirate vessel. Ax shook his head, as he walked over to one of the cannon-men and grabbed one of the cannonballs, his hand being coated in his black haki as he put his foot up on the railing, taking aim.

With a enough force to make the entire Marinara to quake, Ax threw the haki-covered cannonball as hard as he could. The ball created a luft pressure wave around it as it soared through the air at the Scrapyard ship, hitting it's second mast, blowing part of it away, cheers rang out from members of the G5, but Ax didn't have any of it. "Focus." Was all he said, as the Scrapyard ship's engines roared loud enough for the G5 to hear it, and the ship moved faster towards them.

"They're gonna ram a Marine Warship? That's an interesting strategy..." Equal parts amused as concerned.

[User]
Wincing as a few splinters from Axe's assault found their way onto the deck, some brushing against the Vice-Admirals face, she glanced around, muttering, "No one's gonna stop it? We only half half a dozen officers on board..." Letting out a reluctant sigh, Fryeja tapped her foot to the ground, realigning her shoes, before taking off in a blur, leaping off the deck. One arm gripping the side of the ship, fingertips weaseling their way in between a pair of boards, she found a position that she could only hold for a brief few seconds. That was all she needed. With her other arm, she drew her sword, taking a breath as the prow hurtled towards the Marine vessel.

Holding her blade horizontally, shrouding it with Haki, she braced herself as the Scrapyard vessel collided with her. Freyja's back elbow ran against the hull of the Marine ship, Haki protecting her as she took the brunt of the force, wincing as she strained herself to keep the Mirana from taking too much damage. There was a loud groan from the Scrapyard ship as it came too it's sudden halt, some unprepared underlings taking a tumble from the slightly quicker than expected stop. Their momentum was halted, for the moment, but as her body was under duress, Freyja wasn't exactly in the position to give the order for counterattack.

The first response did come quickly, however, the cannon team unleashing on the seemingly stunned Scrapyard Pirates. But as predicted, the more experienced members on board had no trouble dealing with the volley, but any advantaged they'd planned from their ramming tactic had been rendered null.


[System]
Race: Drow
Gender: Female
Age: 120
Appearance:

Zatana stands at a fairly average height, her form being well-muscled from the climbing and acrobatics that are part of her vocation. Wiry and flexible, but there is the hard muscle of someone having to fight for survival. With high cheekbones and delicate features, she keeps her long pale hair pinned to the back of her head in a braid to use in combination with her charms when it is needed. But that is if she allows anyone to see the ashy grey skin or get so close to determine her eyes are truly black. Keeping herself wrapped in leather armor head to toe and helped by a ragged cloak of dark material when she can be a bit more relaxed. When she does not feel the need to reveal herself, any possibility of showing skin or hair is wrapped in bandages.

Bio: Her grandfather, Murdoc Do'ana, was the reason her life became even possible. A mage who tested the idea of what was possible and not, he was held in high regard in the Drowish side of the Dread Coast, though he is well known. Sly, kind, cunning and all too aware of just how to manipulate others. He does have an odd sense of justice that is strangely hard to argue against. Her mother had no want or desire to raise a child and Zatana's father only mentioned her existence to his father, Murdoc, in passing years after her birth. In all essentiality, Zartana makes no bones that her grandfather paid her mother to relinquish her claim and give the grandchild over. It happened, life moved on and at the tender age of seven, Zartana began studying the ways of shadows and secrets, and not just how to pick a pocket.

She was her grandfather's left hand, the sleight of hand he needed to pass messages and arrange things and listen at street corners. She transcribed his notes later on and helped him with his experiments, learning how to draw secrets from people from talking or force. Zatana loved the mage, adored him. Finding out about a plot to kill her beloved grandfather, Zatana acted without hesitation. Killing the two assassins, using the knowledge of the body she gained studying under Murdoc.

Now with a bodyguard as well as an assistant. Murdoc found himself rather pleased with the turn of events. If only for his own ends and his experiments being able to continue without interruption by the petty games his rivals played. He used his granddaughter's skill with the blade and honed it. Refusing any imperfection. Yet, he was a man who was rarely ever content. But Murdoc Do'ana was dissatisfied with the news he got from outside the Dread Coast and having the perfect person to be his eyes, he sent Zatana. Traveling for years, she finally moved to intercept an assassin her own grandfather had sent after the Prince and joined the guard.

Then again, that was exactly as her grandfather had planned and ordered.

Personality quirks:
Traits: - Loyalty is everything to her, just as her business at gathering intel and carrying out her job. And her race makes that harder, as well as a love for cute things.
Ideal - "I must survive and pay the debt of life I owe."

Bond: Murdoc Do'ana; Her grandfather and the one she came to the Empire under the orders of. He raised, trained and set her out into the world. If he asks anything of her? How could she refuse?
- Relon Vaugh; The lover of the assassin she killed to join the Prince's Guard.

Flaw: Divided loyalties and she finds herself rather obsessed with perfection in what she does. Itchy fingers that like to slip away items.

Fighting Style: She uses daggers as if she was born to them. The throwing, and stabbing kind. Zatana is decent with a bow, taking it up to get a range as getting close to the enemy is not a good idea if she isn't getting the drop on them.

Equipment: She wears hardened leather armor, along with a cloak or cloth to hide her skin. She has ten daggers on her. Two in each armpit, wrist, boot, and each side of the waist as well as one on the back of the neck and one behind her back. The daggers at her waist and behind her back are heavy fighting daggers, while the one in her boots are stilettos. She has a bow and a full quiver of arrows varying from barbed headed to sleeker arrows. The last item is a small book carefully hidden usually under her armor, Zatana's Grimoire. Filled more with notes on the Empire in her meandering code than of spells.

