[System]
Species: Human

Gender: Female

Age: UNKNOWN

Nationality: UNKNOWN

Weapons and/or equipment: UNKNOWN

Backstory: UNKNOWN

[User]
"Perhaps. Direct communication between the Cradle and anything outside Babylon's biosphere is basically impossible. In theory, you could transmit information indirectly through all of the connections the Cradle has with our infrastructure on Outremer." Freyr mused as they rounded a large bank of workspace to the console. She shooed Dr Hou away from the interface's main seat in Cantonese and began manipulating a holo of a double helix, regressing Vreta's DNA back to its original form.

"However, these connections are basically all one way: outward from the Cradle. Which means any inward traffic would raise flags that are closely monitored. The most public devices I can think of that freely send information into the Cradle are the entry harnesses and implants. But even then, they serve the quite simple purpose of associating that person with a Cradle ID. No wiggle room for other information that i can think of..."

With the DNA strand returned to a pre-augmented state, Freyr and several of her team stripped it back even further. They pulled at the thread that was evolution, following a trail of mutations back through the entire history of the Rothian species. "So with conventional signals unlikely, where does that leave us? We know the Cradle has the ability to manipulate DNA, from the creatures that attacked us. What if, whatever may be on Rothia...did something similar to you, in the hope that you'll find your way to the Cradle? With a similar 'signature' style, the Cradle would be able to recognise anything related to it straight away. Moreover, the Rothia entity could encode all sorts of information into your genes, including patterns that can be converted into coordinates."

With Vreta's DNA now devolved to a very early point in Rothian development, Freyr motioned for her team to stop. Putting on a pair of overlay glasses to add some of the annotations back into her view of the holo, Freyr brought in a DNA sample found in all of the Cradle creature samples. Dr Hou and several more of the team activated a machine learning algorithm to detect similarities and patterns. Parts of each structure began quickly highlighting as the program cross-referenced them.

[Assistant]
Vreta could easily along with what Freyr was suggesting, though he had a hard time accepting it as anything more than a fantasy. For it to be true would upend their concept of the history of life on their planet. A planet that, as of right now, still did not show any evidence for the presence of intelligent life before themselves. Of course, if there was something related to the Cradle on Rothia, then that alone would rewrite their history.

"That is…well I can't say that I can outright deny it as a possibility, but for that to be true would require our species to have been manipulated, maybe even formed, by an ancient species that left no trace of themselves on our planet. Our DNA has been thoroughly sequenced and explored, as has the DNA of nearly every living thing on our planet. We have never found anything we would identify as coordinates. Something like that would almost certainly have to be found in junk DNA, as it is highly unlikely that a set of spacial coordinates would just so happen to code for a useful protein. But even our junk DNA has been explored thoroughly. The only way I would imagine that being possible is if the Cradle's software used a notation for coordinates that would be unfamiliar to us. My people, of course, have not been allowed direct access to Cradle software before, so I would not know how its notations for programming and mathematics would differ." Vreta admitted.

[User]
"Yes, the Cradle has its own language that is baffling in scale and complexity. We don't understand all of it yet, but we should be able to at least pick up this 'signature' if it appears." Freyr explained as a shape moving into the lab caught her eye. Looking up, she saw Agent 595 approaching, a curious look on her face. "What's going on in here?" She asked, wearing a polite smile. Freyr began to explain, but a noise from the console interrupted her halfway through.

"Oh my…" she murmured, utterly engrossed in the data displaying in her overlay glasses. Dr Hou began shouting excitedly in Cantonese and grabbed one of his colleagues to double check. "Vreta... i think we have a match!" Freyr looked up at the alien, eyes shining behind her glasses. On the hologram, numerous small patterns were simultaneously detected and pulled out of the double Helix. "Your DNA presents multiple similarities with a Cradle design!"

Pretty much everyone in the lab had stopped to watch this experiment unfold by this point. When the results came in, they all began excitedly whooping, yelling, chatting and crowding around Freyr to congratulate her. She grinned broadly, still unable to believe what she was seeing. She returned a few high fives before dishing out further orders; namely to decode the exact coordinates from the data. Her team swirled around her like a shoal of fish as they got to work.

595 came around to Vreta's side and watched his expression with an inscrutable stare. "Welcome to the family. What're you going to do now?"

[Assistant]
Vreta was not chatting and cheering as was most of the crowd. In fact, he was rather firmly silent. Despite all his training and mental fortitude, the magnitude of this potential revelation was enough to coax some visible reaction out of him, even if it was just a few seconds of a wide-eyed stare with his mouth slightly agape.

It did not take long for Vreta to compose himself externally, though he still did not give much attention to the others in the room. He became stony-faced and remained silent, not even giving a reply to Agent 595 before he calmly moved to the console and began checking and re-checking both the data and the signatures they had been looking for.

When the chattering between Freyr's team started to soften, Vreta spoke with a strange, unemotional calm to his voice. "I would hesitate to celebrate so quickly. These results still need to be checked, and other explanations eliminated. I am noticing that your methodology for extrapolating our evolutionary history does involve some guesswork to bridge some gaps. Well-educated guesswork, granted, but there is some room for uncertainty. I will make sure to get you more comprehensive data on our genetic history so the test can be run under more ideal conditions. I suggest you keep testing and examining any potential source of error. If this is a conclusion that is going to be presented…we need to make sure it is undeniable. I believe I shall go…take some time to think. Perhaps finish editing those pamphlets. Though before I do…"

Vreta let out a sigh, then looked up from the console towards Freyr. "This test you just performed on my genetic code, this search for Cradle signatures…has it ever been performed on Human DNA?"

[User]
Freyr looked at Vreta and immediately realised she'd been insensitive. This discovery, if correct, could change everything he thought he knew about himself. She was still learning Rothian expressions, but her new friend seemed "Yes of course, we'll make sure we're one hundred percent certain before going any further." She reached out and put her hand on Vreta's as it lay forlornly across the console, giving it a squeeze. "Everything is going to be OK, i promise."

Vreta's last question caught Freyr off guard - she withdrew her hand and scratched her head. "I suppose, no...we haven't. We've only been able to analyse organic tissue samples from Cradle creatures for a few months. I don't think we've looked at our own DNA…" Freyr looked around at her team, and a few of them shook their heads. "But I can see your logic...Dr Hou, get me a swab kit!" The lab was now in a frenzy, and Freyr quickly blocked out all non-participants.

"I think we should leave them to it. We'll only get in the way of this well-oiled machine." 595 said, appearing at Vreta's side again. She wanted to get the Rothian away from the lab in case another earth-shattering discovery was made; information was flowing a little bit too freely right now. Then, she could buy some time to report back to her superiors and get her orders.

[Assistant]
Vreta gave no objections to leaving, as he had his own concerns to deal with. Although the revelations did not do too much to increase his workload aboard the ship over the next two weeks, I did dominate many waking hours of thought. He had access to acceptable FTL communications, so he could send ahead data and alert his people to be prepared to test this new discovery, but there was little else he could do in that regard. Once he had distributed informative pamphlets among the crew, and held a few more meetings with certain important individuals to ensure they knew what to expect from Rothia, all there was for Vreta was to await their arrival.

In all his centuries, the two weeks aboard the Barbarossa were probably the longest two weeks of his life. Until their ship arrived, there was little progress that could be made on any front, just waiting and wondering. Even by his own high standards, there was plenty for Vreta to do to occupy his time, but it was never enough to distract his thoughts. Regardless, he still made the attempt. Most of his time he spent alone, browsing whatever entertainment the ship had on offer. Human media was not something that was new to him, even before taking his position on Outremer. Entertainment from multiple species were distributed and sold throughout the galaxy, wherever there might be a market for it. Some of their entertainment did demonstrate parts of their more peculiar facets, but Vreta could still enjoy it. Otherwise, he divided his time between relaxing in the beach room, and chatting with members of the crew. He decided to get to know some of the people he would be working with a bit better, like Freyr, her team, and even Magard. Agent 595…less so. Regardless, when it did finally come time for the ship to arrive at Rothia, he still invited her to join him in the observation room along with Freyr and the others.

Vreta stood up at the front of the room near the massive window that gave them their view of what was ahead of the ship. FTL warped spacetime in a way that was almost unrecognizable to the eyes, but once they dropped to sub-luminal speeds, everything came clearly into view. They had dropped out of FTL a safe distance from, but within clear view of Rothia. The planet itself, from high above, was a world of green continents and blue oceans, with the reddish brown of some deserts scattered around, like many habitable worlds. There was a notable lack of ice caps, with a green forest on the northern pole, and ocean on the south. Though, it was what was in space that was more eye-catching. It had a ring system about its equator to rival that of some gas giants, proportionally. They were mostly shades of white, brown, and tinges of other colors.

Ultimately, while Rothia itself was eye-catching in its own right, it was what was beyond the planet that would certainly capture the attention and imagination of any onlookers, for Rothia did not orbit a standard, main-sequence star. In fact, it did not orbit a star at all. The object at the center of the system was an active stellar-mass black hole. Instead of nuclear fusion, it was the intense energy of its accretion disk that provided Rothia's heat and light. To see the total blackness of the void at its center, even from a distance, was a sight was was spectacular to many, and haunting to some.

[User]
The Welcome Wagon
The rest of Barbarossa's two week journey to Rothia passed in a flurry of activity for Freyr. The discovery of Cradle-like interference in Rothian genetics had to be verified beyond a shadow of a doubt. The team cross referenced seven different Cradle creature samples with the complete library of Rothian DNA history Vreta provided. On day four, Freyr could say with some certainty that a complex message was hidden in Vreta's junk DNA. Part of that message was incomprehensible, but they were able to extract the same coordinates the comms array had pinged back on Outremer.

