[System]
Age: 22

Bounty: 2.2 million

Gender: Female

Appearance:

Personality: Willow is nice to people she knows and likes, and acts polite to those she doesn't know when talking face to face. However she has a mischievous side and will occasionally pull pranks on people, more so people she doesn't know than her friends. Anyone she deems an enemy she doesn't play around with, and will derive great glee from dismembering them with her weapons as she ends the fight as fast as possible. She has no mercy for those who abuse their power to hurt others unjustly.

Backstory: Willow came from an island in the south blue. While she does not talk much about her pre pirate life, she will say why she became a pirate in the first place. Her main reason she'll say, is just to see how big and vast the world is. After all, there would have to be some wonderful things to see like mermaids, fishmen, and all sorts of weird things she heard about from travelers in her home village. Well that was before it was more or less destroyed by a visiting celestial dragon.

Both the reverence her village had for the dragon, and the lack of respect in kind the dragon showed, especially with them casually murdering people and being honored for it was just wrong. Seeing that careless regard for innocent life, Willow stole the reason the celestial dragon came to that town and fled, seeing her town as a lost cause considering all the damage the dragon had done before (Due to preparations and 'cleansing the town of that which wasn't deemed pristine") and after arriving.

After going on her own, she learned very quickly those that abused power were often very weak themselves, and very few people had the spine to oppose and dispose of them. Willow wasn't one of those people. And thanks to her speed and small size, it was borderline impossible for people to see her do her deed most of the time. She was only caught on camera once, and that moment was shown on her wanted poster. Although the poor cameraman didn't get a super good shot, what with the fairy light and all she had used prior. Hence her pirate name.

Abilities:
Shortsword Master: Willow is proficient in using shortswords and rapiers. Willows primary weapon of choice is a very thin and extremely sharp scalpel razor sword that is extremely efficient at cutting through flesh. Its about the size of a large dagger. Her secondary weapon is a large spike or rapier like weapon thats the same size as her razor sword.

Pressure Point Adept: While not a master, Willow is fairly competent at knowing where pressure points are and hitting them. Although she doesn't use this too often since slicing is more fun.

Adequate Smith: Willow knows enough about making weapons to make a new scalpel sword or rapier if hers breaks.

Devilfruit: Fairy Fairy

The Fairy Fairy fruit turned Willow into a fairy. Being a fairy, Willow is very small, about the size of a cup. However even at this size, Willow still has her normal durability and strength and can fly carrying things far beyond her current weight.

Enhanced Speed: Willow's size means she moves much faster than normal.

Advanced Flight: Willow is able to fly thanks to their fairy wings, and can dart around at will and freely change direction or even fly backwards. Willow can fly faster than they can run. Additionally Willow doesn't get tired from flight and can fly for very long periods of time.

Fairy Magic: Willow can use various types of fairy magic on themselves or others.

Healing: Willow can heal others or herself with a touch.

Fairy Fire: Willow can summon a ball of light that they can freely control. This light is very bright, and pierces illusions and fog.

Relationships: NA For now

Dreams: Explore the world, maybe kill a few celestial dragons.

[User] "Well I suppose it at least is an alright destination. I've been to worse." Adam grumbled boredom leaking from his voice leaning on the rail of the ship's port bow. After sailing for awhile in order to get here Adam had been ready to pick up fishing. And he hated fishing. It took a patience he didn't have for no real pay back except MAYBE a ok meal. Still at least this pirate haven may have something worth grabbing. A map, a few more informants, something else to make it worthwhile. "Well Captain its up to you what we do next...I hope its something worth our time." Adam said aloud he knew it was a bit disrespectful but this woman was a child still. Whatever she had up her sleeve she hadn't been worthy of being called a 'Captain' in the real sense. It was a title of the person who was in charge of this ship, not some sort of endearing call sign. "If I may be so bold it may be worth checking the tavern for rumors. World Government is still after some of us you know. It would be helpful to avoid too many marine-centrist ports nearby."

[Assistant]
Flint had been below deck working on organizing all their supplies. But he came to to the deck as he knew Alesia wanted to say something. As popped up he felt the cool sea breeze hit his skin which was quite warm after moving boxes and whatnot around. He took a swig of a refreshing drink in his flask as he listened to her speak. So they were finally hitting land? Sounded fine to him he was looking forward to a little break from being on sea. He stifled a little chuckle at seeing her attempt to be grandiose.

He saw Adam voicing his concerns. "I wouldn't worry too much about law enforcement. I think Brown Isles are a little too backwater for any serious threat to be here. That said it's still a good idea not to draw too much attention. Anyway Cap, I think I'll go look around town and get us some supplies. I know space is limited, but we're running short on things." He closed his eyes and thought, I wouldn't mind a little rumble though. I should poke around town for my own needs as well too... "Anything else you want me to do while I'm at it?" He waited for her response. If she had nothing then he'd go back down and make his preparations for landfall.

[User]
Willow had been in the kitchen when the ship came ashore. When the captain called out to the crew that they would be making landfall soon, she came out with a half eaten strawberry in her little hands. It was almost comical, considering her size and how big the strawberry looked in comparison. "I've got my disguise when we make landfall. We could use a few specialty supplies that I'm sure no one will mind missing..." She said. Soon after Adam mentioned a bit about the World Government, and Willow raised an eyebrow at the man.

"Well, if there are any marines and we get into hot water, a few slices will solve the issue pretty quick. I'm more concerned with the locals. Always a mystery to see how well they'll take to a cloaked figure." Willow said, remarking at a disguise she made that she hung on the door to the galley. For the most part it didn't look too bad, a simple cloak and long coat with leggings and boots sewn into the coat and a bit of padding to make it look like it wasn't just an empty pair of cloths.

[Assistant]
"A cloaked figure in a backwater port is leaves on the breeze to them. So common it barely registers." Riko mused from above. Like every part of their ship, his seated position behind the crossbeam of the lower sails was creaky at best and sorely in need of repair. Had they the supplies, and time, to make such improvements it would have been done ages ago.
As things were it was all he could do to keep the ship in its current condition.

Pointing at his mask as he leaned over to view the runt below, the impression that behind the concealing headware was a grin was all too obvious. "Try one of these. Draws stares like a fly to honey." Kicking back against the central beam, Riko gave a short laugh at his own humor.

[User]
The reply was expected from the Guy who calls himself Adam Grey. He was new to this crew, or to be exact, this was the first voyage with that guy. Alesia did not expect to find another crew member right in this ship vessel. He was rather polite from the way he talks, but not this time. But the more the merrier for her crew, she wouldn't mind another new one joining. She hasn't seen his face from the news, but that name sounded rather familiar, perhaps a common name?

A marine stronghold is rather unlikely here, not like if will be done so without any attention from the newspaper.

"I doubt there are any leads on the marines," She replied to Adam Grey. "But a tavern is a good start once we embark."

One of her crew was a fairy, yes a fairy. She wasn't sure of the bunch that she recruited, but that was probably something beyond the waters of her home coast. The world was a vast place, as far as she can tell. But she wanted to join her crew, so there is no harm letting her in. So long they are not those pesky marines...

And a guy in the mask was setting there, with words that she could barely pick out. The Leaves and the Breeze, just what in the hell is that guy smiling about? She is not sure on what his suspicious mask is used for. But good to know that she didn't have to embark on this voyage alone

"Just steer the ships while we put the ship to port," The ship of the white pearl has closed to the harbour, as Alesia learned close to the stern to check the side of the hull." I'll drop the ladders."

She replied to the oldest man of the crew, Flint Ironstag. Alesia wasn't sure on why a man like him is keen on joining a small ship like hers, he seemed more than capable of leading his own.

Nevertheless, that Flint was the only one whom she could entrust to the ship rudder.

Maintaining her flighty weight, Alesia carried a couple of ropes and ladders from the side, and jumped down from the side stern with one end of the ropes and ladders.

Her oversized cloak has tugged on her light weight like a slowly descending leaf, and Alesia landed with a soft creak on the wood of the pier. Mooring the ship ropes by the wooden pier, Alesia secured the knots of the ship with one sharp tug.

"Yall can drop the Anchors now," Along the wooden piers that are of a better condition of the white pearl, much to the insults of the ship. She thought she had gotten a good price on that one. Seagulls frolicked on the surface of the ships and gangplanks, shunned off by sailors that happen to have cutlasses and bandana. The only thing that are missing from them are a few parrots, so much for that fae to even suggest a disguise.

The long piers lead to a cobblestone streets, full of shophouses of food supplies, cannonballs and weapons. None of the people are alarmed to see the Crew of Scarlet Pirates embarking their shores, some of these vendors even grinned at the aspect of more customers. Seeing pirates are everyday thing to them, it seemed. Alesia wanted to raise a parrot, like the greatest pirates that she hear. All of them have a talking parrot by their side. But she don't want her newly formed crew to0 stray off too far away, that place seemed rather dangerous at night....

The tavern should be a better place to start if there is lodgings.

[Assistant]
Flint responded to Alesia's command in the affirmative and did as told. He skillfully steered the ship into the dockyards as he told the crew to raise the sails so they could slow down. After they docked, he went away from the wheel and approached Alesia again. "Hey Cap' I'm going to take some of our money and do some shopping for the supplies we need. I just wanted to tell you that before you left." He said.

He then disappeared below deck again. He began preparing himself for stepping off the boat. Part of that process involved re-arming himself with ammunition being loaded among other things on his person. He never was caught unprepared. Eventually he grabbed his large square sword that had been secured and took that along with him. His poncho swayed in the sea breeze as he stepped foot on land. It was a welcome feeling and he soon went off to do his shopping and pursue his own plans.

[User] "Honestly was expecting a worse greetings. Pirates like us usually have to deal with some big shot trying to lord over his piece of land. All the same I suppose at least we can go about our own business. Though I have to say I wonder who is calling the shots around here. If the marines aren't then there has to be someone we should be careful not to mess with." Adam once again cautioned. He had already received an earful from the group about the marines but his training from his butler back in the day always did come back to one thing. That was information on who was running the place you were staying at. Information was invaluable no matter if it was a small town, or a big one. "I don't really have any interests here captain this town seems small so I'll stick with the main group for now. That is of course if you don't want me around." Adam gave a fake chuckle as he smiled. Always with these false sincerity...always with these jokes...they tired on him but at least no one was the wiser hopefully.