Skills/Abilities:
Shadow Step - The ability to disappear into shadow, blending in and being hard to see.
Poison: A good understanding of poisons and applying them to her weapons.
Experienced thief/Spy- Skilled at eavesdropping, slight of hand, picking pockets, lockpicking.
Assassin: Understanding the art of killing people by stabbing them from behind.
Forgery: She can forge notes, or quickly transcribe information.

Other Information:
1. Listen to the GM(s), If you have a complaint tell me. I am not an evil dictator and if I am wrong I will admit it.
2. Romance and Gore allowed, But keep it in good taste and in site rules
3. Now not all characters will play nice with each other I understand that, but keep the disputes in the RP not in OOC
4. Be civilized and polite please
5. All basic RP rules apply to this roleplay: Power playing, Meta gaming, and others are not allowed.
6. The story isn't exactly set, if you have an idea for a mission feel free to pm me the details and I'll try to work it in.
7. Copy the rules into a Hider in the "other" of your cs so I know you read them.
8. Get into your character's skin become him or her as you are playing have fun and give us insight into their thoughts.
9. Try to keep active, in both the IC and OOC pages please. And even if you don't have anything to say, at least read the OOC

[User]
Drana made a quick exit as she felt the magic swirling in her chest. She was lucky that her knights had been caught in the collapse of the explosion as there was no doubt Acrius would have seen the knights form beneath their armor. "Lady death, let this day hold no more surprises." She said to herself as she made her way to the streets behind the walls. She had no doubts that the old man she had met was not going to overlook her sudden appearance, though that could wait for a time when she was awake. Leonidas had offered her the assistance of Acrius, but the boy had left with other thoughts on his mind. Drana could not blame the lad, and in truth was thankful he had not followed her. 'Maybe I should tell Acrius first, if I do not tell someone the secret will spill itself like it always does.' She thought wearily.

Drana found a quiet spot in an alleyway further into the city. Here she took her staff and scratched a small symbol into the mud that covered the cobble. Calling on the spirits that served her, she began to speak the draconic words of power needed to call them forth. "Confn ekess ve, schakri katimai di marfedelom. Wux tepoha ti chiilipena dout geth. Wer tairais ihk ssifisv tepohaic zulf udoka vur jaka wux zklaen lleisgar tenamalo." The two knights rose out of the thin mud as though it held a depth far beneath the street. As they climbed out, the skeletons were bare and without weapons or armor. As they stood before her, the rune in the ground glowed and their armor and weapons faded into existence around them much like an apparition on a dark night. "My lady, you are exhausted. You must return to the war room and request shelter as soon as possible." Gordon spoke as though he had not left her side. Drana laughed quietly at her knight's concern, having missed it upon the battlements. Stephan remained silent as he usually did, offering nothing more than a hollow stare as he made sure his armor was fastened properly to his form. "Sir Gordon, I-" Drana did not finish as the magic had pulled the last of her power. Luckily, Her two knights were capable of taking care of her.

Drana arrived at the war room near the evening with the two knights. The guards at the gates had stopped them, but moved to let them pass as Gordon explained their situation. The guards gave them instructions to the war room.

 Stephan held her bridal style as she slept in his arms. Her hand remained fastened around her staff despite her unconscious state.. The two men were dressed in full plate, and without magic were easily heard approaching the war room's open door. Gordon was met with the sight of Zatana and Merik. They stopped at the door, though Gordon's deep voice soon filled the room. "Good evening, might you know where I can find a bed for Lady Turash?" The two knights stopped side by side. Drana was easily seen in Stephan's arms, covered in grime and goblin blood. The two knights did not have any grime on them aside from where they had assisted Drana. "I do hope we are not interrupting anything."

[Assistant]
Nightfall had come, and the festivities were in full swing. The Duke watched above from his bedroom window as the people enjoyed themselves, he then looked out beyond the walls, and into the darkness where the enemy rested. The Duke's mind was elsewhere however, lost in memories of happier times, back when his wife, the Duchess Livana still lived.

He sighed as he took a step back and closed his window. Shortly there was a knock on his door, and the Duke answered. The visitor was a short and uninteresting looking man, dressed in the same manner as the rest of the servants and serfs that worked within the castle, "Ah Morgan, what news do you bring?" he asked the man.

"I apologise for the lateness your grace, but I have recieved word of curious individuals, garbed in robes. I do not know of their intentions, but one of my eyes & ears caught wind of a few words spoken by them, it is assumed they may be allies with the orks." Morgan spoke as he handed the report to the Duke.

"I see." said the Duke as he took in this information, "This is most disturbing indeed. For now however, keep a close eye on these individuals, and inform me as soon as they move. Oh and please do deliver this information to Lord Balthazar, if he himself has not already gathered this information." he finished.

Morgan bowed in understanding "Of course your grace, I will do as you wish." and the man hastily left with purpose.

The Duke then closed the door and sat on his bed. He let out a tired sigh, "My dear Livana, how I wish for your guidence once more. You always knew how to handle these unsavoury situations." he said before readying himself to retire for the night.

-------

Some time before the end of the event, Rudolph accepted that he'd had enough to drink and it was time to call it a night.
With a bid goodnight to his comrades, he made his way back to the barracks.
Fullar joined him on the walk, both slightly intoxicated, but stable.

Away from the crowded area, the evening had a slight chill to it. The streets weren't busy, as most of the attention was at the event, so the way ahead was technically clear besides the odd patrol making their rounds.

"D-Did you hear about Brauer?" asked Rudolph with hand on head as a headache began to develop. "Yea, poor bastard. His mother will be on her own now, and she struggles as is." Fullar replied saddened at the thought, "I'll go visit her at the end of this on his behalf." he continued.

Next to the entrance to the barracks, the two men noticed the drunken and sleeping form of Captain Haart, several empty bottles lay around him, and he was sat upon a chair that seemed to barely support his large frame. "Evening Captain." said Fullar without even looking at the man before heading in, the Captain barely stirred, the man was too busy snoring away. Rudolph simply shook his head and chuckled as he walked past.

