[System]
Basics

Gender:
Male

Race:
Human-Reaper hybrid

Age:
16

Height:
5'11 ft

Weight:
172 lbs

Hair Color:
Silver

Eye Color:
Ice Blue

Skin Color:
Pale

Figure:
Lean, muscular, shoulders are slightly less broad than what one would expect for someone his age.

Job:
Student, I guess

Powers

Soul Stones: He can uses the power of souls trapped in certain gems to give himself certain abilities and skills, based on how the being that possessed that soul died.

Souls in his possession:

Soul of the Beast: Only soul whose being overpowers the circumstances of death, it gives him the ability of the demon, which are Necromancy, enhamced strength, durability, and reflexes. However, the weakness for this ability is that it will turn him into beast driven only by rage and bloodlust and thus he must have a singular goal in mindto use this stone without endangering those around him.

Death by Fire: Pyrokinesis, Mid-level skill allows him to make medium sized fire balls

Slain by the Sword: Acuikinesis and gives him skills of a skilled swordsman, as well as allowing him to turn his scythe into a sword, high-level skill

Death by wolves: Bestows partial Lycanthropy, giving him enhanced senses, reflexes, strength, durability, and speed, but he also gains their weaknesses as well, Mid-level skill

Switching between stones requires a wait time of 30 secs, and each stone has a cooldown time of 10 minutes before they can be used again.

Eyes of the Reaper: Along with his abilitiy to interact with spirits of the deceased or beings that reside on the other side of death, he can also view the souls of living people, a rough idea of what abilities they may have, and what kind of being they are.

Cloak and Scythe: His Cloak is an extension of his soul, andthus can be changed at will to look like any kind of attire he feels is needed, as well as bearing a poclet dimmension that can hold a few crucial things inside it. His scythe is able to cut any possessive spirit out of the host without harming said host, as well as send spirits on their way to the next life. They will also be affected by Soul Stone usage, though it is mostly a cosmetic change.

Weaknesses
Cost of power: A drawback to using Soul Stones is that one must experience the death the being expeirenced everytime that stone is activated(It is of cou4se sped up to the point that it takes a second to experience, though it usually feels much longer). This tends to take a toll on the minds of many users, as the deaths are usually very unpleasant.

Old Wound: Has a scar an old wound in his back that never healed right and causes him a lot of pain if he gets hit there or i
falls on it.

Neglected: One of the few things that really angers him is when someone tries to act motherly to him, as it reminds him of how his own rarely ever acted in such away towards him.

Heroes are fools: Despises those who call themselves the selflessherouc types, thinking them fools destined to an early grave

Clueless: Due ti his father putting an emphasis in teaining rather than living, he has very little in the ways of real world experience, social skills, or basic ettiquette. This makes him seem a lot colder and ruder than he really is, though his apathetic introversion makes it difficult for him to clear things up.

Personality
Grimm is a rather stoic individual, not being one for displays of emotion of any sort. Tending to be more of an observer type, he has a tendancy to just watch people go by their business, usually drawing anything that interests him as he does so. He has a rather bleak view on life sometimes, something attributed to both his use of Soul Stones and his mothers death by those who know him.

Background
He grew up on the road most of the time, as his mither was something of a traveling hero of sorts, going around the world to help anyone in need. And while he did look up to his mother for what she did, he sometimes couldn't help but resent her for it as well. She was always so busy trying to help people, she hardly spent anytime with him, nit because she didn't lovehim, but because she was too enamored by the romanticism of what she did.

One day, however, disaster struck. His mother was killed by a demon, an event which caused him to awaken his own powers as a Reaper and finish the fiend as it tried to escape. After that event, however, he found himself in the care of his father, a Reaper of Great power and influence, who worked tirelessly to train Grimm into the finest reaper there ever was. He was a cold man, however, and did nothing to help Grimm recover from the trauma of his mother's death, leaving him to resent her for dying, for leaving him alone in this world, for never being there for him and always being there for others.

[User]
Oliver rubbed at his eyes and with a sigh he pushed away from his desk. the rough draft of the newspaper he and his wife ran was sitting in front of him. he'd been up all night and it still wasn't ready. he wasn't sure where Scillia was but he needed a break so he decided to go find her. he rolled out the doors, that had been, kindly enough, built with him in mind. a few employees were trickling in, a few were trickling out, looking just as exhausted as he felt.
he stopped one "have you seen Scillia?" he shook his head. Oliver sighed "thanks" and he rolled over to the small kitchenette before remembering the counters were a bit tall for him. he huffed a little and went back into the main room and looked around. he wasn't sure where she had gone.

It had been a long time since Athalia burned, but as he looked around he honestly sometimes forgot that. some of these people were still feeling the effects of it. Oliver himself was still recovering. as he rolled along he could acutely feel the scar across his abdomen, it still hurt sometimes. this place wasn't the same. Athalia had been like home, and he knew that this should be, but he just didn't feel it. it was like the school would always be his home, even if it wasn't there anymore.

he rolled out the door carefully and glanced around."Scillia!"

[Assistant]
Zivon sighed as he looked outside the window of his home...well it was a tiny shack but that what you get are unable to live in a place with stairs. It was kind of dingy but it was stable and at least felt home like and safe. How long has it been since the attack? Five years...it felt like just yesterday when it happened and the memories still shook him deeply. Lsing the ability to walk, losing con act of his dad...it hurts but he was still going. Maybe it time to go outside, been a while since he went out...and he was low on food, he sighed and got ready. A small bag and his wallet in his hands he left his home. The town was very pretty it calmed him...things have truly changed since the lines of the events.

He walked well moved since he couldn't walk anymore he only had his wheelchair to rely on, sure there was some technology that can help him better but...he didn't want to use it. Going the streets he wasn't sure on what to get, maybe more fruit and buy some more tea packets...green tea and maybe jasmine as well. That sounded good probably, he was going there until he reached a very small park, it had a couple of benches, a drinking fountain and swings and was surround by trees.

Maybe a small stop wouldn't hurt and besides...he got all the time he got and nothing was really gonna stop him. Moving towards the swings he touched the chains that lifted up the seat. Easy to rust... Zivon looked at his bandaged hands, he wasn't injured no it was...well it made him feel safer to wear gloves and bandages on his hands. It doesn't really changed anything with his ability but it still made him feel safe. He lifted himself up form the wheelchair to the swim seat. He was strong enough to move well to another seat close by and he wasn't that heavy at all to lift himself up slightly. Sitting down on the swing, he almost look like a child well a teenager at least. It was quiet and peaceful...calming...he smiled slightly and hummed a small tune.

[User]
Scillia

Scillia pushed herself up off her knees when she heard her name being called. Brushing the dirt from her pants and taking off her gloves, she left the small garden where she grew her herbs and walked through a side door into the building.

"Yes dear?" she asked, crossing the distance and putting a hand on Oliver's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze, "What did you need?"

Sharon

Sharon seemed to melt out of the shadows beside Criston. "Quite the turnout you have so far," She said sarcastically, taking a seat next to the white haired boy. She ordered a drink from the bar with a wave of her hand, and settled back into her chair, rubbing the side of her head through the blindfold. "These damn eyes are giving me migraines lately. It's too bad you don't carry aspirin on you."

[Assistant]
Tsai was not having a good time. She'd left the shop before closing time today (which was a rarity) to run an errand or two, but on her way back she'd been ambushed. By children. One of the endless annoyances of living in towns was that no matter what she did, or where she went, children flocked to her. They were entranced by the girl with flowers in her hair and petals painted into her skin, the one who carried herself like a grown up and did grown up things and spoke grown up words, but was their size. Tsai absolutely loathed it. Her aggravation was only compounded by the way the trees and flowers whispered in nervous anticipation. Something was coming.

They laughed as they pulled her through the town, whispering like the little schemers they were. Tsai wasn't about to be caught doing something as demeaning as fighting off a mob of kids… not that she'd be able to anyway. The dryad was many things, but strong was not one of them. Letting acid seep through her skin was always an option. It would serve these kids right if they got a blistering rash. But then they'd start crying and their parents would be upset, and if there was anything Tsai found more annoying than brats tugging her every which way, it was how obnoxious their parents could get if anyone dared touch their 'precious babies.' Tsai wanted to scoff at that. They'd touched her first.

Besides, these kids had been burned before. Now they knew to grab her over the fine cloth of her sleeves.

The children pulled her to one of the local inns. Apparently it was their favorite. Something about always getting free desserts because the bartender couldn't resist them. Sneaky little demons. They went through the door, and Tsai scanned the room. It was just the usual bunch of unimpressive patrons, but then her gaze fell on an odd little group. Most of them were unfamiliar, but she recognized at least two as people who'd stopped by the flower shop to visit the girl Tsai'd hired to deal with the people part of the business. There was the man with long silver hair, and the blonde girl with a voice like music. She'd never cared to learn their names.

She caught their eyes as she passed them, the children still pulling her by her arms.

"Remove them," she demanded. And then they were tugging her to the bartender, who cooed and laughed, offering them pudding.

@Driving Park

[User]
Grim didn't acknowledge Criston greeting, mostly because he was too focused on his drawing. He didn't even notice the gaggle of noisy brats that seemed to be dragging in a rather annoyed Dryad, the being's soul told him anything. What he did notice was one of the little brats bumping into him, causing his oh so steady pen hand to scratch across the page, leaving a fine black line right in the middle of his work. He stared in cold silence at the ruined piece, thinking of the many hours he had spent on getting thedetails just right, only for a pack of stupid, ill-behaved brats to ruin it. To say that he was mad would be a vast understatement.