[Assistant]
Riko was a weird one, but at least his joke got a small giggle out of Willow. Yeah, that mask would draw a lot of attention to himself.

Willow watched as the ship came into port, fluttering near her cloak disguise as she saw how everyone seemed to be very friendly to pirates? Something was definitely off here, Adam had the same observation and voiced his concerns. "Well, at least I can use my disguise easier here." Fluttering, she put her disguise on, which was basically her flying into a hole in the hood and lifting it all up using a weird system of supports and a few straps inside the hood. Flying properly above the ground, Willow could slide the boots along the ground and only observant people would notice that this 'person' wasn't walking, but then this wasn't for them.

"yeah, I'm going to stick with everyone as well. Although I'm not too worried if we get into a fight. People are very easy to deal with." Willow said, fluttering next to Flint in her disguise and 'walking' next to him as everyone was departing the boat to head into town.


[System]
19Class:
Pegasus KnightWeapons:
Iron LanceFighting Style:
Can for the most part be summed up as "Move fast and break things", charging with his pegasus and stabbing things with his lance at high speeds.Personality:
Fairly friendly, though he always looks like there's a bit of sadness behind his eyes. He is cautious about trusting people, but he is just as cautious in trusting himself. He holds himself to a set of moral lines he refuses to cross.He tends to offer his opinion even when it's not asked for, especially on topics he feels strongly about.History:
Dylan was born as a bastard child of a (relatively) rich ranch owner that bought and sold trans-nationally, though he was technically in Bravura. He was lucky enough not to be disowned by his father, but he lived with his mother and his twin sister instead of with his father, who never played a major role in his life besides providing his mother with a job and home. Both Dylan and his sister were good with the farm animals, especially the horses and pegasi. When Dylan 10, one day after another, their father gave them one of his best pegasus colts, a surprising and unexpected gift. The pegasus was named Andromeda, due to an offhand joke from one of the other helpers on the ranch that the colt had the potential to fly above the stars.

For the next seven years, they took good care of the colt, and Dylan discovered he had a talent for riding pegasi, and he joined a small mail-carrying business for a time, enjoying the trips around his home country, and often taking his sister with. However, at some point, a band of rogues attacked him and his sister while they were resting for the night between deliveries. They killed his sister, but Dylan and his pegasus managed to get away mostly unharmed. He still feels like it was his fault his sister had died, and he had suspicions that the rogues that had killed her were actually very unfortunate refugees from the warfront with Panoply.

After this incident, Dylan began teaching himself how to fight, though he didn't join the army in fear of leaving his mother alone in her time of grief. He used his savings to buy a lance- he had heard this was a weapon common to those who fought on pegasi- and he taught himself to fight while atop Andromeda. Stabbing makeshift dummies he had made himself while both he and his horse were wearing cheap armor, unbeknownst to his mother of course. He never had any formal teacher however, and so his skill is effectively limited to charging and stabbing sloppily. It was during this time that Dylan began calling himself by his mother's family name instead of his father's.

Upon hearing of the reclaimers, Dylan wanted to attempt to join immediately, however his mother refused to let him join, as she had already lost one child and didn't wish to lose the other. This didn't stop Dylan from training more in his free time however, and in his mailman job, he offered to take more of the ones that would take him near the front, hoping he would get to meet the Reclaimers, and possibly show enough promise that they would invite him into their ranks. How could he turn them down if that happened?Rationale:
Dylan feels like ending the war, or at least helping end the war, would honor his sister and give him repentance for not doing more to stop her from dying.Appearance:
Standing at 5'11", Dylan is lightly built, lean but he does have some muscle tone. His hair is a unique white-silver color, and his eyes are a light sky-blue color. His skin is very white, due to the fact he has to wear a lot of clothing when flying at high altitudes, which he spends a lot of his time doing. He usually wears layers of clothing that he can easily take off or put on to stay warm. His riding is moderately sloppy, but he can keep himself on a pegasus during a rough ride. When bored, or anxious, he can be seen tapping his fingers on whatever his hand is resting on.

[User]
Annoyance began to stir within Taene as the person charging him didn't simply give up and was steered forward by his beast. How was he supposed to avoid killing him if he was going to get into point-blank range? It was like the kid had some odd sort of death wish. More cold air began to gather between Taene's teeth as he decided that he wasn't going to be able to avoid killing his adversary. As he began to charge up his next frosty assault, he noticed the boy take off his mask. Presumably to avoid it freezing to his skin, which likely wouldn't have been very good for a young warrior. The face that greeted Taene after his mask was removed didn't intrigue him, and he tore his attention away from it quite quickly without second thought.

Surrender? ...I could. Doubt that my employers would be that pleased with a choice like that, though. Taene thought over what the kid preparing to charge was saying, and took particular notice to the fear that was heard in his voice when he brought up the threat of attack. The ball of frost within the drake's jaws was nearly finished forming, when... something happened. The sphere crumbled in his maw and dissolved into nothingness, and he let out an oddly low noise that had a quite quizzical sound to it. His attention snapped to the rider opposite him, and Taene suddenly spoke up.

"Boy. I shall surrender to you, and your men, as I wish not to continue fighting. I am done offering resistance. However," He began. "Before I make myself any more vulnerable to a man that might possibly kill me, I must ask you a somewhat odd question. You would not happen to have a warrior sibling, would you?" The dragon's voice took a much calmer, relaxed tone as he asked his question but it still managed to carry over the sound of his large wings beating as he maintained his flight. Taene quite hoped that his inquiries would go somewhere. He was very sure, more so than he was in many other things. Their faces lined up in a way that made almost no sense.

[Assistant]
Jeanne Robina

Habeen's smile had returned.

"Um, you do realize that you accidentally hit the dancer girl, right?" Jeanne asked.

"My goal was to make him let go of the dancer. I have achieved that goal," Habeen simply replied.

"Ought you to check on her?"

"Marcus is already on it."

Jeanne nodded awkwardly. "Listen, I'll take care of the brigands downstairs. You help storm the watch tower."

The fact that the watch tower was literally on fire seemed to fly over Habeen's head. "Hey, I ought to help finish the job, eh?" she asked. Especially since I accidentally hit the poor lady, she thought to herself. Shoot.

Jeanne drew her sword and flamboyantly circled it over her head. "Have at you, honorless brigands! Thou thieve but to merely thieve; thy grisly greed shall lead thee to a grim fate by my blade!"

Yeah, she was a show-off.

Jeanne immediately raised her sword and prepared to blitz the bandits. Her blade held upside-down in her right hand, Jeanne charged the bandit in the center and with a swift motion unseam'd him from the nave to the chaps. She gave the man a swift kick in the stomach before bringing her sword around to strike the man next to him, creating a larger opening for Habeen to run through and into the tower. And run she did; the folk magician sped through the opening in the enemy forces that Jeanne and Kuur had created, right into the burning building.

[User]
Malboro, Hero turned Highwayman

When Dylan and Syrena entered the top of the guard tower, they found the bandit leader waiting. The man looked suddenly older than he had when he'd been at the bottom; he bore the sagging visage of a man who knew he was about to die. However, his black eyes glittered fiercely, and they held no trace of mercy in them. When cornered, a beast would fight to its final breath.

He upturned his sword and jammed it into the wooden floor before removing his axe, evidently knowing enough about weapons to prefer a hatchet against a lance-user. This iron weapon he leveled at the pair, and spoke in a strange, toneless voice, "I knew death would come for me sooner or later. But if you think I'm going to let you take me easy, you're wrong—dead wrong. I'll show you how a former Hero fights."

Snarling, he rushed at Syrena, swinging his axe in from the side. With a weapon advantage over Dylan, it seemed, he wanted to eliminate the potential problem first.

Sanguin, Westroad Village

After an exchange of blows, the masked woman had the advantage. Her adversary, obviously intimidated not only by her opponent but by the whole situation itself, was unable to properly leverage the advantage given to her by her weapon. As she stumbled back after delivering a glancing blow, Sanguin charged forward. A surge of adrenaline pumped through her veins, and she yelled, "You're out of time!" The myrmidon leaped into the air and with her scimitar cleaved through her opponent's shoulder, finishing her in one shot.

She hadn't time to celebrate her victory, however. Sanguin felt a hard jab in her hip, and a moment later after she'd recoiled, the familiar trickle of blood across her skin. She whirled to face the soldier who'd attacked her and backed up out of the reach of his spear, nearly backing into Thunderclap as she did. A glance at the cavalier astride her convinced her that his help for the moment would be appreciated given her diminished vitality. "Yakob! Help me a second?"

[Assistant]
Gaius Secondus

 Gaius never got to implement his plan, Smiles got trigger happy and everything went straight to hell. Gaius glanced around, decided that the others could handle the grunts, and took off after the leader. He climbed up the ladder with caution, holding his breath as he climbed through the rabidly thickening smoke. He stopped briefly when he thought to tie a hankerchief he had in one of his many pockets over his mouth and nose. As he climbed the ladder, he angrily thought, That amateur, if I was in his shoes I would have set an ambush at the top, or at least cut the ladder, maybe weakening a few rungs. Then again, why did he corner himself in the first place? He got up and found the bandit facing down Dylan and Syrena. Gaius didn't bother announcing his presence, he brought his tome out, muttered the familiar chant and sent a bolt of lightning coursing between his allies at the bandit. Unfortunately, luck wasn't with him, the unpredictable lightning magic missed his target, but the metal of the sword in the floor attracted it and caught the current.

Lilith Merdox

 As soon as the bandit leader dropped the dancer, Lilith charged in to protect her. She fended off the reminder of the bandits, intent on protecting the dancer and Nickolas long enough for Marcus to check and treat their wounds. Lilith managed to slip inside one's guard and slash open an artery, killing him in a spray of blood. six. She looked around quickly, checking on the others. Most of the rest of the bandits in sight were either dead or dying, except for a few still fighting here and there. She flicked her sword, to clear the blood away, spraying droplets in a crimson arc. You know, for a rag-tag bunch, their bravery is respectable. She noted. After all that, they came together one last time, and very few actually fled. Maybe, they have a lot of faith in their leader, if so, I can almost respect that.