The barracks seemed quiet, which was pleasent for Rudolph's ever worsening headache. "Right, i'm off to bed then. See you in the morn'." Fullar waved to his friend before heading up the stairs. Rudolph sat for a moment and drew a pitcher of water, and took his time with the drink. "I'm getting too old for this." he said to himself under his breath. He sat alone for about a half hour before he could barely keep his eyes open, then surrendered himself to his bed.

[User]
Zatana had just finished the lovely loaf of sweetbread, her head tucked against her chest with her hood shadowing her face as she sought the doze of someone who was in a hostile city. The chair was tilted back a bit onto the rear legs, and her knee was carefully set just so. To anyone else, the posture would be uncomfortable, but then again most probably never had to sleep in a sitting position for an extended period. Having done a stint as a hall boy, the sort who waits at a door all night so that important guests need not wait, and a messenger at the behest of gathering information, Zatana was more than used to the pose. It beat sleeping on a horse. There was uncomfortable! She was interrupted by the movement of people entering the war room. Something sat wrong with them being able to enter this interior shell of the keep, or so Zatana thought. Opening her dark eyes, she had one of her long knives in her hand before she spoke, though that hand was on the far side of the strangers.

Who it was surprised the dark elf. She had not been expecting the strange cleric and two knights who looked to be nothing like those who served the city or Duke. Two knights lacking the stains of battle on top of that when this woman they held in their arms was so covered in goblin gore and sewer muck? On top of that, the civilized elf grimaced privately at the thought of the woman going to sleep in a bed so soiled. Cleanliness was an underappreciated factor in her profession. Smells where there ought to be no such smell was something that could foul up an operation just as much as eating the wrong food or bringing the wrong tools. Standing from the circle of lizard man that was Merik she bowed as stately as any courtier. The knife hidden against her wrist. "Good evening, Sirs. Lady... Forgive me, I did not catch your name when last we met. Never fear, you merely disturbed my rest while I remain able to move to where His Highness Prince Leonidas of the Empire of Man requires me to be." Zatana felt her smile become somewhat sharper. She was revealing too much of her courtly graces, but these knights. They should have had some grime if they had not just thrown their cleric to the wolves- literally. Soldiers were loud as they exchanged the news.

"Though I can see the Cleric is weary and since I have no need of it as of current, I offer you my own quarters should they suffice. Though..." She gave a pause to emphasize what she was saying was no request at all. "I do suspect that the Sacred Order's Cleric of the Dead would enjoy a bath before the bed, Ser Knights." A small luxury the woman looked like she dearly needed. Plus the ulterior motive of trying to figure the woman and her two knights out, then again with her being a dark elf it was a given.


[System]
Sex: Male
Age: 27

Appearance:
Serhiem is you average man, physically anyways. He is a very pale individual with a large scruffy beard growing with a thick, messy, and long hair coming down from a rather thin face. He has a single scare that connects both sides of his head in a horizontal fashion, going through both of his eyes.

Personality:
Serhiem is a very sensitive individual, one who will tear up at the sight of the dead or even the sight of a lightly injured animal. However, he is a normally happy individual who is also very peaceful, not wanting a fight. Serhiem is also very forgiving towards others as he does not want to feel hate or a feeling of a grudge towards others. Though, catch him at the right time and he will seem to be a very serious or angry individual. He keeps all of his true feeling repressed which can be released if certain things are brought up.

Patron Deity:
Lucharoc

Background:

Serhiem was born into a family of Gallocmen, thus, as a man, he was expected to carry on that legacy and fight for his clan. He was actually quite the good learner when it came to sword-fighting as well, earning praises from many. By the age of ten, he had learned how to properly wield a sword and shield while also taking on a formal education. It was quite the good life for him and he learned that good can be seen in everyone, even if they hail from a rival clan. Unfortunately, that golden period came to an end with his father's death, Serhiem Vashir the First, leaving him the only male warrior left in his household. Of course, Serhiem was happy to oblige to the needs of his family.

It was Rain Season and a bandits had come to attack, in an effort to do enough damage to make sure that they would not be able to truly make it to the valley or maybe it was to take food for themselves. Serhiem had stepped up to do battle, following in his own father's foot steps. The lad was sixteen at the time and it had been his first true battle against another clan. Unfortunately, it would end up being the last as well, for a larger warrior had got the upper hand on Serhiem and managed to hit his head with a sword, gashing his eyes and leaving Serhiem blind. Of course, now Serhiem was not that big of a threat so he would be allowed to live and "see" that his clan had eventually won the day.

With the loss of his sight, Serhiem was devastated that e could no longer true do anything useful to his clan, becoming more of burden. He could not become a scribe for he required his eyes to write, nor could he become a farmer for he may hurt someone. However, he could teach the people of potentially lead them. Serhiem chose to attempt to become part of the council, he had been denied the first time which then lead him to become a teacher and a philosopher, all to be useful. For many years he had been doing this until the clan leader eventually called upon him to become apart of the council due to his service to the clan during the long trek they all made. Following quickly after the clan settled into the new land, Serhiem was elected to be the Chief of the clan, being supported by both the common folk and the Warriors. It was a job that he did not exactly want, however, he accepted so that the people would be pleased. That and he didn't exactly trust some of the other council to lead the clan in the right direction.

Personal Goals:
Serhiem wants to see his people have a higher standard of living, wanting the children to have more than enough knowledge. He wants to see stronger walls, more food, better things in general.

Clan Goals:
Serhiem's goals for the clan is a lot like his personal goals of wanting a better standard of living and having the people have a peaceful life. Though, he wants them to be more concerned with what is going on in the realm of the living and not the gods.