The cloak began to writhe and undulate around in a faster, more active, more sinister fashion as he set his sketchbook down, stalking over to the main group of brats, a cold chill running up their spines as they turned to face him. His face was hidden behind a grotesque a terrifying mask reminiscent of a skull in mid-decay, the exactness and accuracy of such making the children whimper in fright. When he spoke, Grimm's voice would come out both quiet and loud at the same time, distorted by the mask and his rage to sound a lot deepe and menacing than it normally did.

"If you brats value your souls, then you'll get out of my sight befoe I rip them from your putrid excuse for a carcass!" To emphasis the point, he summoned his scythe, which had taken an equally terrifying appearance as it was covered in rotted bones and the blade jutted out of the fanged maw of a monstrous skull, the dead eyes of the beast still in place and looking down at the children with contempt and hunger.

The dreadful sight and threat sent the children out of the inn screaming their bloody little heads off. After they were gone, Grimm calmed himself down, causing both his scythe, his mask, and his cloak to take on a much more plain appearance, with the skull mask becoming vastly simplified and the scythe varing only a plain Ivory shaft and a gleaming silver blade the seemed to radiate a soft, comforting glow. "If there is one thing I hate, it's people who mess up my drawings." His voice was normal now, a smooth one that eased into the ears like a whisper, sticking in the mind a second longer than normal. He then abrutly turned around without a word and walked back to his seat, taking another look at the ruined drawing to see if it could be salvaged in anyway, or if he could make the mistake work for the picture.

-0h

Park


[System]
Age: 42

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Sub-Class: Latent Healer

Description: JP stands five feet and eleven inches tall, or 181 cm in metric, and weighs roughly 75 kilos. He has a head of short, neatly cut black hair that's greying on the sides and the fringe. A sharp chin and high cheekbones accentuate his slightly tanned skin that's dusted very lightly with freckles and a few acne scars here and there. His build is very average, coming across as a man who values his fitness a lot, but his job means way more to him.

JP as a person is very... Abrasive. On first meeting, he comes across as a man who doesn't value physical or social interaction a great deal, and he doesn't. His mentality is that if it interferes with his professional work or my strict schedule, he must make it so that it doesn't. He pushes all distractions to the side so he can be at 100% all day, every day, especially since he deals with criminal cases. He carries a strict schedule at both his job and his daily life. Interference with his schedule earns you his ire and anger. In his mind, everything needs to be done in a specific way, always and forever. Changes to this routine are often welcomed with grumbling and complaints about how his methods are more efficient and detailed. He is very sharp-eyed and precise in his work, some people often describe him as clinical and calculated to an extreme level. But it gets the job done and it's done very well, so few complain about his methods.

His social life...well let's just say it doesn't really exist. Outside of a few colleges that he lectures at, he doesn't maintain constant contact with the medical world at large. He keeps to himself and rarely, if ever, attends or speaks at a bigger conference or some such, even though his work is respected and valued in the field of medicine. Very few have broken through his extremely thick shell, and those people he considers his best friends, people he would lay down his life for. Because underneath the sharp, snarky exterior is a soft inside that just wants company that understands him and how he works, and a heart that appreciates the value of human life. He doesn't worry about maintaining relationships between acquaintances or short term friends, but he does maintain strict professional relations with his forensics team, all of whom he respects and trusts a great deal. In speech, he's blunt and often ignores or doesn't pay attention to someone's feelings, being extremely honest about statements and pointing out mistakes if someone else makes them.

When not working, JP spends much of his time at home, either reading various medical journals to expand his knowledge base, or painting as a hobby. If he's ever out maintaining his fitness, he's either jogging or cycling around his neighbourhood. He's infamous amongst his neighbours for being a recluse that you rarely see outside, so on the occasions he does go out to shop for groceries or to exercise, he gets curious stares to the back of his head.

All in all, JP is a realist. A fiercely professional man who reinforces his ideals with action, keeps to himself for the most part and is a very reliable man who gets the job done.

History: JP started his interest in medicine early in his life, after expressing his intent to become a nurse to his parents, who were also nurses. When he was young, he always thought his mother and father were superheroes, helping those in need and caring where others didn't care. He enrolled into medical school after he finished college and left as a registered nurse with an associate's degree in nursing on the side.

JP first started with a local Loom hospital, staying in the accident and emergency department for a few years while he worked on a Bachelor's degree in medicine on the side. Through his stay in the hospital's A&E, he saw much of what would turn him into the aloof, blunt man he is now; deaths, accidents and fatal injuries that shook him to his core. But he gritted his teeth and soldiered on anyway, thinking that he was too stuck in to back out. When he left temporarily to graduate and get his degree, he was desensitised enough to the carnage and bloody horror that was his old department. With that in mind, he shifted focus to surgery instead. After his degree, he spent his residency in general surgery, enriching his knowledge of the human body while getting his hands dirty at the same time.

It was around this time that he encountered his first criminal case. His senior, a surgeon of many years, let him assist in his first case related to crime; to save a man who had been stabbed multiple times in the abdomen. The entire process fascinated him, not the medical aspect, but everything else related to it. Working with the police, helping to catch a killer and bringing him to justice. It excited him in a way that being a regular surgeon didn't. That experience prompted JP to express his interest in taking up forensic pathology. His training didn't start until after his residency ended, after which he went straight to Loom's police precinct Two, doing a one year residency under the apprenticeship of the chief coroner there. When his residency finished, he was transferred to a different precinct, Precinct Five, as the chief coroner there was due to retire in the coming year. JP took over the job with gusto, and spent the remainder of his time until current day there.

During his time in precinct Five, he came into contact with detective Holly Knight, and subsequently worked with her and her team for several years, being the chief medical examiner and pathologist that gave her team all they needed to collar a multitude of serial killers, rapists and other criminals over the course of that few years. However, how disconnected he became between the victims and the job only grew with time, and his abrasive personality and extreme honesty didn't sit well with the others he worked with. They only tolerated him because of his sheer amount of experience and skill in doing his job. Holly, however, was his only friend. Since, due to some extreme and random chance, she was his next-door neighbour. They shared the same commute to work and Holly was the only one who could stand how he was like. They formed a sort of...friendship not long after; Holly defended his choices and, in turn, JP kept up his good work for the precinct.

Of course, his life wasn't without its fair share of mysteries. Since he grew up and his parents passed away of old age, he inherited what little they had, crammed into his tiny apartment near the police precinct where he worked. Within their belongings were a fair share of books in a language he didn't recognise. Thinking that they were just some weird collector's items, he left them in the cardboard boxes he'd found them in. Little did he know, however, that his mother was descended from a long line of mages, and the books were her books on spells and innate magical power. Obviously, JP didn't know anything of it, and he left the books as they were, gathering dust in their cardboard boxes. He didn't care much about his family history; in his to-the-point mind, the only thing that mattered was his work and himself.

Abilities/Skills:
* Hyperawareness - Inactive as of current day, but within JP's essence is a manifestation of his instincts, both as a surgeon and as a pathologist, taken to its logical extreme. He is able to notice the most minute details about anything he focuses on, be it a corpse, a witness or suspect, or even things as simple as inanimate objects or a room. His mind then infers the most logical conclusions from these details and pieces together an image or an outline of what's happened or what might be wrong with something. These images show up for him as a faint, orange silhouette of people, objects and actions caught in suspended animation that only he can see. The ability only triggers if he focuses on a situation or scene at hand, not all the time.
* Magic Healing - Within him, and his bloodline, are the powers of healing. When he lays hands on an injured person, his magics accelerate their body's healing factors, even knitting bone and regenerating lost organ tissue. This takes stamina, and he can only heal so much before falling unconscious.
* Advanced Knowledge of Anatomy and Physiology - As a licensed medical practitioner, JP knows the ins and outs of a human body. What makes it tick, which parts go where, what works, and how to fix what's broken.
* Advanced Studies in Forensic Pathology - Along with being a doctor, his studies focus on criminal intent and injury. His knowledge extends to weapons, what calibre of bullet makes what sort of wound, different types of knife wounds and so on.

Notable Belongings:
* Brown messenger bag
* Comb
* Reading glasses
* Pocket notebook and pen
* Smartphone

[Assistant]
Mistakes were Made

Location: Holly's Apartment

Time: 3 AM

---

Matthew's curiosity was getting the better of him.

Of course, Matthew had a long and colourful history of letting his nature get the better of him, whether it was hunger, pride or sheer pettiness, but this one was probably the highlight of the decade for him.

Namely that he had followed a police officer home without her knowledge, and was now possibly playing hide-and-seek with something else that might have also followed her home.

Matthew had not seen such a being before, which was pretty worrisome on its own. He had been peering in at one of the windows - and seen enough to convince him that she was definitely mostly human for now, if maybe a little too intense - when the hum of life around him had flickered. Sorting out the ripples of emotion and intensity was not easy, and had become especially tricky since he'd come to Loom, but close proximity helped. Whatever this was, it was nearby. He had abandoned his perch to scout around the block and back, stepping a lot more lively given the seemingly deserted street, and when he leaped lightly back up to check on the woman he discovered the thing had in fact slipped inside.

"My, you smell... delicious."

The vampire did not entirely disagree with this statement; she was strong and healthy, and her blood hummed with such power it had been the entire reason he'd followed her all this way. So not the point. though.

"Now, that's not very nice."

Yeah, no.

By the time the human screamed, Matthew had tackled the other monster from behind. If 'tackled' was an appropriate descriptor for his ramming two knives into the being while his momentum slammed them both up against the wall. His aim was unerring; Contempt's black blade straight through the back of its neck, the smaller silver knife he'd recently acquired into its back, piercing its heart - assuming this creature had its heart in the same place as the average human.