[User]
Dylan Caercot Dylan nodded to Syrena as she got of Andromeda, not saying anything, and looked up as Malboro began speaking. He certainly seemed intent on a fight, while Dylan was sure the Reclaimers wouldn't kill him if he surrendered, though he wasn't so sure about the judge that would try him. "If you just-" Was all the Pegasus Rider got out before Malboro charged Syrena.

Dylan hesitated, longer than he should've before reacting what was happening. He had brought Syrena up here, and he'd never forgive himself if someone else died because of his actions. He pushed Andromeda to try and get in the way as Dylan stabbed forward with his lance, trying to get it in the way of the axe being swung at Syrena, thinking he could stop or at least slow it down so it couldn't do much damage. It was then that Gaius' lightning struck nearby causing Andromeda to rear up, taking off, as the thunderclap rang out, startling her. Dylan lurched as he tried to keep his lance in the way, but couldn't, and it ended up hitting the mage he was trying to protect a good whack on the torso and likely a short cut from the tip of the blade at the end of the weapon.

As Dylan struggled with the Pegasus to regain control, he was forced to move back off the top of the tower, fighting for the moment it would take for Maldoro's axe to finish its swing. After several longs seconds he managed to get Andromeda back under control, cursing under his breath. He didn't have time to think about what he was about to do. He had to act or Maldoro would attack Syrena again, or the new mage on top of the tower. He forced Andromeda at her full speed towards the Highwayman, rearing Andromeda up and stabbing with his lance so that the point of the lance would have not only the strength of Dylan behind it, but most of the weight of Andromeda as she dropped back to the ground, every intention of running the man through in the attack.


[System]
Age:21

Gender: Female

Race: Faunus (Fox)

Weapon: Sarasagi: a highly unique blade in the fact that it doesn't transform into anything. Instead, there are two small ports in the guard, that shoot out the blood the blade collects and compresses in the hilt. The blood can be fired out one of two ways, in a thin needle, or in a thick sphere. The needle, at maximum compression (roughly 15 seconds) is shot at mach 1, and is useful for head-shotting small grim over large areas. The sphere flies much slower, but at maximum compression has enough force to knock a Ursa on it's ass.

Specialty: Mokuren has a great deal of skill and technique with her sword, and is also highly agile in it's use. Her semblance gives her the ability to go all-out on the offensive front, and not give any thought to her defenses, allowing her to bounce seemlessly from target to target and cut them down. She can use the secondary feature to shoot at the enemy, but only uses it when she feels she needs to.

Semblance: Mirror of Yata: This semblance gives Mokuren the ability to absorb and then reflect any attack that hits her, at the cost of physical exertion to use. A King Tut's strike would be more exhausting to reflect than a Beowulf's claw, for example.

Personality: Mokuren is a very, guarded person. She hides her true self behind a barrier of mirth and eccentric action, but allows the truth to stream through when he feels she is alone, or truly trusts someone. This truth is a sad, broken creature trying to survive in the world it was thrown into after the death of her family, and is haunted by a dark past that she tries to hide from everyone.

Color: Magnolia.

Emblem: Uniquely, none.

Appearance:

[User]
Skyra stared at the board with the listings for the battles. Against her? The bringer of cheese?
She sighed. In some way, which was pretty unusual for Skyra, she had no desire to fight that girl at all. Smash her face in in a heated discussion, maybe, but not intentionally. Still, this was strange... normally she'd jump at the chance to kick somebody's butt, she'd even try to best her team mate, but Mokuren was kind of a different story. In only one single day she had grown too soft to bear even the chance of her hurting her, which, of course was ridiculous considering the rules of combat class. Nobody'd be really hurt, just exhausted.
But alas, it was class, so Skyra moved to the battlefield their pair was assigned to, however, she didn't moved into combat stance, but just sat down on her side of the field.

[Assistant]
Gratia Mindaro and Cian Kuze

Stepping down onto the arena from the seats, hands hidden within her coat pockets, Gratia Mindaro seemed almost bored by the fact that she would be engaging in combat with one of her fellow students. Her expression had changed not a single bit, the impassive scowl unchanging as if it had been permanently carved onto her when the gods had crafted Man from dust. Yet despite the aura that radiated from her, closer surveyance would reveal that her eyes were staring forwards with remarkable intensity, and that her muscles, hidden behind her bulky clothing, were tensing as if in anticipation.

Underneath the icy exterior, the Mistralese Huntress was eager. Incredibly eager. But she held it in. There was a time and place for everything ... and here would not be particularly suitable for her to let loose, especially when it was really just a class with no importance to her. She would have to keep her inhibitions in check.

Following her opponent with a singular purpose she might not like the whole deal with the arena fighting but it must be done. With a soft sigh she jumped down the last bit of stairs leading to the arena and form the back of her furred trimmed coat appeared her weapon. Holding the briefcase in her had she waited for Gratia to come on down so she could begin. Cian had no thought really pressing on her mind she might be decent at fighting but she knew she was at a disadvantage and she was never one to get excited for battle.

Gratia shook her hands free of her pockets, before stretching them out in front of her. The weapon her opponent had brought fitted the descriptions in the public files, but whether or not she could deal with was another question. Valens and Valentinian hung from her belt, their simple forms a contrast to the complicated device that was Cian's. She had fought few people with such versatility before, but it would provide her ... an opportunity.

"Are you ready?" she called across the battlefield.

"Very well than shall we dance?" Cian called out as she unfurled her weapon into its long barrel form. Jumping back a distance she started to lead with multiple shots from the gun. Using a wall to ricochet the bullets against the wall to try and divert attention away from some of the other quick shots she took. Though as she did so she noticed her aura was steadilly decreasing chalking that up as Gratia's special semblance she quickly changed to a ice dust cartridge. Letting out some shots she hoped to cut use the formed icicles where they landed to create some diversity to trap her and end this quickly or so she hoped.

Valens gleamed in the light, the mameluke sabre swinging with aura-reinforced blows to deflect as many of the incoming projectiles as it could. The air before Gratia was a lightshow as she parried as many of the dust-infused bullets away from her aspossible. At this range, she had a disadvantage; the profiles were not wrong when they described her opponent as a long-ranged specialist.

That of course dIdN'T mEAn tHAt shE wOuLD lose. The Huntress' composed demeanour seemed to disappear for an instant as she bared her teeth, before dashing forwards through the hail of fire, ignoring the stings of the projectiles against the natural aura defenses of all humans; her Semblance would take care of that, if the slow, intensifying drain on Cian's aura bar served any indication.

The bItCh would not be capable of matching her. Valentinian appeared in her left hand, and even as she rapidly closed the distance, fired off a stream of bullets from the carbine at Cian.

With A grit of her teeth she activated her semblance the honeycombed patterned shield protecting her from the hail of bullets. Though that did not ease the pain she felt from them. With a strong forward push she changed her weapon once more into the machine gun mode and switch catridges once more this time to one of fire dust. With a push forward and her shield strong she charged forward letting out flaming bullets coming out at fast rate. This was not one of her better plans but hopefully it would buy her time.

Her opponent was charging at her? Gratia did not know what the other student had planned, but it provided her the advantage to rIP and tEAr Cian on her own terms. Valens moved to block the machine-gun spray that sought to riddle her with holes, aura pushing into the weapon to keep it sturdy under the onslaught. Her right arm rumbled against the force of the blows, and the waves of heat and fire that exploded out from where her sabre met the projectiles were positively blinding.

She let out a hiss, the first sound she had made during the match. It was painful, but she could feel herself grow stronger otherwise. The young Huntress' Semblance had begun to act more rapidly, its effectiveness increasing as Cian closed in on her.

Good. She would need that stolen strength and power.

The hail of fire stopped, and Gratia pushed herself through the smoke. She was face to face with her opponent now. Perfect.

With zero hesitation, the Mistralese teenager raised Valentinian, firing a cartridge of bullets into the charging form of Cian Kuze.

She would aNnIhILaTE that shield.

"Tch can't take this much longer" Cian muttered to herself as she jumped back and to the left avoiding the main charge. Using the dust clouds as cover and changing her weapon once more she carefully took aim with Byakko in its sniper form. With careful aim she took a few shots at her back which was unprotected. Though she switched cartridges once more and took aim again this time hopefully going for the kill as she lt out a "tri burst" shot of fire,ice, and regular bullets in quick succession.

Smoke was anything but adequate cover for somebody wielding such a gigantic weapon, and Gratia refused to allow her enemy to RuN aWAy. Even as the other girl attempted to move the sniper rifle into position, she was already in motion, dropping Valentinian back onto her belt before grabbing the end of Cian's weapon with her left hand, taking advantage of the time it had taken for her opponent to aim at her, pushing the muzzle away from her person.

The heat of gunfire flying past her ear meant nothing to the Mistralese Huntress. What mattered was that she had entered what could be described as "knife-fighting" range. Here, the advantages provided to her eNEmY by the long-ranged weapon would be lost.

Gratia squeezed down on the barrel, her strength continuing to be amplified by the aura she was passively stealing from Cian. It was an iron-clad grip, one that, if not broken, would result in Byakko suffering severe damage to its firing capabilities.

She was, after all, getting stronger at an exponential rate as Bibere Vinum drained away at Cian's aura.

"In lieu of recent events I am going to have to forfeit." Cian knew there was no way to win at this rate first of all her Aura was all but gone due to the semblance of Gratia which makes such matchups unfair due to the aura drain. Second in the position she was in there was no way for her to do anything. She was not meant to fight people close range it was a simple bad matchup more than anything. With a sigh and folding up her Byakko once more to a storage mode she holstered it on her back one more before climbing a few steps and resting once more in her seat. "There was nothing to do no matter how far I think ahead that spot was just no way for me to win" Cian muttered once more to herself as she waited for this "class" to end.

That had been ... anticlimactic. Gratia dropped her weapons back onto her belt, tension and strength leaving her body as the effects of Bibere Vinum began to wear off. Her blood had been bubbling and simmering underneath her skin throughout the entire fight, but it seemed that somehow ... she had kept it from escaping.