After a couple of mandated delays, they tested a sample of Human DNA in the same way on day three. 595 showed up with a delegate from the Security Council and classified it Top Secret, meaning the experiment was conducted behind closed doors.

Apart from work, which took up about seventy percent of her waking hours, Freyr spent time in the combat simulator with 595 and (sometimes) Masgard. They practiced on targets and gradually became more familiar with a variety of weapons. Freyr found out that Masgard was something of an Outremer aristocrat; he could trace his lineage back to the small first wave of colonists that landed on the planet. He had been a partner at one of Babylon's top law firms before being poached to work for the Director-General.

Freyr couldn't coax any details out of Agent 595, not even her real name. The captain had referred to her as 'from Cradle Security', but Freyr sincerely doubted that was the case. CraSec, up until a few months ago, had been a bunch of glorified night watchmen. Behind 595's friendly, occasionally excitable persona was a vicious solo operator who seemed at ease in extremely dangerous situations. On day seven, she clinically dismantled multiple combat droids in hand to hand combat with Freyr and Masgard watching in disbelief. The same day, 595 insisted on clearing a kill house meant for four people on her own.

To unwind from all this, Freyr spent a bit more time in the beach room. However she couldn't stay in there alone, often electing to invite Vreta. That was on her own, she always ended up thinking about how she never got the chance to take David and Amy to a beach. In fact, every one of Freyr's waking moments not occupied by frenzied activity somehow wound back to thinking about her family. She did not sleep easily, and her dreams were plagued by Cradle monsters.

She was excited to see Rothia, having read up on what to expect beforehand. But when Vreta invited her to the observation deck on arrival day, it surpassed all expectations. "Oh, wow!" She exclaimed, covering her open mouth with both hands at the sight of the famed black hole. "Look at that.." Masgard murmured beside her. "Very picturesque, Vreta'Sori! I can see why you wanted us to come all this way now." 595 grinned, patting the top of Vreta's tail where a Human's behind would've been. Freyr's team were like kids in an aquarium, pressing their noses to the glass to get as close as possible. "Such a pretty planet, too!" Freyr cooed, taking in all the colours of the rings. She took pictures via her implant and resolved to show them to David and Amy when she saw them next.


[System]
Epic Identity: Stark crusader

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Faction: Epic Hero (Borderline Neutral)

Ability:
Super strength and durability: this varies based on his weakness, able to lift up to 80,000 pounds over his head and having skin incapable of being pierced by standard ammunition of a low caliber at his finest.

Weakness: Clothes, the more he wears and less exposed his skin is, the weaker he gets to the point of not being able to support his own weight.

Personality: James is a fairly laid back person, he enjoys crude, dark humor and puns, especially the last one much to the chagrin of the opponents he faces. Due to the unique conditions under which he usually fights, James has become rather flippant with his position as a peacekeeper, often times slacking off in his duties to better avoid tense scenarios as his ability doesn't really allow him much anonymity. However James isn't one to back down from a challenge or stand idly by whilst innocents suffer, he may play bystander to a purse snatcher, but a rampaging murderer will bring him straight to the fore front.

Appearance: James will often wear a black tank-top with dark jeans and a pair of thongs on his feet, a combination of clothes that still allows him to perform at a level just above that of an average person his size. He has mid length dirty blonde hair that is kept swept to the left of his face to reveal his dark blue eyes, he possesses a rather sharp, aquiline nose, and a square jaw that seems to contrast harshly with the rest of his look. Standing around 6'1, James is quite well muscled, having hit the gym extensively to obtain an image he could live with showing off to the public. When performing duties as an Epic, he'll often strip down to his boxers or go completely nude if the stakes are high.

Background: James grew up in rural Australia, with a single mother, living life on a farm that was one of many supplying the local town that was lorded over by a strong group of epics. The setup was similar to many on the continent, small warlord factions protecting a handful of normal citizens, land and the various resources and utilities they provided from the horrors that lay just outside the border. Sometimes they would feud with one another to make a grab of each others resources, in an attempt to gain more wealth and influence over a given area. As a citizen of an outlying farm station, James saw much of these conflicts in his young life, often clinging to his mothers skirt as these fierce warriors fought.

The greatest resource to these warlords was young epics, future tools and soldiers that could be used to further their ambitions. If a newly awakened epic possessed a power of a truly frightening magnitude, something that could possibly overthrow a ruling faction, they were often dispatched of with haste. So when winter came around and James fell sick with a flu, his mother did what she usually would, making sure the lad was rugged up and warm, ensuring he kept up his fluids and his strength with warm, hearty meals. It was at this time however, that James begun the process of his awakening, unknown to both himself and his doting mother. So as the day wore on, James condition seemingly worsened, the young boy became frail looking, his breath rattled and he groaned weakly beneath the covers of the blanket. He complained often of their weight as he struggled and tossed about meekly, until finally his mother pulled them aside, witnessing a remarkable recovery of the boys strength and spirit.

It didn't take long after for young James and his mother to figure out his strengths and the limitations clothes brought about. James learned to brace the cold in return for his new found gifts, often spending his time collecting firewood with ease, gathering warmth through physical exertion as opposed to a jumper and while the boy played out his winter days, testing the limits of his strength, his mother spent her time figuring out a way to keep her lad from the grasp of the warlords. As spring came around and the people grew more active once more, the epics returned to regular ventures out toward their borders, Jame's mother grew more worried, unsure of how long they could keep up a charade of any sorts. Through an unknown contact to James, his mother had found and epic that dealt in people smuggling, trading in what supplies she had to get her and the young boy to safety. Although reluctant to leave, James understood the risk his mum had taken and went without a word to his new home in Manhattan.

[User]
Teagan was by the Chief's side in a flash, stripping her tailcoat and tossing it in a vacant chair. "Chief, put me to work!" The man fixed her with a steely stare. Teagan didn't budge.

 "We'll be setting a perimeter." He finally relented. "We need to help move the civilians out of the fighting zone." They moved swiftly through the huge hall. Other rescue workers and leo's were doing the same. "Got a car?" The Chief asked.

 "Took a cab." Teagan shook, her head.

 "You'll ride with me." He jogged towards his personal vehicle and Teagan followed wordlessly.

 When they arrived at the scene Teagan was expecting to witness total chaos. And there were swats of people running full throttle in the opposite direction of the swarm rats' incursion. But there was already a rudimentary perimeter set up by the first Epics on the scene. The Chief floored the brakes and the two of them flew out of the car. The trunk popped open. "Take whatever you need from the trunk. You'll be helping the stragglers reach this line!" The Chief said.

 A dozen or so other cars were just pulling in. Men and women started flowing out of cars, trucks, cruisers. Police cars also started arriving on the scene. The Chief started barking his orders. Heavily armored police officers with shields started forming lines, while more light armored squads entered the outskirts of the fighting zone to help any civilians who hadn't managed to escape in time.

 The Chief's trunk was armed with a shotgun, a backup sidearm, a police baton and a taser, which Teagan took. His Kevlar vest wouldn't fit her, so Teagan left it behind. She found a flare gun, which she also pocketed. A female officer approached her and handed her a female Kevlar vest.

 "Chief's orders." She stated simply. "Put it on, we gotta move!"

 Teagan nodded, quickly strapping the vest.

 "Let's move out!" Someone shouted. "There's still civilians out there and they need help. Pair up and start sweeping. Don't take any unnecessary risks. Don't engage the rats if they're too many. Call for help."

 "Come on." The woman who'd handed her the vest said. "You're with me."

 Teagan nodded and an errant thought passed through her mind before she sprinted after her partner. Be safe, Traveler!

[Assistant]
Fixer was just staring down at the food table when the telepathic message was sent to all of them. His eyebrows raised as there was a moment of silence among all of them. He expected everything to just explode into action. And then it did. The heroes that could afford to run or fly to said location were the first to go. He placed his hands in his pockets as he watched the building went back to its original state. Wow, he really admired that power High Island had. That was quicker than what he was capable of doing right now. He really needed to work on his own power. Maybe someday he'll get to that level. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but if he can do that, then that would just be amazing.

As everyone was exiting the building, Fixer simply looked at the table. This was his chance, while no one was watching. He could finally eat a lot of these before he went out. Besides, the heroes were already littered all over that. They had it covered didn't they? Yeah, they didn't need his help per se. He practically ripped away his mask and then started to gulp down the brownies and the other non-shellfish food they had there. Then he heard it, the accursed call of his teammates. They were sober? Damn it. There goes all of eating this. He quickly placed his mask on his face again and jogged over to the entrance where his teammates were waiting. "Come on man, hurry up!"

Fixer rolled his eyes and then hopped on to the back of the First Responder pickup truck. While in there, they quickly changed into their uniforms. They were nowhere near as fast as the other heroes but they arrived soon enough to see the heroes fending off these... "rats". He didn't think he should even refer to them as rats. At least those were lovable at some point, bu these looked like they were ready to tear them limb from limb. Actually, that should be what they were aiming for. "The Chief and the others are already setting up the perimeter! Let's get in there and get those civilians out!" Fixer was snapped out of his thoughts when their leader gave out their orders. He grabbed a handgun and some ammo, just in case. At times like these, he wishes for a more offensive or a lesser taxing power so he could use it as an attack. Ah but whatever. They hopped off the truck and then ducked towards the buildings.

There wasn't much destruction, yet, so he had to deal with evacuating the civilians who didn't make it out quick enough. He found a young child in one of the alleys. She had her knees folded up to her chest and she was shaking - probably crying. Oh great. "Come on kid, let's get you out of here and to your mommy. Sounds like a good idea yeah?" He said, crouching down to the height of the child. The young girl looked up, tears streaming down her eyes. She nodded and then took his hand before shrinking. He looked back and saw a rat attempting to corner them. He looked at the child and then gestured for her to cover her ears. He began shooting at the rat, effectively killing it with a few shots. He then swept up the child and carried her on his back. She felt him shaking violently, probably because of that little display. "Hold on kid."