Estate:
Serhiem lives with his family in a house that is larger than most of the common folk. It is filled with weapons of all different shapes and sizes due to the status that his family holds. Serhiem does have a room that is filled with many ideas that have been written down by his sister. He lives with his mother and sister there.

Traits:
* Learned - You are literate and have a relatively advanced education, in comparison to the common man. +2
* Intelligent - You are naturally smart. +2
* Intermediate Weapons - You are trained with more advanced weapons, such as one-handed swords, spears and axes. +2
* Reputable - You have a spotless and respected reputation. +2
* Philosopher - You are an expert in some sort of "science." Phah! +3
* Affluent - You belong to the (very thin) upper crust of society, and have the wealth to prove it. +3
* Proud - You are unused to harsh living conditions or menial labor, and unwilling to perform degrading tasks. -2
* Blind - Whether by age or illness or violence, you cannot see. And you don't even get superpowers in exchange. -5

[User]
1 point of magic in Quests

_______________________________________________

Eliz sunk in her chair with a groan of desperation. She simply couldn't believe how much trivial and mundane things the council had to deal with. And now she couldn't believe how no one immediately went to the simple and obvious solution. "And here we go again with this inane horse shit." She swept her hand in the air. "Aifric tried to murder her husband and she even has the sword in her hand at this very moment to prove it. She isn't even denying it... Make her a thrall for her crime and be done with it!"

Then of course, there was the matter of adultery. She didn't care about that at all, as she herself had, as people often used to insult her, never been involved in a marital relationship despite being 23 and didn't intend on having one in any foreseeable future. No, there was only one thing that annoyed her in this little situation. "As for Fintan, he still cheated on his wife... with a Gearalti clanswoman. My coins are on her being a stinkin' spy, and him being a bloody idiot for not being able to control his genitals just to breed with a stranger." She crossed her arms. "I say give the bastard for me to command in an expedition eastward as a punishment, it'll keep him away from his lovers and hopefully end that relationship with the stranger in the process."

Arguably it would be the duty of any clansman to join an expedition if they had to, Gallocmen would in fact be the most suited for the work, but Eliz knew them. In an exploration mission there were as much if not more dangers than any expedition outside the clan's territory but with the reward only being intangible knowledge rather than any material goods, which was why people had a hard time being motivated for the enterprise, and why Eliz wanted to conscript whatever competent person she could get her hands on for this. She knew she was ugly as sin, so whatever womanizing habit Fintan had wouldn't matter in this expedition.

In her mind her plan was the best, but she doubted people would easily be swayed by her words. Her time sitting on the council had pretty much being her constantly coming head to head with other council members on every issue that mattered, which was why she was thinking up new and creative ways to tell Dunlad that she'd make her shove all the extra vegetables they'd have where the shine never shines if he had his ways and got everyone that could tilt the soil to do so to plant crops. She wasn't an idiot, she knew it was important, but it annoyed her to no end that everyone thought it was all that mattered, especially considering how fertile the lands they had settled in were... and how fertile the lands settled by other nearby tribes were.

Hopefully it wouldn't come to that and everyone would just accept that since the gods said it was time to explore, then it was time to shut up and let her do her thing. Who, after all, could possibly be better suited for it? And, who could possibly prevent her from doing so if they refused...

[Assistant]
I place 1 point of magic in Crops

---

Dunlad eyed the bickering couple, a wry glint in his eye.

A gaggle of squawking geese, that lot. He suppressed his urge to guffaw, knowing his fellow councilors would perhaps take it unkindly. Not that they wouldn't frown at him one way or another, no matter what came out of his mouth. He felt more than a little out of his element here, and the effect was only amplified by the newfangled clan hall.

Although it shone with a coat of fresh paint, it lacked something, still, fundamentally; a fire blazed furiously in the hearth, warming the place up to the rafters to waylay the Rain season bite, but the heat did not reach their hearts, still hoary from the snows of Harlaus' betrayal and the bitter waters of their hard migration. Although flowers erupted into blossom atop the Valley's knolls, they seemed preoccupied yet with the Moon season's pangs. Clan Aonghus now sprouted callow leaves, but even as the snows receded, the cold was a silent thing, and returned like a cattle thief in the night to snap the necks of sleeping saplings.

Regarding the tempest being brought down on their heads, Aifric grasping for the blade which had been dashed to the boards in the melee, Dunlad slowly rose, his right leg trembling. This quarrel, it seemed to him, was merely a test; a test to set the tone of what would come to pass. Should the ancestral rites be broken in the interest of a new beginning?

He raised his hand for silence, eyeing his fellows warily. Finally, he cleared his throat, and began, in a coarse voice, "It seems to me, a simple man, that the gods have not blessed your love. And they won't get to it any time soon."

"If, Aifric, Fintan has lain with another woman, let it be past; and Fintan, if Aifric has lain with other man, let this likewise be past," he continued, leaning weightily on his walking stick, "I say let it be done. Divorce them, and let not they come within fifty paces of one another. The gods have cast their judgement already; we have lost much, and we need not any more bad blood. There are seeds to sow, horses to foal, children to be tutored. I say let it be done."

[User]
I place 1 point in Health the other shall be left

---

Serhiem merely listened to the couple bicker to one another before they had to be broken up by several men, to his own dismay. This shouldn't be a matter for them as everyone within the clan should just get along with one another, especially since everyone needs to work on the crops. He listened to his council members before clearing his throat to speak his opinion as chief.

"I feel that the best solution to resolve this, without the need of anyone becoming a thrall," he nods his head to where he heard Eliz speak, "I feel that both of you should be found for adultery. Both of you shall be punished. Fintan, you shall be under command of Eliz for her little exploration."