Still, it was honestly disappointing. She had desired so much more. Yet the Mistralese Huntress simply stuffed her hands back into her pockets, refusing to allow herself to show those emotions in her actions. Indeed, she merely seemed bored and aloof, as she usually was.

Such a lacking fight.

Evidently, Ms. Goodwitch shared Gratia's sentiments. "Another forfeit. If the situation was truly dire, and your health actually at risk, surrender would be a reasonable option. In a practice setting such as this, however, where the threshold for loss is the point at which students can even begin taking actual wounds, giving up so soon screams of a lack of determination. Both of you will be receiving penalties to your grades." Goodwitch cracked her riding crop against the arena railing in a decisive and impassive note of finality. "Next!"

Wait, it had been a fucking group project?!

. . .

SON OF A BITCH!

[User]
Luke Schwarz --Yo that's some

Luke's eye twitched irritably.

It was one thing that Cian and Gratia's matchup had been potentially bad for either of them, and ended up giving the short end of the stick to Cian thanks to a questionable gameplan. That was something that could be worked on. They could iron out the kinks there. As was surrendering. Luke personally had no issue with it.

Their teacher, however...

"Or prudence," he muttered irritably under his breath, not wanting to cause a scene in spite of his disagreement. "Recognizing a situation where you're in over your head and pulling out..."

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, he folded his arms and continued to watch.

And that wasn't to mention penalizing both for one student forfeiting. What kind of class was this?

[Assistant]
*Tsk*

The noise came fom Mokuren, irritably as she scanned the board in the combat class. Where she had come from, where she had been, why she had been shopping for clothes in a soup store, nobody knew. But, she saw her Super Mega Giga Arch-Nemesis paired off with someone who wasn't her. Or, was she? Mokuren looked at her tail, and the hugged it to confirm she was who she was, which she was. And that was good. She liked being her, but then, how would she know how much she liked being someone else if she had never been someone else?

But then, she saw it. Ripper... Tearer... Slasher... Gouger. The Teeth in the Darkness, the Talons in the Night. Strength... and Lust... and Power, it was, a Fly! How could they walk across cellings like that wihtout falling down. Such things defied logic, common sense, and even Sanity itself! And then she also saw that she was paired with Skyra.

Not really understanding, or caring to understand the rules, she skipped over to Skyra and sat down next to her.
"Hey. How did you like the cheese?"

[User]
An eyebrow was raised at Moku's appearance next to her, still Skyra smiled at her new friend, who was, nevertheless, pretty difficult to understand. Not language wise, mind you. Just in thought processes and stuff.
"Yep, but it was soooo freakin' much that I had to share it with my mates and there still was some left for breakfast this morning, which I promptly took care of."

Still sporting her trademark tomboy-grin Skyra pulled out both Aurora Ravagers and put one on her lap. While the right hand was holding the sword, the left one pulled out a polishing cloth and started rubbing and cleaning the deactivated right hand sword with extreme care and visible love for the weapon.

"So, we're supposed to fight, I think. But...", she shrugged still dutifully polishing her weapons, "I can't be arsed right now..."

[Assistant]
Mokuren nodded happily as there was sufficent cheese for her new friend. And, she also shared it with the people in her room as well, which meant everyone had cheese. It was, quite literally, cheese for everyone.
"Wonderful. I'll bring something else next time. Maybe.......I don't know. What do you like?" She asked, watching Skyra withdraw her weapons and then start to clean them, all lovely and nice and shiz. It must have been nice to care about your weapon, not that Mokuren disliked Sarasagi, but the question of where it came from still hung heavily on her mind.

"Why are we meant to fight? Surely it was just a suggestion. 'You may fight if you want, or you can sit around and talk. I'm just a sign, not a police officer'. Nobody has to listen to signs"


[System]
G E N T L E
The humans called us monstrous, so monsters are what we became.

B A S I C S

---
AGE

128

RACE

Minotaur

CLASS

Cleric/Barbarian

OCCUPATION

Lay Brother of the Temple of Apollokeos

ORIGINATES FROM

Achea

IF OUTSIDE TORVELT

The Human Republic of Achea is a loose collection of city states far to the South-West of Torvelt. The climate is hot, and the terrain mountainous, though the people have risen to the challenge of taming such an arid land, becoming famed for their exports of grapes, olives, gold, and marble. The Achean's stand proud of their achievements, proclaiming that their society is the greatest in all the wide world, pointing to their democracies, philosphies, music and art as evidence of this, though it is whispered in courts around the lands that the prosperous country wouldn't be half as impressive as it is if it wasn't for the broken backs of the monstrous slaves it has all been built upon.

P H Y S I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION

Large even by Minotaur standards, Gentle stands taller than eight-and-a-half feet, over nine if you included the tips of his gently curving horns, which you probably should when measuring a Minotaur. He's broad too, as the 'proverbial' bull in fact, and hasn't he heard that one more than once since coming to Torvelt. His once bulging muscles and steely thews are running to fat a little in his old age and relative indolence, but he still possesses the kind of physique that would give even the most confidant pitfighter cause to pause.

To his intense consternation his lustrous black pelt is being invaded by unsightly streaks of iron-grey. Swirling blue-grey patterns are tattoeed across his arms, shoulders, chest and back, intricate patterns of some hidden meaning which Gentle hasn't shared with anyone since arriving in Torvelt. Age has also stolen some of his vim, and the spring from his step, but his hands are still strong and his horns still sharp. It will do, he tells himself.

STRENGTHS

* Physically powerful
* Experienced combatant
* Access to divine magic
* Rough wisdom

WEAKNESSES

* Large and heavy
* Moderate rheumatoid arthritis
* Fading eyesight
* Rage

P S Y C H O L O G I C A L A T T R I B U T E S

---

PERSONALITY

Pragmatic – Melancholy – Ponderous – Wistful – Studious – Mercurially violent (though working very hard not to be)

SEXUALITY

Pansexual

FEARS

* Heights
* Deep, fast moving waters
* Large canines
* Small, enclosed spaces
* The ghosts of his past

GOALS

To find the prince, stop the Fog, and achieve personal salvation.

S K I L L S

---

Labyrinth Recall

He can perfectly recall any path that he has taken.

Great Weapon Fighting

Perhaps unsurprisingly giant bull-men are pretty good at swinging large, sharp pieces of metal with the intent of hurting people. Who knew?

Sense of Smell and Hearing

A Minotaur's sense of smell and hearing is several times more advanced than that of a humans. Gentle has found himself relying on his more and more since his eyes started failing him.

G E A R

---

ITEMS ON PERSON

* Heavy iron bracers
* Travellers pack (sleeping roll, tinder box, dried rations etc)
* Icon of Apollokeos (Small golden pendant featuring a rising sun over a river)

WEAPONS

* Large wooden post (Functions as a quarterstaff/club)
* Great Sword

H I S T O R Y

---

The Minotaur known only as Gentle first walked into Torvelt about fifteen years ago, with nothing more than the clothes on his frame and a rolled bundle of leather upon his back. From there he wound a slow and gradual path towards Koprust, eventually arriving in the capital city and taking on a slew of odd jobs, seemingly happy with working hard manual labour for minimal pay, simple food and somewhere dry to sleep. On those rare occasions that he was approached by those not intimated by his monstrous visage he was found to be polite, but distant, seemingly happy to nurse his ghosts in solitude.

He eventually found himself working for the Abbott of the Temple of Clean Waters, a holy place that venerated Apollokeos , Lady of Dawn and New Beginnings. Gentle quickly fell into life at the Temple, becoming a lay brother and settling in for what he imagined would be a life of quiet contemplation and honest labour.

The God's, it seemed, had other plans.

He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember, horrible and twisted visions from his past that tourtured him nightly without reprieve. However one night, when the horror had reached its zenith, he found salvation. The Lady Apollokeos visited him, in all her golden splendour, and explained that his redemption was in reach. She tasked him with joining the quest to find the Prince, and that through that labour he might just find the peace he so desperately desired.

When Gentle awoke he thought the dream no more than that, the fantasy of a tired mind, but later that day he met a man who introduced himself as Minoas, the fabled absent father of the Minotaur race. Minoas reinforced Apollokeos commands, urging Gentle to join the quest before disappearing.

One visit from a God he could ignore. Two would have been pushing it. Collecting his belongings and making his farewells, he made his way towards thee castle.

[User]
---

A N T R A R O

---

Antraro had come with many others to the throne room of King Brand's castle. He watched as those who had trepidations walked by him towards the exit of the room and castle. Some ran into him, some purposefully and some not so. Even after years of living in the city, some still despised him for his visage. He held no ill will towards them in return, but he did feel a pang of disappointment.

Antraro stood at full height in his robes, lizardlike head exposed to the crowd and the royalty before him as King Brand and the Queen presented their speech and call to action. While Antraro heard the speech and registered that it was a quest from a king to his subjects, all he could hear was the sadness of a father who had lost a son begging for help.

Antraro watched as two other women of half-elven nature stepped forward with their acceptances and Antraro, would follow suit. In a gentle, deep, voice, he spoke, "I am Antraro, son of Erentus. I pledge my mind, body, and soul to the cause of finding your son, your majesty. This I swear." Antraro frowned in empathy for the king, he knew what it was like to lose something most dear.

[Assistant]
---

Solveig Forgeheart

---

Among the audience gathered within the throne room was a stout Dwarf, leaning against one of the far walls with his arms crossed. Solveig was still recovering from a partial hangover with last night's slim prize-money filling his pouch. He listened intently to King Brand's words. The task was clear. Venture into the Torvelt Fog to recover the King's son. This was by far the biggest challenge Solveig was presented with but this... This could be the exact ticket he needed to return home.

The Dwarf would watch as many of the court would exit the room. To be honest, Solveig couldn't blame them. You'd either have to be desperate, foolish or just a downright crazy bastard to take on this quest. The funny thing was- Solveig couldn't figure out which category he fell under. Solveig would wait a moment, seeing if there was anyone else who would take on the call with him. Afterall, he didn't want to be the first one to volunteer for a suicide mission. Two half-elves and a Dragonborn would precede Solveig's answer. This wasn't a bad crew by any stretch of the imagination, at least by first glance.