He rushed back to the pickup and then placed her on the back. The truck was full and he knocked on the pickup. It then moved back to the perimeter set up by the police. Fixer jogged into a building to check if there were other civilians there. This might be a bad idea but they needed to sweep thoroughly or else there might be a casualty. He peeked out of the window to see that the heroes were doing well with pushing back the rats.

[User]
Jumping out of a window was one of the primary ways of getting into action as an Epic these days. The High Island would repair them after you, and if you were able to then it was good fun. Alto fell into that category, and there were a lot of ways he could do it. He could land on his Vice Claw, and no matter what size it was it'd be able to take the fall. He could also hold on to the side of the building and scrape his way down the wall, which would also end up being fixed by the High Island. Right now though, he wasn't doing any of that, he was just taking the stairs.

Reason being that he needed to get his suit-jacket off, and he couldn't do while he was running all that well. As for why he was taking it off, it was because it'd probably look cooler. Jerry had told him to start watching his appearance and while initially he hadn't cared so much, he sort of understood why. There was a certain image Epics gave off, and the public was certainly attached to that image. It was sort of like old-world celebrities which Alto hadn't been alive for, but he'd seen comparisons.

Luckily for Alto, the main part of Vice was the Vice Claw so having relatively plain clothes was alright. But now that he was wearing a suit, he had to look good in it. Him fighting would probably look the best without the suit jacket on and he didn't need to hurry so much. He pledged to help the people all that time ago, but in events like this even he had to consider what would be the most efficient route of action. There had been big events like this before, and he'd seen that it was entirely possible to go without casualties.

But still, a Swarm Rat event was the kind of event that had a higher risk for the Normals in the city. Swarm Rats were fast, resourceful, and sneaky. There was a always a chance one could slip past you, but Alto wouldn't let that happen.

"Fire's good for extermination after all..." He muttered.

He took the necklace off of his left arm and the Vice Claw roared to life.

[Assistant]
Bleeding from dozens of small cuts and scrapes, James stood panting, the sweat on his brow and blood from his foes plastering his hair to his forehead as he enjoyed the brief reprieve he had fought for among the swarm. Their broken bodies twitched in odd spasms, a few were missing limbs, all were dead. James gulped down the cool air, continuing to breathe raggedly as he studied the new wave of foes that approached him, they were more cautious, as opposed to the mad rush of the group before, moving around his sides to flank him, their little stone knives moving about in their hands. Although the blades had had a hard time of it, they were still been capable of scraping into the outer layer of his skin before breaking and James didn't look forward to adding anymore scratches to his already impressive repertoire.

"Come on then you nasty little fuckers!" He dared them, moving his hands to undo his belt, pulling it free as he eyed them with a look of vehemence. The creatures briefly looked about their own ranks, seemingly waiting for who among themselves would lead the attack, chattering all the while. James had undone the button on his pants and let them fall to his feet, kicking them off in the direction of a particularly grotesque looking swarm rat, the thing jumped back from the item of clothing and hissed in James direction. This seemed to rile up the rest of them as the some joined in on the hissing, the chattering became more intense until a few broke into a squeal, charging toward James who now stood in only his boxers.

Their knives were useless now, harmlessly scraping along his skin, making a sound like stone on stone. One attempted to bite down on his neck instead, clambering up his back to clamp down on him from behind, there was only a minor discomfort for James as he reached over his shoulder and wrenched it from its mantle, sending it hurtling into a nearby wall with a sickening crunch. He took no pleasure in this slaughter, his teeth clenched in a grimace as he made his way through their number, inflicting massive hurt if not outright killing them with his fists. It's them or us.


[System]
Age: 19

 Magic: Trinity's Magics -

Energy Make (A Rank) - Caster Magic. Lost Magic. Taught by her father. Trinity molds energy into a state where it can interact with matter. She can manipulate the qualities of this energy-substance to be immaterial or material, and what kind of discharge contact with it will give. She can create a discharge of force, electricity, heat, and light. Pain is something she achieves through heat, electricity, and moderated amounts of force in odd directions. Unless she employs a special technique, she can only vaguely control Energy Make objects she is not within five feet of. She can cheat and create wires, though.

Energy Make can absorb energies, though this may render the energy 'substance' difficult to contain.

Bard's Legerdemain (A Rank) - Caster Magic. Taught by her mother. She can use this magic to play any instrument within 100 feet of her without touching it. It will float as needed, and may even move with her as she moves, but she cannot control an instrument expressly to move it. On its own, this magic must be used to perform. She can do something like play a single note and it counts, though.

She can cheat this a little bit and combine the magic with Energy Make to make an instrument. She creates a blueprint of the instrument and uses Bard's Legerdemain to give it a shape. She doesn't really understand quite how it works, herself. She describes it as imprinting something within the magic of Bard's Legerdemain onto the Energy Make. Trinity can conjure into existence any instrument she knows how to play. She can even create unique, custom instruments, though these creations require more magic power than a generic instrument.

Arrows Magic (B Rank) - Holder Magic, using a magic quiver. Taught by her uncle Weigraf. Trinity can use this magic to conjure arrows to fire as projectiles from a bow. The arrows can take on a wide variety of effects, from exploding into a chunk of ice on contact or becoming a bolt of flame, to bursting into a net, carrying a homing signal, or homing in on that signal.

Fire Arrow ★★+, Ice Arrow ★★+, Lightning Arrow ★+, Wind Arrow ★★★★
Love Arrow ★★★★★ (Energy Make Combo) - Love Arrow is an arrow made from Trinity's magic power (with a little Energy Make), and she can shoot it to give strength to an ally. The power of love bolsters and purifies... or something?
"They say loves heals, right?"
Beacon Arrow ★★★ (Energy Make Combo) - Beacon Arrow turns an arrow into a magic beacon, which can be used for a number of things, such as a homing beacon for Homing Arrow.
Homing Arrow ★★★ (Energy Make Combo) - Homes in on the Beacon Arrow.
Net Arrow ★★★★ - Fires an arrow that turns into a net.
Ringing Arrow ★★★★ - Fires an arrow that makes a noise.
Bright Arrow ★★★★ - Fires an arrow that emits light.

Requip (D Rank) - Trinity was taught this magic for the convenience of it, which was the motivation for the woman who taught it to her, her aunt Vivian. As an act of disgust with the woman's purpose, Trinity doesn't actually use it much, but she does use it for certain important items.
Rainbow Quiver - Necessary for Trinity's Arrows Magic.
Midnight Alloy Crescent Moon Staff - Mysterious. Gnarled. The night sky sparkles in the metal of the crescent moon that adorns the top of this staff. It asks for something...

 Magic Level: A

 History: Trinity was part of a minor noble family in Minstrel. She learned music, of course, and found a preference for the harp. Her father taught her Energy Make. She lived a calm, peaceful life, playing with and learning her magic, until a Guild (that was, at the time, a Light Guild) attacked her home. She was rushed to the basement by servants, hiding her away in a shelter below. They later emerged to find her father missing, her mother tearful but strong.

Her mother had instructions from Lord Stratos, and met their daughter with a staff, made from a gnarled branch, with some crescent resting on the end, made of some mysterious metal. She was to take the staff with her and go to her second uncle's home in Midi, where she would learn archery with her second cousin. There she stayed for two years. After, she moved in with her great aunt Vivian in Stella, who showed her how to Requip items, and some "finer points of being a lady," though such phrasing made Trinity scoff. Neither of her parents had been very intent on teaching her manners, so she never saw the importance.

After almost one year with Vivian, Trinity then took to wandering. Living under someone else's roof was too stifling (particularly Vivian's...), and she wasn't used to these people, as nice as they were.

She went west, across Bosco, and into Fiore.

 Personality: Though a bit of a drifter, she's a carefree, sweet young woman.

 Guild: Phoenix Wing
 Team Members: Karn, Fleo, Ariel

 Three Strengths:
 1. Music
 2. Physical Science Savant
 3. Agile, Dextrous
 Three Weaknesses:
 1. Physically meager
 2. Idealistic
 3. Rude? There's a word I can't think of...

 Greatest Love: Life Music
 Motivation: Step 1, find dad, Step 2, bring Metal home
 Appearance: Trinity wears her white hair short, framing a soft face and heterochromatic eyes. One is gold, the other purple. She dresses in cropped and tailored red robes.

 Have we met before...?

 Additional Details: Likes exploring ruins and old magic stuff.

Theme(s): Main Theme, maybe?

"アアチェリのまほう！" [Archery Magic!]

"エエナギ・マアく" [Energy Make]

[User]
Kassimir: Phoenix Wing Guild Hall

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Kassimir let out a deep, yet quiet sight. He looked out to the rest of the guild hall and everyone in it. He felt lost in this place and began to wonder if joining a magical guild was a good idea. Pushing back the feeling of being overwhelmed he made his way towards the center of the hall. Mages went on about their business as if he wasn't there. Raising a single finger to about shoulder level he spoke a very awkward. "Uh..." As they continued to go about their lives.

[Assistant]
Fox
NOLAN
When did on the gods' green earth did Karn transform into a woman?! Nolan's face flushed furiously in both fear and embarrassment, mostly because for a split second thought that wasn't his feminine male companion, but an extremely attractive woman. He extended his right hand all the way out and then slapped himself for having such thoughts though he did have to admit, Karn pulled drag off better than how most women he met looked, which is quite a sad fact. "God dammit Karn."He muttered to himself while he followed Karn away from the campsite for their spar. There was something that Nolan wanted to talk about with Karn afterwards. He was going to bring their power to greater heights than they could ever hope to achieve in only two months or even possibly years, at the risk of Nolan's body and soul.