The blind man sighed once more and began once more on the punishment for Aifric, the wife. "I feel that you shall work alongside the Thralls for the season, and you shall be treated as one. I am sorry that the two of you had to resort to this, however, after your punishments then maybe you will see that there is no need for such manners." He let out another sigh, before leaning back in his seat.

"I shall let my fellow ring members say what they wish," Serhiem said before finally shutting his mouth. The chief did not like to see, rather hear, his fellow clan members come under strife with one another. It was an unfortunate truth that this would happen to people, hopefully the punishment that would be given will make sure this matter will never happen again. "You do not need to divorce if you feel the both of you will get through this together. Remember that it takes many instruments for music to be heard properly, if one does not work then the true song will never be heard. I urge the council to see my view on this matter, however, I will hear what their suggestions are before anything is final."


[System]
Male
Looks about 30
Appearance
6'0"
Pale white skin.
White irises. Edges around his eyes are naturally often dark. Giving him the appearance of having eyeliner.
Messy slightly below shoulder length wavy white hair. Long bangs that often get in his eyes. Two engraved cylindrical medium length silver hair beads, one on the right side of his hair and one on the back left.
Silver feather dangle earring on his left ear lobe.
Left hand's fingernails are pointed and sharp

Faux golden mink fur double breasted coat. Length goes down to his mid thigh. Brown horn buttons. Brown silk liner.
Black with white polka dots pattern wool fringed scarf worn draped around the back of his neck under his coat. Loosely tied into a knot low right below his chest.
Various loose fitting polo or aloha/bowling shirts.
Gold 22" 10mm cuban link chain necklace.
White ribbed tank top undershirt.
Gold Rolex Datejust 36mm with a white dial and jubilee bracelet.
Silver band thumb ring, silver pinkie finger signet ring with a X engraved on the front. Gold pointer finger ring with a inlaid diamond. All on his left hand
Plain black leather dress glove with a white X on the palm on his right hand.
Silver 12mm cuban link chain id tag style bracelet on his right wrist
Black dress pants.
Black leather western style belt with an silver buckle and furnishings. Usually has a black embossed leather revolver holster on the right side.
Black leather cowboy boots with snip toe caps and floral stitching. Pant legs worn over the boot shaft.
Or
Various Air Jordan 5 sneakers.
White crew socks.

Hair
A bit longer in the back

Nemo is often considered a Mana-fiend among other terms. Someone who can feed off of mana itself for energy. He has a innate control over mana and mastery with absorption focused spells. Being able to drain other Talent's mana reserves to refill his own. With more advanced spells Nemo can even harness the natural mana found in the world for himself in a pinch.
While most Talents are able to increase their maximum mana pool by training. Nemo sadly lacks this ability. But makes up for it by being able to permanently increase his pool by fully draining mana from living beings and certain objects. Fully draining a magic user can also sometimes give Nemo the ability to use some of their spells.
An added bonus of consuming mana is that it makes him immune to aging.

All of his mana must be put to some sort of worthy use, and Nemo does so by specializing in highly destructive spells and traps. Often using an "X" shape motif. He also utilizes summoning magic circle relay rings. When a magic projectile passes through them, it increases in speed and power. Relay rings can also be chained together like a railgun to devastating effect.

Nemo triggers most of his attacks from the X shaped rune on the palm of his glove.

At times Nemo also has a affinity for fine custom weaponry instead of spells. Utilizing rifles, knives, and his trademark revolvers with specialized ammo to conserve his mana.

Nemo is fond of the dark and the cold. He sees and reacts better in darker places with his white nocturnal-like eyes. However as a drawback he often becomes irritated and uncomfortable in bright or hot areas.

While his actual age is a mystery, it is said that at a young age Nemo was shunned by all of the leading magic organizations for his unpredictable abilities and attributes. Being an orphan, Nemo was left to fend for himself in the world. His abilities were the only thing he had at a young age, realizing that most people were afraid of his style of spells. Nemo found that resorting to force to get what he needed was usually the only option that worked.

As his control over his abilities grew he began to get more involved with the magic underground. Nemo began to take advantage of his anti-mana magic to make a name for himself as a effective assassin against other fellow magic users. He did this as a means to both further his own power and take revenge against the magic community for it's treatment of him.

As Nemo's notoriety grew, the magic factions that once rejected him began to take notice. However not in the way he once wanted. Nemo began to become a problem for them, something that reached a climax when he executed a pair of Catholic Magi while on a armored transport mission.

The Church had let him grow unchecked for too long. To solve the problem they set an ambush up for Nemo with a group of Grand-Magi and a entourage of his students. A fight occurred between the two, ending with Nemo's capture. But not before the group of mages suffered great causalities, including their leader.

After the encounter Nemo was locked up deep in a pitch black cell within a dungeon located under the Vatican. There he lies in wait, feeding off of the small amount of mana rationed to him and wondering how long it will take before he is set free.

Despite it all Nemo often comes off as a rather chipper carefree individual, something that is often seems sinister while fighting instead. Nemo is often unstable, his polite and charismatic outer attitude sheds to his more psychotic inner shell while angered.
Nemo has a fascination with all things visual. Taking great pride with his work and considering the battles he partakes in as art. Aiming to make them as aesthetically impressive as he can.
He's also a collector, coming off as borderline greedy in some cases. He'll try to obtain anything he finds visually appealing. Nemo becomes highly irritated when his possessions are sullied. Thankfully he can often repair them.
Going hand in hand with his knack for collecting, he also takes great joy in eating. Being able to consume a very large amount of food and eat just about anything.

5.5 inch single action revolver.
3.5 inch birds head handle single action revolver.
Bolt action hunting rifles.
Balisong knives

[User] Zuri was a bit overwhelmed by all the things Travis said, jumping from one thing to another, but she got most of what he had to say. The current situation was getting more dire as time goes on as Raiya becomes more worn out the longer she remains fighting against that mage. She knew that both of them had to do something to at least help, if not straight up ending the fight. "I'm ready!" she said with a nervous but confident tone. "But first.. I need the case with the rune on it.." she says, placing her palm out as she let out a giggle knowing that she might not be in the best of shape after this fight.