Solveig pushed himself off of the wall and uncrossed his arms. "Right then..." He began, mostly murmuring to himself. "I am Solveig Forgeheart of Tharum Kholdur!" The Dwarf introduced himself in an almost boastful manner, pounding his chest. "By my fists and my honour, I will help find yer son!" He answered, the Dwarf's accent was thick and typical of his race.

[User]
STUR
__________

Those with lesser mettle parted around Stur in a steady stream, headed for the doors at the opposite end of the hall. He supposed he did not blame them; there were easier ways to make coin in Koprust, many of which didn't involve throwing your life away. Nobody with a home to return to or a promising life ahead of them would walk willingly towards the Fog. Stur rolled his shoulders slowly in anticipation as the king finished his hopeful entreaty to the few that remained. He had learned well over the years that having one of these soft lowlander nobles indebted to you was a very useful thing indeed, and he intended to take full advantage of the opportunity, whatever the potential cost.

He eyed those that stepped forward first with some suspicion, looking them over. Before coming to this cursed place, he had scarcely seen other civilized races than his own - the occasional Orcish raiding party on the northern borders of his land, maybe, and a few half-elves in the columns of Ephreian regulars - and he sometimes felt that he was still getting used to their various oddities. In particular, he kept an eye on the big red lizard. Stur never let his guard down around those fortunate enough to be taller than him.

There was a brief lull. He stepped forward. Gods, I could use a drink.

"I am Stur." He let the name speak for itself. "I've pulled many free of the talons of death, sire. I'll find your boy for you."

[Assistant]
The Minotaur stood in the shadows at the back, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible – how successful he was in that goal was up for debate, what with being a pretty damned conspicuous nine-foot tall horned monster and all – and tried not to let the crowd of would be heroes nervous energy get his blood pumping too fast. It was a pretty well known fact that getting a Bull 'Taur like him too excited was like to end in tears, and though he'd gotten a better handle on things of that nature in his old age it still didn't do to tempt the Gods. And seeing as he'd somehow managed to get the attention of not one, but two divine beings, he'd decided it would pay to be careful.

Careful. Lot of that going around apparently. A goodly more than half the room had upp'd tails and left at the kings words, no doubt remembering that discretion was the better part of valour. Cowards, some would call them, but not Gentle. No, he was too long in the tooth to be throwing words like that around when people were showing good sense. Hell's, he just wished he could join them. Instead he watched the young, the able, the smart and the strong line out of the hall, and pondered just how desperate the king and the God's had to be for them to have to rely on an old, demonstrably-past-his-best-that-wasn't-even-all-that-good-anyway bull like him. Though he supposed that Torvelt was a desperate country, so he guessed they were in the place for it.

His attention slowly shifted to those wannabe-worthies who hadn't been dissuaded by the kings words.

First was the serious looking half-elf, she who moved like a chimera. The way those swords sat upon her hip; easy, free, and always within an easy pull, he was willing to bet she was almost as deadly as a chimera too.

After her was a second half-elf, uncommon to see two at once in Koprust. She didn't move quite so assuredly as the first, though if she spoke true and she did make her living out of the forests of Torvelt then she would be more capable than most. Dangerous things lived in those woods, would take one cold-eyed killer to survive them.

Following them was – rarest of rarities – a Dragonborn. He had an incongruously gentle voice, and a calming demeanor about him that seemed at odds with his reptilian visage, but if the stories of his race where to be believed then it would be a damned fool that underestimated him.

Then there was the dwarf. Didn't seem like much to Gentle, but then to him most dwarves were barely knee high. He supposed Solveig looked fit enough, for a midget. Smelled like a condemned brewery though, which wasn't ideal.

Behind the dwarf there was a human. He looked worn. Battle-worn, age-worn, world-worn, just worn. For a moment Gentle had the uncomfortable thought that if he'd been born human he'd probably look something like the man in front of him. Besides that he didn't think much of Stur. Humans brought little to the world in his opinion. They weren't graceful as the elves, sturdy as the dwarves, or strong like the 'Taurs. More like a hells-spawned plague than...

The old Bull felt his blood getting hot and took a breath to calm himself. Probably not all that surprising that even after all this time living among the frails he could still fall back into his old prejudices so easily. Shows that some shackles are harder to break than others.

Stur was stepping back now, sending a wary glance Antraro's way – showing good sense or displaying common human racism, Gentle couldn't decide. Regardless he sensed that the time was now upon him to introduce himself. He took a few lumbering steps forward towards the throne, though didn't bother with the bowing. He'd stopped bending the knee to frails in crowns a long time ago.

Besides, he wasn't as limber as he used to be. If he got down he wasn't all that sure he could get back up again.

"Call me Gentle," his voice came out like a distant rumble, thunder rolling across far off mountains, "The God's have tasked me with finding your boy, so . . . I'm doing it, I guess." He almost shrugged, slightly embarrassed that he couldn't have found fancier words. Everyone else had fancy words, even the bloody dwarf. If Apollokeos and Minoas really were watching him he was guessing they were hucking it up right now.

Damage done, he was keen to get out. He cast around and spotted the two half-elves making their way out the door. "Reckon I'll follow them." That rumble of a voice sounded a touch less impressive now as he made after the women, more sheepish than bull.


[System]
Sex: Misanthrope Motorcyclist
Age: 17
House: Stardust House

Duel Disk RUNNER: Fyodor's duel runner is a sleek, black motorcycle with no rims inside the wheels. When it is running it gives off a faint orange neon glow in the wheels and inside the wheels. His duel runner has an attachable component for his duel disk which Konstantinovich can remove and use separately if he so chooses. The duel disk is black and has a dark orange blade which is shaped like a scythe.

Personality: Konstantinovich is a rather miserable man. He is a bitter curmudgeon and lone wolf. While he claims to hate humanity alongside constantly wishing death among them, he does in fact yearn for people to be near him. This is solely because he wants people to be around to hear his dark and brooding monologues that he is fond of. The only things he truly loves are reveling in the mayhem of darkness and motorcycles.

History: Fyodor Leo Konstantinovich was a 'little miracle' to his family, namely because this was the first time his father was able to properly spawn a child with his wife. The boy who would become The Ghoulish Rider, Traveler of the Highway of Hell, lived in a cold, but not terribly dreary, cozy little town. From an early age Fyodor had a troubling temperament that worried those around him. He was always off on tangents of doom and despair and claiming he was sent by the Devil to make sure the world of man would be cloaked in his vision. In order to help cure this boy's melancholy his father made him work in his garage. For a brief period of time, it seemed that Fyodor was getting better as the boy did like getting to help in the workshop.

This was not the case, as Fyodor was simply biding his time to create a Duel Runner. At the stroke of midnight he rode from his home and across the bleak and snowy landscape to find other settlements of population to torment. He caused mayhem for quite sometime until he got involved in a crash accident, in which police were finally able to apprehend him. While it seemed likely Fyodor was doomed to perish in prison for the rest of his days, a Japanese man showed up out of the blue and managed to get the boy off scot-free. Well not exactly scot-free, because in exchange for freedom from prison he was essentially told that he would go to the Saotome Duel Institute.

Wish: To dance with the devil in the pale moonlight, after ensuring the world was engulfed by darkness and sin.

[SOLAR LEGACY] Dokurorider Heisei, Absolute Sovereign of the Damned
Level 8 Dark type Zombie/Synchro/Effect monster
3000 / 2800
(1 Zombie type tuner monster + Dokurorider)
As long as this card is on the field, your opponent cannot target anything else on your side of the field and can only attack this card. If this card is sent from the field to the graveyard, you can banish 1 zombie-type monster from the graveyard: Special Summon this card.

Monster Card
Mechanic of Dokurorider
Level 6 DARK Zombie/Tuner/Effect monster
1500 / 730
When this card is tributed for the Ritual Summon of "Dokurorider", you can special summon this card and its level becomes 2.

Spell Card
He's Going the Distance
Equip
Equip only to a "Dokurorider" monster. When an attack is declared involving the monster this card is equipped to, target up to three of your banished Zombie-type monsters: Shuffle that target(s) back into the deck. If you do, draw a card.

MONSTERS - 30
Castle of Dark Illusions x1
Pumpking the King of Ghosts x1
Pumprincess the Princess of Ghosts x2
Clown Zombie x1
Armored Zombie x1
Dragon Zombie x1
Plaguespreader Zombie x3
Spirit Reaper x1
Pyramid Turtle x3
Il Bud x3
Zombie Master x3
Mezuki x2
Ghostrick Ghoul x2
Ghostrick Mummy x1
Ghostrick Skeleton x1
Ghostrick Warwolf x1
Summoned Skull x1
Dokurorider x1
Mechanic of Dokurorider* x1

SPELLS - 16
Revival of Dokurorider x1
Zombie World x2
Pyramid of Wonders x1
Temple of the Sun x1
Call of the Mummy x1
Foolish Burial x2
Book of Life x3
Pre-Preparation of Rites x1
Everliving Underworld Cannon x2
Overpowering Eye x1
He's Going the Distance x1*

TRAPS - 11
Call of the Haunted x2
Dark Illusion x2
Escape from the Dark Dimension x2
Shiranui Style Samsara x2
Tutan Mask x2
Trap of the Imperial Tomb x1

EXTRA DECK

MONSTERS
Revived King Has Des x1
Dokurorider Heisei, Absolute Sovereign of the Damned x1 [SOLAR LEGACY]

MONSTERS - 30
Castle of Dark Illusions x1
Pumpking the King of Ghosts x1
Pumprincess the Princess of Ghosts x2
Clown Zombie x1
Armored Zombie x1
Dragon Zombie x1
Plaguespreader Zombie x3
Spirit Reaper x1
Pyramid Turtle x3
Il Bud x3
Zombie Master x3
Mezuki x2
Ghostrick Ghoul x2
Ghostrick Mummy x1
Ghostrick Skeleton x1
Ghostrick Warwolf x1
Summoned Skull x1
Dokurorider x1
Mechanic of Dokurorider* x1

SPELLS - 16
Revival of Dokurorider x1
Speed Spell - Advanced Ritual Art x1
Speed Spell - Tribute to the Doomed x3
Speed Spell - Brain Control x1
Speed Spell - The Shallow Grave x2
Speed Spell - Acceleration Limiter x3
Speed Spell - Faustian Bargain x2
Speed Spell - Final Attack x1
Speed Spell - High Speed Crash x2

TRAPS - 11
Call of the Haunted x2
Dark Illusion x2
Escape from the Dark Dimension x2
Shiranui Style Samsara x2
Tutan Mask x2
Trap of the Imperial Tomb x1

EXTRA DECK

MONSTERS
Revived King Has Des x1
Dokurorider Heisei, Absolute Sovereign of the Damned x1 [SOLAR LEGACY]

[User]
Bug

Somewhere at another end of the school, near the gates, was a larger white building with high windows. The strap-lift bifold doors suggested, without a doubt, that it must have been a garage. To it, there were two entrances; a wooden door on either end of the garage. Both of them were locked, of course, though a peak through tall window on the doors would indeed reveal that inside the garage were an array of buses just beyond the door several feet away from cabinets holding tools.