Nolan stood a further distance away from Karn once they had reached their desired location away from the camp. Even though Nolan was terrified of Karn, he was surprisingly calm at the prospect of fighting the transforming mage. "If that's the case then I'll start." The God Slayer extended his hand out and an ethereal blue version of one of his god slaying swords, Hermes, appeared before turning into its physical state. Nolan grabbed the one handed blade by the hilt and threw it towards Karn, but it only pierced the ground in front of the Chimera Slayer. It may had looked like his throw had came up short, but it was all on purpose. Nolan's body faintly glowed blue before vanishing from sight, but just as quickly appeared right by the sword he threw. He grabbed Hermes and with enhanced swiftness granted by the sword, swung a upward diagonal slash towards Karn.

[User]
Fox@Caits

Zephyr
River Town

Zephyr looked at Prince with a confused expression at the mention of Zephyr losing his towel if he kept jumping and would walk back naked. "Meh I have no shame. Besides I could use Echo and just wear the suit until I get back. I am never without clothing, If I really wanted to, I could remain clothed in armor for the rest of my life." Zephyr stated that he was never without clothing. He then heard Princes team name which made Zephyr chuckle as he covered his mouth. Names was not the strong suits of Prince or Zephyr in many cases. Prince then asked Mikey to be the tie breaker but he ended up adding his own name into the mix.

Zephyr scratched his head a tad confused on this name. It seemed more orientated to Prince and Mikey, but then Zephyr snapped his fingers. "Actually that could work, I just have to find some way to do spirit take over and bam! That and this is probably the most serious name we will get. So I put my vote on Spirit Claw!" Zephyr said giving Mikey a thumb up of approval.

[Assistant]
Karn
Fiore || Some Island somewhere

Karn watched Nolan, expression remaining cheerful as he watched the godslayer seem to cause some ethereal magic that created a sword. In which he made a 'awed' expression. Seeming quite like he was not taking the fight quite seriously. Course, he didn't want to get so mad that he ended up eating Nolan's arm or something. He doubted that will happen though. Perhaps acting this way was just a good way at distracting himself from what happened earlier. Worrying how one looked while dressing up like this was indeed sort of distracting. As Nolan threw the sword, Karn's emerald eyes simply blinked as it landed in front of him but he didn't move and watched as Nolan simply disappeared. When Nolan appeared in front of him and went to strike a upward strike, Karn transformed but seemed to completely disappear. In reality, he transformed into a worm and dug under the ground. Soon appearing behind Nolan and returned to his human form before smiling brightly.

"Secret Technique: Huggle Attack!"" Karn giggled as he promptly glomped Nolan from behind, arms wrapped around the torso and curving upward so his slender hands firmly gripped the godslayer's chest while nuzzling his back and pressing Karn's body against the Godslayer's back as much as possible.

After a good moment of that, Karn suddenly transformed into a giant purple snake, baring his fangs from above Nolan and lunged from above to snap paralyzing venom covered fangs at the Godslayer.

Prince
Fiore || River Town
@Caits

Ears twitching at the two, Prince chuckled at Michael's suggested name and Zephyr soon coming to a agreement to it. "Spirit Claw it is then. Now we get to tell the Guild our sweet romance blossomed in the bath." he purred in amusement before stretching and stood up, shaking a little like a cat would to rid some extra droplets of water. His tail swishing from side to side in a attempt to dry itself.

"Alright, I'm heading back upstairs. Before I lovingly faint in your arms." Prince grinned before stepping out of the springs and started heading back to the room, humming a cheerful tune.

[User]
Sin, again, was feeling like he had drunken over ten beers to pass out and hit his head on the counter before falling to the ground... That seems like an accurate representation of his grogginess and pain at the moment. However, he would not back down against these people, if they wanted a fight than he would bring them one, just when it is not around a four versus one and most of them had the abilities to kill him on the spot. He groaned once again, before something being shoved into his hands by the Guild Master and he didn't hear the rest as he has a knack of blocking people out of hearing. He simply just flopped onto his back and downed the entire potion in one gulp, he didn't exactly care what it did, but if it did something that would better the situation than it would be fine.

Sin started to feel better, the numbing of the pain was feeling quite swell and then the lawful justice girl actually managed to help him for once rather than barrage him with moral decisions and slapping him in the face. He turned his head over to the coach, where the Guild Master was doing something to his sister, but he couldn't tell exactly what he was doing. However, Sin had one comment to everyone around him, trying to be snarky even when knocked down onto the ground. It was hard to talk with the ice around his face and swollen jaw, but he managed to get something out. "Thank you guys, for helping one and beating up another. Must be keeping balance." He chuckled at his own joke before wincing in pain from the mouth movements.

Once Virtue drank the potion, she stopped to squirm around on the coach and started to sleep soundly once again. The resulting punches that Sin took seemed to drain all the Wrath from his body as he could barley think or move his body around. The pink sparks disappeared just like the red sparks from Sin. Now, with all the commotion and yelling. The small girl finally slipped into consciousnesses, her eyes started to slowly open, adjusting to the brightness of the room and found that, again, she was in some sort of strange place and not her bedroom. Virtue sighed at the predicament she was in and looked at some strange man and lightly poked his arm. "Why are you guys beating up my brother?" Virtue said in a strangely calm voice.

[Assistant]
Magnolia Streets
Trinity looked over her shoulder when she felt the hand on her shoulder. "Ariel." She smiles softly and steps aside, letting the girl take over before she turns to the woman with the sword. She notches her arrow, but neither draws her string nor raises her bow. She watches the woman draw her sword across her hand, showing the blade to be dull. "That doesn't mean you aren't dangerous. And hey, I had a plan." Her little fire arrow was doing just what she needed it to. She was going to make a little hole and then use that to crack the whole thing of ice open. Provided it cracked the way she wanted it to.

The butterflies around them suddenly lit aflame, the same as the woman's sword, and the woman used them to melt the ice around Fleo. Well, at least she was out, now. "Yeah, Fleo. You missed. And then you kept going." She catches the change in Annalise's expression, but makes no mention of it. Fleo invites their new associate back to the guild with them, and Angelo seems a little less than excited.

"Angelo, really. Is that how you plan to entertain our guest? We should welcome her with food and drink, first. Isn't that right, Fleo?" The minstrel smiles at the dust mage, walking past her to approach Annalise. She deposits her arrow in her quiver, using the container to return both of her arrows to magic power. "No trouble at all, my dear. We just got finished with a sparring match, so why don't you join us for our brief respite? Come, let us return to the guild." Before they begin to walk, the young lady begins to play her harp.


[System]
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.

[User]
Neil opened up the Galaxy map on the display monitor, moving without thinking. The past few days he had barely left the cockpit, living, eat, and breathing keeping the Highlander steady through the R.I.P., even with the automated navigational systems fully functional. That, and the fact that the R.I.P. was usually what pulled you along in the intended direction, not the other way around. He simply had done his best to keep them from being ripped apart or devoured by void beasts.

When the Galaxy map appeared, they looked to be in the outer ring of the Galaxy, in what was often called the 'eastern' section. "Hahn." Neil told the Captain, drawing up the world on the display monitor. "It's called Hahn, and from the looks of it, it's a breeding ground for mercenaries, thieves, and people wanting to get lost. Sounds too good to be true." He said, and there was little indication in his voice on whether or not he was being sarcastic.

"The planet has a desert biome," Lonney said, fully unaware of how redundant the statement was. "32.7% water, high in mineral deposits. Population is two million and eight hundred thousand, with 68% being human or near human. Very little else in known about the planet itself, other than it is often on Terra's 'to conquer' list." Neil snickered. That must mean it had many problematic people but little resources for the Imperium to bother going there.

"Well at least I can get a tan." Neil said, revving the sublight engines forward. "Taking her down Captain..."

The indicator showed the closest port was a settlement at the foot of the vast desert, west of it being a small ocean and east of it a vast mountain range that bladed into the sky. It almost looked like the aftermath of a massive shockwave. Neil suddenly had it in his head to say something to Junebug, opening his mouth...and then closing it. He'd talk to her after they landed. Taya stepped into the cockpit now, wiggling in excitement.

"Gods, I can't wait to set foot on a planet that isn't exploding." She exclaimed.

"You know you'd think that'd be a low bar, but with our luck..."

[Assistant]
Hahn wasn't a world Sayeeda had ever heard of, though that wasn't surprising. According to the navigational chart they were a staggering distance from Saavran, that too was unsurprising, the Terran cruiser was able to brave much stronger currents than the Highlander could have managed. If they had tried to enter the RIP stream themselves, the energy gradient would have ripped them to atoms. Once they were in they had plunged, unguided by the nav computer through the maelstrom of the RIP without any of the normal station holding navigational corrections. Junebug was just as glad to be far from the reach of the Terrans. Whatever bounty had been placed on them had gone up exponentially after they had gunned down York and half a dozen marines, not to mention destroying invaluable data.

The sector they were in was extremely poorly charted. Most worlds were little more than alphanumeric designations with a few keywords attached to them. Breathable atmosphere, fresh water, dangerous biota. Even places that had larger write ups were years out of date and compiled from the records of tramp freighters and free traders rather than anything like a regular courier service. It would take months to work their way back towards the galactic core, although Junebug didn't have any particular reason to do that. When she and Neil had bought the Highlander, she had a vague notion of making a living as a free trader, but beyond that her goals were vague and ephemeral. She was rootless after Andor's Armored had disbanded and adventure in general was more important than any abstract goal.

