<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.pinimg.com/564x/11/a8/7d/11a87dba26f5bb5e6f09f355259e2bc1.jpg)</div><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Name:</strong> <span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">Shiloh Tien</span> (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=332525.msg15850549#msg15850549)<br/><strong>Tier:</strong> Green<br/><strong>Level:</strong> 1<br/><strong>Job Class:</strong> Archer<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong> Day 1, Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong> Kraven's Arena (Stage)<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong> Professor Bart Lavoisier<br/><strong>Mentioned:</strong> None</span><br/><hr/><br/><br/><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;">The Professor’s fingers seemed to twitch, and Shiloh's gloved fingers instinctively reached for her bow, and she crouched lower on the arena’s stage, ready to shoot whatever he shot back at her. But, in a split second… There was only… Mist? To her surprise, there was no attack, no weapon, no impact. Her competitor’s reaction to her well aimed arrow was to simply mock her and then… He <em>threw</em> something. He created a strange, bright fog. Her nose caught it first, but it didn’t hurt, so she kept her hands on her bow and arrow. A distraction, perhaps? Or maybe…<br/><br/><em>Did the Professor move?</em> Where was… Suddenly, Shiloh’s pupils grew large, and the form of her competitor blurred and multiplied. Now there were two, n-no three — <em>four</em> Professor Lavoisiers… Wait. She pivoted her arrow back and forth frantically, now resting on one knee on the arena's stage, trying to decide who to shoot, and where to shoot first. There were… <em>Multiple</em> targets? How? Her big dark eyes blinked rapidly, as her mind fought to make sense of what she was — and wasn’t — seeing before her.  <br/><br/>No, <em>no</em>. There were never multiple targets. That was foolish, and far too risky for just an average archer like herself. She only ever tracked one <em>beast</em> at a time, so… So… The blood pounded against her skull as her dark eyes narrowed and tensed as she tried so hard to focus, to make sense of what was happening to her. All the while, Shiloh's gloved hands kept her arrow aimed as the multiple forms of Professor Lavoisier, but then they blurred again and rearranged themselves into a <em>beast</em> with long horns, and white smoke pouring from its fanged mouth. So there <em>was</em> a beast. But what <em>kind</em> of beast was… Something… Something wasn’t quite… Her heart pounded in her chest as she quickly rose from the ground, bow and arrow still raised and aimed. It was solid ground beneath her. <em>No, no! The ground beneath her black boots was grass.</em> She was standing on grass because she had to be in Oliarin, on the island of Oliarin. That was <em>where</em> she fought beasts, alone, and only for survival. Violence was not okay otherwise, she knew this. She <em>knew</em> this. The ground even looked green now… But maybe it was a sickly green. Then again, maybe it was... something else? It was like her mind was splintered, drowning, fractured like bone. Something must have… Have…  <br/><br/>The beast turned its horned head to look directly at her. Shiloh pulled the arrow taut between two fingers and aimed at its face. It blinked at her, with <em>eight</em> devilish eyes. <em>Where was she?</em> This was not Oliarin. It did not make sense. This ‘beast’ did not belong to Oliarin. It… It… The side of her arrow that was strung in her bow pressed coldly into her pale cheek. Her big, round eyes looked into the crowd behind the Professor Lavoisier, behind her ‘target’. But… If she were on the island, on her hometown, then there were no crowds, only trees. But the trees around her now were… blurry, unstable… Not quite there, and yet there again… Were they people or were they trees? She had to… Had to kill the beast t-the nightmare - No, the <em>science</em>! Remember where you are. Think, Shiloh, <em>think</em>!  <br/><br/><strong>“Try to shoot me now, Bitch,”</strong> The beast <em>spoke</em> to her, its dark tongue curling around the smoke that exhaled through its mouth, in a voice that was too high, a voice that didn’t match its gruesome form… <em>Was this real or not real?</em> She didn’t… know. <em>How could she not know?</em> Bright, red blood began to drip from her pale cheek as the smooth shaft of her arrow pressed a little too deep against her skin (- 2 HP). She was still standing, flexing, breathing, armed and ready to shoot, but at <em>what</em>, exactly? Trees or people? Professor or beast? Target or prey? Her mind was splintered, somehow, caught between memory, reality, and nightmare.</span><br/><br/><hr/><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Tier:</strong> Green</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Level:</strong> 1/10</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>HP:</strong> 12        <strong>MP:</strong> 9</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>PA:</strong> 13        <strong>PD:</strong></span> 11</td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>MA:</strong> 9         <strong>MD:</strong> 8</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Luck:</strong> 0</span></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>XP:</strong> 0/10</span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr><tr><td><span class="bbc_font" style="font-family: arial;"><strong>Word Count:</strong> 671</span></td></tr></tbody></table>