[Assistant]
"Of course," Travis replied as he placed the small case within Zuri's grasps.

However before he retracted his right hand, Travis unexpectedly took gentle hold of Zuri's receiving hand and turned it over so the back of it was then showing. His left hand then hovered over and with a brief incantation, a rune slowly materialized into her skin. The process was however painless and hardly anything could be felt from it.

"Don't worry, its harmless and will fade in time. Think of this as a bit of insurance so to speak," Travis explained before continuing, "Its a recall rune if you must know. In case if things get too dicey or if an opportunity presents itself, I can either quickly bring you back into my vicinity or me to you via my decamp spell which the rune is linked to."

Travis released Zuri's hand so she could expect it though he continued on with his explanation, "The spell process however consumes a lot of mana that I don't have much of, even if I'm drawing mana from one of my crystals. Therefore, we won't have many uses and I am expecting to burn through most if not all my crystals through using other spells. Best we keep on our toes, okay?"

[User]
Zuri held onto the case as Travis marked the back of her palm with a rune. She was then given a quick explanation on what it does before he let go of her hand. Zuri retracted her hand and inspected both the rune that was marked on her hand and the case with the rune.

She looks at Travis and asks "So all I have to do is get close enough to touch him, aim this rune at him, pour mana into it and something good will happen?" with a raised eyebrow, grinning with excitement. "If that's the case.." Zuri turns around and looks straight at the mage that Raiya has been keeping busy for what feels like an eternity, "...It's time we try to put an end to this.."

Zuri begins to transform, dark beams started to twirl around her before lifting her off the ground and after a few seconds, the beams bursted, revealing her in a completely different outfit than what she wore before, with dark pieces of armour made out of pure energy that covered crucial parts such as her chest, shoulders, arms, legs, along with a skirt and helmet. The armour was held magically in place, so she doesn't feel any added weight. However, the magic tore up her clothing in the process, which made it look very revealing.

She slowly hovered back onto the floor after her transformation, inspecting herself and noticing that this wasn't anything like the last time. "I.. I-" Zuri notices that nothing but this magical armour was covering her, but this was no time to feel embarrassed. Zuri visualizes a white cloak that covers her shoulders all the way down to her waist before creating it as it slowly falls onto her.

After securing her cloak, she turns around, facing Travis and says "Y-You didn't see anything, right? Well, it doesn't really matter.. I'm not sure what this is but I'll find out soon enough." She comments on her current situation, referring to how she didn't transform into the dark shadowy entity but instead, remained as herself. She does however, feel more in control with her mana and her abilities, both mentally and physically. Zuri could feel this form slowly draining away her mana, so she doesn't have that much time to stand idly around.

[Assistant]
Raiya grunted in exhaustion and anger. The spell she had just cast wasn't her most powerful spell, but at the current level of mana she was drained to, it was the most powerful spell she could use and she at least expected some results. Soon after Stockton negated her spell with his own, she felt a powerful burst of mana behind her. She turned around to see a naked Zuri in what looked to be a black manaegis, it might have been a different spell than the manaegis, but it held some stark similarities compared to Felix's own suit of magical armor, the only differences being that it looked more sparse than Felix's full-body armor. Soon after she assumed her form, she also conjured up a cloak to cover her new armor, which made Raiya cock an eyebrow at but didn't say anything. 'Well, it seems like they do have a plan after all. That's a bit of a relief,' Raiya considered, 'I'm not sure what they are planning, but I would suppose these teammates of mine will be looking for some sort of opening, I better not keep them waiting then.'

 Raiya was now down to a little less than a quarter of her total manapool, at the current rate of descent, she would only have ten more minutes in her God Slayer form, even less if she was casting spells. Raiya was angry at not figuring out her enemy's tactic sooner. Her current form specialized in defense against offensive spells, while it did provide her with an offensive boost, the idea behind her form was one of a form that could negate miracles and curses to slay gods and demons. The only spell that she had that could truly stop Stockton was her most powerful one, the 8th head of Yamata no Orochi, a spacial spell that traps the user and the enemy inside an aether spacial field that prevents all magic from being cast. With Raiya's combat ability, most enemy's would die within that space, but it was not something she could use on a whim. It would wipe her entire manapool out in a single cast, leaving her absolutely defenseless against a strong foe and it only lasted fifteen minutes, as soon as it ran out, Raiya would be too exhausted to continue a battle against a tenacious foe. She had the perfect tool to end this nuisance, but she had no way of knowing that this was the perfect fight to use it in. Now it was too late.

 Raiya had a decision to make, to act fast and create an opening in her current form, betting everything on the plan of her teammates, or drop her current form and conserve her mana for a longer battle. She decided the former was her best shot. She dropped her sword, and stretched out her fists, whispering, "Izanami no Ken," as she channeled her mana to her hands. A white ball-like glow surrounded her fists, empowering them with spell-shredding capabilities as well as concussive kinetic shockwaves that would emanated throughout whatever she struck. After she empowered herself, she used another blink technique to quickly get behind Stockton. She took an offensive stance known as the horse-stance in gungfu, and as she threw out a quick snap-punch, she twisted her body to give it extra leverage and strength. The punch wasn't enough to kill someone with a barrier, but certainly enough to disorient them and wind them for a short time.

[User]
Stockton's manalysis was able to track Raiya through her blink, locating her behind him. He quickly spun around and analyzed the oncoming threat. Rutger used his two hands to block her punch and grab her arm to lock her in place, but it wasn't at no cost. His barriers were completely shredded from contact with her fist, as well as receiving quite a bit of pain from the shock-wave. He was rattled, but quickly able to shrug it off. "I-if you planned on getting this close, you should have hit me harder, hard enough to finish this. But don't worry, I have no problem with drawing out your punishment as well."