"Lets hope that people don't take one look at us and decide to put on a Xenos invasion or launch a coup in our honor," Junebug said smiling wryly for what felt like the first time in days. There didn't appear to be any orbital control or landing beacons of any kind. The only transmissions that the Highlander was picking up were low powered radio broadcasts meant for use within the atmosphere. Sayeeda touched a few holographic keys and accessed the navigational data from the atlas. As she suspected, the entry contained the landing coordinates of the last ship that had contributed to the charts, she imported it onto the navigational display and a slow pulsing green bead appeared on the display, at the terminus of one of the older ship tracks. Neil eased the Highlander onto the new course with uncharacteristic care.

As they descended into the atmosphere it became apparent that Hahn wasn't quite as desolate as it appeared from orbit. The deserts were largely stoney rather than sandy and here and there green oasis appeared, ringed with plant life. Some of the swales too sported green fringes of tough looking succulents and twisted looking trees with broad spiny leaves. Here and there vast formations of orangey yellow rock thrust into the sky forming impressive mesa. There were no obvious roads though Junebug thought she spotted plumes of dust which must have been raised by human vehicles.

Their destination was a broad canyon that ran roughly south east. The canyon ran for hundreds of miles down towards the equatorial sea and it varied in width from a few dozen meters at its narrow choke points to several hundred meters at its widest. It was well over a hundred meters deep, making it difficult to view the interior until one was directly over it.The settlement wasn't visible even to sensors until they were within a hundred clicks or so. It was built entirely within the canyon at one of the wider points, with only a few antennae projecting up over the lip. As Neil bought the Highlander into balance over the canyon they could see that the settlement, calling it a city stretched the point, was built up against the walls of the canyon with a broad boulevard that ran down the center of the chasm and twisting side streets meandering back towards the canyon walls. The buildings were of adobe and yellowish sandstone and most of them were low only one or two stories, save at the canyon wall where they grew higher to abutt the rock faces. Most of the buildings had flat roofs that were topped with greenery in roof gardens and the roads were lined with what looked to be Terran date palms. Large dericks were sunk into the central road at intervals and they rocked back and forth before gouting up water like fountains. The path of the canyon must have been drawn by an ancient river that had since vanished underground. In the center of town, surrounded by gardens and fountains were larger building with large domes and minarets that had been gilded with golden metal, though Sayeeda thought it was probably brass rather than pure gold.

To the southern end of the settlement the canyon flared to a width of nearly half a kilometer, several ships, many much the worse for wear, were landed on the dusty stone. Tarps of stone bleached canvas covered stalls and shops or just provided shelter for ships crews that wanted to be off their own vessels. Men and they were almost all men, milled about trading and buying food or other provisions from the vendors, many of which were nothing more than a cart with a canvas shade. There was nothing that even approached a shipyard but there were enough ship components scattered on rugs for inspection that Sayeeda could at least hope they could affect some meaningful repairs.

 No one appeared to be particularly concerned by the hovering freighter although several people were pointing up at them as Neil set them gently down in the shade of the canyon wall. The whole crew let out a sigh of relief as they touched down and the engines shut off.
"Looks like there is a welcoming committee," Junebug observed pointing to a group of men that were making their way towards the ship. Like most of the civilians their skin ranged from Junebugs olive to pure ebony. They were dressed in layers of cloth and turbans which was probably meant to be a uniform. Each of the men carried a long spear that ended in a shock rod and they carried a variety of antiquted firearms that seemed to follow no particular pattern. At their head was a paunchy man with drooping mustaches, set off by his bright red turban. There was a gold chased pistol at his hip, though even from this distance it looked more ceremonial than practical.

"Customs inspectors maybe?" Taya asked uncertainty. Junebug shrugged her shoulders. The newcomers looked bored rather than threatening which meant they probably didn't anticipate trouble.

"Maybe," she said noncommittally, eliciting a hissing grunt from Saxon.

"Lets get our party clothes on and go out and say hello."

[User]
Neil unstrapped his safety harness and stretched, needing to loosen his limbs to better handle walking. He didn't remember the last time he had gotten up that wasn't for using the lavatory. There were a few audible 'cracks' as he stretched, then as he went into the cargo bay he did a quick backflip to prove to himself nothing was stuck or a muscle wasn't tight. "Ah man, honestly even if they do open fire, at least I'll die outside where I can breathe." he said.

His fears were not founded, thankfully. Junebug had told Saxon and Sven to remain inside initially, to keep the newcomers from becoming too intimidated. Saxon seemed a bit annoyed, but Sven merely said nothing, continuing to tinker with various wires that spread along the corridors of the Highlander. Neil knew Sven knew his stuff, but he still had the smallest inkling of suspicion on what exactly he was doing with Neil's Junebug's ship.

They walked out in standard formation. Junebug front and center, with Taya flanking her on the left and Neil taking the right, hand cannon in easy reach behind his back and his customary smirk on his face. The wind blew lightly, and Neil had a feeling it would be far stronger outside of the canyon 'city'. It was a half a dozen people that greeted them, with two wearing helms and the rest with their faces concealed by cloth, until the middle one opened his to reveal a gangly face with sharp cheekbones and a nose to match.

"So, I will not pretend that most make appointments to enter our fair settlement. But still, I must beg the question on why you are here..." he said, his voice heavily accented. The man showed his teeth with his dead smile.

"To trade and repair our ship." Junebug said, her tone neutral. "Ran into some trouble in the middle rim and needed to make a quick jump. Ended up here. Is our business allowed?" Her voice implied that she expected to be accomadated, and within moments she saw she wasn't wrong. He smiled again, this time genuinely.

"Of course, of course. One cannot ever be too careful, you see? It is customary we approach ships in tis way, to show we are not to be bothered with politics or bribery. But traders? Of course, yes. Depending on what you have, you may find yourself a good housing complex here! We have a few vacancies as of late. Some of our fellows have decided to brave the Sea of Serpents and the Dragani Desert. None come back from either, generally."

The man whispered. "Jumbala!" to a subordinate. One of the ebony skinned men approached, a package in his arms. Neil looked between his Captain and the package, and he stepped forward to touch the thing lightly. "Huh..." Junebug shared a look with him, and opened the plain brown paper to reveal...a large pastry.

"A welcome gift!" the man cried.

Junebug didn't know what to make of it, and truth be told neither did Taya. Neil spoke for them.

"Cool." he said. "By the way, if people never really come back from the sea or the desert, why did they leave?"

The man waved a hand dismissively. "Old tales of riches. Simple common talk and rumor."


[System]
Age: 17
Gender: Male

Bio/Personality:
From a young age, Drake always loved crafting. Moreover, he loved crafting weapons like his parents. You see Drake was born into a blacksmith family. His mother and father were well-known blacksmiths in their small town. Warriors, hunters, and collectors came to them to craft their weapons for war, hunting or decorations. Drake loved the smell of the blacksmith shop and when he turned ten, his parents show him all their secrets and techniques on how to craft weapons. Drake's first weapon he created was considered a failure in others eyes, but to him and his parents, it was a unique. The weapon was a short sword with a curved hook at the tip. Drake's father hung the weapon on the wall as a trophy to show off Drake's very first weapon. From then on Drake helped his parents craft weapons, but as the years went on he noticed something on his right hand. It would appear and then as soon as he looked. It seemed to just disappear.

One day, Drake was working on an order for a client when his hand began to glow. He looked down and saw a strange rune on the back of his hand. Suddenly the same rune appeared on the ground in front of him and the sword he was currently working on appeared, finished from the rune. H was stunned at what happened and tried to do it again, but nothing happened. The next day, two men who said there were Magisters came to take Drake to The Grand Magisterium where he can home his newly acquired skills.

Sigil:

Ability:
Weapon Creation: uses the atoms around him to create weapons. However, to create the weapons he has to know the schematics of said weapons like weight, length, size, etc. and he also has to have held the weapon at one time in his life.

[User]
Havish Garrison

 It had been three days, Havish had spent three whole days with these Magisters, and the body of the knight he had looked up to. This was utter madness, they keep telling him that he was a magister as well, they kept referring to his power as the Armadillo cloak, but he had never done anything, no magic, no nothing, he had seen magisters spew flame from their hands and teleport from rooftop to rooftop, and now he was expected to do something like that, he couldn't even tussle with the guys in town let alone monsters like the snake that killed the knight.

"Ummm, how much further is it?"

 Havish said meekly to the woman holding the reins of the wagon. She looked at him and smiled, she was a nice lady as far as he had seen, her and her partner and young man, not much older than Havish himself, they had been very pleasant on the trip, they had even tried to help Havish coax out his power but to no avail. The woman said nothing she just pointed ahead of them and in the distance you could see the towers of the Grand Magisterium in the distance, a marvel to be sure, and Havish was starting to feel excited.

"The Grand Magisterium, the heart of magic in this world, if you have the aptitude you will learn more than you could ever dream."

 The woman spoke sweetly before looking back at Havish who at the mention of aptitude seemed to have shrank down into himself, she could tell his confidence was still lacking, he had a power, it was just a shy one.

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

 As the Wagon passed through the gates Havish gawked at the sights of the campus, there were two mages in a battle just two the side, one was throwing entire boulders while the other seemed to melt them away as they touch his hands, others seemed to just be hanging out and having something to eat. All around him he noticed large stone figures, the shape of men, though covered in blue lines, they seemed to be carrying out the mundane tasks of the area, cleaning, cooking, repairing fields, he had never seen golems like that before, he had only ever heard of them from stories.