[User]
Mistakes Were MadeNext door to Holly Knight's apartment
11:30 PM

---

"Argh, le fils de pute. Stupid lock."

The Frenchman grumbled as he mangled his fingers (read: entangled his fingers in) with his key-ring. After a second of fumbling, he found the right key, jammed it into the slot and headed in to comfort and, well, home. The day, and by extension the night, had been exceptionally long for him. Unlike his neighbour who could clock off at a reasonable time, he had to stay behind to make sure his work was done just right. After all, he was the only chief medical examiner in the precinct, and with crime levels at an all-time high, he was neck deep in work processing the number of bodies that came through his morgue every day. It was driving him up the wall with how overworked he'd been in recent days, even with an assistant that he'd been given graciously by whatever higher-ups he had.

As he ambled into his apartment, he closed his door and locked it, testing the knob and jiggling the door to make sure it was properly locked like it always was. Then he tossed his keys precisely into the small bowl perched on the chest of drawers next to the door (where it'd always been) and hung his thick coat on the coat rack next to it. His satchel went onto the couch and the first thing he went for was the thermostat that he turned to his usual, comfortable 24°C. Not too hot, not too cold, especially in eastern France. After which he made his way into his kitchenette and poured himself a cold, stiff finger of whiskey on the rocks. Then, with his drink in hand, he stood by his apartment window and stared out at the city. He could just barely make out the sound of sirens in the distance, a constant companion to him ever since he'd joined the police department, seemingly the city's siren song to the masses, a reminder that Loom was a dangerous city; one you should never attempt to traverse at night.

Today was no different; he'd gotten through two (or three, the hours and bodies blurred) autopsies and post-mortems for two (or three) new cases, along with writing reports for two more that he had to submit by the next day at the latest. And the worst part was that he had to be early tomorrow to finish up, submit the reports, then start on the two (or three, merde he was getting old) new reports before he could even take a break.

At least he'd come home at a respectable time. Sometimes his neighbour Holly would come home even later, her keys rattling in her lock waking him from his slumber occasionally when her job called her away at unearthly hours. They were both law enforcement, so it was expected, but a part of him wished that, maybe, they'd both get a break one day. Holly was his only friend, after all. Someone he could trust enough to not feel like a total d'idiot if he asked her out for dinner and a drink.

After a while of mulling over his own thoughts and his whiskey, he retired to his bathroom for a hot shower, then to his bed, where he fell into a silent, blank sleep.

---

3 AM

The sounds of a struggle woke Jean-Phillipe from his slumber. His senses kicked into gear before his body did, alerting him of what was happening; a fight, Holly screaming, something heavy falling over, caused by her body impacting it. A new, unfamiliar person attacking her assailant, judging by the near-animalistic (and slightly muffled) growling through his wall. Groggy and still half-awake, the Frenchman jerked himself out of bed and dragged himself over to the door, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes as he unlocked his door and peeked over at his neighbour. No surprise, the door was ajar and wood chips and splinters littered the floor.

That woke him up.

"Merde- Holly?!"

In his fuzzy bedroom slippers, he rushed into her apartment to find her sprawled out on her sofa, which was upturned, and a mysterious younger man struggling on top of...something else entirely. Two thin slivers of shiny metal jutted from the bigger silhouette's back, no doubt weapons of some sort, which made JP look around for the nearest one for him. He caught sight of her coat, holster still attached and pistol still within, and reached for it, a hand pulling the heavy black handgun from its leather receptacle and pointing it at the two struggling men on the floor, both hands now clasped firmly around the grip. With one hand, JP flicked the off-white plastic hallway light switch into the 'on' position and mustered his best police voice.

"Je suis la police! Freeze!"

Only after shouting this did he remember that he, unlike her, did not have training with a firearm. Or even own one. And, as quietly as he could, he swore.

"...merde."


[System]
'Sella'
♀

---

Abilities

Personality

Biography

[User]
@Psyker Landshark@Pyromania99@Click This@VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist

No silver sword in sight, only a necromancer wearing the armor of the Silverlight God.

"This isn't the paladin."

A simple, cutting phrase. It was a decoy. If death alone was enough to cause a paladin of that abominable order to abandon their blade, then those zealots would have been so much easier to deal with. Ilena turned her gaze to the others. Dragan, instrumental for preventing them from being overwhelmed, and Luna, who assisted him with her emotive manipulations. Giselle and the Rime-Winged Vermillion Angel maintained the high-ground advantage, raining projectiles down below. And Akyasha herself, in this instance, looked to be most suitable for the task of tracking down that silvered blade.

Fine.

She wasn't hungry, and this was not a hunt worth expending any energy on, but Ilena would do it regardless. She sighted her target, gathered her might, and...pounced.

A black wolf bearing two sets of buzzing wings, dove downwards from the top of the gate, its form as fluid as ink, as mud. But its fangs and claws were very real, and the shadowmeld weapons scattered the undead beneath the beast, before the beast itself sank into their shadows. Snaking through the chaos of the disorderly horde, it circled around the armored lich as nothing more distinct than a puddle of mud, before bursting out once more to strike at it from behind, jaws opened to take its head clean of its shoulders.

[Assistant]
Dragan Meszaros

By now, Dragan's suspicions were confirmed. This absolutely wasn't the paladin they'd been warned about. In that case...this was a waste of time.

"Enough of this." Dragan said, hefting his looted warhammer up as he stepped out onto the edge of his perch. "Either the battle ends here, or our actions prove drastic enough to lure the other one out. Regardless, I've had quite enough of sitting back and merely directing matters."

If a lord did not sally forth into battle himself, how would he ever inspire his people? With that in mind, Dragan channeled blood magic through his legs and leapt, his hammer gripped in both hands as he descended upon the large skeleton at the same moment that Ilena sicced her shadow wolf on it.

The Death Knight's leap had him on a direct trajectory with the skeleton's raised arm, and Dragan swung as he came into range, his warhammer aiming to utterly crush the bone arm that was raised to assail Giselle.

[User]
Giselle de FarryUndead Princess, de Farry

---

A skeletal horde, a skeletal beast, and an undead being that appeared to be a paladin, but on closer inspection, lacked its signature sword. Curiouser and curiouser, but it mattered not. Even if it as a diversion, what mattered at the end of the day was that it was all still in between them and their goal.

Giselle hadn't expected much of the small caliber, pedestrian weapon, but it had its intended effect. In this case, it appeared –whichever was the one that was controlling the other—didn't like being shot at. The white-haired vampire was prepared for the retaliation, however, and she holstered her pistol as she leapt away from the path of the beast's bone arm. Seeing Dragan move to her support, she gave him a nod as he took advantage of the opening. Even if the smaller paladin –or paladin lookalike—was controlling the larger skeleton, it was hard to stop that amount of inertia.

Indeed, the time for gauging the battle behind the safety of the ramparts was over. She made her landing in a sea of lesser undead, which she reaped with a whirl of her enhanced scythe, batting aside the rest as she turned her attention back to the paladin. Starting towards it, she called out to two of her companions. "Dragan, Aleksiya, with me. Let us see if we can end this by striking at the supposed source." In another motion, she sliced out with her polearm at the armored figure, engaging it in melee combat.

[Assistant]
It was only obvious that the monstrous, gigantic skeleton was effectively an extension of the smaller figure. And thus their target became more obvious. Exactly where the sword was located wasn't immediately clear, which was all the more concerning, but Aleksiya was hardly about to allow herself to be shaken by something like that. No matter what, this monster would be destroyed.

The moisture in the air condensed, the crystal form of another spear of ice materializing over the diminutive vampire's right shoulder. Then another, over her left, and a third above her head.

"Hmph, I don't need an order to know that's the best idea," she said with a dismissive huff, even though she immediately moved in compliance with Giselle, targeting the smaller figure as she swiftly advanced. Certainly, she disliked the feeling of being commanded by someone who by all rights as her equal at most, but at the same time willfully ignoring a solid piece of strategy wasn't a show of her pride. It was a show of stupidity.

Eliminating the smaller figure that seemed to puppet the skeleton was, as of their current information, the most solid choice they had.

Her first ice spear hadn't managed to penetrate its armor. So, at closer range, from a better angle...

Sprinting around to the figure's right, her ice spears tilted towards it and launched all at once while Giselle attacked.

@ERode@Asuras@Psyker Landshark@Click This@Pyromania99

[User]
Akyasha stood as her allies charged the smaller undead in full armor. "Hmm, I wonder if that's not. Much has changed since our death, has it not? Take caution, or don't. I suppose." The Cleric said, wondering if they could even hear her. As she looked out, she hadn't noticed anything more coming toward them, so if what her bats had said were true, and why would it not be, the sword was very likely here. Then, she turned her attention to the skeletons that had managed their way up to the top of the gate where she was. Well, not everyone needed to fight the big one. Someone needed to handle these smaller ones. Using blood magic, she formed two rather heavy looking maces in her hands. "Alright little ones. Go find a small meal of some wild ghouls or something while we clean up here." She said to her Gorebats before waving them off.

She just needed to clean up some skeletons. It shouldn't be a problem. They were only shambling toward them, not charging, but she didn't want them getting into the Cathedral proper at this moment. "I won't have you go much further than this." The Cleric hummed a small bit before leaping forward and bringing one mace down on a skeleton, bashing it to pieces, before bringing her other arm around to cleanly smashing the skull off of another then keeping up her assault on them since it needed to be taken care of anyway. It just meant her allies could focus on the bigger one if she focused down these smaller ones. Twelve shouldn't be much a problem for her, even in this weakened state. After all, she took care of much more when she didn't have as much blood as she did now.