"Frantumare." Stockton said, casting his own kinetic shock-wave spell through his arms and into Raiya's body. Frantumare was a spell used primarily for torture. It couldn't kill or cause someone to pass out, only create an immense amount of pain in one burst.


[System]
* Age: 15
* Gender: Female
* Appearance: "Ah, good day."
* Personality: Just your average, kindly student council member that strives to make sure her school runs like clockwork, and the students are happy and receiving their due support. While she's not exactly a top-grade, super-athletic role model, Akira is fairly popular for her looks and personality. Well, her public personality, at least. When alone, Akira's pent-up stress and annoyance explodes, revealing all of her frustrations with everyone's apparent inability to help themselves for a change. Her desire to help others isn't an outright lie; she just happens to have almost no patience for people that can't seem to do anything right.
* General Info: Treasurer for her school's student council. Above-average student.

* Mythical Creature: Dragon (Western variant)
Powers:
- Dragon Treasury: Passive. In her Magical Girl form, Akira is able to detect valuable objects, like a sixth sense.
- Dragonscale: Another passive ability. Magical attacks from the side, or behind, are less effective. Unfortunately, attacks from the front seem to increase power.
- Generic magical blasts and flight.
* MG Appearance: Minus the sword.

[User]
Seven days ago, several youngsters had received a weird email.

It seemed to be rather nonsense, at first. It spoke of things such as magic, and a weird festival. Maybe it was sent to the wrong email address, but either way, it was probably quickly forgotten by whoever had received it. At least until the weird dream, not too long after.

In said dream, the contacted individuals felt lucid, able to interact with the environment and each other, although they were hardly given a chance to do so, before a tiny, humanoid girl showed up with a stern expression, and immediately launched into a spiel about them being chosen to be magical girls that participate in some silly magical tournament thing. It was all rather sudden, but the fairy wasn't exactly open to interruptions. As soon as she had finished, the glasses-wearing creature had declared "the door to Phantasma will open tomorrow", and just like that, the dream was over.

Certainly, it was a strange event, and almost as easily dismiss-able as the email had been. Although, together, maybe there was some credibility to the stuff about magic?

...Nah, no way. Life wasn't a fantasy story filled with wish-fulfilment. There was no way some 'door to Phantasma' would appear to whisk anyone away to another world.

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

Akira stared at the door to Phantasma that had appeared from nowhere with some incredulity.

Having been typing away at an essay for her Japanese Literature class, Akira had no idea how long it had been there, but there it was; a blue, almost ephemeral door occupying what used to be a blank space of her bedroom wall. It seemed to pulse with mystical energy, practically beckoning the diligent student to enter.

Still, she was hesitant to just rush at the thing. It was way too suspicious! It could be a trap by an alien, or a hallucination that meant for her to dive head-first into the very-solid wall! And even if that door really did take her to some magical world full of... magic, and... more magic, what if it turned out to secretly be some dystopian nightmare behind the scenes?!

...Well, that seemed even more unlikely than the present situation. Still, who in their right mind would just walk through a door that wasn't there five minutes ago?

"Gaaaaaaah, this is so dumb!" Akira berated herself, finding that she had wandered towards the weird door and had extended her hand to open it. Freezing in place, the sweet-faced girl conducted a mental conflict: Reason vs wonder, who would win?!
If only that stupid dream fairy hadn't rushed me out of that stupid dream... came the mental grumbling, I'm putting in a complaint about this...

Akira considered herself a realist that didn't tend towards silly fantasies about magic, but... well, if this was a hallucination, it was pretty damn convincing and persistent. The door continued to exist, and when Akira finally reached out to touch the onyx-like doorknob, it felt solid and strangely-warm to the touch.

"...Just a quick peek, I guess..." Akira sighed, and turned the doorknob.

And one sudden and startling flash of bright light later, Akira found herself standing in a wide, near-empty field.

"...Huh?"

Well, this was most definitely not her bedroom. Nor anywhere her hometown. Hell, was it even in her country? Akira gave a nervous glance to her surroundings. There seemed to be nothing but a few animals idling in the distance... and a wooden sign planted in the ground.
Well, it was as good a clue as any. Wishing that she was wearing more than a simple shirt and shorts (another thing; more notice meant she could dress appropriately for inexplicable travel to foreign lands!), Akira approached the sign.

"Meeting spot, see ya soon~!"

The only other thing there was a doodle of a bunny-eared smiley face. Well, that was pointless. So what, she was stranded there alone? Where was the exposition fairy? That Kaguya person from the email? Where was anyone?!

The answer, of course, was right behind her, as the others began to show up.

[Assistant]
The orange-haired girl laid on her stomach. She hadn't even bothered getting fully dressed, sitting in her underwear as she kicked her legs in the air, lying on her bed. In her hands she held her 3DS, playing Pokemon X. Her character, customized to look as close to herself as she could possibly manage, was currently meandering around through a field. She was looking to expand her collection of Pokemon, and get her perfect team... it's not like she had anything else to do. That homework could totally wait, right now it was Pokemon time. Pokemon time was, of course, vastly superior to homework time, which is why it would naturally take up much more of her time as well. Wasn't that just logic? Of course it was.

However, this particular Pokemon time, Michiko felt like something was amiss... glancing to her side, her eyes immediately fell on something that was not among the usual items that belonged in her room. A door. It stood there, very doorlike, away from any walls and generally making a nuisance of itself among its disorganized surroundings. Pausing her game, Michiko sat up on her bed and stared for a moment. That was... strange, to say the least. Why was there a door in her room now? Idly, she wondered if it had anything to do with that weird fairy dream, before swiftly dismissing it. Perhaps even dream fairies found her desirable, but those weren't real and therefore couldn't have anything to do with this door. Still, it was there, and she was awake, so how exactly had this come to be?