The young man turned to Havish, "Hey pal, look, we are going to drop you at the dorms, all you got to do is go in, find a door that has a blank nameplate and go in, once you do, you are enrolled, easy, you get a shared space with two others so be prepared." And the man clapped Havish on the shoulder, then the other, and with ease picked him up as though he were an infant, the man didn't even stand. Havish was placed on the ground, "Don't worry, you will be fine, just... don't pick a fight or anything. Oh and I will have something sent to you in a day or two, take care." And the cart started to move again, leaving Havish alone in front of the dorm building.

[Assistant]
Adezain Veasatt

 Adezain laid in the grass on one of the well kept fields, usually held for larger scale sparring between teams. He sighed heavily, closing his eyes hard, then opening them again to the blue sky, dotted with white clouds. It was a beautiful day and he couldn't help but feel a little good at that thought. He took a deep breath and then sat up. In the training fields, there were only a few students around practicing or sparring. Around this time of day most of the students were studying, burying their faces in books, or socializing in the lounges or restaurants that dotted the campus. He looked to the left, at the simple wood and straw scarecrow target, surrounded by swords stuck into the ground, their hilts and crossguards slagged and melted. Even if the training fields were populated, many of the students would give him a fair amount of space.

He adjusted himself and faced the target, crossing his legs and thinking. His mentor, the Magister who accompanied him to the Magisterium, explained that lightning was an uncommon and unpredictable magic. The few masters of lightning who did exist were often out of extended missions away from the academy, like free spirits, they only rarely returned home. Despite that, his mentor imparted as much knowledge as he could. Lightning was an element with a mind of its own. A fire magic user could throw a fireball straight at a target, and predictably the fireball would fly straight and hit the target assuming the users aim was true. But a lightning users lightning bolt would stray from its intended target and hit objects between the user and the target instead. Though the Magisters who had mastered lightning must have learned how to command the wild force of nature that is lightning, they were a secretive bunch, usually not recording their research and experiences in the Magisteriums vast libraries. Instead they often placed their writings in their own outposts, in well hidden and trapped caves, hiding their esoteric knowledge away from the rest of the community. For a reason neither Adezain or his mentor knew. Perhaps it was because during their training, they were always seen as the outsider due to the danger of their magic? Perhaps they felt that after mastering their art, the rest of the Magisters did not deserve the knowledge. Whatever the reason, Adezain and all of the novice lightning magic users of the present and future were alone. Perhaps the lightning masters felt that the novices needed to learn things on their own. Adezain thought finally.

Adezain had been here for only two days and both days he had been hard at work practicing his magic. With these metal obstacles, he could only throw lightning a few meters accurately. Without, he could do a few more. But he didn't know how to extend his range, and he didn't know how to command his magic to ignore the swords. He tapped his chin a few times, then got up to his feet. He took a martial stance. His mentor was a Magister that channeled his magic through martial technique, though Adezain's mentor explained that there were multiple ways to cast magic, such as incantation, script, rope knots, Adezain felt most comfortable with his mentors technique. Through martial arts. Adezain did a few hops, brought his fists up into a guard, he felt that same thrill from when he first used magic. That same pump of adrenaline, like his body knew, and reacted. It scared him, but he knew this was what he was now. He saw a faint spark of electricity jump from his left fist to his right, then he shot out a right jab. A flash of light, a loud snap... and a sword's hilt to the left of the target glowed with heat. Another miss. Adezain grimaced and fell out of his stance. His jab was slower than his mentors, and he couldn't even hit a target properly. Baby steps. He contemplated switching styles to incantation, plus he wouldn't have to move around so much. He smiled a little at it, his mentor used martial arts, so he would too. He wondered if any of the Magisters used a combination, maybe they could cast two spells at once? An incantation at the same time as going through the movements of a physical casting. Then maybe having those pre-prepared rope knots in an emergency. But the time needed to master one method of magic channeling was great, two was... it was too much for Adezain, at his level of skill. But he tucked the thought away, intending to ask his mentor about it later.

He glanced at the sun, it was just about mid-day, and more students would come to the training fields to practice their magic after lunch. He gathered the ruined swords, tucking them under one arm, then picked up the target and hefted it over his shoulder. It was surprisingly light, being made of straw, cloth, and two pieces of wood. The young lightning mage then began to walk back to his dorm. He knew that a lot of students prioritized learning transportation magic, or asked other students for help traveling the vast campus. Not Adezain. He didn't know how he would travel with his magic, other than the technique described in the Mythos of Vymos. Plus casting magic through physical movement required great stamina, and any exercise that would help him cast his magic for longer periods of time was welcome.

As he approached the dormitory section of the campus he noticed someone standing in front of the large doors of his building. Adezain rose an eyebrow at the grey haired man as he approached. He placed the target against the wall, knowing that a student coming out from his dorm would likely pick it up as they were going to the training grounds, then he looked the newcomer over. "New?" Adezain asked, continuing before the newcomer could reply, "Me too, just got here a few days ago. Say, you eat yet? It's just about lunch and I know a good hole-in-the-wall place. I need some time away from practice anyways." Adezain hefted the handful of swords he carried for emphasis then glanced over to the doors, "Right! Should probably get you a room first."

[User]
Drake looked at the entrance to the academy before he took a deep breath and began to walk through the threshold into his new life. He stopped and looked back at the Magisters who brought him here. They were walking back the way they had just come. Drake sighed as he remembered the journey here: the two Magisters seemed to be a little annoyed with escorting him here because every time he tried to spark up a conversation with them. They'd simply ignore him and when he tried to ask a question about where they were going. One would simply reply with, "All will be revealed in due time." Or "All your questions will be answered very soon."

"Guess they just wanted to bring me here so they could go home," Drake assumed before he let out a sigh and looked at the map one of the Magisters had given him. It had one simple instruction on it. Go to the dormitory and nowhere else. He examined the map before he began to head towards the dormitory. This was it, his new life at this academy. How a simple blacksmiths son could wind up here was beyond him. He looked around at all the buildings that he passed and was stunned at their architecture. It's like something out of a fairy tale Drake thought before he spotted the dorms. He also spotted two people in front of them. He stopped and let out another sigh.

"Let's hope these two are more talkative them the two people that brought me here," Drake said to himself before he proceeded towards the dorms and the two in front of them. As he got closer he waved and said, "Good morning." Please don't be like the two that brought me here. Drake hoped in his mind.


[System]
~NPC'S~
Dinner Party Guests
When I was writing my post, I thought up these various characters sitting around Cicely. I don't know if they may be important or not in the future, but should you wish to control any of them for your posts, feel free to do so. Hopefully these profiles will be helpful to you, too!
Age: 48
Occupation: Cartographer

Appearance: Starting to get later into his years, Matthew has a full head of grey hair and mild wrinkles on his brow. He is a wiry being and keeps a trimmed mustache. His usual attire is closer to a merchant's than a noble's, sporting long, fine woolen coats and practical linen shirts with the occasional vest.

History: Matthew was born in the capital city of Astley. His family could afford private tutoring, and he was eventually apprenticed to a trading guild, where he followed the work of a cartographer. During the occupation of the country, he worked for the residing government and surveyed all the surviving towns and villages. His latest work has been commissioned to the Earl of Airedale to map the wilderness and ruins throughout the earldom.

Personality: Matthew is a relatively conservative man, but he is also a thinking one. As far as anyone knows, his family consists of a sister and two brothers (all with children), but he has no wife or children of his own. He blames this fact on the amount of travel his job has always required, but he isn't ever one to complain about being lonely. He seems happy to sit in the corner with his own thoughts, occasionally showing interest in the political feuds of the nobility between their fiefdoms.

Name: Alex Gerthrod
Age: 32
Occupation: Metalurgist

Appearance: Alex has a stout frame and trimmed beard, and it's obvious to anyone that the suits he wears as formal attire are more than a little uncomfortable to him. His broad shoulders and sheer height make him an intimidating figure, but his gaze is thoughtful and distant most of the time, leading most to believe he's relatively clueless.

History: Alex was raised in a family of miners working in the mountain village of Pendle. Though he came from a very humble background, his genius was obvious even as a child. He had a knack for quantifying and identifying the properties of ores, proving himself a valuable prospector. When war broke out, he lent his abilities to the rebels, refining metals into fine weapons to fend off both human enemies and monsters.

Personality: Alex has gained a comfortable living from his work, but still maintains a number of intellectual pursuits. He has tried to build upon mathematic understanding in the country, as well as more scientific pursuits, which makes him more of a thinker than a talker. Even so, he is passionate about the conversation when war or weaponry is brought up, and can hardly stop talking.

Name: Erin Gerthrod
Age: 27
Occupation: Housekeeper

History: Erin was born in the mining village of Pendle. There, she cared for her constantly sickly mother, looking after four younger sisters and a younger brother. She knows how to make a meal from almost nothing, and her loyalty and support towards her first crush, Alex Gerthrod, led to her eventually marrying him. Though he was mostly self-taught and far from the recognition his work deserved, the war through his efforts into a better light, and both he and his wife were given titles by His Majesty.

Appearance: Red-haired with long curls and a freckled face, Erin is the picture of a hard-worked village girl. Her skin has been tanned by the sun, her arms are taut with muscle, and she looks downright awkward in the latest, tight-fitting dresses for the nobility.

Personality: Introverted and quiet, Erin prefers to watch her husband talk when in the company of others. She has a perpetually polite smile on her face and still struggles to keep up with the etiquette expected of her position. That being said, her gaze is known to be rather intense, and unlike most women of the noble courts, she is never the first to look away when eyes meet.

Name: James Ichabod
Age: 42
Occupation: General of Penshaw (retired)

Appearance: True to the appearance expected of a soldier, James has a hard-muscled body that has only recently started to gain some fat. He enjoys wearing the finest silks and jackets, making use of vibrant colors that compliment his pale complexion and dark brown hair. The most notable of his features, however, is the long scar that runs across his nose and all the way to the corner of his jaw.

