<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;">As the bright, vibrant blood oozed down Shiloh’s pale cheek, she <em>felt</em> it sting and burn in Caerduja’s warm air. The smoke… The Professor… The <em>beast</em> spoke to her yet again, in that peculiar voice, and claimed her blood called the hungry dragons, but the archer didn’t dare to look up or even lower her arrow. Its dark shaft pushed against her gloved hand, and further into her injured cheek (- 2 HP). The cut on her face was now a deep scar that would require stitches to heal. But her senses… They weren’t right. They weren’t… stable. The scene in front of her kept shifting, from beasts to Professors to magic to dream, but that arrow, notched and ready to fire in her brand new bow? It was the only thing keeping her target at bay.   She knew there <em>was</em> a target. Shiloh knew she had to shoot something, it just had to be the <em>right</em>… Something. Frustration tugged at her pale, soft lips as her big, dark eyes still bulged from the chemicals that had been thrown at her. Still, there was no weapon, no attack, no impact. Instead, a <em>deal</em>… The backbone of the smoke beast seemed to snap, and become larger, stronger. It was offering her a life of suffering in servitude, instead of death. The beast — <em>no, the Professor, the science!</em> — he was not from Oliarin. He did not know of death like Shiloh did. <br/><br/>She tried her best to look at him, though his form still shifted, and swirled before her in Kraven's arena. Up until now, the archer had spoken very little. Her hunts were always a time for quiet, and a time for self-reflection. And the beast, the Professors, the <em>target</em>… He all but admitted to hurting others with his science, for his own gain, for his own pleasure. That was… a grave mistake. A grave mistake that needed to be rectified, one way or another. She was... certainly <em>learning</em>. “Only a coward believes that death is a finality.”<br/><br/>Shiloh’s voice was soft, calm and direct. Magic like his could have killed her, and <em>should</em> have killed her. Her arrow was still strung in her new bow, still not yet fired, and the trees…. They were tricks too, so there was no cover for the archer here, she was an easy prey. And yet this powerful, angry <em>coward</em> had wasted his time, and his opportunity to strike, with awful taunts and horrible tricks. If the dragons did devour her, they would do so without his hesitancy, without his flare. Shiloh would simply become a part of their life cycle, their food chain, and there was some... beauty to that. “If my choice is between your tremendously unhelpful science that makes others ill, or greeting many of my old friends beyond this strange life,” the archer continued, bow still aimed and raised in a strange confidence, “then I say <em>hello</em> to Zodiark.” More vibrant, youthful, red blood dripped off of her smiling, pale jaw onto her dark cloak.</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> 10        <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> 505</span></td></tr></tbody></table>