[Assistant]
Location: Alavaris
Cathedral
Landshark@Asuras@Erode@VitaVitaAR@Click This@Pyromania99

---

Illena acted swiftly. Shadows melded, moved, slithered between the undead horde that was oblivious to her assault. The armored paladin seemed unresponsive as she'd rush it, shadows bursting from the ground in the shape of a hound, fangs of shadow aiming for the armored undeads head.

It would be a surprise at least, that it would move so swiftly.

Just before the fangs would meet its head, the armored humanoid jerked its entire body around, an armored hand grasping at the shadows and with a mighty swing, slammed the shadowy wolf back into the old stone below, its hands lighting up with faint remnants of holy power, completely dissipating the shadows.

This did not stop Aleksiya's spears, though, as they'd slam into the armor of the paladin. The undead hissed, groaning as one spear pierced its armor and quickly, jerkingly turn towards Aleksiya just in time to see Giselle lashing out with her weapon. With a growl, it'd raise its hands and with fading holy power it'd deflect the blade with its hands, leaving the bloody weapon lightly corroded and the paladins own hands with a deep cut. This was followed by it lunging forwards, attempting to grapple Giselle as it'd reach for her weapon.

Above, Dragan launched himself towards the skeletal giants arm. Warhammer met bone, the force of the impact enough to cause some of the ancient bones to crack, but not enough to completely break the force completely as Dragan would be finding himself being slammed back into the ground, engaged in a small contest of strength as the skeletons' weight bore down on him. Unless he did something, he'd likely be crushed as it'd raise its arm for a second smackdown.

Akyasha's gorebats nodded, swiftly flying away from the battle. No doubt they would return soon enough, gorged and full of blood and ready for their duty of being either used as sacrificial pawns or aiding the others with small boons of blood. For now though, she'd engage those that had made it to atop the wall. Bloody maces smashing and crushing their bones. With dragan's wraiths still supporting her, this should quickly make short work of the undead.

[User]
@Psyker Landshark@Pyromania99@Click This@VitaVitaAR@Rune_Alchemist

Dissipation?

No.

To grab at shadows was to grab at air: one could close their hands over a form that looks so real, only to pass through nothing. Ilena writhed beneath the undead paladin's grasp, splattering like paint against the ground before the burst of holy light chased those congealed shadows away. To presume that darkness could be slain by light was foolish. They moved at equal speeds, forever chasing after one another, and though her form was broken, to return once more was as simple as molding mud back together. As the paladin turned, lunging towards Giselle, the black mud rose out of his own shadows. Limbs, too long to be of humanoid nature, wrapped around his, wrenching joints backwards to expose the paladin's head and chest.

If he wished for Giselle's blade so dearly, then let him have it.

Amethyst eyes emerged within the nightmarish silhouette and narrowed in their assent.

[Assistant]
Luna Emeraltide

With her woven disorder spread across the battlefield, Luna turned then to more directed and immediate defensive measures. Her comrades locked in combat needed more specific aid, and in the moments that the skeletal beast began lifting its massive hand to crush Dragan, she saw opportunity for exactly that.

Where song wove broadly, her eyes focused upon singular targets. Luna's gaze became as piercing spears, and with it ethereal chains pulled by the inertia of weighted points. Manifesting above the skeleton's arm, several chains descended and weaved through ulna and radius. Clamoring and clanking beset the air as the magical metal swung wide and circular, wrapping and coiling the forearm. By her will, Luna sought to bind the slamming arm, and stop it short of collapsing upon Dragan.

Not content with staying there upon the walls in this hectic moment, Luna dropped down to the others, and put in her comparatively meager strength to dispatch the rank and file of the battle. Her silver sabre drawn, she took to striking gracefully, fluidly, at the skeletal and zombified minions. Though pitiful, any amount of breathing room for the others who were engaged with far more important targets, could go a long way.

[User]
Giselle de FarryUndead Princess, de Farry

---

Giselle hadn't counted on the paladin seizing the blade of her scythe entirely, nor did she expect the metallic construction of her weapon to corrode. She allowed herself a small grimace before she reacted. If her constructs, even once converted from blood could still be tainted by holy light, then she was weak indeed. Even if so, that didn't matter now, when her compatriots helped her take the paladin to task around her.

She took care to pull back, ripping the blade of her scythe from its hands with a twist, doing nasty things to the paladin's hands with its cutting edge, as Aleksiya's spears and Dragan's war hammer did equally devastating damage to the undead beings. Yet they still lived. The white-haired vampire reengaged the paladin as he lunged towards her, just as Illena's nightmarish shadows began to wrap around him, restraining him and giving Giselle the perfect opening to deal a crippling blow to the undead paladin.

She would thank her later. For now, she would simply crash down upon its exposed head and chest with a downwards slash of her scythe. If she were given the opportunity, she would twist the weapon immediately upwards for a combo, before kicking herself away to reassess the situation. Giselle had noted Dragan's temporary distress, but she knew enough of the vampire lord to be confident in his recovery.


[System]
Age: 18
Gender: Female
Appearance:

Job: Doctor
Bio: The only daughter of an English politician and an Italian musician, Marcella was born into a life of luxury. She was raised with strict rules and high expectations, rarely seeing the world past her noble upbringing. It was no surprise when she was assigned the job of the doctor. Marcella is determined to use her abilities to help others as much as possible, and learn more about the world around her.
Other: Marcella is bilingual, able to fluently speak both Italian and English.

[User] Max looked up and said "she just left for the train station" He was a little surprised Lila doesn't usually have trouble finding Cooper, after all Lila probably knows her way around this town better than anyone else. Max then said "do you need something fixed, I work on more than just clocks, I'm a inventor first and foremost." @Framing A Moose

[Assistant]
The ride to the Metalneart village was long, but calm. The first-class car was relatively empty, no nobles eager to step foot in the slums of the town save for Marcella, which wasn't exactly bad. The silence was a welcome tranquility. It gave time for the doctor to think. To think of the illness. To think of the state of the village. To think of her old friends.

Marcella's heart twisted with anticipation and anxiety as she thought of Max and Cooper. It had been so long since she'd last seen them due to her habit of staying in her part of town. She missed them dearly, especially the latter of the two. But did they miss her? Did they even remember her? A sudden thought flashed through the doctor's mind, a sharp thorn in the quilt of nostalgia. What if they had caught the illness? The question drove a sharp sense of dread through her heart. She couldn't bear to lose her close friends.

The train finally stopped and Marcella gathered her things. She hurried out of her train car, ignoring the curious looks sent her way. She'd gotten too many of those in the last few years for them to bother her. Her eyes scanned the shambles of tenements and filthy streets. A figure far away caught her eye, their direction set on the train station. Perhaps they would provide some directions. Picking up her plain grey dress to avoid the mud, Marcella went towards the approaching figure.

[User]
Cooper got to the train station to find her small crew already working, hauling huge spools of copper wiring into the station. They had arrived earlier in a beat-up old handcar that went from a warehouse at the other end of the village to the station, built for carrying building and electrical materials. Though it was ill-advised, all four crewmen rode on it there, not wanting to walk behind it. As soon as she arrived, she grabbed a bucket of tools from the cart and started walking into the station, not above getting her heavy work boots covered in mud as she walked.
She saw a well-to-do young woman coming toward her out of the station, but she couldn't tell who it was. Knowing to avoid upperclass people, she tried to walk around her and avoided looking too closely at her.

[Assistant] Marcella hesitated as the figure veered away. So much for asking for directions. Then again, she did stick out like a sore thumb. Biting back a sigh, the Italian turned and wandered towards the shopping district. At least, she assumed it was. A couple of stores were open while the rest were nothing more than empty boarded up shells. Perhaps someone here knew a thing or two of the blossoming sick victims. Marcella walked into the nearest shop (a clock repair establishment? Hard to tell with the faded sign.) and reached into her purse for her notebook. "Sorry for the bother," she called, fumbling with her contents, "but my name is Dr. Biancardi and I'm here for some information..."

[User] Cooper looked over her shoulder as the woman passed her. She looked so familiar, could it be... no... impossible. She shook her head and kept working, heading into the station where her crew was waiting. Most of them were about her age, some a bit younger and some a bit older, but all of them looked thoroughly overworked.

[Assistant] Lila hesitated, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear with her left hand, the one with the engagement ring. "Er...." She wasn't exactly comfortable with a clock maker working on her beloved, but she finally decided that this guy was a professional and that she could trust him. "Well....okay....it's Ali-....my carriage. Something's wrong with her. It's a little bit of a walk though." She said nervously.

[User] Max turned to Lila and said "sorry it seems like I have a customer, I'll look at the carriage in a minute" @Framing A Moose Max then turned to Marcella and said "what information do you need." Max then realized who it was and said "Marcella? is that you?"@Fubsy

[Assistant]
Marcella's head shot up as the familiar voice reached her ears. "Maxwell?! Lila too!" A wide grin spread across her face as she ran over to give them a hug. "It's been so long!" It took more than a minute for her to finally let go, relief flooding through her body.
"Where's Cooper?" She looked around in hoping to catch a glimpse of her. "I've been hoping to see her again." 'Hoping' was an understatement. These days, it seemed like the young Metalheart was always in her mind. Marcella couldn't understand why, or why her cheeks seemed to flush at the very thought of her. A jolt of anxiety pushed the thoughts away. "She's not ill, is she?"