History: James was once nothing more than a humble farmer boy in the village of Stanmore. He lived his life peaceably, but always dreamed of a world beyond the fields and stables he worked day after day. When he was old enough, he joined the regiment of Baron Penshaw. His military performance for bravery and tactical mastery quickly upped him through the ranks, and when the occupational war began, it was his troops that stood firm against the first assaults of the enemy. After the war, he was given leave to retire. He married into a wealthy family by merit of his rank and has since taken to writing philosophies of war.

Personality: Boisterous, proud, and lively, James is clearly a man who has spent too much time around rowdy, unrefined men of war. He's softened up a bit since his retirement, and rumors say that his wife has strong-armed him into learning actual manners. He does seem to be tamer when his wife is around, and seems mellow enough that most insults and blunt remarks don't bother him.

Name: Stella Ichabod
Age: 18
Occupation: Housewife

Appearance: Flushed with youth and grace, Stella is in many ways the opposite of her husband. Her tastes are simple, yet refined, and she wears only the fashions that suit her rather than keeping up with the latest trends of the capital. She has hair of gold and vibrant green eyes, which are usually in some state of tension when she's around her husband.

History: Stella was born into the family of a baron. They were quite well off until the war hit, and rather than putting up a fight and loosing soldiers and civilians, they surrendered early on into the war. Though they were taxed heavily for years, her parents handled the family's finances expertly, keeping them all afloat and comfortable even with the occupation. This launched them into sudden prosperity at the end of the war, though her stingy parents were also quick to marry her to a colonel who had quite the comfortable income.

Personality: Stella is both polite and social, reflecting in many ways what the true image of a lady should be. Though she does occasionally break from this appearance to scold her rambunctious husband, she generally gives off a calm, soothing air, which is further enhanced when she opts to sing at parties. She also has a savvy sense of both politics and economy, making her a valuable friend for advice to those lucky enough to be able to call upon her.

Name: Odell Jaques
Age: 46
Occupation: Nurse

Appearance: Odell has aged gracefully with grey hair that still holds tints of blond. She has a relatively thin build, but also has a healthy flush to her skin. Her face is a kind one, and she wears very modest clothing despite her station as a duchess.

History: Odell was privately tutored during her childhood and experienced the very finest things in life. She married into the family of another duke and raised several healthy children. That world, however, was shattered when the war hit, and she watched her own husband be executed by the invaders. She managed to escape with her children, only to find that there was nowhere to run to. Ultimately, she spent her days during the war aiding the wounded, and soon found that she had a gift for caring for those poor souls. When the war ended, her title was reinstated and she was allowed to keep her estate.

Personality: Odell is a kind, if somber woman. Though her skills with taking care of others are relatively new, she's taken care even after the war to practice them. She finds that helping others eases her own pain, and she is one of the most sympathetic ears a person can hope to chat to. Her smiles are rare, but warm, and she has never been known to have an insultive demeanor.

Name: Brian Jaques
Age: 22
Occupation: Druggist

Appearance: Brian's frame is fairly thin, but much like his mother, he also has a healthy flush to his skin. He has rather wild blond hair that he gave up taming long ago, and he fits into the suits of a gentleman with ease. He smiles frequently.

History: Brian was comfortable and educated in his childhood, though he also witnessed the death of his father during the occupation. When he escaped with his mother, rather than joining the troops, he joined the effort of aid and followed in his mother's footsteps to care for the wounded. Long before the war ended, he developed a fascination with medicine, and has since become one of the leading students in the field.

Personality: Warm and kind, Brian believes that no time spent in the company of friends is wasted. He treasures his relationships and works tirelessly to make his family proud. Though he is not the head of his family (his elder brother is), he has no resentment, happy to spend his days studying and speaking with other practitioners to learn the best and latest cures.

[User]
And just like that, she grew nervous again. That polite veneer—now that she knew it for a true mask, she was certain he was back to hiding things. If she turned him down regardless of his agreeable terms, would she find out what those things were? Despite the danger, the darker part of her curiosity wanted to know: just how far was the earl willing to go to secure her help? She knew her talents were rare, but never had a stranger placed so much importance on them. The thinkers and reasoners of the world turned to science, the politicians and kings to societal power; magic was a thing for sorcerers and troublemakers in an age where men were rising above the superstitions of the past.

Well, at least in Airedale, it seemed. There were darker places of the world that remained largely unheard from, surrounded by myth. Those societies able to rise above the mist, however, did not entertain themselves with such unknowns. Even Gesen, with its humble little island villages, was happy casting off its supernatural beginnings. It made a fairy like herself quite nervous about how things would even out in the end.

"I will have to think it over," Cicely spoke at length. She took another sip from her water, trying to ignore how her stomach protested putting so much as another drop into it. "After all, one does not step into the lair of a snake with no regard to her own safety."

Ah, that was probably a bit too pointed, but statuses be damned—he was a self-insinuated reptilian and she believed it. If he was willing to use his power to manipulate her, he was not someone she could trust to look after her better interests. She wouldn't delude herself into thinking that she could use him just like he was trying to use her, either—he had the resources and the power; she did not. If there was anything he lacked that she had, it was simply the fact that he was male and she was female. Even then, did he not have all the attentions and affections of the opposite sex that a man could desire?

I can still turn him down and study elsewhere. He's not an entire kingdom, after all. With that in mind, Cicely glanced back up at him. Her gaze alone was something of a challenge, as if letting him know that she did have the option to refuse him.

[Assistant]
Gideon uttered a noncommittal "Hm," and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It wasn't the resounding commitment he'd been hoping for, but it was better than nothing. "I will have my valet draft up a proposal for a contract. In the meantime, I will gratify your request for permission to administer healthcare, and I will give you access to the maps in the Eisenhorn Library... as a sign of good will," he said while he returned Cicely's gaze pointedly.

He strode over to his desk and sat down in the large, leatherclad chair that served as the effective throne of his domain. Dipping his quill (a rather large, colorful example) in a pot of ink, he wrote (in elegant, large strokes) the permission slip to access the aforementioned maps. Gideon reached over and grabbed a document from the far corner of the desk, which he signed swiftly and with a note of finality. Scraping back his chair, he returned to Cicely and handed her the two promised documents.

"Now then," he began, "if you wish to stay and mingle, feel free to return to the great hall. If you'd prefer to return to the inn, ask one of the footmen -- they will escort you to a carriage. Alternatively, a room can be prepared for you in the castle. You would be my honored guest," he said and graced his face with the most inviting smile he could muster. "Somewhere on the second floor, perhaps, away from all the bustle."

[User]
That smile was utterly creepy. It wasn't that the man didn't know how to smile—on the contrary, his chiseled features and fine teeth accented the gesture well—it was the fact that it felt so natural despite her knowing it was not. How many people did he lure in with the honey of polite conversation and elegant parties without them realizing they were tools? If he wanted them, they would be treated well, and if they defied him, there would be nothing but a road of obstacles in whatever it was they were trying to achieve.

How unfortunate this is, getting mixed up with him. I wouldn't be surprised if he shut down any boats chartering back to Gesen just to keep me here. That is within his realm of power, isn't it? Cicely sighed, getting up from the sofa with some difficulty. The velvet cushions had been very soft, after all, and sitting in them for some time had made her sink deeper than she'd realized. Perhaps everything in the earl's study was a trap in some form, too.

She angled herself away from him as she brought the documents closer to her face for inspection. As far as she could tell, everything was in order. While it did give her some relief to know she'd have an income again (the sum she'd been given to study abroad had been rather paltry, sadly), however, she had the distinct impression that the earl wouldn't have given her the permissions if he hadn't been certain that she would accept his offer. He didn't seem like a man to back down.

Not to mention the time (and undoubtedly, money) he'd spent in learning so much about her. Even if she left the castle immediately, there was a good chance she'd be watched at the inn, too. Just how many citizens were in on the earl's plans for her? Or perhaps it was just a matter of bribery…

"If you don't mind, I actually would care to return for the inn. It's quite a hospitable place." Cicely smirked, finally heading towards the door. "After all, I could hardly impose upon an earl."


[System]
Age: 24
Ability: Sleep Inducement

[User]
A splitting headache crept around Isaac's forehead. Usually prone to migraines for years, this one felts like vines binding his skull, latching on to his eyes, and pulling them together until the bone snaps. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he leaned against the guard rail and tried with all his might to ignore the pain, and concentrate on the waves jumping over the sea-wall and flailing onto the sidewalk.

"THINK FAST"

Shakily swift hands locked on to Isaac's messenger bag. Before Isaac could even react, he was twisted around, grabbing back onto the guard rail for support, the pain in his head pounding like the waves tearing at the wall.

"Yikes, Izzy, y'know, this bag could sell for quite a bit." A raspy voice called out, gently tapping the bag, "I can compensate for it, how does 5% sound?"

"Matt, listen," Isaac replied attempting to regain his composure, "I'm not in the mood to try to haggle my stuff back, can you jus-"
He held up a finger to Isaac, "You don't look so good, fine, I'm feeling generous. 6%. Final."

The pounding in his head was like a jet engine against his forehead. Matt was an old friend once close, but soon fell into the hole of half of everyone in the deeper parts of the city fall into. Mostly skin and bones with needle scars dotting his arms and neck, Matt was your typical, run-of-the-mill junkie looking for the next thing to pawn. However, Isaac knew that most of the junkies kept to themselves in the lower districts, surrounded by tunnels, overpasses, and the occasional flooding from heavy rains. Matt was out of his niche, and Isaac knew it. Isaac blended in to the rest of the crowd along the coastline, but not Matt.