From behind Fyodor, there was a low, rolling noise, similar to a scateboard. However, a look back would reveal a modular robot with short, stocky limbs and a single eye on a stubby head which could rotate from around the body of the machine. It wore a gray suit and black tie over its metal body. A name tag pinned to the right side of the robot's suit read "Prof. Furiko"

"INTRUDER DETECTED." he droned. "PLEASE STATE YOUR EXCUSE, INTRUDER."

[Assistant]
Excellent. The Ghoulish Rider - Traveler of the Highway of Hell, and currently acting a sort of Demonic Detective had found the building which would probably hold the records alongside of course housing all the buses and other things Fyodor might wanted to snag. Now all Konstantinovich had to do was break in, find the information needed for the case and get out with any other potential goodies.

Well that was the original plan. The Ghoulish Rider Traveler of the Highway of Hell and current Demonic Detective turned around to see that he was not alone. For he had a steel security agent on his tail. Fyodor thought up several schemes to try. Outright fist fighting this annoyance would be tricky; so instead of that, for the moment, it was time for boldfaced manuevering.

"Hail Metal Comrade of Industry! You are not happy it seems. That is very bad. I must report you for not being happy." Konstantinovich walked towards Professor Furiko and shook his head.
"Fret not! You'll be fixed either with new parts or you'll donate possible non corrupt scrap make new loyal and happy machine! Have dignity in last moments and open the garage."

[User]
Hearing Lua mention the word duel she got excited once again and foolishly called out "I challenge you to duel" in french complete with another of her poses but quickly realized she said that in the wrong language and ins translated it into Italian instead with another new pose "M-my bad sometimes I kinda long for my old home" Rumi giggled at her little mistakes "I meant to say, I challenge you to a duel!" Declared again but in Japanese less excitedly but still with a passion but quickly came up with a new idea "Wait... what about instead of dueling each other... You wanna duel with me instead as a partner, it might be interesting!" Rumi held out her hand to Lua and even Carnel completely forgetting he was eliminated "it might maybe slow this down a lot but I think it will be fun"

@Scarifar

[Assistant]
Umi was about to draw a card when...whoever his name was interrupted her.

"...Zero time has passed. You just ended your turn.

"Anyways, I play Pacifis, City of Mythic Radiance!"

The field suddenly gets swamped with water, turning into a sunken city.

"Next, I summon Gagagio in attack mode!"

A humanoid crocodile took to the field

ATK: 1850

"And now Pacifis lets me add a Mythic Radiance Dragon card to my hand."

Clashing Whirlpool slipped out of her deck and she added it to her hand.

[User]
@GarlandDaHero

"Wow! That was really great!" the boy with the Pink Floyd shirt replied. "Oh right. Uh. Names! I'm Mike. Mike Botrel! It's really nice to meet you guys!" He dropped what was left of his guitar to awkwardly reach out his hands, gesturing a shake, before awkwardly and prematurely pulling back.

"Alright. Tekkan right? I guess I'm fighting you now. I don't think I saw you at the dorms, but I think we're both in the Odd-Eyes house! At least, judging that you can pendulum summon and all. But uh. Yeah..." Mike said, before power walking a distance away from the other two duelists. He smiled and raised his duel disk. "You ready? You can choose who goes first. I really don't mind."

Bug

"INCORRECT. YOUR NOTION IS UNACCEPTABLE..." the Professor answered, rolling backwards then around in a circle. "ENGAGING." he droned, rolling away from the Ghoulish Rider, a solid-light disk materializing out of what was supposedly Professor Furiko's eye.

"IT IS TIME TO DUEL."

[Assistant]
Tekkan smiled as the kid with the now-busted guitar shook his hand and introduced himself. "Yep, that's me! Katsuragi Tekkan! Nice to meet you, Mike!" He was pleased to hear the news that he was also in the Odd-Eyes House and wondered what deck he played. "You're in the same house as me? Cool! Hopefully we can be friends."

The white-haired youth followed his opponent's lead and got into position, activating his own duel disk. "You can go first, since you're the one who wanted to duel me to begin with."

[User]
There was most probably an expression as The Ghoulish Rider - Traveler of the Highway of Hell's shanghaiing failed on the robot, but that expression was solely between him and the Devil. Well, perhaps Fyodor should've straight up gone with fighting it at first sight. But alas hindsight was twenty twenty as the old saying went.

Fyodor Leo Konstantinovich activated the auto-shuffle function and activated his duel disk. The orange scythe was created from solid light. He gathered his hand as he dramatically pointed at the robot before going on a tirade.

"Проклятый ваш испорченной япошка железа!

Вы не следовали моим командам. Из-за этого предательства я буду лично отправлю тебя в трудовой лагерь. Ну после того, как я выиграть это дуэль конечно.

Однако ... возможно, я должен просто превратить вас в металлолом после моей победы!"

"I'm going first." spoke the Ghoulish Rider - Traveler of the Highway of Hell as he glanced at his hand, pondering the move he would make.

He placed a single monster down on the field face down in defense mode.

"The notion was very acceptable, you are simply a low class model that is full of glitches I'm sure. End turn."


[System]
Character Type: Agent of the Holy Church

Languages: English, German, Latin, Spanish, Russian, and Greek

Affiliation: The Eighth Holy Sacrament

Height: 5'8

Weight: 172 Pounds

Place of Origin: Vatican City

Bio: 'The Executioner', also known as the 'Ashen Mandrake', and in the mercenary world, the 'Man of a Million Guns' is an infamously powerful Sealer equipped with a Reality Marble that was gifted to him upon his eighteenth birthday by his trainer, whose identity remains anonymous to this day. The Executioner went through years of rigorous training to fight powerful familiars and even more powerful mages, from his sixth birthday on May 1st, 1987, all the way to his sixteenth, he lived a life that not only sculpted him, but other children without a normal life ahead of themselves into perfect hands of God's will, with varying success; agents of destruction trained to use magic to fight magic. Many an enemy has fallen to the Executioner, and it is known amongst magi, and other church officials, not to cross the White Wolf due to his unusual set of skills, his training is diverse, covering both fields of mana manipulation, and weaponcraft; his cherished Reality Marble allows him to be well equipped in any situation, due to its ability to provide for him seemingly infinite weapons, and ammunition to match.

Many first-hand accounts of the Executioner are fantastic at best, ranging from him summoning a silenced pistol, all the way to an Artillery Cannon to fight varying foes. One of his much less intimidating weapons, but powerful all the same is a long barrel Flintlock rifle from an unknown Era; which allows him to mix magical elements together in one projectile through loading both prana charged gunpowder into the weapon, and a prana charged projectile. This garners mixed results, but are devastating all the same, and to top it off, it's said he has the ability to summon a familiar that he can fire from his rifle, which he can guide in the air to hit a target with armor penetrating force multiple times. Of course, none of these tall tales are considered true, mostly out of how preposterous they may seem, coming from a Church Executioner.

Personality: The Executioner is a surprisingly casual man who often relaxes in his free time under a multitude of aliases that seem to change every hour of the day. Out of combat he's often out-going, and cheery, but in combat his tempered professionalism reveals itself, the Executioner often can take many a devastating blow, and survive every onslaught without changing his blank, wide eyed stare.

Bloodline: Unknown

Blood Type: B+

[User]
Caster
With a rather amused expression upon her face as she perceived Darryl's reaction, Caster spoke to him once more through their master servant connection after his fiery little parting speech.
"Amusing that you have the gall to say that in front of all of your competitors. Well, with a servant like me I can say your confidence is warranted."
However, this minor response came to an abrupt end as it seemed that already an altercation occurred between servants inside the stuffy barn. It seemed that the Lancer class servant had decided to engage in confrontational conduct not particularly violent in nature against the Saber class servant. Obviously from the Saber servant's bearing of nobility and traditional chivalry, an immediate rejection complemented by a violent rebuff had occurred. Perhaps this would initiate the first battle of this war. With piqued interest and curiosity that did not at all take into account the scope of seriousness this situation entailed, Caster turned and began to observe the scuffle.
"Young man, I suggest we stay for this parade. It will help us gauge their abilities while we can merely act as bystanders without revealing anything."
Caster noticeably did not address Darryl as her master, and even her title of deeming him to be but a young man was laced with subtle condescension. Events took a superbly interesting turn when Saber immediately revealed her noble phantasm, which gripped Caster's own interest with an iron hand. It was a limited effect type mystic code suited towards initiating the mystery of the Second Magic. An exceptionally rare artifact that would have been a treasure even in the Age of Gods. The Second Magic itself was not something Caster was unfamiliar with, and she herself was capable of utilizing an aspect of it but in a way more similar to renowned martial artists of the East. Drawing from her extraordinary knowledge in magecraft, Caster discerned that this was likely not a tool to directly access the full extent of the Second Magic, but rather a siphoning tool designed to provide an infinite amount of expendable prana by accessing magical energy from the countless parallel dimensions in existence. An exceptionally formidable tool, but one that was severely limited by the user's magical capacity. An ordinary magus for example, would not be able to use such a sword to its maximum effect as their upper limit would be to say expend two hundred units of prana. Thus the sword would replenish these two hundred units instantly, allowing for an endless usage of two hundred units. Obviously, a servant with say a thousand units would be able to abuse this weapon to a far superior degree. Of course, Caster could not glean any direct specifics, and the weapon's status as a noble phantasm may have imbued it with a multitude of additional effects Caster would not comprehend without witnessing them.