[User] Max said "I just saw her a few minutes ago heading to train station, she looked fine to me"

[Assistant] Cooper and her crew had started working. They needed to install wire in the newest platform so that the screen could display schedules like all the others. Not particularly a hard job, and maybe it wouldn't take all day if they'd been allowed to work on it before the platform was put to use. Many people in the lower-middle echelons of society were already waiting on the platform when they got there to start working, making malicious comments about how inconvenient it was that the screen wasn't functional yet. Cooper had always advised the workers to just ignore them; they had a job to do, and indulging self-important nobodies in teasing matches wouldn't make it go any faster.

[User] Relief flooded through Marcella. So Cooper was okay...good. Beyond good, really. She couldn't wait to see her friend again. "Thank you, Max." She turned towards Lila. "You can come with me if you'd like." She hurried out and back towards the train station.

[Assistant]
@Framing A Moose

A train arrived at the platform and took the annoying passengers away so that the crew could work in peace. Cooper decided to leave for a moment so that she could have a quick break. She walked outside to the station entrance and leaned against the wall, staring absently at the sky. Looks like rain, Cooper thought as she sank down to the floor. Cooper often wondered if she was doing anything at all for her people, or even for her family. Sure, the extra income was good for all of them, but they were still living in squalor and were still among the most despised people in the country. Nothing had changed; if anything, it was getting worse by the day. The most bigoted, dogmatic man in the city was running for office, and the only person from school that she hadn't lost contact with was Maxwell. She didn't blame the others for forgetting them, if that was the case; it couldn't be easy to get to this part of town and socialize with these kind of people without losing all social standing. She sighed heavily; it was just one of those days.

[User]
Marcella gave the train station a sweeping look, hoping to catch a glimpse of her friend. A light sprinkling of ran was beginning to fall. The warnings of an approaching storm. Hopefully it wouldn't last long. A crew of workers shot her odd look. Some curious, others hostile. Marcella merely gave them a tight lipped smile and continued her search.

A figure crouched against the wall caught her eye. At first she seemed them merely as one of the workers taking a break or so. But on closer inspection, they seemed familiar. Shockingly familiar. "Cooper!" Marcella gasped, her eyes lit with joy. "Cooper, is that you?!"

[Assistant] Cooper flinched at the voice and looked around. That couldn't be... could it? She stood up and nearly lost her breath when she saw her dear friend Marcella. An overjoyed smile crept across her face as she raced towards her, catching her in a tight hug. "Marcella! I can't believe it's you!" She exclaimed as she pulled away to look at her. Marcella looked just as tired and stressed as Cooper did. "How are you? What brings you here?"

[User]
Some time after Marcella and Lila left, Max was ready to close his shop and then two men in suits walked up and said "Mr. Taylor, we need to talk." Max glared at them and said "what do you want now?" He heard a voice behind him say "we are here for the item we asked you to make" Max turned around to see a man named Mr. Black. Max said "I told you it's not done yet…." One of the men in black smacked him in the head. Max dropped to one knee coughing. Mr. Black said "don't joke with us Mr. Taylor we know that you finished that weapon yesterday, you are too skilled to take that long to make what we want." Max glared at the man. Mr. Black then said "don't mess with us or you will be replacing your other leg." Max then stood up slowly since the prosthetic leg he had wasn't motorized yet. He then said "fine, this way." He then led them to the back where he moved a clock revealing a lock. He spun the dials and unlocked the fake wall that revealed the weapon. The two men in black suits took the weapon and put it in a bag. Mr. Black said "now wasn't that easy" Max said "yeah, it's not like I have a choice"
Mr. Black glared at Max and said "Mr. Taylor you a valuable asset to Black Rose, your weapons are leagues above anything anyone else has made." Mr. Black then smiled and said "you truly are a decedent of the Great John Gildone, and yet only your mother knew the truth and you stupid father never once realized what talent you had" Max said "yeah he was working for you at one point and then my gramps gave you morons the slip" One of the men in black hit him again. Max coughed up some blood and said "you do realize that isn't going to stop me" Mr. Black said "that is true, though if we were to threaten your friends, family, or…" He smiled and said "the one you care about so much" Max then said "you wouldn't dare." Mr. Black said "we will do everything that is necessary no matter what it is to keep the peace that is what Black Rose was created for." Mr. Black then pulled Max close and said "Also I believe your grandfather left a clue with your mother that she gave to you which is a clue to where he is hiding and we will find out what it is soon enough." Max said "I may be smart but even I have no clue what he left use that is important."
Mr. Black said "we will find out what it is "He then said "remember if you try to betray us again we will hurt your friends and we will hurt her." Max said "why do need all these weapons?" Mr. Black said "To protect our organization and our benefactors and if Magnus T. Carthenwald is elected he may start a civil a war, we need this weapons to protect us and our benefactors." Max then said "but you guys are planning on killing him before he can do anything I thought." Mr. Black said "no our puppet rebels will do that for us." Mr. Black then looked over at the window and said "Look our methods are questionable but you wish the same end that we do." Mr. Black turned to Max and said "We want metalhearts to not be treated as lower class just because we make and work on machines, even if we are rich metalhearts are not treated the same as other rich people." Max said "yeah, and that's the very reason why my grandfather hid from you." Mr. Black then said "yeah, well now we have you, and you are going help us build a future." Mr. Black then left with the other men in Black. Max sat down in a seat in the shop "what am I going to do" He said to himself. He then looked up and said "grandfather why did you curse me with your skills." He then pulled up his pant leg to work on his prosthetic leg some before he left the shop and headed to his house in the back of the store.

[Assistant] Marcella laughed lightly, though it seemed more weary than anything. "Oh, Coop...I'm so happy to see you're okay." She gave her another tight hug. "I came because of some illness going around." And because I wanted to see you, she silently added. "Luckily I ran into Max and Lila, and they told me where you were."

[User] "Lila's here? I haven't seen her since graduation!" Cooper exclaimed. She sighed happily and looked back at her crew, who were clearly trying to signal for her return without verbally interrupting what was clearly a tender moment. She smiled and rolled her eyes as she looked back at the beautiful Marcella. "The guys need me, we're just finishing up this job. How about we meet up back at Max's shop?"

[Assistant]
Lila had left at the same time as Marcella, but it didn't take her long to fall behind. Lila had low stamina, probably because she tended to use her fiancé to get around instead of her own two legs. But after a more than a few rests, she finally reached the train station. Almost immediately, she saw the doctor, who's name still evaded her, talking to Cooper. She jogged up to them, standing a few yards away. She panted for a few seconds before she was able to speak again. "I...*pant* *pant*...am...*pant**pant*...here...*pant**pant*...too...*pant*" she said, speaking between pants.

@ladyanglaise

[User] A Moose Cooper looked over to Lila and laughed. Some things - or rather, some people - never change. "Lila, it's so nice to see you again, but I have work to do right now. I was just telling Marcella that we should all meet up in a bit at Max's shop."

[Assistant]
"Wonderful idea," Marcella agreed. She gave Cooper one final embrace, with a quick farewell peck on the cheek before pulling away. "I'll see you there."
 She flashed the arriving Lila an apologetic smile and took her hand. "Let's go."


[System]
MPD:

Chester Jonas portrayed by @Enalais
Samantha Wiles portrayed by @Tackytaff

Para Protection Society

Robert Winters portrayed by @King Cosmos

Unaligned:

William Locke portrayed by @Sep
Tamara Jankowski portrayed by @Starlance
Adrian Romano as portrayed by @Lord of Evil
Owen Armstrong portrayed by @Heat
White Rabbit portrayed by @GingerBoi123
Holly Farstel portrayed by @Datadogie
Morrigan O'Connor portrayed by @GrizzTheMauler

---

---

IMPORTANT NPCS

---

---

None.

Yay.

[User]
DERELICT BUILDING // CITY SLUMS

William shook his head as the information came at him fast and hard. Apparently, the ghostly figure had been seen by everyone, and not only that it had actually appeared on Lornes system. That spoke highly of the figures hacking capabilities. Lorne was notoriously hard to hack. From what he had been told trying to hack Lorne was nigh impossible as when trying to break through firewalls they were virtually re-written around your attack. Not that he had ever tried, he could barely file a report using a system designed for filing reports. He liked to think that it was as much the fault of the system as his.

Taylor confessed that 'it' was probably the best turn of phrase, wasn't going to be leaving his side out of some form of debt. Ratman was busy asking him what the next objective was. He stood up, his entire body objecting. "You all think you're so clever. If you want to go uncovering a mystery you find out who this watcher is. He obviously knows something and has abilities of some description. You want to know what's going on, ask him or ask Lorne." He waved his hand in their direction. "Don't ask me. I've already lost everything to Lorne. I'd rather live with what I have left until some MPD officer puts a bullet in my head."

[Assistant]
Taylor's eyes rested firmly on William as he stood. Once again, its concern for his well-being did not show through in the slightest on its exterior. Though, his physical health was not the only thing that had Taylor's attention. His attitude concerned, and even somewhat offended it. Although Taylor was sworn to protect him, that did not imply complete agreement with him.

"You are...wrong, William." Taylor stated. At its current energy, it towered over William, and everyone else in the room. Looking down into his eyes, Taylor held its arms out wide to call yet more attention to its nightmarish form. "They did not take your Humanity. You still have something left to reclaim."

Taylor turned its head back around towards the para woman and the Ratman. "I want to burn to ash everything and everyone that belongs to Lorne...but I will first protect William. He must live. He must heal."