Naturally not wanting to head through a random door in underwear, Michiko swiftly dressed herself in a pink bunny t-shirt, a dark red jacket, jean shorts, and striped black and white thigh-highs before clambering out of bed and opening the door to head through.

Beyond was an annoyingly bright light that made her shut her eyes and wince, rubbing them to try and recover her vision... until abruptly it was gone.

And there she was.

In a field.

With some older girl.

Well.

"... Eh?"

[User]
Akila was lying on her bed, crying into the pillow. Once again, the band of delinquents that constantly bullied her had cornered her and... not attacked her, but they had tossed her stuff into a muddy gutter, and shoved her down to the ground, causing her to scrape her hands badly, leaving her to bandage them up, and gather her wet papers, and dirty backpack. She now was in her room, at home.

When she had come to Japan, with her mother and brother, she had hoped to meet new friends at her school, and be happy. However, the exact opposite had happened, with her shy nature. Others had viewed it as arrogance, and she couldn't find the words to reach out and tell them. Others, who would have bullied her anyway, did so. And now that she didn't have any friends to support her, she was vulnerable.

Her mother was at work at the diner, and her brother was at a friends' house. Alone in the apartment, the young Arabic woman turned over in her bed and looked at the ceiling. There was a door there. Why was there a door in Akila's ceiling? Did it have something to do with that strange dream a few nights ago? She didn't know, but pulling her hoodie over her head, opened the door, and jumped through.

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

Akila fell sideways onto the ground, face in the grass. Groaning, she pushed herself up, and saw a sign, with a cute little bunny face drawn on it. Pushing her white hood back down, she brushed off some of the dirt. It was such a nice jacket, wouldn't do if her mom had to wash it again. Looking around, she saw a dull-eyed ginger, and her favorite Student Council member, Yamada. Heading over to her nervously, she said, "U-Um, Miss Yamada? Where... Where are we?"

[Assistant]
Kelly finished up washing dirt off of his hands and knees and had got to splash water from the sink on his face. It was rather refreshing after hours of playing footie with the boys in the local park. The day had been hot and sunny for this time of year. A perfect day to go out and play in otherwords. But all day and all through the game he had been notable distracted. It had prompted him to excuse himself and head over to the local public restroom. A small single stall establishment, nothing fancy and honestly a little funny smelling as these public johns tended to be. But it was nice and pirvate and gave him solitude and quite to think about what was on his mind.

First had been that weird ass email. He had figured it was just some ribbing from one of his mates. Set up a fake weirdo email address and send him random spam and crap. He hadn't thought much of it...that was until that damn dream. The one that told him he was going to be some sort of magical girl. He got enough of that crap from his mates (Mostly good natured if annoying ) and from the local bullies ( Much less good natured ).

"Stupid dream..." He muttered as he splashed another handful of water to his face "The bloody teasing everyone is always giving me is finally start'n to get to my subconscious ." before mopping it dry with a towel and giving himself a good hard look in the mirror. Sure he wasn't the tallest bloke, nor was her particularly stout or sturdy. He had what his mother had said was a runners build. Not every lad had to be some rugby looking troll. You could be perfectly manly and have narrow shoulders, fair skin, and soft features. He sighed scratching his head. "Not much sense in worry about it. Was just a dream that was triggered by my wanker friends and their silly prank email. Nothing to get worked up about." he told himself as he finished cleaning himself off.

He turned to exit the single stall and in front of him, where the door out of the cramped little john was a different door than the one he had used to get in. At first he stared in dumb confusion but the details of the dream came back to him. A door way that would take him to the place here he would become a magical girl. He swore under his breath. "No way, this can't be happening." He grumbled. He began to bang on the door and yell for someone to come and open it from their side. Surely if that it wouldn't take him to where ever this door was meant to take him. But it seemed as if magically no one was able to hear what he was doing on this side of the door.

For a good bit he was simply pacing around in the small bathroom, trying to think of his options. Alas the only ones he could think of was to use the door or be stuck in this foal smelling john forever. With a deep breath he made his decision and opened the door. And found himself...well...somewhere. He was briefly disoriented by the wild change of scenery only to see a few people. All girls, a pair Japanese by the looks of them, and another one mixed Asian and something else like him.

"Oi, any of you birds know what's going on?" he said and bit more loudly than he probably meant.

[User]
Three other girls had arrived not long after Akira herself. Still somewhat off-balance from the general weirdness going on, her more formal mannerisms were currently absent, replaced by the blushing high-schooler that felt too under-dressed for this nonsense.

There was a dumbfounded looking girl, another that recognised Akira (though Yamada wasn't personally familiar), and finally, one that referred to the others in a strange way. Who called other girls 'birds'? Was it some kind of slang she was unfamiliar with?
Well, regardless, Akira had no idea what to tell her- no wait, him? Maybe? - or any of them, since she was quite lacking in information herself. The dark-skinned girl was also looking to her for answers, which put the treasurer in a very awkward position.

Taking a deep breath, and pushing her embarrassment and confusion aside, Akira put on her best 'student council' face, and addressed the small group as confidently as she could.

"Um... hello there," Akira bowed her head slightly, "I don't really know anything myself, unfortunately. Just crazy theories. ...Although I'm guessing it's not so weird, now."

She turned her gaze towards the expansive fields once more, seeking proper answers. If someone was supposed to be meeting them, then somewhere that didn't seem completely disconnected from civilisation would be nice, too. Well... until they had a better plan, first thing's first.

"Well, My name is Yamada Akira," she informed the group once more, "I came here through a stu- unusual door, if you can believe that," she added a forced giggle at the end, as if to brush off the silliness of her statement, "What about everyone else?"