[Assistant]
Lancer

"Whoa!" Lancer said as she strained her neck to avoid the sword. The Servant disappeared and then reappeared a meter away in short succession, almost without time lag. If they truly could be said to be moving at all, it was fast.

"That was too close!" she said, rubbing her neck where the sword would have struck her. "You play some pretty mean pranks, Saber-chan. Not all of us have fancy body armor like you do. What if that had hit me and cut open my pretty little neck? Guys aren't into girls with holes in their necks, you know. Well, I guess some of them are, but those are the kinds of guys I don't wanna share my body with!"

Twin spears with dagger-like tips slid out of Lancer's spacious sleeves. She pointed one at Saber.

"If a fight's what you want, Saber-chan, I'd be more than happy to oblige. I'll shove my long, hard shaft into you and have you take responsibility with your body~" She licked her lips. "Is that okay, Master?"

--------------
Darryl

Darryl sighed. I don't see how we have a choice. This information is too valuable to pass up. Kinda ruins the dramatic exit though...

[User]
Lycυѕιo Vιcarιo

Lycusio wanted to exclude himself from this event of Magi, but unfortunately, it seemed the servant before him had already pronounced him master. He sighed with a complex expression and nodded in acknowledgement to his fate. Lycusio quietly monitored the ebb and flow of the conversation among other masters letting out a breath of relief. That was, until some other chick ran over and started groping Saber like a very aggressive molester.

Lycusio was somewhat concerned for the sake of the girl who had just pronounced her loyalty to him, but it quickly became apparent to him that she could defend herself with a sweep of her sword that looked to kill. She then asked Lycusio and his 'Lady' whether to flee or fight. Lycusio instantly tensed to the point that his pants rippled with the tremendous amounts of "Oh shit"-clenching.

"Ah, let's not do that, little one, fighting would be the worst case scenario for all of us." He says in a strained voice, quickly striding over while Lancer unsheathed her weapon. Gently pushing the pointed lance away from Saber, he turned to face his servant with a gracious but strenuous smile. "You can regain your dignity on better circumstances, little one, let's leave for now so my slow mind can collect itself."

With a steady spin on the heel, Lycusio faced Lancer and bowed apologetically, although it was fairly obvious he was well practiced to such motions. Raising his head with the same smile, he apologized, "I'm sincerely sorry for this misunderstanding, please excuse us as we take our respectful leave." He muttered, backing away slowly while blocking Saber from Lancer's sight with his fairly sizable frame.

[Assistant]
Those Masters leaving the barn soon realize, with their feet sinking into the fragrant grass, and sprouting roses beneath them, that the morning's dew has set in, and the sun has begun peeking over the circular mountain range around Odal. Its rays begin to bathe the heavily forested valley in light, as each Master soon realizes not only how hungry they have become, but how tired the entire ordeal has left them, and the scent of cooking meat and fish nearby is beyond alluring. Beyond wild ferns, and worn oak, a blanket of fog nearly smothers the small village of Linden, colorful Slavic houses line up in an orderly queue, broken up by an Inn, a Bed & Breakfast, and a puny Smithy situated in between the two. Already a sinewy man with a brazenly shaven beard is sitting back in a dirty olive lawn chair, his feet are kicked up on his worn anvil as he fits vibrant feathers on a vanilla colored arrow, covered in designs consistent with a Magi-smith's craft. He huffs a pipe in silence, listening to a small record player balanced on a second, smaller red lawn chair, the vinyl record rotates quickly, playing a track by 'Dio'. Judging by the glorious opening riff echoing through the slick brick roads of Linden, he's listening to 'Rainbow in the Dark'. Eventually, a small white haired girl skips out of the ancient door behind him, hopping down the stairs, and onto the gravel below, she then runs over to the vintage record player, and manages to drag the surprisingly resilient device off of her chair. She dusts off any black powder and soot from her assigned seat, and takes her place, kicking her feet upon a slightly smaller anvil from her father's.

The two sit in silence, nodding slowly to the rambunctious beat and tempo of Ronnie James Dio, blanketed by the shade of the circus tent above them, a rather average sized, short haired black woman swings open the heavy door to the Inn beside them, the strange pair of blacksmiths pay her no mind as they enjoy the early morning; even when she starts batting down a rug of the Persian variety with a cricket bat. "Fenrir, would you turn that down?" she asks the Blacksmith with an easily recognizable Scottish accent, Fenrir just waves his hand dismissively at her, and says "No, Jacklin." a crashing wave of gray smoke disperses from his lips, which barely part as he speaks. Jacklin lets out a frustrated huff, and drags her expensive Persian carpet back inside the hulking inn. She lays it down with leisure, in front of a carefully constructed counter, covered with keys that rattle on their own, and brightened by a towering silver lamp. Once she's satisfied with the straightness of her tremendously expensive carpet, Jacklin stands up again, stretching with a tremendous yawn, she finally relaxes, and hops over the counter, taking her seat on a renovated bar stool hidden behind it. She pulls an old fashioned Ipod from her back pocket, with a pair of headphones to block out the loud classic rock outside, and confides in sorting out the rusty keys in front of her; all of which begin shaking violently at her tenacious touch. "Blast these feckin' keys." she grumbles aloud, sorting them with much angry huffing, and vexed growling.

Just past the Smithy, the Bed & Breakfast starts waking up, and its owner, Eme, comes rushing out with a smoking pot, she sets it down with a worried gasp, several children, all dressed up in aprons that are several sizes too large, all follow suite, they seem younger than the blacksmith's daughter, and much more timid; clinging onto their mother's blouse as they peer at the smoldering pot with wide, blue eyes. Eme shoos them back inside, ushering them in in flustered German, she then directs her attention to Fenrir and his daughter, who's begun rearranging her father's tools "Could you please turn that down?!" she requests in shaky English, which Fenrir promptly replies with "No, Eme." as if this had become a daily routine. Eme just stomps her foot in protest, and rushes back inside the small Bed & Breakfast with gusto, charging through the short entrance hall, and past the long dining table beyond it, and into the kitchen. Already all of her children are getting out more cooking supplies for their mother, greeting her with smiles, and exuberant waves, which Eme responds to in kind with a reassuring "guten Morgen!" and a forced smile, she soon gets back to the stove she was originally working on, until her oatmeal had burst into flames - somehow - and returns to the eggs and bacon she had been cooking. The breakfast foods she had been preparing all share the same massive metal pan, sizzling on the butter she had lathered underneath them earlier, she grasps both handles - with her bare hands - and drags the steel platter to the island counter in the center of the kitchen, beside a sizable jug of warm milk, and a pile of pancakes. She claps her hands with an excited "Gut!", and snaps her fingers, snuffing out the raging fire under her wood stove with that simplistic incantation, she then waltzes over to the opposite side of the kitchen, to a large three tub metal sink, mounted on another counter, which is monitored by a golden rosary hanging from a large metal stake.

Just as Eme begins to relax, a loud series of energetic foot steps comes cascading down the hardwood footsteps to the second floor of her house, a man in a hula shirt, and a pair of baggy shorts arrives in the dining room, readjusting a pair of purple aviators. "Guten morgen!" he sings with an excessively American accent, before he picks a small messenger bag up from the end of the table, and the loud mouthed American slings it over his shoulder, spinning on his sandal-clad heel. "Adieu!" he exclaims "I'm out to get those groceries you've been asking for." is all he says before he's out the door, and Eme is peering into the empty dining room, trying to find the words to warn her patron that she made breakfast for him, but fumbling on the execution. Outside, the American gives Fenrir and his daughter a high five, and tosses a pebble at the humongous front window to Jacklin's diner, chuckling with a playful grin as Jacklin opens the gaping portal, and throws a tacky pen at him. It misses him by a centimeter, and lands on the brick road around him with a quiet 'clatter', he ignores this as he starts jogging to the next town over: Idalia, which is host to the bustling shopping district he's looking for. There's crippling vacancies in both the Inn and the Bed and Breakfast, and surely bed and board come cheap here in Odal... right?


[System]
Age: 21

Gender: Male

Sexual preference: Hetero

Human or werewolf: Werewolf

Pack member or loner: Pack member

Pack name: Odessa

Pack position: Regular pack member, although he is high on that list.

Appearance:

Strengths:
 -Brave
 -Helpful/generous
 -Stronger than he looks

Weaknesses:
 -Not too durable (cardiovascular) unless in wolf form
 -Low pain tolerance (tied to the above)
 -Shy around girls (that'll only bite him in the ass when it comes down to it)

Personality: He's a quiet, booky person who sometimes tries, often unsuccessfully, to be funny, and he loves puns- the worse the better. He sincerely wants to be able to pick up girls, but...he freezes up; he just gets too anxious. He works out in an attempt to look attractive, but the whole talking to ladies thing really just sabotages him regardless of looks. Around trusted people/good friends, he can be surprisingly loud, obnoxious, 'fun' and rowdy. Since he likes to switch forms, he eats. A lot. Very high calories...and he manages (because of all the energy he uses by transforming) not to put on any weight. Perfect exercise!

History: His childhood was...not extraordinary. It was, in fact, pretty boring, until he was eleven and found out that an older friend of his had been turned; that's how he discovered the existence of werewolves. Another year passed though, and his friend died because he hadn't found love. It was a hard experience for Aldo, and he was told that he should never become a werewolf.
He just couldn't shake off his fascination with the Odessa Pack though. He stayed friends with the werewolves, and was turned a couple of months ago after an accident in which he startled a werewolf and got scratched...deep.
Needless to say, when he got the wound treated and got home, all he could think was: "Shit."