Taylor took a moment to observe William now that he was standing. He was weak, much moreso than it would have expected from burns alone. There had to be something more, some other way that pushing his abilities so far had harmed him. Not only that, but it realized that Lorne themselves may have done something even more troubling to him. Taylor recalled their conversation when they first met, as well as its own experiences at the hands of Lorne's doctors. While they certainly would not be safe for long in this abandoned apartment, it was possible they might not be safe anywhere. "You are my savior. But also my patient, my responsibility. You need more treatment, and I need more tools to treat you. But more than that...you said when we first met that Lorne forced you through surgery? Opened you up...perhaps left something behind? They tried to put things in me before, but my body was not kind to their implants. If they put something in you to track you, then I need to take it out. Does anyone have a place to go that Lorne can be allowed to find."

[User]
Darkspire observed the other paras, her scowl deepening in the unnatural shade of her masked face. "I was hoping you would find out more, but I can have my associate look at it. They're a hacker of sorts. It would take time for them. I do not fully know how their ability works, only that they're good at what they do." She sighed pinching the bridge of her nose. "As for medical services... I could offer a place. My brother's old clinic. It's out of the way, and relatively safe. I myself must leave before dawn comes."

She turned to look outside. "Even though they've taken nearly everything from me, I'm going to fight them. Because I have no other choice." She looked to the others. "They will never stop looking for you. I can offer temporary reprieve inside the Clinic for as long as you need. It's an extreme risk to myself and my identity, but if it gives you a bit more reason to let us align ourselves, then so be it."

[Assistant]
The Ratman stopped leaning against the wall and stood up straight.
"If neither of you have other plans, I'd suggest you take Miss O'Connor's suggestion." He said to the pair. "It's probably for the best to leave treatment in the hands of a professional. But first..."
With that, he bowed towards the creature.
"Thank you for your cooperation." He said to the pair.
He turned to leave the building. He had gotten what he wanted, more or less, so his business was done.
"I'll be leaving you to your own devices, but I will keep watch for you. I am no friend of Lorne." He said as he walked away.

The rats followed him out of the building, save one who quietly slipped a shabby note into William's pocket. On the paper was a crudely written message.

If you wish to stay out of danger, be careful with who you side with.

The rats maintained their vigilance outside. As the old saying went, the enemy of his enemy was his friend, but he wasn't sure if the director of science was an ally just yet. Only time would tell what side she was truly on, and whether she could contribute to their mission. Until then, they would do what they always did.

[User]
William scoffed as he backed away from Taylor, and then the lady that apparently 'had to go before morning'. What, she a scheduling conflict or something? "Look. I'm fine, they aren't tracking me. They performed surgery on me because I was shot. I'm actually kind of glad they decided to take out the bullet and do repairs. Besides no offence, but you don't even have real arms, hands or fingers and yet you want to perform complex surgery on me?"

He limped towards the door after the path Ratman had made. "No. I'm going for a drink."

[Assistant]
"No!" Taylor firmly interjected, not only verbally, but physically. It moved itself in front of William, blocking the way to the door. "Before, when I was...Human, I was a doctor. And you...are my patient. I gave up my chance of retribution to Lorne. I gave up on burning, destroying their labs once I was out of my cage for you. You were unconscious, you were helpless, so I chose you. To protect you. I dragged you out here myself, protected you, treated you, and I didn't do all that just to let you go out and kill yourself."

Taylor's stance was firm and authoritative in a way it never could have accomplished as a Human. In a way, it was cathartic to finally feel that weight of authority over a patient who was acting against their own self-interest. "You will come to the clinic, you will rest, and you will heal. Once you are well...then you stop being my responsibility."

[User]
As Owen slumped against brick wall, then slid down it into a seated position on the cold, hard floor. The parahuman let out a sigh as police sirens blared in the distance. He ran both of his hands through his hair, then held his head down towards his chest. Frustrated at what he had done, the chaos he had caused and the deaths he'd brought upon the unlucky innocents inside the now malformed diner. The wanted man angrily grasped at his hair, letting out a deep breath as he tried his damnedest to remove the image of the dying bystander from his mind. The silent shock evident within the dying eyes as the poor fellow ceased to breathe.

Suddenly Owen was pulled from his dark thoughts, absorbed out of reality as all outside noise had silenced and faded for an astonishing moment. A familar face appeared before him, giant in its size and scope as the voice hammered into his eardrums. The words were more soothing, addressing him directly. It sent a shiver down the parahuman's spine as the unknown face spoke. He had scrambled to his feet, eyes going wide as they had ever been as he simply stared astonished at the giant face. The symptoms which he had felt at its first appearance did not reoccur, it was as if this figure had displayed itself directly into his mind. It did not manifest itself on every single screen across the city, which led Owen to believe that is what had caused his breakdown.

"P-para Protection Society? Wait!" He exclaimed, stepping forward as the face had fallen apart like shattered glass, leaving no trail behind as reality came back to him.

Owen scratched his neck, looking around to find himself in the same place he had been before the bizarre moment. The sirens were once more ablaze in the distance, as the other sounds of the megacity echoed around him as well. He turned and strolled out of the alleyway, even more unsure of things than he had been minutes before. That being was tracking him, it must have had some unsettling powers to do what it had done on this eventful day. Its words were softly spoken in this most recent encounter, as if it was trying to help him. He briefly debated taking the nearest train and just running as far as he could away, but that would lead nowhere. And in all honesty the constant running was wearing thin. He had nowhere to go except where this mysterious face had advised him to. He just hoped he wasn't walking into some horrific trap.

---

Against his better judgement he returned to the deformed diner scene, albeit with a new change of clothes. He stared at the pure mass of police presence surrounding it, watching it from a safe distance. It was not the first time Owen needed to be just another face in the crowd, as long as he did not do anything to draw attention to himself then he'd seen as just one more random bystander going about their daily business. His eyes shifted to the police drones, pausing briefly as he stared at them. They always used so much technology and machinery, it at least gave Owen multiple routes of escape if he were ever cornered or worse, captured.

That was not on the agenda though, he needed to find the Parahuman Protection Society, though did not have the faintest idea of where to start. He'd heard faint rumbles of their existence, seen graffiti on the sides of buildings and heard the rejects of society preach their noble goals. While also hearing plenty of news headlines of their misdeeds and alleged crimes. In his tumultuous time as a para Owen had realized some of the things in which you had to do in order to get by, so as to not end up locked up in a Lorne facility somewhere, undergoing whatever terrifying things they do to captured parahumans.

As he walked along the sidewalk he rubbed his hands gently together, paying no mind to any ideal chit chat or the people staring at the result of his outburst. Most of them would see it as another example of parahuman terror even if it was truthfully a bizarre incident in which he'd lost control. Then he paused in his stride at an older man walking towards the crime scene. Something click in Owen's mind as he brought an identity to the face. A face which had been plastered on the news or on billboards as a wanted man, like Owen was. Another para, the one with the prosthetic arm.

"Hey, I wouldn't go there if I were you." Owen stated as he moved his fingers gently, enough to seize momentariyl control of the robotic prosthetic and point fingers towards himself. An ignorable gesture to others around them, but a bold one to the other para.

Cosmos

[Assistant]
William scoffed. "Okay, fine but I'm going to grab a drink on the way there at the very least." He started walking towards the door before realising he wasn't entirely sure where they were going. "Is someone going to lead the way?" He stood to the side of the door in order to let someone else go before them. He turned to the floating lady whose brother owned the clinic they were supposedly going too.

"So what's your deal, I understand Taylors reasoning for helping us out, but what are you after?" There was something unsettling about her, something he didn't quite trust. Maybe it was her abilities were an unknown to him, he understood that Taylor somehow absorbed energy which it could then redistribute. Whereas this lady? She could fly and create balls of light, what exactly she could do was an unknown and he didn't like unknowns. Never had, and didn't now. Especially these days when there was a mysterious figure sticking its nose in their lives. He had to be careful so that they knew what was going on.


[System]
Sex
Male

Age
35

Race
Elf

History
Arin was born into the House of Astastel, a prestigious yet mysterious family whose influence can be felt in virtually every part of the civilized world. Although they are not officially recognized as a noble House, members of the Astastel House are accustomed to a life of luxury and being treated with the uttermost respect. There are many speculations on how the Astastel House came to gain such power, but no one knows the truth: not even their own members truly know the answer.

There are only three things people know with absolute certainty. First, unless you are born a von Astastel, you either marry into or are adopted by the House. Never the other way around. Never. Second, those who claim to be a von Astastel are a von Astastel. Finally, the House of Astastel has become increasingly interested in collecting magical items and investigating places associated with magic these past few generations.

Other
* In general, something about Arin rings false.
* Arin seems to have an aptitude for magic, but non-family members have only seen him use it for minor things such as creating light or detecting magic. He does, however, practice alchemy and abjuration magic.
* Arin is by no means a specialist in combat: he can protect himself well enough against the common thug, but that is about the extent of his combat skills. He is much better at dodging attacks and escaping from dangerous situations than being an active participant of one.
* Arin's strengths lie in academia and investigation.

[User]
Ernestus Greye

Ernestus slowly opened the door, and averted his gaze from her at first out of respect.
"Do I need to go hide?" Elra asked while trying not to cry. She gave in putting her head in her hands and cried a bit, "He was trying to break in. I didn't mean..." she paused and let the tears flow. "If he wouldn't have struggled.."