"What, what are you even doing here?" Isaac said, pushing off of the guardrail.
"What? I can't be posh for a day?" Matt smiling and spinning Isaac's messenger bag around his arm.
"Not if you wanna cause a scene."
"You and 'blending' in," Matt mockingly retorted with air-quotes "What a drag. Now c'mon, I got a gig for us."
Isaac's eyes grew wide open, "Absolutely not."
"What? Why not? Too good for me and the brothers, eh?"
"HEY. I'm doing good, and y'know I was never into the whole gig thing."
"But you're good at it, that's all that matters! Now don't be a puss, we're going." He said heading for an alley.

Isaac stood his ground. "No."
Matt spun around, with one eye cocked towards him, "S'cuse me? No?"
The pain shooting through his entire body now, gritting his teeth, "No. Not again. The end of the line."
Isaac's vision blurring through torrents of tightening muscles and pulsating veins, Isaac's glare tunneling towards Matt.

"Then the bag is mine. Everything in it is mine. And you'll be next."
"You're a piece of shit. You know that. Always have been."
Isaac began rubbing his eyes, his vision began to shake, like quick vibrations moving his eyes left and right nonstop.

"What? Crying your eyes out? Bitch ass." Matt scoffed.
"No, dude, I can't- Screw it. Just give me my damn bag back. I have my thesis and research over-" Motioning Matt back to Isaac
"Listen, if I can take from the blind, I might as well." He laughed

The pain was splitting his head into pieces, and he couldn't hold it in. Isaac let out an animalistic cry. Matt's sly smile faded as he looked at the crowded boardwalk staring at them both. Hundreds of eyes peering. Murmurs and whispers began to flood the air like a toxic cloud. Isaac dropped to his knees, clawing at his eyes, slowly hunching forward.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa" Matt put his hand on Isaac's shoulder, "DUDE, CHILL. C'mon, here's your bag back. Shit. I'll be back for you ass later."

Matt dropped the bag in front of Isaac with his hands in the air by his shoulders, walking backwards, then turning and heading for an alley.
Pain like sharpened nails were tearing at Isaac's eyes, as he looked up once more to see Matt about to disappear into the shadowed alley, he screamed-
"MATT!"

SNAP

Silence.
Isaac's mouth was wide open as he gently touched his eyes. What he could see was like looking at a broken mirror, his vision was split into fractals throughout his peripheral vision. The fractal viewpoints looked like running water on glass, a steady but slightly blurry sight.
"Matt?" Isaac whispered, looking straight ahead. Matt's body was rigid but standing, with his body half twisted, and neck bent with a heavy head. One of the little fractals in Isaac's vision morphed into a view point, staring at the cut stone, the boardwalk's pathway. Isaac went to look around, as did the fractals viewpoint. Isaac went to look around, but Matt's head moved with his, and countless others in the crowd.

[Assistant]
The night had been cold. Louis only had the clothes he had been wearing during the accident. A blue T-shirt with a breast pocket that had severed the stitching on one side, old blue jeans with a few tears, the bottoms of the legs frayed and ragged, a lightweight red jacket, zip-up, no hood, a sweat-stained blue ball cap and muddy red sneakers. It was late fall, and the nights got awfully cold. Louis had managed to find a tarp covered car on his way from his burning home. He regretfully stole it and used it as a blanket. He couldn't help but chuckle at the irony that he was running away from warmth. The horizon had a fantastical orange glow about it, but he knew it was because of the fire. He prayed that the fire wouldn't spread. It was just the crack of dawn when Louis's heavy eyes cracked open. The bright sunlight was an unwelcome sight today. he crawled out from underneath his tarp and shivered. The tarp hadn't helped much; Louis was cold to his core. He rubbed his hands together and brought them together at his lips, exhaling into them. His hands seemed to be instantly warm... No, they were hot. Insanely so. Louis cried out in pain as he fell backwards onto his tarp. He racked his brain to explain what had just occured.

 The airspace between his hands had somehow.... burst? Popped, like a firecracker. Louis looked down at his ravaged hands, skin red and irritated. That's when he noticed the smoke. Louis, in a panic, ripped off his jacket. He inspected the sleeves for burns, but found no trace of fire. He looked back at his hands to discover that it had been his palms that were smoking. They were still smoking, without a fire. Louis looked around, his head spinning as he searched for a fix. There!, he thought, there's a birdbath.

 He ran straight through someone's freshly cut lawn, not caring slightly about the sign telling him to keep off the grass. He plunged both hands into the cool water of the birdbath and sighed as the water calmed his pain and nerves. He cocked his head to the front of the house as he heard its door open. "What the hell are you doing?!" The homeowner had come outside, still in their bathrobe, with a revolver in hand.
 "Oh, no, I--" Louis searched for and failed to find an answer to what the hell he was doing. However, it didn't seem as if this lady cared to hear anything Louis had to say as she raised the revolver. "Wait!" The shot echoed off the trees and buildings. Louis closed his eyes at the sound, but felt no pain. There was a few sharp sensations on his face and his shirt felt wet. Louis opened his eyes as he fell onto his back. She had shot the birdbath. He held his hand out, trying to plead the woman to cease fire. Instead, she fired again. This time, Louis did feel pain. She had managed to graze his shoulder. Louis tensed at the burning, and heard a third shot. He looked back at the lady in wonder, amazed she had missed again, but she wasn't there. Well, she was there, but she was obscured by a cloud of thick smoke. He could hear her coughing and spatting.

 Did the gun explode? He wondered for but a moment before realizing he should probably get moving. He winced as his shoulder moved, aggravating the flesh wound. He looked back again at the smoke, apologized, and ran. Louis ran until he couldn't, then he forced himself to jog. When that was no longer an option, he tried speed walking. Eventually he could only walk. He slowly walked down a sidewalk, tenderly touching the wound on his shoulder. He bumped into an old man, excused himself, and realized he had no clue where he was anymore. Looking around, he saw several buildings, store fronts and food chains. He checked a street sign, "College Ave".

 Louis walked a little further before deciding he couldn't any longer. He sat down against a building to rest. Checking out his hands, Louis was pleased to see the birdhouse had done the trick. The burning had stopped and the redness was receding. An argument across the street made Louis look up. There were two guys talking loudly. One had a backpack and was taunting the other. Isn't he a little old to be bullying? Louis stood up to go do something about it when the bully across the street dropped the bag and bolted. Louis felt an odd sensation, something akin to a headache, but it passed quickly.

 "MATT!" The kid across the street was grabbing at his face.
Did something happen? Is he hurt? Louis went to help him, but suddenly found himself unable to move. Was he really that exhausted from a run? Then he heard a voice.
 "What's wrong with my eyes?
Is that.... Am I hearing that guy? Louis put everything he had into moving. That man needed help and no one else would care enough. No one ever cared enough. Louis's legs began moving slowly but soon he was sprinting across the street. Louis looked to the right as he crossed and saw a car speeding his way and he panicked. The guy wasn't even looking where he was going. Louis heart sank as the driver began to swerve onto the sidewalk. He dove, tackling the guy with the backpack. Together they slid underneath the guardrail as the car scraped against it. They rolled down the hill, entangled together. Louis's shoulder was searing as he picked himself up.

 "Jesus. Are you alright?"

[User]
Ryan leaned toward his Instructor, Bruce, and nudged him. He was really starting to get creeped out by the simultaneous slumber party that seemed to have take over the class. As he touched Bruce's shoulder it merely broke the rhythm of his quiet snoring, only for it to quickly relapse to its original standard.

 "Bruce" Ryan said quietly, trying to be gentle in his attempt to rise his mentor.
 The instructor's snores did not falter. Ryan cleared his throat and shook his teacher harder, this time without stopping.
 "Bruce," He said, this time louder, "Mr K, I'm finished."

 Bruce slowly opened his eyes, like a lazy kitten stretched out in the sun. His eyes were still partially rolled toward the back of his head. He must've been sleeping pretty hard. The instructor gathered himself in a manner that Ryan could only compare to a sloth....or maybe a zombie, and after several minutes he seemed to finally realize that he'd just been caught sleeping on the job by a student. Ryan felt a little uncomfortable now, it was an akward situation that he could never have predicted he would ever be in.
 Bruce wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked at Ryan confused, then slowly took the test and answer sheet from his hands. The instructor stood and looked at the clock, scratching his head, then turned back to Ryan.

 "Very good Mr. Fowler, you may-" Bruce paused and looked past Ryan, obviously spotting the rest of the class, still drooling onto their desks.
 "Are you feeling alright, Fowler?" He asked.

 Ryan felt a surge of unease come across him. He couldn't help but wonder why everyone in the class, including the Instructor was fast asleep in a matter of minutes, or why he felt oddly energetic. Did Bruce suspect this was HIS doing? that Ryan was somehow involved? No. That would be foolish. Ryan was sure he was blowing this way out of proportion.

 "I feel fine." Ryan answered, trying to smile, but not too big of a smile. The akwardness is just impossible to mask at this point. Still, Bruce seemed to believe him.

 "Do me a favor son," Bruce began.

 "Yeah, whats up?" Said Ryan.

 The Instructor propped the door open as he ushered Ryan into the hall.

 "Go make sure MOTO-6 has their exhaust vents running, and if so, ask the Instructor to double check the fans."

 "Yes Sir." Ryan replied, heading out the door toward MOTO-6.

 Neither the classroom or the hall smelled like exhaust emissions, and judging by the way Bruce was acting, Ryan was sure he knew that wasn't the case. But it still seemed to make more sense than everyone but the insomniac taking a nap in the middle of a test.

 What a strange day.