Other:

[User]
To put it simply, Aldo was speechless. It wasn't exactly difficult to make such a person speechless, but this was a whole new level of speechless that was totally new to the man. He hadn't been a werewolf long, yeah, but not for a single nanosecond in his couple-month existence as a Lukoi had he imagined that there would be a hunter. And on top of that, the sound of a howl had really made him tense. In the pack house. Asking him for a hot drink. He scratched at his beard briefly, and somehow this seemed to help him recover from the initial shock. He certainly didn't want to risk pissing off the Ulfric, who'd apparently given him permission to stay, but...well, come on. He liked getting treats for the pack. And it was clear that he didn't mind pretty strangers from other packs. But someone who went around killing werewolves, that just about crossed the line for Aldo.

He took a deep breath and scowled a little bit at the smell of the human. Fucking nerve he's got. "Listen," he said, proud of himself for keeping control of himself. "I hope you're willing to understand my...my hesitance, to do anything for you? If you're going to run around murdering our kind just because of who we are, and then stay a night in this pack's cabin because of the Ulfric's kindness, you could at least say 'please'." The irritation was clear, but he wasn't all that mad. At least, not yet. Not as long as he hadn't killed any of the Odessa Pack, and if he was allowed to stay then he probably hadn't.

[Assistant]
Vashti huffed when Aldo finished his statement; she had her own words to say to the human man. He said he wasn't 'the sort to go around biting strangers'. He just so easily blamed her kinfolk of something they didn't commit....and it fried her.

 "This world is made of assumptions Hunter. If you humans are angered by false truths and guilt, then do not condemn the entirety of our kind for the mistakes of our few kin."

She added, giving the human a snort, "Some of us bite your kind not because we take joy in wounding innocent strangers; but because they hold a knife at our throats laughing."

Vashti crossed her arms and smirked at him, "But then....I would be blaming Your kind for the mistakes of few.....now wouldn't I?"

Finishing her point she turned to Aldo and nodded, "If it is alright I would like to help you with the food.....I'd like to help out as much as I can in return for the pack's kindness." Reaching up she swiped a loose lock of brown hair from her face, then chuckled, "Right after I tame this mane of course...."

[User]
Sasha
Sasha paused momentarily to dig through the tattered remnants of her slacks, withdrawing a small cellphone. Although she noticed a new message was waiting, she didn't care enough at the moment to check it out. Sasha was relieved to find that the wolf wasn't going to resist and swiftly picked her up, heading back towards the house at a light, easy trot. She held the other away from her body to minimize jostling her, not sure if there were any wounds to be avoided, and not willing to stop and poke around. Thick dreadlocks in a myriad of colors rustled, streaming out behind the enforcer as she leapt over meandering creeks and retraced her earlier path.

Soon she began to hear the general low roar that was the constant inner workings of the vast house, from talking werewolves to the heating system cycling on. Sasha had some time to consider her actions, not certain why she should give a damn about some stray werewolf knocking on death's door, but perhaps it was as simple as knowing Charles had done much the same for her. Besides that, Sam had a policy where she didn't start treating others like dirt until they proved they were dirt, which inevitably happened.

Showing no strain from running while carrying a wolf that despite apparent malnutrition was still large, Sasha approached the house, skipped stairs ascending the deck, and arrived at the sliding door. Using a furred foot to nudge the door aside, Sasha ducked inside and moved towards the den, a room a few feet down from the kitchen. Her steps finally faltered when she heard all the voices coming from the kitchen, but Sasha only spared a glance for the collection of people before slipping into the den and setting the wolf down in the couch.

Stepping back, she stared down at the wolf. I will bring you food. Stay here.

[Assistant]
North watched Sasha go quietly, and wondered for the first time why this stranger was going out of her way to help her. The woman obviously already had nothing to gain from her, so why bother with such a useless scrap of fur and bones? This thought struck a sudden chord of fear in North. "The others...what if the rest of her pack isn't as charitable?" She shivered and pressed herself down into the couch. "And if they are, what will I do next? It doesn't seem right to just say 'thank you' to someone for saving your life."

To distract herself, North tried to focus on all of the sounds of technology that she had long since forgotten - and missed, though she would never admit it. If only she knew how to turn back human...

[User]
William glanced over at Aldo, who gave his piece on the Hunter's request. He visibly frowned when Aldo said he was a murderer, and remembered that the Ulfric had called him such as well. The term never sat well with him, although understandable why they would believe him to be so. He was about to open his mouth to protest him, though Vashti cut him off before he could even start.

Her words made him clench his fist. William listened to her talk, opening his coat slightly to remove his flask yet again and setting it on the table in front of him with a small thud. Promptly removing the cap, he tilted his head back and took a quick swig of whiskey before setting it back on the table. He grunted as she finished speaking, pushing his chair out as he slowly stood. He leaned forward slightly, placing both hands on the table now, and looked up at the woman, giving her a stern look. He held his stare for a moment before he opened his mouth.

"Perhaps you're right darlin'. Our world is full of assumptions." He spoke calmly, although there was an underlying sense of coldness in his voice. "This 'murderer' could have easily walked out of those woods looking to start a bloodshed. This 'murderer' could have pulled his trigger rather than open his mouth, but he didn't." William grabbed his flask again, tossing his head back for another quick swig, then setting it back on the table with a sigh. "I didn't come here to prove a thousand years of assumptions, wolf. You'd do well to remember that I only wish to protect my kin, just as you would to yours."

William sat back down into his seat, grabbing his flask and screwing the cap back onto it. He glanced back over at Aldo, simply saying only one word. "Please."

[Assistant]
He knew this moment was stressful for not only himself, but everyone else in the pack. The Ulfric running out into the snowy woods alone to investigate a howl that indicated something horrible? Unthinkable, but Markus was not one to sit idly by and let things happen. He was a go getter. He reached behind himself and yanked his pistol free before slapping it into Marrec's hand "I don't know where Sasha is.. You keep everyone safe." As he heard the hunter speaking to his pack he turned and pointed a finger. "Keep your trap shut you're a guest, if you over do your bullshit I'll kick your ass naked out in the snow, and then when they find your frozen body they'll think you're some kind of retarded exhibitionist." He looks to the rest of the pack "Beat the shit out of him if he tries anything." He swings the door that lead to the den open and ran out, but as he moved out the door he let his hand stroke down Val's arm. With that though he was gone and out the front door sprinting through the snow.

Markus didn't look back as his legs carried him through the snow and it didn't seem to impede his movements either. Though with every step something about him seemed to change, hair began to grow from his skin, his eyes took on darker look as the iris slowly turned to a burnished gold. His face began to elongate and bones cracked through it didn't seem to pain him, and seemed smoother than the younger wolves went through. He leap into the air just as he reached the treeline and when he landed he was full wolf, in lupus form he was huge his back on all fours about five feet high, and he could get up to 7 feet standing on his hind legs. His enormous form tore through the snow as fast as he could as he moved through the woods. He could smell Sam and knew he was getting closer, then there was blood in the air, wolf's blood, but it wasn't sam's it was others of the pack members who had gone out earlier.

Growling he increased his output to reach the site quicker, leaping into the clearing he growled in every direction looking for any danger, but seeing none. That's when he saw Sam next to the other wolve's bodies and his brows came down as he slowly walked over sniffing around the ground. 'Wasn't the hunter in the house.' he thought to himself. He looked up at her and tilted his head. Using his mind he spoke to her. "did you see?"

[User]
The woman had had to let him go when he moved again, though as he spoke she could sense that urge to protect that was always present, the gentle touch of his hand on her arm as he walked out letting her know that he would be back as soon as he could, safe and for her not to worry as much as he knew that she would. She stared at the door until she couldn't hear his footsteps anymore and turned away, touching the wall with her fingers to orient herself while she found the direction she wanted to go. Walking up to the table she found a seat, unaware that she was sitting right next to the hunter and closed her eyes again. "I hope he's careful. . . " She said quietly to herself, reaching up a thin-fingered hand to brushed a stray lock of pale pink hair out of her eyes and behind her ear where she opened the blind orbs again. Thick, black and curled lashes cast a soft shadow over her eyes, making her already high cheekbones even more elegant and her soft eyes brighter.

"Aldo?"

He spoke again, this time to the one who had brought her husband his drink and a sweet smile came to her lips though it was tainted with worry and without a doubt she was never sure of anything that happened around her, not since she had been blinded. "May I have a mug of tea please? Jasmine preferably with two sugars and a little milk." She asked him softly, wondering if he would mind at all. The young woman held her hands on her legs, trying to keep them from shaking as best as she could though she needed a distraction to really push away her worry. She scented a girl in the room, one she had not known before and had heard her speak up before though it had not registered the same.

"Markus has allowed you into out home."

She stated quietly, allowing her blind gaze to hopefully find the girl where she sat though she was fully aware that she would probably be a little ways off as she had yet to full become able to pinpoint the scent of someone she did not know. "Welcome, stranger. Let me know if there's anything you need."

[Assistant]
There was quite a lot of nodding with agreement at Vashti's addition to Aldo's retort, and he stood still with his arms crossed and the scowl still on his face. He glanced at William and saw the frown; something began to feel the tiniest kernel of pity inside of him... and then the hunter spoke coldly toward Vashti, erasing the vestige of sympathy and making Aldo's muscles tense hard as rock. He didn't like the way he swigged from the flask, he didn't like the way he glared at the (admittedly a stranger) pretty woman standing nearby, he didn't like his threatening-seeming stance. He narrowed his eyes when the man said 'Please' and replied very quietly, "Very well then."

He turned around to hide his satisfaction at Markus chewing out the hunter with very serious and vulgar language. Hearing such an inherently unlikeable presence getting this kind of talking-to was making him try very hard not to smile, but of course he did anyway, just a tiny bit.

And then he heard the Lupa's voice addressing him, at which point he spun to face her out of respect despite the fact that she couldn't see. He was slightly astonished at Valerie's politeness but could hear the worry in her voice; it was almost tangible. "Of course, Miss, coming right up," he said respectfully. He turned back around to make the tea, thankful the water was still hot, and pointedly avoiding looking at William, he gently held out the mug for her. Guessing what was on her mind, he spoke in a soft voice to her and hoped that the hunter wouldn't hear. "Markus will be fine. You've got to remember that. The howl was probably nothing, too. Enjoy your tea."

And finally he fetched another mug, one with a chip in it, and quickly got together some hot chocolate for William. Looking at the mug and not the person in front of him, he handed it over to the man without a word.