Ernestus sighed "Its alright. Let it out of your system if you need to." he said as he approached. "I won't need the salve." he then said, his hands beginning to glow a small radiant light. Ernestus knelt, and his hands hovered over the wound, it slowly closing and coming back together as if time itself was reversing on that one spot alone.
He briefly peeked at some of the scars that she had on her arm, "Everyone has scars, both mental and physical. They may be subtle or obvious." he kept his hands over the wound to make sure it fully healed. "Do not think yourself a monster. What you did was admittedly a bit rash, but for all we know, the man could of been an assassin. The princess is leading our party after all."
The wound was closed, and he shook his hands as the glow faded away. Magic slowly made his hands numb the longer he channelled it.
Ernestus sighed as he stood up, "You are not alone." he hesitated as he turned away to leave, "I too, have a beast within." he then left Elra to rest.

[Assistant] Vuthaternock wakes up, hearing snarling, and waits until everything quiets down to investigate. He sees a body lying on the floor, throat torn out, and kneels down next to it to see if that is how the man truly died, or if it was meant to cover something else up. "I wonder what happened...?" He takes the body, hefting it over his shoulder, and casts a small spell to remove the blood, and smell of death. He carries the body outside, and whistles. A giant wyvern lands nearby, folding massive wings to his back. Wux relgra ihk ve rilnom? He nods. "Si rigluin wux ekess itrewic rid di nomeno mamiss." The wyvern grins, and takes the body. Si geou ti shartleg vhira duulo rhyaex. He then flies off a short distance to enjoy his meal, cooking it with a blast of fire.

[User]
A voice came from behind Vuthaternock, "If this was an option, you should have told us when I asked the others to report the body." Arin was looking at the wyvern devouring the man with keen interest. He was brewing potions when he saw the dragonborn walk outside with a body and was curious what he was planning to do with it, especially since no one called for the guards just yet. "It would have saved us the trouble of reporting it… but now that you did that after Mr. Greye most likely told the innkeeper… well, you know that makes him look bad, yes?" He turned his attention briefly back to the dragonkin, "I do hope you have the perfect excuse to tell the innkeeper or guards."

He let a few seconds pass to admire the creature in the distance. "Does your cousin have a name?" He also wondered if it was who Vuthaternock was talking to every now and then. It was comforting to know that the dragonborn didn't spend time speaking in draconic out loud just to show off that he can or that he lacked the ability to keep his internal monologue, internal.

Arin stayed outside just long enough to hear Vuthaternock's response before he remembered that he was in the middle of brewing potions. "Well I shall leave two to it. I must return to the kitchen before I burn the potions."

All of Arin's tasks ---cleaning included--- completed only after the sun peaked out from the horizon. More and more people were waking up and becoming more active. The potman of the inn walked into the kitchen just as Arin confirmed the crystalized essence was fully absorbed by the wooden ring.

"Good morning, sir. You must be a very early riser, or you never went to bed."
"It would be the latter."
"Oh… it must have been a very important duty if you had to stay up all night."

Arin offered a polite smile, avoiding a direct response. Instead, he thanked the lad, and by proxy the innkeeper, for allowing him to use the kitchen for the night. He reached out his hand towards the area of the kitchen he borrowed, as if to present it to the potman, "I made sure to clean up after myself. I hope this will suffice."

The potman perused the kitchen, touching areas of most concern to him with his finger to see if anything would stick to it. His face lit up at the clean finger, "It is more than satisfactory, sir. You practically did my morning chore for me! I have never seen this kitchen this pristine before!" The young man covered his mouth, realizing that he probably shouldn't have said that. He quickly tried to change the subject as subtlety as he possibly could, "I didn't know nobles can clean up after themselves so well!"

I imagine that is what the nobles pay servants for.  "I am not a noble."

The potman looked surprised, "You're not? You could've fooled me. I thought only nobles wear those clothes."

Arin looked down at his attire. As the potman pointed out, his clothes were the kind commonly worn by nobility and wealthy merchants. The materials that made the outfit were valuable enough to buy most, if not all, of Timberholde. At the end of the day, however, it was a costume. Something to wear to feel important in front of people of influence to make them feel important. Outside the capital boundaries, it was a target.

Everything had been so rushed, Arin forgot that he was heading into a territory notorious for overflowing with lawbreakers, with luxurious garments on. He was careful when he chose the wooden ring to serve as a detector ---it was made of wood found anywhere and it had no decorative engravings, making it an unappealing item to steal---, but it would be meaningless if he was mugged because of what he wore. He needed to change.

Arin inspected the young man in front of him, who looked like he was as tall as Arin was and had close enough body types. The potman shifted uncomfortably under Arin's gaze, "Is there something you need, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, there are a number of things I need. Can you run a few errands for me? I will pay you once you are done."
"I can," the potman sounded a little hesitant, unsure what the elf needed him to do.
"Do you have an apothecary or an herbalist?"
"We do."
"Excellent," Arin fished out a list and coins and handed them to the other man, "I would like you to buy these ingredients. Get as much as you can with the money I've given you."
The potman visibly relaxed, seemingly relieved that Arin wasn't asking him to do something unusual, "I can do that."
"I would also like to buy your clothes off of you."
The man stared dumbly at Arin.

A beat later Arin spoke, "Let me rephrase that. I would like to acquire some less flamboyant clothing. This trip was a bit sudden, so I did not have time to pack proper travel wear." Arin spread his arms out to the sides, "It looks like we are of similar stature and build, so I thought I could persuade you to let me have a set of clothing… Unless I am mistaken in assuming that your village does not have a clothier."

The man laughed a bit, "No, you are correct. Our village is much too small to have something as fancy as a clothier. My mother had to make my clothes." He looked Arin up and down before his eyes stopped at the shoes "I have some clothes that I can give, but I don't have any spare shoes." He stuck one foot out and wiggled it, "These are the only pair I have."

"The clothes will do, thank you."

While he waited for the potman to come back with the items he requested, Arin decided to try out the ring. He needed to see if the item would work as intended and to make alterations if necessary. More importantly, he needed the ring to recognize and memorize Rynn to prevent it from responding to her in the future.

When Arin placed the ring on, he immediately felt it resonating with something ---the blood that flowed within Rynn--- nearby. Though it didn't physically emit a sound or move, the ring "sang" directly into the wearer's mind. It was a sound that would always be "heard" even in the loudest of places but can never be heard by others besides the ring-wearer.

The song grew in intensity as Arin got closer to where Rynn was. When he reached the door to her room, it was impossible to ignore. It was even difficult to concentrate on what he was doing. Something to adjust, Arin vaguely thought. He remembered knocking on the door as the
world
started
to---
Trwil. Sipn aornud. Lkie a brllooam dance. The wrold daecns to the music. Nhtoing sayts sltil long enoguh for him to get his biaengrs. He tkihns he hreas Rynn, but the snog it stuhs it out. It stuhs amolst envyerhtig out. It gets worse. She's cnmiog. She oneps the door and the olny thing he is able to do is garb on to her for daer lfie. The song is so luod now, he flees lkie his head is auobt to eloxdpe. It geivs him no time to reregt. It gives him no tmie to think. It gvies him no tmie to do ahinntyg. He just exsits. The snog eitxss. It just sings, sngis luod and porud. Of teihr boold, a glrouios hrsioty pseasd dwon form gienoaertn to gotenaerin. It ddeanms aeottntin, it dnaemds paisre and more. Mroe. Why won't you lstien Arin? Tiher one and olny aeidncue. Ltsein. Look. It's rhgit here. The key. Look at it. Look at her. She lokos at you. She's lonoikg at you. You see her. Arin sees Rnyn.

As the song started to subside, Arin's brain regained functionality. He noticed that he was staring at Rynn's face and grabbing her arm with an iron grip. The ring touched her skin, memorizing her. He just needed to stay like this until the ring had nothing else to sing about. He also became keenly aware that he felt more than a little queasy.

He closed his eyes and focused on taking deep breaths. With each breath he loosened his grip. As soon as the song was completely silenced, Arin pulled his hand away as fast as he could, almost as if Rynn was made of fire.

"Many apologies," Arin rubbed his forehead to alleviate the headache that was forming. He stood like that for a while before finally speaking, "I wanted to report to you my findings. Though… now that I think about it, maybe I should have waited until breakfast when everyone is around to hear it. " He sighed and straightened himself, "Well, I might as well tell you now seeing that I have your attention and I do not want to make this a wasted trip."

Arin took a step away from Rynn, feeling that he was still too close for either of their comfort, "After analyzing what samples I could obtain in the allotted time, I came to the conclusion that magic was not used to break into the vaults. If some form of magic was used, it was the ones already in place."

He waited for the words, and the implications that came with it, to sink in. "I understand you want to believe your family and those who work in the palace took no part in the theft in any capacity… but unless the spells on the vault were public knowledge, we can narrow our suspects down from the entire population to those who are, or were at one time, close to the crown, whether by blood or not. At the very least, someone who has intimate knowledge of the castle's architect was involved." The name Callin crossed his mind. "I am willing to change my mind once we find evidence that proves otherwise, but with what we have, this is currently my strongest hypothesis."


[System]
* Age: 17
* Gender: Female
* Appearance: The face of delinquency. Fear all 5'2" of her terrifying stature.

* Personality:
Surprisingly quirky, as it turns out. Chie's appearance would bring to mind a kind, cheerful girl that offers nothing but support and warmth... and to an extent, that's true. Outside of school, that is the very being you would come across: A warm, supporting, almost motherly figure that is never without a smile or good word to say, even about complete strangers.

She just also happens to have strange beliefs about school life. The most relevant opinion being "every school needs a formidable trouble-maker, right?" and... well, she ended up becoming a delinquent. So she plays the part to the best of her ability: Skipping classes, intimidating students, bossing fellow delinquents around... she can be surprisingly effective in her role, but sometimes her motherly traits shine through, protecting her fellow delinquents as if they were her real siblings. She even sometimes gives teachers advance warning of her truancy. How nice.

She can also be a tad ditzy sometimes, seemingly missing obvious sarcasm or noting a highly mundane detail in a very unusual situation. She may also come across as highly unaware of potential an opponent may face... but what if that's all an act to seem more harmless than she really is?

...That's a serious question, it's really hard to tell with Chie!

* Backstory:
There isn't much to note of Chie before entering Shiroyama. She had been a well-behaved student that achieved fairly good grades throughout her school years. However, Chie had an odd idea about her high school: It didn't represent the delinquents very well, did it? A disorganised bunch of grumpy kids, lead by a weakling? How were they supposed to present any sort of interesting obstacle to the Student Council?

In a bold move shocking just about everyone that knew her, Chie offered her criticisms to the former 'toughest delinquent on campus', was challenged to a fight, and effortlessly thrashed him. This lead to her being crowned the new leader of the deliqnuents, and to Chie adopting this role with the goal of making delinquents a powerful force to be reckoned with, and even managed to structure the unruly group as a club to better take advantage of the school's point system.

* Inherent Engine Skill:
War God's Strength - A misleadingly-titled skill that seems to grant Chie unparalleled physical strength to rival the very gods themselves! ...In actuality, it merely allows her to wield her AED as if it were weightless. Theoretically, this should extend to other items, but Chie has never demonstrated the capability of lifting other heavy objects.

* Active Engine Device:
War God's Axe - A rather massive weapon that stands just over six-feet tall, this unwieldy monstrosity can be attributed to much of Chie's reputation. In her hands, it has superior reach, power and coolness points.
Her weapon, once active, is powered by stored electricity, which she can use to power various techniques. Once this power is used up, her weapon is an overly-heavy prop that, while still dangerous in Chie's hands, is nowhere near as threatening as when Chie can create shockwaves or throw out a stunning field when smacking the ground.

* Skills:
Chie is fairly skilled at many domestic tasks; cooking, cleaning and babysitting youngsters being her most notable skills.

* Rank: 37th

* Club:
Shiroyama's Decadent Failures and Disruptive Elements Club: The head of this particular club, formed mainly to take advantage of club benefits. Activities include, but are not limited to: developing 'tough guy' talk, developing lunch-money-shakedown techniques, how to modify one's school uniform into something badass, and theatrics.

[User]
@HeroicSociopath@ThirdHourIII
"Right! I'm sorry to impose on you, because I know you're not keen on fighting, but I was wondering if you would spar with Kazuya-kun here. You might've heard about his...err, record." She paused for a moment, then she realized she'd forgotten to mention something fairly relevant. "Oh! I don't mean actually fight him. I was wondering if you'd be willing to intercept some of his attacks, for analysis."

Looking at the punk beside her she sighed. I guess this is another opportunity. With a broad smile she once more spoke to Ryuji. "You know, Senpai, I could also fight him in your stead. I doubt he could even beat a rank 0 like myself."

Megumi then confidently smirked at Ban. "Oh, excuse me. That was rude. It's just that tossers like you always manage to rub me the wrong way. Luckily this is a fighting school, so disputes like this can be settled quickly and efficiently. And you'll be my first opponent here, too! Isn't that exiting?"

For a brief moment Megumi considered continuing her taunt, but seeing the young man's temper she considered this to be more than enough.

[Assistant]
Ichihara Ban
@Ryougu@HeroicSociopath

Ban was reluctantly impressed with how Ryuji handled his taunts. It seemed as if his words landed on deaf ears, not even a twitch of annoyance or rage, how anti-climactic. The red haired asshole narrowed his eyes when the giant teen cryptically responded to his question, hiding his motives. Looks like he wasn't going to be able to pry an answer out of the guy, oh well...

It irked him to be ignored so quickly, these people were no fun at all! This was a Battle School for shit's sake, wasn't the whole point of this place to fight and have fun? With Ryuji focusing on a quiet white-haired kid, Ban sat patiently with his arms crossed, no fun at all... His interest was peaked when Ryuji pulled out some sort of mysterious beads. He figured they had some sort of purpose, unless he was one of those weird religious freaks who prayed to non-existent gods.

Ban was just opening his mouth to release another taunt when the crater left behind from the giant's fall magically began to repair itself. The only reasonable explanation to this was Ryuji chanting to those odd beads. Huh, had to be some sort of magic or technology, some sort of telekinetic equipment maybe?

The girl who initially approached Ryuji spoke up once again, ignoring Ban for the time being, seemed to be a running trend. He was surprised when she indirectly took a shot at him. Ban raised an eyebrow, little girl had guts, being so disrespectful and all. What was the phrase, respect your elders? What was with these first years thinking they were hot shit all of the sudden? That annoying transfer student must have riled them up with her small upset yesterday.

The only sensible course of action was to quell any sort of confidence these first years had, power came with experience, they really needed to learn that.

"Watch that tongue of yours, you might get just what you wish for," Ban warned.

He figured that would be the end of it but he was wrong once again, the girl held her ground and challenged him confidently.

Ban's confident smile dripped away until he was glaring at Megumi. Was she serious?

"You want to fight me? A rank 37? Are you crazy? Look, I know that transfer student beat someone 10 ranks above her but we're talking about a 37 rank gap here."

Ban caved and gave into his itch to fight, even though he was certain that he would demolish the girl easily.

"Fine, I'll cut you a deal, I'll fight you after the white haired kid and the tall guy spar. Mostly because I've seen neither of them fight, though I heard the white haired kid is ass at it." Deal?

[User]
Kaz didn't smile, but his perpetual stank face was a little less frowny as Ryuji fixed the crater. "Hey. Thanks." He said, nodding. It was nice to see someone in this school cleaning up after themselves. Suddenly, everyone was talking about him. He didn't respond. In fact, he gave no indication he was paying attention at all. Instead, he took his mop and began to wheel it away from the small crowd.

Clack clack clack clack clack clack clack The wheel clattered as he headed for the faucet on the wall of the school. He turned it on, water hissing from the faucet. The bucket was half of his AED. Any water placed in it was treated with a special concoction of chemicals. It cleaned up stains, and left the floors sparkling clean. Unfortunately, it smelled like dead fish, and the fumes made his eyes water. He glanced at the warning on the bucket.

Warning: If the solution made by this bucket comes into contact with eyes, it causes temporary blindness. Ingestion will cause intense, terrifying psychedelic effects.

Party hard!

He'd read it a thousand times before. He turned to the group. That Ban guy was starting to annoy him. His mop burbled, as he dunked it in the water. It looked like he was going to just take it, though. Go back to being dead last.

Then the mop head shot right at Ban's face. It was fast, like a bullet. If it missed him, there was a good chance it'd take out the tree behind him.

"Megumi. Do you know why I asked to join the delinquents?" Kazuya asked, the mop retracting as he twirled it. He stepped closer, bucket clacking behind him. "I'm tired of being weak. Of being told what to do by everyone in school. He then pointed at Ban from across the crowd.

"Shut up and fight. I'll be your opponent." Kazuya said. He was trembling, though even he didn't know whether it was anticipation, excitement or fear. It was the first time he'd challenged anyone, and the first time he'd attacked someone in the school.

[Assistant]
As much as Shin would've liked to ignore the loud commotion at the other end of the courtyard, his curiosity got the better of him and he just had to see what was going on. Of course, he had seen the student jump from the roof and land with a thud. The student had to be alright because there weren't many that were stupid enough to leap off a roof without knowing they would make it unless they were thick in the head. Either way, it would be good to make sure they were alright.

He arrived at the group later than the others and was just in time to see a large student fix the hole he had made where he landed. Before Kawaguchi knew it students were challenging each other to duels which wasn't that unusual but under the circumstances it was a little strange. What made it all the better was it looked like the underclassmen were getting cocky and trying to challenge Ban of all people. That was when he noticed the cheap shot that one of the other students tried on the larger student.

As quick as the student was with his mop, Shin was faster as he grabbed his sword off his back and deflected the direction of the mop. The sword echoed from the contact and started to hum with a low resonance that if allowed to continue would start to cause a headache to those hearing it. "It's not nice to try and strike someone where they aren't prepared. At least show some honor when issuing a challenge." He told the younger student as he kept the sword in his hand but placed his other hand flat across the blade to settle the reverberating.

"Sorry for butting in Ban. I know you can handle yourself but not fair to be struck when your not prepared." He than took a step back as the challenge was thrown out which a smirk on his face as he knew this would be entertaining.

[User]
"..."

Boy, things had gotten inexplicably hectic in the past thirty seconds, hadn't they? It surprised Chie that so many students were attracted to the fallen student; it was hardly an unusual sight to see someone careening to the ground in this school, after all. Granted, it was usually caused by a powerful strike, which was apparently not the case, but still.

Impressively enough, her newest club member had, in record time, provoked one of the more fearsome opponents of the school. The leader of the Decadent Failures had her doubts that Megumi could handle Ban in a fight, never mind the newbie troublemaker with a record equal to that of a generic mook. IT almost made Chie want to jump in, but with how chaotic things were getting, who knew how this was going to turn out?

Besides, she was supposed to acting like a bad boss, right? Tough love and all that fun stuff! She had to let her members make their own choices in delinquency, all she could do was teach them what to do when the situation called for misbehaviour and intimidation!

And so, Chie chose not to speak up just yet, and simply observe. At the very least, she should try and place trust in Megumi's judegment, right? Though that didn't stop the small, smiling girl from standing nearby, axe resting casually over her shoulder. The almost comical sight of her wielding the giant weapon was at odds with the calm in her expression. As if she were confident that no matter the outcome, she had the power to reverse the situation.